Monster Truckers - Episode One: East of Omaha (Pt 7)

EPISODE ONE: EAST OF OMAHA (FINALE)

For a moment, everyone froze.

Dragula laughed, "Told you it would work."

Mac called out to Sam, "Hey, GET UP." Mac leaned over to open the door for the little demon.

Sam squinted at the cloud. "We didn't destroy it."

Drags reached down and grabbed a flare pistol and aimedaims for the golden cloud of Angel Dust and fired!

The burning projectile disappeared into the glowing mist. The flare continued through and out the other side.

Dragula watched the flare as it fell. "Well, I expected more out of that."

Mac looked at Sam, "Hey, you're a demon. Can't you conjure up fire?"

Sam turned and looked at Mac. "Wow. Just, wow. That is an incredibly hurtful and outdated stereotype."

Xaden shouted to Dragula, "Try shooting the trailer! If there is enough there the ensuing fireball should reach."

Sam's jaw dropped, "Why would that work?"

Xaden scratched his beard, "I don't know, it might be like flour or grain. Those are super explosive."

Drags nodded his head and opened the orange breechloading flare gun. The spent shell fell out and hit the pavement with an odd clank. He leaned over to the glove box and began to dig around, looking for the other two shells that came in the package.

"Where'd I put those?"

Sam stared. "You're looking for another flare?"

The zipper nodded, "Yeah."

"Because the first one was such a success?"

"Exactly."

Sam slowly covered his face with both hands.

Dragula found the shell and loaded it. He leaned out of the window and fired. The flare streaked across the highway and struck the ruined trailer with a THAK. Some sparks erupted from the point of impact and rained onto the blacktop.

Jolene descended slowly with her sword lowered. For the first time all night she looked angry. "Your intelligence continues to amaze and insult me. I spent millennia among beings of unimaginable wisdom and somehow... I am defeated by a group of truckers attempting to ignite celestial dust with emergency road flares."

She looked at the ruined trailer and each of the drivers. She watched the Angel Dust being scattered on the wind. "Do you understand what you have done? The Dust took a decade-and-a-half to gather. It took Roger years to build the dispersal units. The harmonics needed to shape it into a Choir cannot simply be rebuilt. You have destroyed the only chance these people had."

Dragula smiles, “Mission accomplished. You should’ve just paid us the money instead of trying to convert us to your cult. Well, have fun cleaning that up. I gotta go make a living. Bye, &#%%.”

Sam nodded, "Yeah, the whole turning people into Singing Zombies didn't work for us, so we've decided to cancel your shipment." The little demon took a breath. "We gonna have a problem?"

Mac frowns behind his mask, "How do we stop her? Can we rip her wings off of something?

Sam shook his head. "She's an angel, not a fly and I don’t think we could do that on our best and her worst day. Besides we already stopped her plan. Question is, what comes next?"

Jolene shook her head. "You may leave. Taking retribution at this point would be petty." She lowered her flaming sword.

"But, Samael..." She spread her wings and the air around her began to glow, "in the grand scheme of things, we both have all of the time in the world. I will see you again," she looked directly into his eyes, "and I will not forget what you did."

Then Jolene launched herself into the sky and faded from view. About thirty seconds later, drivers, now freed from the Choir and the effects of the Angel Dust began pulling up. A trucker climbed down from his cab, "What the hell happened?"

“Angel dust happened” Drags says and adds nothing else.

The trucker stared at him and sighed. "You know. I lived through the sixties too."

The driver nodded knowingly. "Everybody thought they were being deep but it turns out we were just really high."

Mac, Dragula, Sam, and Xaden head back to the truck stop and pick up the Screamin' Demon. Aside from the dent Jolene had made in the hood with Sam's body, it was untouched.

Mac collected both of his machetes.

Within minutes, the convoy was turned around and back up on the highway. The golden glow was gone from the sky. The highways were empty. The Worstlands stretched out around them like they always had like nothing had happened.

By the time Omaha came into view, the sun was coming up. Ahead, the Waffle House lights glowed in the distance, calling them home.