AUTHOR'S NOTE: Starting with this chapter, I'm upping the story to PG-13 just to be on the safe side for some of the material I have in mind.
FIFTEEN
"Are you there yet?" Zildrohar demanded to Ilvania and Voodshtap as they zoomed over the Idaho skies on sawgliders—glowing buzz saw-shaped disks that were standard demon transportation in Hell.
"We're almost there, Great Zildrohar," Voodshtap told the holographic image of his boss being generated from his communicator.
"When you succeed in your mission, bring Pastor Bedford down to Louisiana," Zildrohar told him, "Our quarry lies there on the verge of obtaining the third part of the relic. I have sent an agent from Hell ahead to cover it, but you must have support for us up there if we are to bottle them up. Over and out."
He disappeared from the image. Ilvania and Voodshtap eased their sawgliders down into the woods just outside the Caucasian Provinces white supremacist compound. "Are you sure Mongor's spirit is a good idea?" Ilvania inquired, glancing hesitantly at the rattling box in his hand.
"We have no choice," Voodshtap admitted. With determined looks on their faces, they strode out of the woods into a crowd of ugly-looking people heading for a barbecue pit in the center of the compound. "Excuse me sir," Ilvania asked a man in a Klansman suit, "Where may we find Pastor William Bedford?"
"Third cabin down on your left," the Klansman told them. The two Heretics strode over to the cabin in question. A gigantic bearded man in a military suit barred the door. "No entry," he gruffly told them, his arms crossed.
"We are holy messengers," Voodshtap told him, "We have a great gift for Pastor Bedford."
"No entry," the Neanderthal militiaman repeated.
"Who is it, Lieutenant?" a balding man in black robes stuck his head through the door.
"Are you Pastor Bedford?" Voodshtap asked.
"No, I'm his aide, Alderman Alderman," the bald man told him, "What do you want?"
"We are holy messengers with a gift for the good pastor," Ilvania told him, sneaking a snigger at Voodshtap over the irony of the situation.
Alderman Alderman thought over the request a moment, then said, "Sure, I guess it won't hold up the speech too much. Let them in, Lieutenant."
The Heretics squeezed their way past the hulking military man into Pastor Bedford's cabin. Caucasian Provinces posters hung over all the walls, as well as blown-up photos of Hitler. Pastor Bedford, a gray-haired man in a suit and tie, was hunched over his desk. "What do you gents want?" he asked the visitors.
"Pastor Bedford, we are messengers of God," Voodshtap smirked, "We bring for you on his behalf for your many years of service the gift of youth."
"Really?" Pastor Bedford looked skeptical.
"Really," Ilvania told him, "Just look in here."
He handed the so-called holy man the box with Mongor's spirit. Pastor Bedford shook his head and opened it. Immediately a blast of red light shot out of the box and engulfed him. He screamed in revulsion as it engulfed him. Alderman Alderman rushed forward to try to assist his boss, but the Heretics held him back. Then, just as quickly as the light had come about, it disappeared. Ilvania and Voodshtap smiled knowingly at each other, knowing the old man representing Satan's mortal enemy was now under their thumb. Pastor Bedford climbed slowly to his feet. "Your Eminence, are you all right?" Alderman Alderman asked him, worried.
"I feel great, Alderman," Pastor Bedford said, a wicked smile spreading on his face, "In fact, I've never felt more better in my life. The second coming of Christ is at hand. We must rally the men to the cause." He ran to the door, ordering, "Lieutenant Armbrister, call the members of Caucasian Provinces to the meeting grounds. We must announce the coming of Christ."
About five minutes later, the two Satan worshippers found themselves seated next to Alderman Alderman on the dais in the middle of the compound as Pastor Bedford spoke to his racist masses. "Brothers and sisters," he rambled, "Dark forces are rumbling over this world. The forces of Hell have sent forth their emissaries, two brothers named Blues. They support all that is evil, and are sworn to spread their doctrine to the entire world! It is up to us on behalf of decent white people everywhere to wipe them out, and the good men of heaven here have agreed to arm us with holy weaponry to destroy them. We must rally all to the cause!"
As the people broke into applause, Pastor Bedford became so overcome with excitement over his "holy crusade" that dark energy shot out of his eyes and obliterated a giant hemlock tree about five hundred feet away. His masses were impressed. "Yes my friends," the pastor continued, "Our friends here have imbibed me with the power of the Holy Spirit! I am invincible! And so is our cause!"
The Heretics couldn't help laughing at the utter irony of the situation.
Jake turned his heavenly radio up to its highest frequency. "Come in Reverend James," he said into it, "How are things going in Chicago?"
"So far so good," Reverend James told him on the other end, "The meter's still only in the purple section."
"On Sunday see if you can get as many people as possible into your church," Jake said, "We need a highly positive counteraction for the dark vibes."
"I'll hold services every day if need be," Reverend James vowed.
"Please do," Jake said, "Call you later."
The Bluesmobile pulled into the lot of the Gator Bay Fairgrounds. The training with Clarence had gone reasonably well enough that both Jake and Elwood were sure the band was good enough for the show they had planned for tonight. The former blues legend hopped out of Latifah's car as it pulled up next to the Bluesmobile. "I'm hoping you boys won't let me down," he told the Brothers, "I don't want everything I told you to go to waste."
"It won't," Jake reassured him. He turned to the Band as they pulled up. "Let's get everything set up now, so we won't have to waste too much time later in the night," he told them.
"You planning on escaping in a hurry, Jake?" Mr. Fabulous asked with raised eyebrows.
"Who said anything about leaving?" Jake shrugged. The band shook their heads skeptically.
The entourage made their way through the fairgrounds to the large outdoor stage at the far end. A pair of people was waiting for them. "Guys, let me introduce you to Sam and Dave," Keith introduced two men who looked only a few years older then himself to the Brothers, "Thanks to Jake here they were able to come down earlier than I thought. Sam's the best special effects expert out there, Dave knows sound and lighter better than anyone alive. Together I think they can make us very visually appealing."
"Nice to meet ya," Elwood shook both men's hands, then asided to Jake, "Sam and Dave. How fitting."
"I've scanned the stage, Mr. Blues," Sam told him, pointing to the center of the structure, "There's hidden trap door there. "I've been thinking that we might have you all be raised up onto the stage on it to start the show. I can feed in smoke to come up the shaft with you to make it more dramatic. How does that sound?"
"Good enough for me," Elwood shrugged.
"We'll need you guys to record levels on the mikes so we can get your tones on correctly," Dave told them, "Show me how you're going to be on stage to start and I'll know how to light you all."
"Well it seems you guys are all worked out," Murphy told the others, "Okay guys, we might as well put on the fruit zoot suits."
The rest of the band nodded and headed for the bathrooms. The Blues Brothers climbed up on stage and looked it over. "Looks like it'll do well," Mack commented, "Hopefully we'll be able to put on a good..."
"Do you hear something!?" Zee held up his hand. Sirens could be heard in the distance. "Crap, the cops sure are efficient!" Elwood groaned, we'd better get into hidin' quick!"
"Under the stage," Jake gestured to the secret entrance.
Six hours later, after darkness had fallen, Mercer strode about the midway with his associates. "They're bound to show any minute now," he reassured them, "We had great intelligence. And besides, they're usually punctual with their shows."
"I should hope so," Agent Orange said, "because if I deployed all my men for no reason whatsoever, I'm going to look like a laughingstock in the department."
"You're not a laughingstock," Mercer reassured him.
"You know that, but they don't," the FBI man said nervously.
"It's about five minutes to showtime," Mount checked his watch, "And Mr. Mercer, keep in mind that we can't afford any orange whips."
"Damn!" Mercer grumbled. He picked up his radio. "All interior units, please converge on the stage at this time," he announced to his men, "Exterior units, make sure you have all exits to the fairgrounds covered."
Underneath the stage, the Blues Brothers stood nervously on the trap door. They'd had to have their dinners funneled to them by a reluctant Latifah while the cops weren't looking and had their microphone tests taken from a hidden set Dave had been forced to put under the stage for them. "Two minutes," Elwood said, checking his own watch, pushing down the handcuff holding his briefcase to his wrist, "Let's hope this smoke and fire stuff don't kill us."
"I'll bring you back to life if you are, Elwood," Jake reassured him, "Now after two songs you break away with me. I've sensed the relic piece is underneath the lake behind us. The rest of you guys cover for us until we get back. And now, it's showtime." He produced a walkie-talkie and activated it. "Boys, give us the intro," he told the band.
On the stage, the band started into "Can't Turn You Loose." "Ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to present for your entertainment, direct from Calumet City, Illinois, the last bastion of rhythm and blues in the nation," Latifah announced over the PA system from a prefabricated piece of paper, "Please put your hands together for Elwood J. Blues and his friends, the Blues Brothers."
Jake threw the switch to the winch control of the trap door. "Godspeed, Elwood," he told his brother as he rose amid Sam's smoke to the stage top. Although Elwood could see very little through the smoke, he could make out the cops and FBI men standing in the background quite easily and wondered how in God's name they were going to get out of the fairgrounds without getting caught. As the music came to a crescendo, he held out his arm for Zee to unlock his briefcase. He withdrew his harmonica and dropped the briefcase behind Willie's drums. "Thanks for coming folks," he told the crowd, "We hope you'll like our show tonight. Since we're in the south here, I'd like to dedicate this first song to a great southern city I've always wanted to visit. For your listening pleasure, here's 'Going Back to Miami.' One, two, one, two, three, four."
The band struck up the song. Elwood turned the mike over to Zee, who dominated with the song, much to Elwood's pleasure. He dropped to his knees and did a harmonica duet with Armstrong. The dog was relishing its time in the spotlight. He glanced over at Clarence, who smiled in approval of the song. Indeed, Elwood felt reenergized to be back on stage, performing the music that ran through his blood.
In the back of the crowd, Mercer snapped along to the beat. "You've got to admit," he told his colleagues, "They've still got it after twenty years."
"Mr. Mercer!" Daniel raised his eyebrows.
"Well they do!" Mercer protested.
As the song ended, Elwood took the mike again. "And now, for your entertainment, Brother Zee and Mighty Mack will perform an old favorite of mine, 'Flip, Flop, and Fly.' One, two, one, two, three, four."
He walked to the back of the stage, where Jake was now waiting. "Dance around and look natural," his brother told him, "We'll sneak off in a minute, and it can't look jarring or suspicious."
"Whatdya suppose we'll have to face this time, Jake?" Elwood had to know.
"I have no clue," Jake admitted. He looked on both sides to see FBI agents starting to close in on either side of the stage, already suspicious. "Let's move," Jake said, leading Elwood off the stage. No sooner were they off the back than the agents surrounded them. "Hold it you!" one of them yelled.
"You don't want us to hold it," Jake force-waved at them, "You want to throw your weapons in the lake and go home and rethink your lives."
The agents blindly did just that. Jake led Elwood over to the water—and proceeded to kiss him right on the lips. "What the hell was that all about!?" Elwood demanded.
"Making sure you'll be able to breathe underwater," Jake told him, "I don't know how deep the bottom is. Just follow me."
He dove into the lake without bothering to undress at all. Elwood shrugged and dove in after him. He was surprised how well he could breathe in water—almost as well as he could breathe air. The water was thick with algae, but he could still make out Jake swimming ahead of him. The angel dove for the lakebed, then skimmed along the bottom for several yards until he reached what looked like a large handle sticking out of the silt. Motioning for Elwood to stand back, he gave it a yank. A secret door opened up, revealing a glowing light inside. The brothers slipped inside, where they found themselves facing a gigantic maze that seemed to go on forever. "Ya mean we gotta go through that!?" Elwood asked, not really wanting to do it.
"'Fraid so," Jake said.
"Well how're we gonna find our way out after we get what we need?"
"Through this," Jake produced a vial from his pocket and dumped some gold dust on the ground. "We'll mark the trail," he said, "Just gotta watch out for hidden obstacles."
They slowly entered the maze. Elwood made sure to stay just behind Jake and not get lost. Jake turned left, then right, then left again. They made good progress for a while, but then about halfway through they turned another corner and came across a sleeping hellhound. "SShhhhhhh," Jake indicated. They tiptoed around it, but unfortunately Elwood tripped and fell over on the dog's back, waking it up in a flurry of barking. "Nice doggy," he gulped as it lunged toward him.
Jake pulled a string sausages from his pocket. "Here boy, fetch," he directed tossing it toward the hellhound. When it finished eating that, he produced a longer string and tossed it several rows backwards. The hellhound leaped over the partitions after it.
"Try to be more careful," Jake told Elwood, "We can't afford any more of those."
Elwood nodded. After a few more turns, they came across a large patch of quicksand. Elwood hung on tight to Jake as he leaped over it. Then a little while later, they found the route blocked by a giant spider web. Jake solved this problem by electrocuting the web with his hands, destroying it and the giant spider that was perched on top ready to attack them. Finally, about twenty minutes after they entered the maze, they turned right and found themselves in the center. "The next piece of the relic," Jake said, pointing to it. The mantle of the relic, with a cross-shaped indentation in the middle where the last two pieces would go, stood on a pedestal lit by another magic beam of light. "Just got to watch out for any last traps," Jake said as they advanced toward it.
"I wouldn't worry about traps, Jake," said a cold voice from behind them, "I'm more than bad enough for you." Jake looked deathly pale as he turned to face his nemesis. "Hi honey," he said weakly, "Fancy us meeting again like this."