27. Prediction: Todd (D1)

__ Todd Namer stood naked and bloody in the psychic parlor and surveyed the landscape.
__ "Looks pretty good, Todder." Todder is what his former mother used to call him. No more. No more since he was now his own man, his own God. He didn't need his mother or father, didn't need his friends -- who were dead anyway. He only needed his wide open future.
__ He had daydreamed about it as he went about cleaning up the bodies of Keith and Billy. There had been a lot of stagnant, stale metallic-smelling blood all over the place. But he cleaned it all with bleach and other chemicals he found in the kitchen and bathroom. He had taken off all his clothes and put them in the Gypsy Girl's clothes washer. They'd be out of the dryer soon.
__ Todd relished the nudity. His skin, sticky with blood and sweat, was like a dragon's scales. Nothing could hurt him now. He felt wary, alive, his pulse pounded with the thought the Gypsy Girl would come home and find him here, savage and ready to pounce. She would be his first female victim, and the thoughts of what he would and could do with her were far more dark than anything imaginable.
__ He would kill her quickly, out of respect.
__ But only if she cooperated.
__ Todd daydreamed about traveling the world, a modern day vampire with a gun. He would live by night -- anywhere he could go -- and take everything he wanted. He would kill his victims in different ways so the police could never track him down. He'd kill indiscriminately in every state in the nation and every country in the world. He'd kill for revenge, for lust, for fun. And no one would stop him.
__ No one could stop him.


__ The storm eased up its tremor but the rain continued unabated. Though lighter, it was still heavy enough to be annoying.
__ It wasn't annoying to Clye Morrow, Munson mused. Clye lay on his back, his face pale as the belly of a frog and just as slimy. Grit and grime channeled down his cheeks and into his ears from the corner of his open eyes. His hair was pasted back and matted with mud. His clothes were dark with mud and indistinguishable by type or color.
__ "Didn't you hear me, Mr. Munson?" Maggie asked.
__ He couldn't look at her. After all, he had been to Hell. He couldn't be sure something didn't follow him out to taunt him and drag him back; some nightmarish specter, a fugitive from a Japanese horror film, a little girl with long matted hair and dark eye sockets.
__ "Hey!" Maggie came away from the car door where she was leaning and smacked him on the knee. "Listen!"
__ Munson, who had been sitting with his back against a tree staring at Clye's form in the muck, looked at the girl. "What?"
__ "Do you like music?"
__ "Wha?"
__ "I said, Mr. Lazypoop, do you like music?"
__ Munson shrugged, looked at her suspiciously. "What do you want from me?"
__ "I want to know," Maggie took a deep breath and screamed, "DO YOU LIKE MUSIC!?"
__ Munson pulled himself off the tree and dove for the girl. Landing on his knees, he wrapped one arm around her waist and clapped his other palm on her mouth. "Sssssh!"
__ He held her for a while, looking around, straining to hear if her hollering was picked up by anyone in the woods. "Please," he said, looking from tiny blue eye to tiny blue eye, "Please don't do that again." He asked if it was okay to remove his hand from her mouth by nodding reticently and making 'sad eyes' with his glare. When Maggie nodded into his palm he released her.
__ "Then don't do that again!" She admonished with a wagging finger.
__ "I'll tell you what," Munson said, "I'll answer five questions without hesitation or games, if y'all'd be kind enough to answer just one o' mine."
"Okey-dokey Mr. Donkey."__ Maggie smiled broadly. Even in the din he could tell her teeth were brown and crooked. She plopped down in the mud across from him and rested her elbows on her knees like a little girl waiting to hear a bedtime story.
__ Munson rolled his eyes heavenward before asking, "How did you know about me? About Doug and Ardy? How did you know their names and that they were coming? And you mentioned a boy.... Who is he?"
__ Maggie waited for him to finish then rolled her eyes in impersonation of the man before her. "You said one question so I'm going to just pick one of those."
__ "Okay, how about--?"
__ "No. Just one of yours for five of mine. We had a deal," she scowled.
__ Munson sighed, looked around the dark woods. "Go ahead."
__ "I know about you because I had a dream about you. I dreamt that a mean killer man crawled out of a dark fiery hole that went all the way to hell. I dreamt his two friends -- Doug and Ardy -- that's a funny name." She giggled after saying Ardy's name.
__ "Go on."
__ "I dreamed that her and her boyfriend came to save you, that Ardy," giggle, "will save you from yourself."
__ Munson had a vision of suicide and knew -- knowing what hell is like first hand -- that wasn't going to happen. "I don't get it."
__ "You grownups, so funny."
__ Maggie stood up and wiped the mud off her seat with filthy hands, then she turned and walked toward Clye's corpse.
__ "What are you doing!?" Munson struggled to his feet to stop her, "Maggie, don't go by him."
__ "He's a dead zombie now," Maggie frowned.
__ Munson put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. He crouched down to look her in the eyes. "Don't look at him. And no.... No, he ain't dead. Not really. Ardy's gonna make him wake up so I can... so I can talk to 'im."
__ The killer lead the girl back to the car. "Here. Let's sit in here until they git here. No sense gettin' any more wet n' muddy than we already are."
__ Maggie climbed into the car when Munson opened the door for her. As he climbed in after, Maggie said, "You ain't gonna talk to him, Mr. Munson."
__ Munson glared at her with a sudden glint of deep fear in his dark eyes. "Why not?"
__ "Because he's dead too long."
__ "Wha--?"
__ "Yeah. That's gonna make you really mad."
__ "No. No, it can't be." He buried his head in his hands and cried loudly and suddenly. Clye's resurrection was his only chance at redemption. If Ardy can't bring him back -- "No! No, I can't go back!"
__ Maggie put her little hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Mr. Munson. There's always the boy you kill."
__ Munson sniffed back tears and shot his head toward her. "What?"
__ "The mean boy. You're gonna kill him to save me."
__ Outside the day was still black as midnight, and the rain began to cool.
__ The outdoor temperature gauge in Munson's car began its slow descent.
__ And all R. Lee Munson could say, was "No, no, no."
__ Over and over again.
__ And cry.