TWENTY-ONE

"Brothers and sisters," Reverend James announced to his ravenous congregation, "I am here to announce to you that the day of the Lord cometh soon. We must repent all our sins now to avoid eternal damnation. Do you see the light?"

The congregation responded enthusiastically. "I said do you see the light?" the reverend asked more emphatically. He waived to his organist, who broke into a rousing hymn that got people out of their seats and dancing in the aisles. Next to the pulpit, Jennifer turned to Ray, who was happily clapping along with the song. "Keith and I come here every Sunday to see the reverend at his work," she told him, "Once he heard Jake and Elwood got inspired for their push for the orphanage twenty years ago here, he had to make this a weekly trip."

'Well he sure picked the right place," Ray said, swaying to the music, "This is best church service I've seen in a long time."

Suddenly, without warning, the church's doors slammed opened. Everyone came to an abrupt halt as Pastor Bedford stormed in, followed by dozens of Caucasian Provinces members brandishing demonic weaponry they'd been given by the H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s. "All you inferiors clear out of here!" the so-called holy man demanded to the congregation, "This service is over!"

"You will not interrupt my service!" Reverend James shouted down from the altar, "Who do you think you are, anyway?"

"I am God's avenging angel!" Pastor Bedford told him darkly, "And you have committed blasphemy in his eye, savage! You are supporting the dark forces, and will be smitten for it!"

"You will leave now!" Reverend James pointed toward the door. A horrific demonic glow filled Bedford's eyes. Before anyone could react, deadly blasts of energy shot out of them, sending the choir and organist scrambling for cover. The white supremacists took this cue to shoot up the fleeing congregation with their inferno rods and plague grenades; Lieutenant Armbrister in particular seemed to take sadistic pleasure in setting on fire the clothes of people he no doubt felt were inferior to himself. Bedford in the meantime fired satanic blasts of energy all over the church, destroying icons and sepulchers. He blasted Reverend James as he was fumbling for a cross and walked slowly up to him. "And as for you, savage, you're going to face your judgment day," he said darkly.

"Uh oh," Jennifer commented to Ray from under the overturned pew they'd taken cover under, "I think we're in big trouble."

In the Bluesmobile as it cruised across the Ventura Freeway, Jake bolted upright in his seat. "Oh no," he breathed.

"Oh no what?" Elwood asked. Jake didn't respond. He grabbed the radio to Chicago. "Come in Reverend James," he called into it, "Reverend James, if you're there, talk to me."

There was nothing but static from Chicago. "Oh damn, oh damn!" Jake slammed the radio the floor and thumped his head off the dashboard in frustration. "What?" a concerned Katrina asked him.

"We just lost Chicago, sweetheart," Jake said, "The H.E.R.E.T.I.C.s toasted our last outpost."

He dialed Upstairs on his cell. "Foley, they've got Chicago," he said glumly to his aide, "Go down and see if you can find any survivors in Triple Rock. Right, we meet after that."

"So what do you mean we've lost Chicago?" Zee asked him as he hung up.

"Triple Rock was the only truly righteous church left in the city," Jake said, "Sorry to say that everywhere else has become hypocritical and overly dogmatic, and thus have lost their true spirituality. Now, to fulfill this mission, we're going to have to go through a city that's almost certain to be turned into Hell on Earth by the time we get back there with the Relic."

"And they say New York's bad," Elwood commented.

There was a beeping alongside them. The band had rejoined them. Elwood beeped back in compliance. Matt, who was driving, rolled down the window. "How's it been, Elwood?" he called out at him.

"Never better," Elwood called back, "How 'bout you?"

Another horn blast indicated the arrival of the second Bluesmobile. Elwood waved over to the rest of their group. "Here we go, Woodman Boulevard," he said, pulling off the exit ramp, "And there's our contact."

A brown 1979 Pontiac Bonneville had slowed to a crawl in front of the Bluesmobile; the same one they'd been told to look out for when they'd arrived in Los Angeles. All three cars—soon joined by Latifah's car coming from the opposing freeway ramp—fell in behind it as it drove at about ten miles an hour around the streets, finally pulling into a long driveway on Mammoth Avenue. This extended well behind the small apartment building that was to be their shelter during their time in L.A., and the fences surrounding the property were high enough to block prying eyes. All five cars pulled into a heavily obscured garage behind the apartment. "Chuck Betz, right?" Elwood asked as they all climbed out."

"Yep," the balding man told him, "I've got ten rooms open here for you. No one else in the building but me, so you can't get ratted out as long as you don't go out in public too much. After last night, I'd say you guys could use it. Say, are you Clarence Craycroft?"

"That's me," the blues legend said, leaning against the side of the garage.

"Curtis mentioned you a lot," Betz told him, "He seemed really sorry that he couldn't have been better to you. He sort of felt sorry about you, seeing what happened to your son and all that."

A strange look crossed Clarence's face, almost a cross between regret and shock. "Well, let's not just stand around here and wait to be caught, how about we go up and have breakfast," the old man said, leading the way up to Betz's main apartment.

"So how'd your trip over go?" Elwood asked Mack as they entered the rather spacious main apartment.

"Less eventful than yours, I've heard," Mack said, "Cab was all over me for every little infraction of the law I made, but the cops were only on us for the first half of the trip or so, until they realized they wanted you more than us."

"Sounds nice," Elwood nodded, "So, Latifah, did ya book us for Universal?" he asked his attorney."

"Just cinched it around sunrise," she told him, "It turns out they're going to launch a new ride based on Steven Spielberg's new knight movie, and they were looking for a band to play to open it."

"Apparently news travels fast," Zee had turned on the TV and found a blown-up photo of the Bluesmobile facing back at him. "And this breaking news coming in to us," the Headline News anchor was saying, "We've just received word that the Blues Brothers, fresh off their reckless spree last night in Las Vegas, will be performing for one night only at Universal Studios Hollywood tomorrow evening. Officials at the park say they received on offer they could refuse from the band's management. Authorities haven't commented on whether they'll let the Blues Brothers perform without arresting them first."

He laid down his copy and looked directly into the camera. "As you know, the reemergence of the Blues Brothers has sparked a great divide not just in Illinois but also all over the nation," he said, "Some people are questioning why they continue to do what they're doing, performing bleus music in this era of techno and pop and rap. Plus the memories of all the vehicular carnage they've caused throughout their various incarnations. Our sister station CNN will present a special five part series on the history of the Blues Brothers starting tonight at eight featuring a town hall discussion between their supporters and detractors. We hope you'll tune in to watch."

"At least we'll be able to see tonight's," Elwood shrugged.

"Which begs the question; if they know we're coming, how do we get into Universal without being seen?" Donald posed, "They'll have guards and local cops at every single entrance and exit, and don't think the national people'll take too long to catch up."

"I can help there," Betz interceded, "It so happens I'm an accountant at Universal, and they've told me the special perks of the park. I know several back entrances through City Walk you can come in through and connect to the park with some underground tunnels. Universal's right over the hill to the south of here off the Hollywood."

"Sam and Dave are already there," Keith said, "They called to tell me they're setting things up for you guys. They told me they weren't followed."

"Well then, I think we might as well take this time to break in our newer members," Clarence pointed to the three members of Zee's old group.

"That would help," Jordan nodded, "I still haven't got a damn clue what's going on here."

The band filed down to get their equipment. Clarence abruptly slumped down on the sofa. Jake put a hand to his head. "You're amazed Curtis cared, aren't you?" he asked.

"I didn't know he had it in him," Clarence looked almost ashamed, "I thought he only cared for himself."

"Curtis made mistakes over the years, but by the time he'd raised us, he'd realized they were mistakes," Jake said, "He heard how far you'd fallen, and he'd felt guilty about walking out on you later in life. I know because he told me to my face."

"I was always close to Curtis," Betz said, "He always spoke highly of you as long as I knew him. He told all of us orphans you were the best blues musician out there, and he knew acres of them."

"Too bad the world had to let the blues go by," Clarence said, "We were so big—we were America's greatest export—and now the music's all but dead."

"That's why we're here," Jake said, "To make the world remember what they forgot. To spread the soul to places where it's been killed off."

There was the thumping of footprints up the stairs as the band came back. Clarence rose up. "Well, might as well got you guys back in shape," he said as they came in, "We'll start with you two on the saxophones, figure out who takes the lead."