Monster Truckers - Episode One: East of Omaha (Pt 5)

EPISODE ONE: EAST OF OMAHA (JOLENE)

“You know that Angel?” Drags says to Sam over the CB.

"I recognize her now. She was at the Waffle House this morning."

“So we were picked for this run? And why?  What did we do that her Smilers were not able to. That is the question.”

"I don't know. Think for ourselves?" came Sam's reply.

Mac clicks in, "Hey, Brother, you still want to see if she'd marry a zipper? XOXO or hahahaha?"

Xadens grip tightens the steering wheel groaning under his grip as his eye narrowed at the man. "HumanCorp...." flashbacks of that night pour into his mind, "and an angel...F@#! Now Heaven is with them...makes a man want to lose faith."

Then Jolene spoke. She didn't raise her voice. Every radio, every truck speaker, even the handheld CBs carried her words. "Children... be not afraid."

She folded her hands before her. "You've spent your lives learning to fear anything you don't understand."

Her emerald eyes settled on the convoy.
"You've asked good questions. You deserve honest answers."

She took one slow step forward. "I promise you every answer you seek is waiting here."

Her smile never faltered. "But I cannot answer your questions if you remain so very far away."

She extended one hand in invitation toward the aisle that had opened through the crowd. "Come. Let's talk."

Xaden looks at the others, "What do you boys think?"

"Mac to Demon, I don't trust her, I can throw the boxes into the crowd, and we can split. Or do we just go?"

“We listen and maybe get paid," Dragula said over the radio. "Or we can leave the load and roll out. Made it this far.”

Sam swallows slowly. "Yeah, we play along, find out what she's after and go from there."

Without another word, the convoy eased forward. The crowd never flinched.

They simply stood, smiling, as the four vehicles rolled down the aisle they had created. No one reached for the trucks. No one spoke. No one even blinked.

The man in the labcoat's smile widened as the convoy approached the makeshift stage.

Above him, bathed in golden light, Jolene watched them come with open arms and an expression of genuine welcome.

The convoy shuddered to a stop in front of the stage. Sam rolled down his window. A single flap of his leathery wings carried him to he roof of the Scream' Demon. He slipped his hands into his pockets, trying to act casual. "So... Jolene... didn’t recognize you earlier. How you been?"

Jolene simply smiled at him. "Samael."
She spoke his name as though greeting an old friend she hadn't seen in ages. "I have wondered where your road would lead."

Her emerald eyes lingered on him. "I almost didn't recognize you either."

A crooked grin tugged at the corner of Sam's mouth. "I've lost a little height."

The corners of Jolene's eyes crinkled. "So I see."

Jolene's gaze drifted to the Last Cathedral and its trailer. Her expression softened. "You brought my vessels."

"That was the job. Speaking of which, we would like to get paid now," the demon replied.

The man in the lab coat frowned, "They are last gift of Heaven and you would ask for payment?"

Jolene laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder, "No, Roger." Her voice carried both sorrow and hope. "They are the first gift of what comes next."

“I am pondering whether what comes next is worth our pay." Dragula says to no one in particular.

Mac quietly climbed down from Fluffy Bunny. With his back to the crowd, he opened one of the side compartments, produced a whetstone, and began drawing it slowly along the edge of his machete. No one in the horde seemed to notice or care. Their eyes remained focused on the angel in their midst.

Xaden never took his eyes off Roger. His right hand slowly clenched then relaxed over and over. The HumanCorp raid on St. Cecilia's played over and over in his mind. He watched every twitch the technician made.

Across the aisle, Dragula eased the Electric Warlock's door open. One boot hit the pavement. If Sam walked toward the stage, he wasn't walking alone.

Sam, however, remained standing on the roof, "What do you mean by 'vessels', Jolene?"

Jolene's smile never faded. "The crates. They are vessels."

"Vessels for what?" the demon asked.

"For the song, of course." A gentle breeze stirred her robes. "They carry voices that have been silent for far too long."

Roger stepped forward eagerly. "The dispersal units will—"

Jolene lifted one finger, silencing him instantly.

"The machine are merely trumpets. They does not create the music. They only carry it farther."

Her gaze swept across the silent congregation. "They all heard it. They all remembered and came willingly."

A murmur of agreement rolled through the crowd. Not spoken, hummed, as if they were tuning an orchestra.

"Don't you remember, Samael? The music? The Choir of Heaven? Don't you miss it?" Jolene's eyes were wide now. Her skin glowed almost painfully. "We can hear it again. Here. On earth."

Sam frowned.. "And after everyone hears this... song?"

For the briefest of seconds, Jolene looked puzzled by the question. "They won't be alone anymore. Isn't that what everyone wants?"

Xaden took a step forward, eyes locked on Roger. His hands clenching and unclenching with barely contained rage.

Mac turned his head toward Sam. The little demon's voice had changed. The jokes were gone.

"I think we 'bout to scram," he thought to himself.  Without another word, Mac climbed back into Fluffy Bunny. One hand rested on the shifter. The other hovered near the ignition. His eyes never left Sam.

Dragula glanced over one shoulder. The trucks were still clear. None of the smiling congregation had moved.

He climbed back into the Electric Warlock. His fingers drifted across the rack of old discs Mac had made. After a moment, he selected one. "I don't like gospel music."

Then, loud enough for Sam to hear through the open window, he grinned. "^@% it."

A hand settled on the steering wheel. "Let's go bowling."

Jolene watched them - Mac, Dragula, Xaden, then finally... Samael. She saw the hands on the steering wheels. The preparations. The escape routes being measured. She closed her eyes for just for a moment. When she opened them again there was only sadness.

"They're still afraid."

Roger lowered his head. "They cannot hear."

"No..." Jolene whispered. "Not yet."

She slowly raised one hand.

As one, the Choir began to sing. Hundreds of voices. The harmony washed over the convoy.

Inside the Last Cathedral's trailer the broken crate began to glow. The warning beacon flashed wildly.

Golden dust shimmered within the cracked boards. The dispersal unit answered the song.

Fluffy Bunny's engine stumbled. Across the lot, the Electric Warlock shuddered violently before its engine fell silent. The Last Cathedral's great engine rattled to a stop. The Screamin' Demon's V8 sputtered once before the dashboard went dark.

Jolene lowered her hand. The singing stopped instantly. The truck stop became deathly quiet.

She looked at each of them in turn. "Mac. Dragula. Xaden." Her eyes finally rested on the tiny red demon standing atop his Trans Am. "Samael."

She extended one hand toward them. "Come. Lay your burdens down."

Her smile returned, gentle and patient. "You don't have to carry them anymore."

Mac was still sitting behind the wheel of the Fluffy Bunny when its engine shuddered and died. He looked down at the silent gauges.
"Brother..."
He glanced toward Sam.
"...what's going on?"

His eyes shifted to the angel. "Does she think holding her hand up is gonna stop me?" Mac shook his head. "Feh, she ain't my creator."

Dragula nodded toward his brother and began headbanging, stomping in a slow circle atop the running board of the Electric Warlock. "Yeah, I am the jigsaw man!"

His boots pounded the steel and he started screaming a song of his own.

"I turn the world around with a skeleton hand. I am electric head. More human than human! More human than human!"

The Choir stood motionless around him, their vacant smiles unchanging as his words echoed across the truck stop.

He stopped abruptly. He shouted towards Jolene. "We don't have souls to sell. So that doesn't work on us."

He grinned, eyes near crazed with rebellious fervor, "My creator isn't in the clouds. He's somewhere in the ground in Arkansas."

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Mac slapped his steering wheel. "Pig Sooie, baby!"
He threw his head back and laughed, "Hahahahahahahahahah! Hell yeah!"

Jolene regarded the two Zippers with genuine sadness. "Is that what they told you?"

Her voice remained calm.

"That you don't have a soul?"

She looked directly at Dragula. "Wouldn't you rather know the truth?"

She took one slow step forward.
"That you were assembled instead of born? That you are less than those who made you?"

She shook her head. "They lied."

Jolene motions towards Mac, "You call him 'Brother'. Why? Machines don't love... but you do."

The angel turned back to Sam. "Perhaps you can persuade your companions to see reason. There is no need for this..."

She glanced briefly at the idling—now silent—trucks.

"...hostility."

Her eyes drifted to the trailer. "Bring me the vessels so my real work may begin."

"Yeah... so, before I do that, how about you tell me what you hope to accomplish," Sam replies.

Jolene looked surprised. "Have you been so long away that you no longer remember?"

"O Warden of Creation," The title hung in the air.

Even Roger looked toward the tiny demon with renewed reverence. Jolene slowly turned, looking over the congregation. "The Choir. Perfect harmony. No loneliness, envy, or fear. "I would hear it again."

She extended one hand toward the world beyond the truck stop. "Not in Heaven, but here."

Her emerald eyes shone with conviction.
"On Earth...as it is in Heaven."

Drags looks at Mac after the “truth line", some of his bluster faded and he said, “We are spare parts. Who put the soul in there? Just got those lying around?”

Dragula finds his voice again, “Which of these guy’s soul do I have in me? The one from my chest? Left leg? Tell me Jolene?  Whose soul do I have to sell?”

Jolene looked at him with unmistakable compassion. "No one's."

The answer came without hesitation. "You are asking the wrong question."

She took one slow step toward him. "A soul is not a spare part. It cannot be transplanted. It cannot be divided. And, it cannot be bought or sold."

"You are not the sum of the bodies that made you. You are... she looked directly at Dragula and it felt as if she was looking directly into the soul she claimed he had and placed one hand over her own heart, "...the one asking the question."

Sam's jaw actually dropped. He stared at Dragula. "Dude... of course you have a soul. Why would you think you didn't?"

Dragula blinked. "I was assembled."

"So?" Sam shrugged. "You've been alive. It would've grown in by about the time you turned one."

Mac slowly turned his hockey mask toward him. "It would've what?"

Sam looked around at everyone. "What?"

Finally Xaden spoke. "Sam? Souls grow?"

The little demon sighed. "Well, they do now. Originally, children were born with souls but infant mortality was awful. So... Heaven changed the policy. It didn't make much sense assigning an immortal soul to a body that might only live a few days. So we started waiting until it looked like the child was actually going to survive."

Xaden looked at Sam than over to to Dragula and Mac, "So would it be an original soul they have?"

Sam glanced over at the Hunchback, "When you get your first tooth, does it come from somewhere else? No. It's yours and yours alone. Same with souls."

Mac groans in frustration, "Just pay us!  Who cares 'bout the soul .. i dont believe in your Mumbo Jumbo %@%%#&! Pay us now!"

“Easy Brother. This is heavy.”  Drags says to Mac. “So once we," he points to himself and Mac, "were 'reanimated', a year later we got a soul?”

Sam rolls his eyes. "Yes, I say, yes, keep up, Drags, keep up."

“Sam, how much does your side give for one of these souls? I have one it seems and I don’t know if I want it.” Drag says with a huff.

The little demon looked... horrified. "Drags... you don't sell souls. That's Hollywood. A soul isn't currency or collateral. It's you."

Then, after a moment, a tiny grin returned.
"And before you ask..." He looked back at Dragula. "No. Heaven doesn't have a pawn shop."

Jolene watched Sam with the same sad expression she'd worn since he'd refused her invitation. "You still reduce eternity to jokes."

Drags looks confused as he ponders what Jolene and Sam had just told him.

Mac steps out, brining the conversation back around to the cargo, "Enough of your ^@%. Pay us or heads will roll, starting with Roger.

Xaden sighs, "Yeah, just pay us so we can leave." His anger now settling, "We have other jobs to get to."

Roger instinctively took half a step backward. Jolene gently placed one hand on his shoulder, stopping him. She looked at each of the drivers who had spoken and smiled sadly. "You still measure everything in wages. Another job, another road."

She looked at Mac, "I can offer you something no employer ever could."

Finally, she looked to Xaden. "And I cannot pay you, because what I ask of you cannot be bought."

Her gaze settled one last time on Sam.
"O Warden of Creation, tell them. Were you ever paid to make the stars bloom?"

Sam shakes his head and a tiny smile crosses his face. "No. But, I had something better than pay. I had free will."

Jolene's back stiffened. "You had free will and you squandered it. You traded eternity for pride and perfect harmony for endless loneliness. I offer you a chance to reclaim what you threw away. Come home, Samael."

Mac suddenly shook his head and exclaimed, "First, Sam is not alone, we are his brothers and second, what are you offering me? A Volvo D17 engine? Great. I will take it as my payment. Thank you, where is it?"

Roger looked confused but Jolene couldn't help but smile. "I cannot offer you a better engine."

Sam looked at Mac. A grin slowly spread across his face and he nodded thoughtfully. "Well...I think that's fair."

He turned back to the angel. "My associate has presented a modest and entirely reasonable price. "If you can't meet it then I'm afraid negotiations have reached their natural conclusion."

He nodded toward Xaden and the Last Cathedral. "We'll take our cargo and be on our way."

He tipped his hat. "No hard feelings. I'm sure you understand. A contract is, after all, a contract."

Mac slipped a hand into one pocket. In that pocket, a sheath, sewn into the inside of his pants leg, held a hidden machete. His fingers grasped the handle of a machete and his gaze fell upon Roger. He would serve as the distraction Mac caused if the crowd turned against them.

Roger swallowed, maybe sensing Mac's attention.

Jolene regarded the convoy quietly. Then she smiled, "You are right."

Sam blinked. "I am?"

"A contract is a contract but those vessels belong to the Choir and I will have them.

The congregation inhaled as one.

Roger slowly lifted his head. The smile returned to his face and the humming began again.