Backfire

By Bernard Bayede

Its the final term of school on the paradise-like island province of Azania and Max McKay is living his best life. But when Max decides to quit racing while he's ahead, a long-buried family secret threatens to change his way of life, forever.

Meanwhile, when Stevie achieves her dream of becoming King of the Circle, she begins to feel the pressures of being at the top, gaining the attention of the dark racer, known as Shade.

Meanwhile, Lisa finds herself caught in the sibling rivalry between her current boss, Shaan Moodley and her brother and aspiring Auto One racer, Moodswing that is on the cusp of turning ugly.

With final exams around the corner and a Matric Dance just days away, will these teenagers be ready to finally say goodbye to their high school years, or will the consequences of their actions catch up with them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bernard Bayede
• Release date: Apr 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215552810

Bernard Bayede

Bernard Bayede is a South African author with a taste for out-of-this-world stories of science fiction and fantasy. Born and raised in beachside province of Kwa-Zulu Natal, Bayede has taken his love for sci-fi and fantasy and combined it with an African setting. Bayede has already published his first three books, The Bowman's Apprentice and Other Stories; Ignighted and Planet of the Rings. He is currently working on his fourth book (a sequel to Ignighted) and fifth book, Planet of the Rings Volume 2.

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Bernard Bayede

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Copyright Sphu Kubheka

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For My Father, Thabo

The man taught me to be a man.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE: All Hail

CHAPTER TWO: Resurgent

CHAPTER THREE: Umzala

CHAPTER FOUR: The Secret Call

CHAPTER FIVE: Girlfriends

CHAPTER SIX: Un-Ignited

CHAPTER SEVEN: Liar’s Absolution

CHAPTER EIGHT: Sisters No Longer

CHAPTER NINE: Brothers Forever

CHAPTER TEN: Being Older

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Championships and Relationships

CHAPTER TWELVE: Passing the Torch

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Isithunzi

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The Girl King

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Side-Hustle Effect

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Bait and Trap

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Matric Dance

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Revelations

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Prisoners of War

CHAPTER TWENTY: Training Days

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Double Cross

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Last Showdown

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Breaking Point

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Metro Vice

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Freedom

EPILOGUE

PREFACE

Max could not believe that it had come down to this: a sixteen-month journey and it was now all about this last stretch of road with him and his mortal enemy going toe-to-toe in a racing duel of fates. A part of Max wondered how all his problems always boiled down to winning a race. But alas, here he was with the end of the line ahead of him and a seven-time King of the underground racing Circle speeding alongside him!

As Max kept his foot on the pedal and the pedal on the floor, gritting his teeth as the rev counter lights on the steering wheel display travelled towards the red zone, he thought about how different this beast was to Baby Cradle. While it was an overall faster vehicle which had taken drag reduction into account meaning more downforce and more speed were at the tip of his fingers, what made it so different was the idea that it felt like he was inside Lisa’s very soul. An apt description considering that she’d put both her heart and soul into the Yellow Prancer.

PROLOGUE

Dirty air! He could almost smell it. Sometimes it was like the whole island was surrounded by it – a melting pot of South Africa they liked to call it. More like a cauldron where only those willing to bend, shape and alter their form to fit, survived. At daybreak, he could almost see that dirty air: like a smog suffocating the place he called home. But that wasn’t the dirty air that the Team Principal of Team Shell was referring to on the headset right now.

Moodley, did you hear me? I said you need to make a pit stop so that we can adjust the front wing. Too much dirty air is getting under the car.

Terrance ‘Moodswing’ Moodley was not one to take orders. It was the reason he’d stayed away from his family business after graduating and it was the reason he was shirking his duties now to be in this race car. I heard you but I think I can get one more lap out of it.

Moodley, no. You need to come in now! What the Team Principal couldn’t know was that this was an order Moodswing couldn’t follow.

Moodswing pressed on the accelerator, ignoring the stiffer handling as he approached Turn 3. After exiting, he pressed on the accelerator and engaged the DRS in the hopes of releasing the dirty air through the back wing but the handling didn’t improve, however the acceleration did which gave Moodswing hope that he could get this done.

The vehicle in front of him was identical to Moodswing’s so he knew that defeating him would be down to driver ability rather than engineering or how much money the teams had put into the car. And Moodswing knew that he was a better driver than this guy. Unfortunately, he’d only have one opportunity to beat him as they were heading into the last turn with a braking zone up ahead meaning that there would be little wiggle room for stunts. He’d have to pick his lane and stick to it.

Moodswing opted for the outside lane which meant, in order to get ahead, he’d have to squeeze the other driver in and power out of the corner after the turn. However, he also had to make sure that he didn’t go into the wall which required him to brake at exactly the right time. Moodswing fought his impulse to touch the brake – as this would automatically close the DRS flap on the back wing arresting his speed – and kept a steady speed, aiming to only hit the brake after the other driver. He also locked the differentials which shocked everyone back in the pit lane.

Moodley, what are you doing? You need to open the differentials. You’ll skid on the way out.

I know but I need the traction to power out of there.

That’s not how these cars work. You need to look after the tyres.

It’s the last lap. The tyres will be fine.

Moodley! But Moodswing was ignoring them and headed into the turn. After barely missing the wall, he fired on the accelerator only for his left non-loadbearing tyre to skid horribly causing him to barely maintain control of the car. By the time he regained control of the car, there was a giant puff of smoke behind him which the other driver came bursting out of like a demon out of the ether to overtake him. With only a small stretch of track left, there was no hope for Moodswing to catch up. He’d lost. And, not only that, but he’d damaged the back left tyre forcing him to limp back to the pit lane in disgrace.

However, when he took off his helmet after climbing out of the car, he didn’t look embarrassed at all – something the Team Principal picked up on. What are you smiling about? You completely failed the prime objective.

Relax Koba. It was just a training session. What’s the big deal?

The big deal is that this is a team sport. This isn’t your car, said Koba, pointing at the red and yellow vehicle. The big deal is that you have to start treating these training sessions as the real thing if you want to be in the big leagues.

Moodswing gave the North African a narrow-eyed look. May I remind you that I signed a rock-solid contract at the beginning of the year that makes me a part of Team Shell, whether you like me or not. So stop with the threats.

And may I remind you that that contract does not state what capacity you’ll be involved in this team so stop acting like we need you more than you need us.

Moodswing rolled his eyes. Oh Koba, spare me. I’ve seen you dragging racers in and out of here for the past eight months and none of them have managed to show the amount of talent that I have. And yet, for all that time, you’ve kept me back, relegating me to back up driver. But now you don’t have a primary driver for your second seat. I’m it. I’m all you have and we both know it.

Don’t be cocky, Moodley. We both know you getting that seat is a publicity stunt for the upcoming South African Grand Prix. If it wasn’t for that, I’d have already benched you.

But since you can’t, said Moodswing’s agent, finally making his presence known, there’s no need for this fighting.

Moodswing gave him a look now. Where the hell have you been, Meridian?

That’s a good question, said Koba, agreeing. Your job is to liaise between us and him, Johnny. Well, we need you to tell your guy to get in line or else. Koba then walked away.

Easy there, Moodswing. Johnny Meridian was a motorsport agent who had managed a number of Team Shell’s talent. While he was primarily contracted to the racers, he’d earned such a good reputation with Team Shell, bringing them championship-quality talent, that he’d unofficially become a mainstay with them with the racers being the ones to come and go. Moodswing was simply the latest. Now before you lose it, tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it. This was classic Johnny: wearing expensive Armani suits and sunglasses even in the blazing sun, he always kept his cool.

What’s wrong is that I know what I’m doing but they keep trying to enforce their way.

Well they have been doing this for twenty years.

That doesn’t matter, Meridian. The car is supposed to be built around me; around my driving style.

Johnny hesitated before continuing, his voice now more soothing. Just remember something Moodswing: you aren’t racing on the streets anymore. This is the big leagues and they have their way of doing things. You have to adapt.

I’m the greatest talent they have at their disposal. Why should I bend? Name one guy not in Team Shell that’s better.

Johnny was clearly annoyed as he answered bitterly. Solo Magubane. If Team Sasol hadn’t recruited him when they did, he would be the one in your shoes.

Moodswing rolled his eyes again. He was tired of hearing all about Solo. He’d been tired the moment he saw him debut back in January – the same time he should have debuted. Don’t talk to me about Solo and his B-plus team. If he’s so good, why isn’t he leading in points yet?

But he has won back-to-back races and single-handedly put Sasol in the running to take the Continental Title.

Moodswing didn’t want to hear this. Then maybe you should recruit him, he said, beginning to walk away.

Knowing that this wasn’t an option anymore, Johnny swallowed his pride and followed Moodswing. All I’m saying is that when he got here, he adapted. You should too. You’ll be better off for it.

Moodswing shook his head. I don’t think so. I’m good, Meridian. I just need to prove it, out there in a grand prix.

Johnny slumped his shoulders, defeated. Fine. Just remember this one thing if you’re going to remember anything. Don’t be so focused on going so fast that you get consumed in the afterburn. There are consequences for every action, even the ones you think are the right ones.

Having left his little nugget, Moodswing walked off but he didn’t get far. He’d been heading for the paddock but had instead found himself going to the grand stand, right to the top. He got there just in time to look out to the city of Ngelosi in the distance just as the sun was setting. It felt like he was standing on top of the world, on the cusp of achieving his dreams. So then, why did it feel like he hadn’t gotten that far at all?

Even as he stood there, literally looking back at his past, thinking about his destiny, he couldn’t help but feel the city calling back for him. Even in the car, he’d felt something holding him back but now, standing here, he wondered if it was the city itself holding him back. But why? He’d achieved everything he was ever going to achieve in that place. Why was he allowing anything here to keep him from fulfilling his destiny?

Unfortunately, there was no answer to that. All he could do was forge ahead; push harder on the throttle and hope that he could finally outrun his past. And with a little luck, perhaps he’d even be able to escape that afterburn that Meridian had been speaking about. Because Lord knew that he’d definitely done enough to warrant a little backfire!

CHAPTER ONE: ALL HAIL

Maximillian Xolani McKay was not an ordinary 18-year-old boy. He was a King. Not by blood or marriage or in any way that made him a ruler of people, but the King of an underground racing circle. No, Max was not ordinary by any stretch of the imagination. He even had many names such as King Maximus, Maximus McKay, Maximum McKay and his newest and undoubtedly favourite: Max McKing.

Max had been King for over seven months and while that was only the fourth longest reign in the Circle, he’d defended his title twenty-two times in that amount of time which was a record that no other had come close to matching. But it was possible that today would finally be the day he met his match because his challenger was hell-bent on sitting on the throne.

Flashes of pink and yellow. That’s all anyone sitting on the side of the road would see as they blew past because that’s how fast they were moving! Even a year after climbing into an XF race car for the first time, Max’s spine still tingled at the sheer vibration of these glorious machines when he sat in the cockpit. And it always put a smile on his face. In fact, in his mind, there was nothing about this so-called underground motorsport that didn’t put a smile on his face. Even the silly fact that they called them ‘XF’ race cars because they were allegedly ex-formula one vehicles. Never mind the fact that most of the vehicles weren’t ex-formula cars at all but rather A1 grand prix race cars. But Max didn’t care. He loved his car.

There was something special about the Baby Cradle and Max had known that since he’d been introduced to it. A mystical bond between man and machine. While it certainly looked like an A1 grand prix race car on the outside, inside it was actually a pre-1995 Formula One car built into an A1 shell. This had made it obsolete in the eyes of many – including Moodswing, who’d famously ‘borrowed’ it to him in his first race most likely as a joke – and yet, due to good driving and installing the right parts, Max had managed to turn this old relic into a legendary piece of machinery. And not to be outdone, Max had continued to update the car.

Now, the car felt less like a 1990s F1 vehicle and more like a modern race car retrofitted to feel like an older model. In fact, it was only the manual gear shift that made it obvious that something was out of place with this car. Of course, none of this would have been possible if Max didn’t have a mechanical prodigy for a girlfriend. There was truly nothing that Lisa Visser couldn’t do around a car engine as she’d made retrofitting modern parts in Baby Cradle look easy. And now here it was, helping Max defend his title for the twenty-third time.

However, his opponent’s car was no slouch either. The Candyfloss, so named because of its bright pink colour – a colour its driver famously hated. Darcy ‘Stevie’ Stevens had started her underground racing career around the same time that Max had. In fact, their histories were practically identical: they’d both gotten vehicles from Moodswing; they’d both become Moodswing’s enemy along the way; and they’d both found tremendous success since leaving him behind. In Max’s mind, there was no one better who deserved this title shot and perhaps even the title.

It also dawned on Max that perhaps, Stevie deserved it more than Max because while Max had been gone for six months out of the sixteen months he’d been involved with the Circle, Stevie had been right here, racing night in and night out. Not to mention that where Max had been shoo-horned right to the top due to immediately feuding with Moodswing, Stevie had had to work her way to the top by racing the other racers. That was one of the main reasons that Max had felt compelled to defend the Crown against all comers.

Your Highness! Can you hear me? It was clear that Thompson had been trying to get his attention for some time now.

Yeah, I’m here Thompson. What’s up?

What up? You’re losing, that’s what’s up.

This made Max smile even as he began to trail behind Stevie. Thompson Mashaba was his best friend although considering all they’d been through together; he was more like his brother. Funny enough, he was only supposed to be in his life briefly as his guide during his first week at Harbour High. No one could have predicted the friendship that followed. Max tried to think of something smart to say to his friend as he tried to catch up. Cheer up, Thompson. It could be worse.

How?

"Baby Cradle could be green. I mean, could you imagine? Yuck"

Thompson filled the air with his laughter. Alright joker, just do what you can to recover.

Copy that. And who are you calling a joker, man? I’m in Batman mode right now.

My man. Wait a minute. Then that would make me Alfred the butler. Na-ah man

Hmm, point taken. What about Han Solo and Chewie? Max could almost hear him rolling his eyes. It was fun having a friend who understood references to two of his favourite things: DC Comics and Star Wars.

Just drive the car man.

And drive he did. Currently, Max and Stevie were on the original route which started on the main road, turned right and onto the freeway – which was famously right-sided – right again onto the M1 where the drag races took place before returning to the main road running along the shoreline for the final stretch. They’d been on the M1 which was where Stevie had shown her drag racing prowess and overtaken Max. Max was now putting it all on the line as they headed for the offramp under the bridge (an on-ramp in truth) looking to brake at the last possible moment. The trick worked as Stevie had stopped earlier than him allowing him to retake the lead going onto the offramp.

With the turn upon him, Max hit the brakes and then turned the car into a controlled drift, aiming to face the correct direction once he was onto the main road. Unfortunately, Max’s momentum was stilted when a civilian car suddenly drove onto the ramp forcing Max to slow right down and navigate his way around the vehicle. Meanwhile, Stevie, having lost minimal speed, simply drove around and captured the lead again.

While Thompson apologised for not seeing the car and encouraged him to push it, believing that there was still a chance, Max knew better. He also found it poetic that his tremendous streak had come to end in such a way. After all, he’d won his first race after Moodswing had made a similar mistake at exactly the same offramp. Max wondered if there wasn’t a part of him that had been showing off a bit just like Moodswing had that day. I mean, what are the chances that my first race would mimic—

Max’s thoughts were interrupted by Thompson. Max, I’m so sorry man.

However, Max wasn’t mad at all. Don’t sweat it for a second, man. Just take it in because it’s been a hell of a ride.

A heartbeat passed. Man, why does it sound like this is your las— This time, Thompson’s words were interrupted by cheers breaking out in the lot. But why wouldn’t there be? Even though she was just a few months shy of being seventeen-years-old, Stevie had proven herself time and time again. She deserved to be King and everyone knew it. So when she passed the finish line first, Max was the first one to go over to her and congratulate her, handing her the golden helmet; handing her her Crown.

Congratulations Stevie, you deserve it.

Stevie was on the verge of tears although one could barely tell with her chocolate skin glistening from sweat already. Thank you, Max. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. But you raced one hell of a race yourself. If it wasn’t for that car on the on-ramp—

"—then you still would have won. I have no doubt. You’re a good racer and you’ve come a long way. He looked at the Crown as he spoke. Someone once told me that this should be in the hands of the best racer and that’s you. So protect it."

I will. I promise that I’ll defend it as well as you did.

I believe you. Max could hear the cheering from the parking lot across the street from their finish line. "Now go, King. Your kingdom awaits your arrival."

Stevie smiled from ear to ear. She took off, almost skipping, turning back to say one last thing. See you at the after party tonight.

Max smiled, signalling his answer. As he stood there on the street now by his lonesome, he took it all in; every race before and during his reign as King. He recalled the first time he crossed that finish line and the joy he felt following that. He recalled his high stakes race against Moodswing and Shade and how devastated he felt after losing it. The memory made him instinctively look up to the roof of the lot and there, standing like an absolute badass, was the intimidating silhouette of Shade – more enigma than racer. It was in moments like this, standing there, arms folded, looking down on the world from above that one could be forgiven for forgetting that Shade was a girl.

Sorry for your loss. Max had been so busy taking his stroll down memory lane that he hadn’t even seen Lisa standing on the side of the street. Is that what they say when a King’s reign comes to an end? she said, approaching him.

Actually, the saying is ‘the king is dead. Long live the king’. Max turned around. How long have you been there?"

A while. I wanted to be with you when you finished your race. To support you.

Max smiled. While it was the first time she’d been at the finish line of any of his races, it was far from the first time she’d supported his racing endeavours. You don’t have to be down here to support me. Just your love is enough.

This earned a kiss. You shouldn’t feel bad by the way. You raced very well.

This was high praise considering her encyclopaedic knowledge of car engines. A part of Max wished that she kept to the dark website rather than coming down here in person. Thanks.

You shouldn’t feel bad Stevie won. It was just luck of the draw with that car. I’m sure you’ll get a rematch and—

I don’t feel bad. Stevie was the better racer tonight. She deserves this. I’m proud of her.

This made Lisa smile that much more. And I’m proud of you. You’re such a good brother to her, you know that. Looking out for her; protecting her even from herself.

Max had never thought of himself like Stevie’s brother. It was an interesting notion; one that Max liked. Max had never expected to end up playing that role for her but ever since he’d stepped up to help her get out from Moodswing, it had become