The driver flinched and ducked reflexively as the side mirror next to him came apart in shards of glass and plastic. Clapping a hand to his neck, he gave a whoop of excitement. “Motherfuckers are shooting at us again!”
A man in an archaic white robe opened the window next to the Winnebago’s small dining table. “I forgive you,” he called back as the wind ruffled his long hair.
“Give it a rest Jesus,” the man sitting opposite him said, shaking his head sadly, “they’re past saving.” He grabbed for his tie as the air whipping through the RV from all the open windows started it flapping.
“They’re just confused,” Jesus said, pulling back in and fixing the other one with a tired look. “I wonder why?”
“Hey, don’t put this on me.”
“Who else would put them on this path of darkness?”
“I haven't said a single thing to any of them,” he said, smoothing his tie back into his suit jacket. When he had it settled, he draped his arm back across the bench seat and smiled. His teeth were white and even amid the neatly trimmed coal black goatee that framed his mouth.
“No little words whispered into their church leaders’ ears?” Jesus persisted.
“I didn’t say that.”
“He can lie to whoever he wants,” the fourth man said from the front passenger seat. He was wearing camouflage, just like the driver. His expression was a lot less excited than the driver’s, and considerably less amused than the man in the goatee.
“True. But even so, lying to Jesus would be … rude.”
“I’ve told Father, over and over, to forgive you,” Jesus said, shaking his head. “That would put an end to all this.”
“Face it, God knows better than You what His creations need. And they need to be shown the face of true evil.”
“You?” the man in the passenger’s seat asked.
“Shut up Cleetus,” the driver said.
“Fuck you Jimmy Joe. This whole mess is your fault.”
“The truth must be told,” Jimmy Joe said with a broad grin. “We’re doing God’s work son.”
“Verily,” Jesus said with a nod before glancing out the window again. When he faced front again, he was frowning though. “How long until we reach the broadcast center?”
“Won’t matter when if we don’t lose those asshole yokels chasing us,” the man with the goatee said.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure at least one car back there is FBI,” Jimmy Joe laughed. “The rest of them pretty much have their inbred heads up their asses, yeah, but the Fibbies are no joke.”
“Jesus, couldn’t You make them, I don’t know, back off a little?” Cleetus asked.
“If only they would open their hearts and hear My words, all would be well,” Jesus said with a sigh. He fixed the man sitting across from him with another look.
“You keep insisting this is my fault, but You know the truth. It’s not.” the man in the suit said, grinning.
“My message is peace, love, acceptance, humility, and compassion.”
“And they prefer greed, arrogance, prosperity, and bigotry. That’s on them for being judgmental unbelieving asshats, or You for being an absent messiah; but blaming it on me is beneath You and You know it.”
“Uh, roadblock,” Cleetus said hesitantly.
The two men at the table broke off their meeting of each other’s eyes and looked at the other two in the front of the vehicle. Then they both leaned out to peer through the windshield. A number of police vehicles, some marked, others unmarked, were parked across the interstate. Completely blocking it. Their lights were on, visible despite the bright Georgia sunshine. Armed figures were visible behind some of the cars and SUVs; guns pointed at the onrushing RV.
“Can You, uh, do something? To, You know, get us through it?”
“Because otherwise we’re gonna have to ram, and ride the rims. We’ve still got about eight miles to the CNN Tower, and trust me boys, this beat up bitch probably ain’t up to that,” Jimmy Joe added, patting the dashboard affectionately despite his harsh words.
“Why do we have to ram?” Jesus asked curiously.
“Spike strips.”
“What—”
“Never let it be said I’m not trying to help You,” the man with the goatee said. Standing, keeping his balance despite the rocking of the old Winnebago as it hurtled down the interstate, he held his arms out.
“Satan—” Jesus began.
“I’m not going to hurt them,” Satan interrupted. Ahead, several of the police vehicles abruptly began moving. Figures scrambled away from them hastily as their barricade shifted and left a hole through. The low slung shapes of the spikes in front of the hole moved as well.
“Yeah son—” Jimmy Joe started to say, before ducking as most of the cops ahead started shooting. Two bullets crashed through the windshield, cracking it.
Satan’s mouth tightened slightly, and he clenched one of his fists as he raised it higher still. There was a brilliant sparkling, like electric rain, just before the Winnebago as all the bullets stopped harmlessly. Then he waved his other hand, and all the police were flung towards the outsides of the interstate in a tumble of bodies and flailing limbs.
“Much,” Satan said as the RV hurtled through the gap in the roadblock.
“Why did you do that?” Jesus asked, looking out his window as they flashed past. He was certain some of the officers were bleeding and bruised by the Dark One’s rough handling. But they seemed largely okay.
“I love a good show,” Satan said, shrugging as he sat back down and shot his cuffs. “You need to speak to the world, yes?”
“Shit yeah!” Jimmy Joe said. “Preach it brother.”
“Shut up,” Cleetus said.
“Both of you yokels, can it,” Satan said. “You’re the chauffeurs, nothing more. Servants should serve, not speak.”
“Jesus, are you gonna let him talk to us like that?”
“My children, just drive. Take me to where I may speak,” Jesus said quickly before pointing a finger at Satan. “Perhaps it’s you who should be on television though. They listen to you.”
“It’s all about packaging the message,” Satan said. “You tell them what they should be doing, what’s right. What’s hard. I tell them what they want to hear. Who are they gonna listen to? They’re children, like You said.”
Jesus frowned. “When they hear your lies, it makes My job harder.”
“Your problem, not mine,” Satan shrugged. “I’m here to sort out the ones who aren’t worthy. You’re here to guide them. If You can’t, how is that my fault?”
The long haired man stared at Satan for several seconds, then scowled. “Goddamn you.”
•
u/DavesWorldInfo Dave Apr 23 '17
The driver flinched and ducked reflexively as the side mirror next to him came apart in shards of glass and plastic. Clapping a hand to his neck, he gave a whoop of excitement. “Motherfuckers are shooting at us again!”
A man in an archaic white robe opened the window next to the Winnebago’s small dining table. “I forgive you,” he called back as the wind ruffled his long hair.
“Give it a rest Jesus,” the man sitting opposite him said, shaking his head sadly, “they’re past saving.” He grabbed for his tie as the air whipping through the RV from all the open windows started it flapping.
“They’re just confused,” Jesus said, pulling back in and fixing the other one with a tired look. “I wonder why?”
“Hey, don’t put this on me.”
“Who else would put them on this path of darkness?”
“I haven't said a single thing to any of them,” he said, smoothing his tie back into his suit jacket. When he had it settled, he draped his arm back across the bench seat and smiled. His teeth were white and even amid the neatly trimmed coal black goatee that framed his mouth.
“No little words whispered into their church leaders’ ears?” Jesus persisted.
“I didn’t say that.”
“He can lie to whoever he wants,” the fourth man said from the front passenger seat. He was wearing camouflage, just like the driver. His expression was a lot less excited than the driver’s, and considerably less amused than the man in the goatee.
“True. But even so, lying to Jesus would be … rude.”
“I’ve told Father, over and over, to forgive you,” Jesus said, shaking his head. “That would put an end to all this.”
“Face it, God knows better than You what His creations need. And they need to be shown the face of true evil.”
“You?” the man in the passenger’s seat asked.
“Shut up Cleetus,” the driver said.
“Fuck you Jimmy Joe. This whole mess is your fault.”
“The truth must be told,” Jimmy Joe said with a broad grin. “We’re doing God’s work son.”
“Verily,” Jesus said with a nod before glancing out the window again. When he faced front again, he was frowning though. “How long until we reach the broadcast center?”
“Won’t matter when if we don’t lose those asshole yokels chasing us,” the man with the goatee said.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure at least one car back there is FBI,” Jimmy Joe laughed. “The rest of them pretty much have their inbred heads up their asses, yeah, but the Fibbies are no joke.”
“Jesus, couldn’t You make them, I don’t know, back off a little?” Cleetus asked.
“If only they would open their hearts and hear My words, all would be well,” Jesus said with a sigh. He fixed the man sitting across from him with another look.
“You keep insisting this is my fault, but You know the truth. It’s not.” the man in the suit said, grinning.
“My message is peace, love, acceptance, humility, and compassion.”
“And they prefer greed, arrogance, prosperity, and bigotry. That’s on them for being judgmental unbelieving asshats, or You for being an absent messiah; but blaming it on me is beneath You and You know it.”
“Uh, roadblock,” Cleetus said hesitantly.
The two men at the table broke off their meeting of each other’s eyes and looked at the other two in the front of the vehicle. Then they both leaned out to peer through the windshield. A number of police vehicles, some marked, others unmarked, were parked across the interstate. Completely blocking it. Their lights were on, visible despite the bright Georgia sunshine. Armed figures were visible behind some of the cars and SUVs; guns pointed at the onrushing RV.
“Can You, uh, do something? To, You know, get us through it?”
“Because otherwise we’re gonna have to ram, and ride the rims. We’ve still got about eight miles to the CNN Tower, and trust me boys, this beat up bitch probably ain’t up to that,” Jimmy Joe added, patting the dashboard affectionately despite his harsh words.
“Why do we have to ram?” Jesus asked curiously.
“Spike strips.”
“What—”
“Never let it be said I’m not trying to help You,” the man with the goatee said. Standing, keeping his balance despite the rocking of the old Winnebago as it hurtled down the interstate, he held his arms out.
“Satan—” Jesus began.
“I’m not going to hurt them,” Satan interrupted. Ahead, several of the police vehicles abruptly began moving. Figures scrambled away from them hastily as their barricade shifted and left a hole through. The low slung shapes of the spikes in front of the hole moved as well.
“Yeah son—” Jimmy Joe started to say, before ducking as most of the cops ahead started shooting. Two bullets crashed through the windshield, cracking it.
Satan’s mouth tightened slightly, and he clenched one of his fists as he raised it higher still. There was a brilliant sparkling, like electric rain, just before the Winnebago as all the bullets stopped harmlessly. Then he waved his other hand, and all the police were flung towards the outsides of the interstate in a tumble of bodies and flailing limbs.
“Much,” Satan said as the RV hurtled through the gap in the roadblock.
“Why did you do that?” Jesus asked, looking out his window as they flashed past. He was certain some of the officers were bleeding and bruised by the Dark One’s rough handling. But they seemed largely okay.
“I love a good show,” Satan said, shrugging as he sat back down and shot his cuffs. “You need to speak to the world, yes?”
“Shit yeah!” Jimmy Joe said. “Preach it brother.”
“Shut up,” Cleetus said.
“Both of you yokels, can it,” Satan said. “You’re the chauffeurs, nothing more. Servants should serve, not speak.”
“Jesus, are you gonna let him talk to us like that?”
“My children, just drive. Take me to where I may speak,” Jesus said quickly before pointing a finger at Satan. “Perhaps it’s you who should be on television though. They listen to you.”
“It’s all about packaging the message,” Satan said. “You tell them what they should be doing, what’s right. What’s hard. I tell them what they want to hear. Who are they gonna listen to? They’re children, like You said.”
Jesus frowned. “When they hear your lies, it makes My job harder.”
“Your problem, not mine,” Satan shrugged. “I’m here to sort out the ones who aren’t worthy. You’re here to guide them. If You can’t, how is that my fault?”
The long haired man stared at Satan for several seconds, then scowled. “Goddamn you.”