The pulsating sounds of Massive Attack blare out from the radio, making the world around them vibrate. Despite the noise, Blonney finds her own rhythm.
She races down the interstate. Her wheels grind on asphalt as primal screams snarl out from the back seat.
Judie: Whenever I hit the scene, everyone's eyes are on me! Whenever Judie passes by, people can't help but look! Wow!
Finney: Woof! Woof, woof, woof!
Tom: What do you reckon tonight's headlines are gonna say about all this, ma cherie?
Blonney: Hmm. I reckon it'll be something along the lines of "Night of Terror at the Night Owl Inn."
Tom: Now that's a good headline! You're more than just a cook then, ain't you? Just who are ya, really?
Blonney: Well, that's a secret.
Tom: A secret, huh? So, is that why ya won't let me sit in the passenger seat?
Blonney lets loose a spirited laugh.
Blonney: Do you ever dream, Jack?
Blonney: Just a few nights ago, I dreamed I was running down a hallway, flames crashing down around me, burying me alive.
Jack: Oh. That sounds scary.
Blonney: It wasn't that frightening, really. Dreams like that give me inspiration. I can create something from nothing and make people want a part of it.
Blonney: There was a time I gave up on those dreams so I could make friends. But that doesn't mean they weren't important to me.
Blonney: They enhanced my sense of touch, sight, smellâthey allowed me to perceive the smallest changes in things, even in things that can't speak, the ones that need my help the most.
Blonney: I need them too. I don't want to lose it all again.
Blonney: I don't want to repeat the mistakes of the past, even though you can't change what's already been done.
Blonney: I mean, what can we really get back? We can't undo the past. No matter how we try.
Blonney: All we can do is stand by the stories we create, take responsibility, and keep on living.
Jack: Huh.
She senses a change in Jack's voice. She goes to grasp his hand, but her fingers pass straight through it.
Blonney: Jack? You ...
Jack: Blonney, I think you'd better let me out here, before the sun goes down.
Blonney shifts to a lower gear, heads up a slope, and stops the car.
Jack: Mr. Tom, Mrs. Judie, and Finneyâthey're all sleeping.
Blonney: They're drunk. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. The sherry I took from the cellar really has a kick.
The sky clears up with perfect timing, almost bizarrely so, allowing the distant sunset to spread out its bright orange hue.
The long road stretches out ahead as cars drive past them, whizzing and creating little whirlwinds of air. Where are they going? Where will they fly next?
Jack: "I rode God farâI rode God near, he sang, it was our last ride over the hurdled humans."
Jack: "They cowered when they heard us overhead, they wrote, they lied our neighing into one of their image-ridden languages."
Jack: Dad would let me sit by Jack's bed and read us poems from Mr. Dark's collection, like "The Rock Waterfall," "A Crown of Flowers," "Near Wine and Despair," and so many more.
Jack: He said people are like horses. They can keep on running for ages, but when they get tired, as soon as they stop, they're gone, just like that.
Blonney: You think about things like that a lot, Jack?
Jack: Sometimes. After all, I'm not really "Jack" at all, am I?
Jack: I think people need to find something they love to keep on living, like how they loved me, like how you love "them."
Jack: You made me realize that. You made me feel like nothing was impossible. Thank you, Blonney.
Blonney: ...
Blonney: I can tell you a family tradition of mine, if you wanna hear it.
Blonney: Memory breadâit's something my mom used to make for me when I was a kid. She said one bite would make you remember something really important.
Blonney: It could be anything, any moment, and any place.
Blonney: So how about we raise a glassâdrink a toast, break bread, and remember all our journeys. Remember who we were, because that's what made who we are now.
Jack: If we eat up all our memories, what'll we have left?
Blonney: Something more interesting, I'll tell ya that.
Jack laughs, runs a few steps, then turns to face Blonney, his arms wide open as he shouts.
Jack: I have a dream, Blonney! One day, I'm gonna start my own journeyâa life as free as yours!
Jack: I want one "last ride"âjust like in the poem!
Blonney: Hah.
Blonney: Take this, kid.
She tears a sketch from her notebook.
Jack: What's this?
Blonney: This is ... well, this is "Jack's Inn."
Blonney: I don't know how long its magic will last, but as long as you have it, I think you'll have a blast out there.
Jack: Is this part of your "secret"?
Blonney: Hah, that's a secret, too.
She smiles, leaning against the car door.
Blonney: Oh, and take this too.
She pulls a watch from her pocket and hands it to him.
Blonney: No battery could ever get this thing ticking again, but the forest we found it in is a pretty depressing place. Find it a new home, huh? It's only right that you have it.
Jack: But Blonney, I'm not ...
Blonney: Yes, you are, Jack.
March 14, 18:00, clear.
Blonney: After downing a bit of sherry, I like recalling those secret stories.
Blonney: I remember a kid once told me I had a good heart, but I know I'm an idiot and a real jerk.
Blonney: That kid claimed he wasn't real, just a toy, but I know he was something else. He was real.
Blonney: He's right there. Look to the horizon, and you'll see him.
At the end of our film, the protagonist drives off into the sunset, alone, in a rented car.
She knowsâits loyal groans and the wind rushing past her will always be intertwined with those memories.
