Monster Truckers: Episode One (East of Omaha - pt 2)

EPISODE ONE: EAST OF OMAHA (THE BILLBOARD PEOPLE)

A few minutes later, the convoy arrived at a rundown warehouse near the old rail yard.

The building was covered with rusty corrugated steel panels. Boarded up, windows dotted the outside. Several panels hung slightly crooked, rattling in the wind. Knee-high weeds pushed through cracked pavement. Abandoned train cars sat on nearby sidings like monuments to a world that no longer existed.

Decades of urban decay had settled over everything. The entire area smelled of diesel fuel and metal.

A chain-link fence topped with razor wire surrounded the property.

Two guards stood watch at the gate. One was a pale vampire in a faded security jacket carrying a pump-action shotgun slung over his shoulder. The other was a shaggy wolf-man whose badge identified him as "Ralph".

While the vampire checked IDs, Ralph made his way around to each of the vehicles, sniffing for anything out-of-the-ordinary. Once satisfied, Ralph signaled the vampire who nodded to Sam and told him, "Bay Four".

The convoy rolled through the gate. The loading area behind the warehouse was crowded with forklifts, shipping containers, fuel tanks, and stacks of cargo awaiting transport. Most of it looked ordinary.

A pair of mummy dockworkers were unloading crates from a flatbed. One paused to wave at the convoy, causing the other to drop a pallet. Swearing that sounded suspiciously like ancient Egyptian erupted.

Near another loading bay, a gill-man operated a forklift while periodically spraying himself with a garden hose.

A battered loading dock extended from the warehouse. The number "4" had been spray painted in orange on the roll-up door. The paint had run in several places.

A clipboard-wielding ghost wearing an orange safety vest stood beside the door, pointing at the dock.

Sam keyed the mic, "Drags, you want this load? Or should Xaden take it?"

“Xaden is up. I got next one," comes the reply over the CB.

"Copy that." Sam hung up the mic and idled the Screaming Demon out the way and parked.

Mac pulled up and parked next to some old cargo containers. He killed the engine and climbed out of the cab. The smell of diesel fuel, rust, and wet pavement filled his lings as he took a deep breath. A smile slowly spread across the face hidden by the hockey mask. "Mmmmmmmmmm... don't you just love the smell of Diesel in the morning?"

Xaden backed The Last Cathedral toward Bay 4. The reverse alarm beep... beep... beeped a couple of times before the truck settled against the loading bay.

The air brakes hissed and the engine died. Xaden climbed down from the cab. "Load her up."

The ghost in the orange safety vest immediately became animated. "Excellent!"

The spirit checked his clipboard, placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

The gill-man forklift driver turned off his garden hose and looked up. "Me?"

"Yeah! Get this truck loaded!" The ghost floated back and forth impatiently. "Come on! I ain't got all eternity!"

The forklift lumbered over and began picking up pallets and driving them onto the trailer.

The first carried fifty case of blood brew. The second had replacement fusion batteries tied to the pallet with heavy straps.

Six gray crates, each labeled "DO NOT EXPOSE TO NT RADIATION" and "DO NOT OPEN" and "USE NO HOOKS" were painted on the outside. As each of the crates was loaded onto the trailer, the cargo box sank lower on its springs.

Outside, the wind began to pick up as dark clouds formed in the eastern sky while thunder rumbled in the distance.

As the last crate was loaded, the ghost passed Xaden the clipboard, "Sign here."

After Xaden gave it back, the ghost told him, "It's a straight shot all the way to New Council Bluffs. Just keep on the interstate."

Sam keyed the mic. "All right boys, let's do this. For the good 'ol American life. For the money, for the glory, and for the fun. Mostly for the money."

Drags watches the ghost float away with his little clipboard like he was still alive and important. He reaches up and grabs his custom Japanese demon faced microphone and says, “Xaden, I’ll follow the Church.” Knowing that he was running blocker and being the backup truck to make sure the load got through if the other truck had an engine failure (or more likely was shot to ^@%@). “Time to make the donuts. Drags out.”

Xaden finishes his pre-trip inspection making sure everything is strapped down and secure. He hops into the cab of The Last Cathedral and fires up the motor. Just like Mac's Fluffy Bunny, a squeak accompanies the rumble of the big engine. He reaches over and grabs his CB, "Bell Tower Butcher, checking in, looks like we are in for a stormy ride boys." Xaden puts his rig into gear. "BTB rollin' out."

The convoy rolled out of the old rail yard. Sam out in front, followed by Xaden and Dragula, with Mac bringing up the rear. Ralph the werewolf security guard flashed them a thumbs up as they cleared the gate and pulled out onto the highway. The warehouse slowly disappeared in their mirrors.

Thunder rolled across the plains. Dark clouds continued gathering ahead. The horizon had taken on that strange green-gray color that always made Midwesterners nervous.

The convoy merged onto the interstate. Traffic was light. There were a few semis that the group recognized, Graveyard Shift, Howlin' Mad, Black Widow, and Asphalt Medusa, to name a few. Not to mention a couple of banged-up pickups and a single Baha Blaster with a Headless Driver behind the wheel.

The road stretched eastward through abandoned agricultural fields and derelict industrial sectors. Water still gleamed in the ditches from the morning rain.

Sam keyed up his mic, "You know what I miss? Mega-churches."

Several seconds ticked by and finally, over the CB, Xaden sighed, "Ok. I'll bite. Why mega-churches?"

Everyone on the channel could practically hear the grin spreading across Sam's face. "Because the entire concept behind them was incredible. Moses spends forty years wandering the desert, receives divine revelation, carves the Commandments into stone. Then three thousand years later some guy named Chad is preaching next to a waterfall projected onto a seventy-foot screen while pyrotechnics explode all around him. It was the most human thing I have ever seen."

He pauses for a couple of seconds, "I saw one with three coffee shops and a book store in the lobby. Another one had a fog machine. Christianity meeting capitalism never looked so good."

Xaden stops himself from speaking and really thinks about it. "You know... I can't really argue with that logic."

Rain began splattering against the windshields. Just a few drops at first but it grew steadier with every passing milepost. Every so often, they would hear other drivers over the radio but most of that was routine stuff about road conditions, weather, arguments about the cost of fuel vs. the Guild's pay scale until a new voice cut through the static.

"Breaker one-nine, this is Rust Bucket. Eastbound traffic, be advised, the Choir is back."

The radio practically erupted. Drivers from everywhere within range of the signal began firing questions back and forth over the air. It was practically unintelligible.

Mac's monotone voice crackled across the speaker. "Fluffy Bunny to Screaming Demon, elaborate on the Choir, over."

The demon shook his head even though nobody could see him. "Screaming Demon to Fluffy Bunny. Never heard of the Choir. Rust Bucket, you want to explain?"

For a few seconds, there was only static. Then an older trucker's voice returned. "Ain’t much to explain," static crackled over the line, "used to be just a few of 'em. Folks what got caught in NT storms, got themselves fused into signs, storefronts," another pause, another burst of static, "...billboards."

A woman's voice crackled in next. "Nobody paid them any mind. You know, sad, but harmless."

Rust Bucket's voice comes back on the line. "Then about six months ago, they started signing. Just the one at first. By the end of the week, there was two. Then a couple dozen."

The convoy passed a billboard advertising a restaurant chain that no longer existed. The father in the picture turned his head, watching as Sam, then Xaden, the Dragula and Mac passed by.

Sam stared so long he nearly went into the ditch.

The woman's voice continued. "They sing old jingles... commercials. I heard one singing what I think was 'Amazing Grace' but I couldn't make out the words."

"Anybody know what they want?" The little demon asked.

Static was the only response for about a minute, then Rust Bucket replied, "Company? They want people to sing with them."

A billboard slid past the convoy. A woman fused to an advertisement for a soft drink. Her face turned slowly as they passed. Her voice drifted through the rain, "Wouldn't you like to be a Pepper, too?"

Another billboard, this one missing most of its face. The remaining eye tracked the convoy. "Like a good neighbor..."

Another billboard farther down the road picked up the line, "... State Farm..."

A third finished the slogan, "... is there..."

Perfectly in sync, voices overlapping.

"Don't know about y'all, but this sends shivers down my hunch," Xaden shudders as the singing fades away behind him.

Mac replies, "I see no threat, just a bunch of loners."

Sam tries to lighten the mood, "You know, I invented advertising jingles. Barbershop quartet singing about Wheaties cereal back in 1926, Christmas Eve."

Xaden asks over the radio, "What's your favorite thing that you created?"

Sam didn't answer immediately. In fact, Sam waited so long to that Xaden was beginning to think that he hadn't heard the question. The Hunchback picked up the mic again when Sam's voice came over the speaker.

"Tacos."

Drags keys his demon faced mic and adds “Taco Taco Taco Today!” an old jingle from a defunct regional taco chain. “Every day is Taco Tuesday’s!”  A pause “I bet you made cilantro taste like soap for some people too you little $^#^ monkey.” He busts out laughing in his cab.

"No. You can thank Gabriel for that." Sam quips back at him.

“I’m the one that you wanted. The Superbeast!” Drags begins singing along to some long ago rock god ballad in his cab.

As Dragula belts out his impromptu tribute, another voice joins in.

Not from the CB. Not from another truck. From a billboard.

"I'd like to teach the world to sing..."

The harmony drifted across the countryside.

Soft, distant, beautiful, and very, very Wrong.

Another billboard joined. Then another, then a third.

"In perfect harmony..."

The voices blended together. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, all carried on the wind.

"I'd like to buy the world a Coke...:

All of them singing in perfect sync, none of them missing a beat, despite the miles in between them.

"And keep it company..."

“This billboard thing is creepy,” Drags adds as they drive by and hear the choir of billboards.

The convoy rolls onward through the rain. The voices of the Choir fade behind them. The interstate bends gently through a stretch of abandoned farmland. Billboards continue to line the road. Most are empty but some still contain faded advertisements. Others contain people.

Everyone is talking back and forth over the CBs when Xaden sees one of the billboard people move. Not their head, not their eyes... their shoulders. A large, faded picture of a woman reaches out and grabs the edge of the billboard and hauls herself forward like someone throwing back the blanket on their bed in the morning.

The sound reached the convoy a moment later. It was a long tearing noise liike duct tape being ripped from concrete.

RRRRRRRIIIIIPPPPPPP

The figure pulls its second arm free. Chunks of old advertisement vinyl hang from its body. Fragments of logos cling to its skin. Bits of metal and wooden framework protrude from its back.

It steps off of the billboard and lands in the ditch.

Then another billboard person climbs down. Three more join the second one.

RRRRRRRIIIIIPPPPPPP
RRRRRRRIIIIIPPPPPPP
RRRRRRRIIIIIPPPPPPP

The singing resumes. "Wouldn't you like to be a Pepper, too?" 

The first creature begins walking. Walking becomes jogging. Jogging becomes running.

Sam steps on the gas. The Screamin' Demon picked up speed. Tires hissed on wet pavement.

The things begin to accelerate. They match pace with and start to catch up with the convoy.

The billboard people's legs blur. Smiles stretch unnaturally wide. Rainwater streams from faces and tattered fragments of advertisement flap behind it like flags.

The singing doesn't stop. Fifty, sixty, sixty-five, seventy miles per hour and the Billboard People continue to gain.

One of the billboard people suddenly turns its head toward the Last Cathedral. Its mouth opens impossibly wide and in perfect harmony with a dozen others:

I'd like to teach the world to sing...

Sheet metal and plywood fingers reach for the trailer. 

Mac sees the Billboard People closing in on the Last Cathedral and slams his foot to the floor. Fluffy Bunny's engine roars as ultra-diesel surges. The massive Zipper is pressed back into his seat as his tow truck accelerates toward Xaden's pursuers. He pulls up alongside one of the runners and turns the wheel, body checking them on his passenger side. That runner loses its footing and stumbles, crashing into the ditch. Plywood bones and vinyl skin tears apart, showering the side of the road with debris.

Sam catches a glimpse of the crash in his rearview, cuts the wheel, and yanks up on the handbrake. As the Screamin' Demon spun around, he released the brake and raced back in the other direction with smoke rising from his rear wheels.

As Sam shot past Drags going in the wrong direction, the Zipper glanced out of his window. Two Billboard People were running alongside the cab. One had grabbed the rail above the step-side and was about to haul himself aboard.

Dragula turned the wheel, crossing the median. "You picked the wrong truck, mother#^%@&!" The creature’s fingers dug into the steel door. Dragula aimed the Electric Warlock for a highway sign and cut the steering wheel back the other way at the last possible second. The rig nearly jack-knifed but Dragula managed to keep it under control.

WHAM!

The creature was scraped free like gum off of a boot. It was still smiling. It was still singing when it hit the ground and shattered into bits of wood and structural aluminum.

"I'd like to hold it in my arms and keep it company..."

The singing faltered. Not because the runner had been destroyed but because it had lost the beat.

The remaining runners immediately adjusted, filling in gaps in the harmony. The Choir continues to run.

One of the billboard people running beside the Last Cathedral turns its head toward Xaden's trailer. Its smile widens.

"Come on people now..."

Another joins in from the median.

"Smile on your brother..."

A third climbs over a guardrail. It hits the pavement and joins the others.

"Everybody get together..."

Then a dozen more voices answer from the rain.

One keeps pace with the Last Cathedral. Vinyl skin flaps in the wind. Rainwater runs down a face that hasn't aged since its picture was taken more than ten years ago.

Green lightning flickers inside the storm clouds. The Choir keeps singing. The billboard people keep running. One of them reaches for the trailer Xaden is hauling. He nudges the wheel to the right.

"Try to love one anoth..."

The creature disappeared beneath the trailer. There was a loud crunch. Then several smaller crunches.

Xaden looked in his mirror. Sam was nowhere in sight. Drags and Mac were running interference. The Choir was still gaining on him.

Once Sam was clear of the first cluster of runners, he yanked the wheel again. The Trans Am fishtailed across the rain-slick interstate.

SCREEEEEEEEEECH

The Screamin' Demon spun around and rocketed back toward the pursuing Choir.

Sam grinned. "Screaming Demon to convoy.... I have identified a weakness."

The Trans Am accelerated. The demon face painted on the hood seemed to grin wider as the car charged straight at the runners.

The first billboard person looked up. Its smile never faltered.

THUD!

The Pontiac clipped it at highway speed.
The creature came apart in a spray of plywood, metal framework, and faded advertisement vinyl, fragments scattered across the median.

A second runner leapt aside. A third wasn't quick enough.

Sam keyed the mic again. "They don't like being hit by cars."

Mac watched the billboard people surge toward the Last Cathedral. Dozens of them now. Running through the rain. Singing. Smiling. Reaching for the trailer.

Mac adjusted his grip on the wheel. "Fluffy Bunny to convoy. Stay behind me."

The billboard people would move toward the Last Cathedral. Mac would move toward them, blocking their access. Again and again.

The tow truck drifted across both lanes blocking access to the convoy. The Choir's formation started stretching and breaking apart. The runners weren't being destroyed. They were being separated.

Their song began to falter once again.

Xaden grabbed his CB microphone. "Cover at least one ear."

Xaden reached under the dash and flipped the switch to the air horn. The compressor begins pumping air into the bellows bolted to the back of the sleeper cab.

The warning echoed across the convoy. Nobody knew what he was about to do, but everybody listened.

A second later, the pipes of the Last Cathedral unleashed hell.

He pulled down on the chain that controls the air horn and the organ bellowed.

The sound rolled across the prairie like the voice of an angry cathedral. Deep notes shook windows, rattled mirrors, and vibrated through the steering wheels of every vehicle in the convoy. Rainwater danced across the pavement. The singing of the Choir became garbled as the blast washed over them. 

And for the first time since the chase began, the convoy pulled away.