17. Curse of the Old Gypsy Woman (D1)

__ Ardy paced the floor of the bedroom uncomfortably arguing with herself about telling Doug about the pending visit from the kid from Pizza King. She had left him in the front room, to keep the first watch on Munson, but hadn't mentioned what she read in the teen's mind.
__ Doug paced too. I walked back and forth in front of Munson's throne and scowled at the killer. He was holding the pistol in his right hand, waving it when his whispers became excited. He said, "I know she's lying. I know she saw something in that soft skull of yours." The pistol waved. "I should just blow your head off while she's sleeping -- say it was an accident."
__ Munson appeared to ignore him. He simply followed the bouncing barrel of the Glock. "Hey, hotshot, could you put that down?"
__ Doug snapped, "What? This?" He brought the gun up and pressed the gun to Munson's left nostril.
__ Looking cross-eyed down the barrel, the killer hissed, "Please. Please, Doug. Your finger is on the trigger."
__ "Shut up!"
__ Ardy opened the bedroom door and squinted in at the two. "What's going on?"
__ "We were just having a little--"
__ "Chat," Munson finished.
__ She came out and approached Doug purposefully with her hand out to take the gun. "Here. You better give that to me."
__ He tucked it under his arm and half turned away like a child concealing a toy. "No, no. That's okay. I got this."
__ Ardy stood her ground, hand out, and glared at Doug like a scolding mother.
__ After a moment, he relented and handed her the weapon grip first.
__ "Thank you." She turned and headed to the bedroom.
__ "Where are you going?"
__ "To bed. I'll sleep better knowing this is in here with me." And with that, she closed the door behind her, leaving Doug defenseless with the duct-shackled killer.
__ Munson hissed a laugh. "I am gonna kill ya, you know?"
__ Doug smirked but stepped away. He backed to the couch and plopped down on it, never once taking his eyes off Munson and staring at him the way a coyote glares at a hunter. He yawned.
__ Munson smiled and began softly crooning Lullaby.
__ "Ha ha," Doug mumbled, "Very funny."

__ An hour must have passed, or maybe it was six or seven. Ardy couldn't be sure because her exhaustion hit her like a sledgehammer. She woke with a start as if responding to a sudden loud noise, but she was sure the sound was in a dream and not in the world. Glancing at her nightstand she saw both the pistol and her alarm clock. She had been asleep for forty-six minutes.
__ Rolling to a sitting position, she swung her feet to the floor and stood slowly. She strained to hear beyond the door to the next room as she lifted the pistol off the nightstand.
__ At the door, she opened it slightly. There was no creak to betray her spying. The room beyond was dimly lit by a small lamp on the floor by Munson's throne. She could see the killer's feet still securely taped to the legs of the chair, and beyond that she could see the dim shape of Douglas Testerbird stretched out in a fetal position on the couch.
__ As her eyes traveled up Munson's chair she felt a sudden chill.
__ He was staring at her. Unblinking.
__ His grin was slow, greasy, and reptilian. "Can't sleep, sweetie?"
__ Ardy opened the door all the way and approached the couch as Doug stirred and sat up.
__ "What's wrong?"
__ "Can't sleep."
__ Doug stood and stretched. "It's been a weird night. No wonder."
__ "No wonder," Ardy echoed.
__ Doug looked her up and down. She looked exhausted, defeated. Her eyes were baggy and her skin was dull. Her hair was matted and flat against the side of her head and her eyes were dark in the dim room. Ardy's downturned lips were sad, gray. He hated to see them this way, to see them any way but smiling.
__ That's when she stepped up to him and kissed him. It was a short kiss, dry, but their lips were warm against each other.
__ "You read my mind," he said dully.
__ "Go to sleep, Doug." She nodded toward the bedroom. "I got this." Her smile rolled up when she mimicked his earlier declaration.
__ Drained himself, Doug nodded and stepped past her and Munson to the bedroom and closed the door.
__ Ardy set the gun on the end table and curled up on her side, staring at Munson as he continued staring at her.
__ "This ain't too comfortable, ya know," he grumbled.
__ "You shouldn't have killed anyone," she yawned. Then, making it clear that she couldn't be moved by him, Ardy squirmed and rolled over on the couch, turning her back to him.

__ Munson woke with a jolt, as if the chair he was in suddenly came to life like "Old Sparky" and zapped a couple thousand volts through his nerve endings. His neck was stiff from hanging his head and a shock of pain raced down his spine.
__ Doug sprang bolt upright on the bed. "Ardy!"
__ Ardy rolled off the couch, her rump hitting the floor with a loud thud before she scrambled to her feet and snatched the Glock off the end table.
__ Doug threw open the bedroom door, and rubbed at his wide eyes. "What is it?"
__ Munson spat, "Ssh!"
__ Ardy craned her head to listen, the pistol aiming where her ears strained; toward the front door.
__ Then the sound of a car door slamming. Muffled voices.
__ "It's them," Ardy whispered.
__ Doug whispered back, "Them who?"
__ Munson couldn't read minds, but he had a feeling. "Pizza boy."
__ Doug made a face like he'd taken a big bit of a sour taffy apple. "What? What would he want?"
__ Ardy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her body relaxed a bit, her head tilted. Her lips moved in time with a muffled voices beyond the door.
__ Are you crazy?
__ I tell you she's here. She's here alone. And she's hot.
__ The old gypsy woman?
__ She's not a gypsy. She's a babe.
__ That's not what my gram says.
__ I can prove it.
__ Okay, so prove it. What're you gonna do -- just knock?
__ Don't have to.
__ The silence that followed was ocean deep. "Only two of them...." Ardy's eyes snapped open and focused on Doug. "Get back," she said in a normal tone.
__ The explosion of wood splinters and brass shards from the door latch rained into the room. The muzzle flash from the shotgun blew the door open in one night-splitting blam!
__ The Pizza kid stepped into the room -- ca-chuck! -- charging another shell into the chamber.
__ "C'mon out, gypsy girl," the boy called.
__ What happened next only took a few seconds but stretched into a slow motion eternity.
__ "No!" From Doug.
__ The kid started to whirl toward the sound of Doug's voice in the bedroom doorway, his finger tightening on the trigger.
__ Ardy screamed and raised the pistol. She squeezed off two quick shots as the shotgun exploded into the room again.
__ The kid cried out, a wounded yelp, and stumbled back. There was a grapple of arms around his shoulders and neck and two bodies tumbled backward onto the porch. The shotgun fell to the floor, the sound of it cracking to the floor was lost in a the shrill ringing in Ardy's ears.
__ Ardy raised the pistol again. A furious terrified flood of emotion exploded from her chest, down her arms, and squeezed the trigger for her. Two more times the pistol jumped in her hands, orange flashes popping and small brass shells tinkling deafly on the hardwood.
__ Doug was yelling something as Ardy continued forward.
__ Outside a car door slammed shut. Cries of pain continued from inside the car.
__ I got him! Ardy cheered herself within but simultaneously felt shame and regret. Oh, my God. He was just a kid!
__ Tires chewed gravel, then skidded on the blacktop as the car sped away.
__ The front door remained open.
__ As the roar of the engine faded toward downtown Covert, thunder mumbled in the distance.
__ Doug's arms folded around Ardy. She dropped the gun and turned to him, burried her face in his chest and cried. "Oh, God.... I shot him. I shot that boy."
__ Doug patted the back of her head, squeezed her. Said, "You defended us, Ardy. You didn't kill the kid. He'll be okay."
__ She shook her head against his shirt. She couldn't shake the images. "Nooooooo...." It was a long sob.
__ "Hey. Hey now," Doug took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. Their eyes flickered with a distant flash of lightning showing through the open door, a momentary current between them. "Listen to me: You. Did. Not. Kill. Him."
__ Ardy sniffed but could offer no argument. She heard his cries, saw a glimpse of the friend pulling him toward the car.
__ "His buddy is probably dumping him in the Covert E.R. right now."
__ Ardy sniffed again and fresh tears came.
__ "It'll be all right. Ssh, ssh, ssh."
__ Ardy let herself sink into Doug's embrace. She didn't realize how much she needed him now, to hold her up physically as well as mentally. Ardy hugged him tighter and called over his shoulder, "R. Lee," sniff, "You okay?"
__ Doug slowly released her and turned.
__ They both turned together.
__ Munson sat, his head thrown back. Blood drying on his face -- or what was left of it -- and down his chest.
__ This time Doug made no effort to stop Ardy's screams.

CHARACTER CONTEST

I'VE NOTICED THAT I HAVE A FEW FOLLOWERS TO "THE MUNSON CHAPTERS," AND I WANTED TO EXTEND MY APPRECIATION.

HERE'S HOW... YOU CAN WRITE THE NEXT CHARACTER INTO THE STORY!!!

SINCE "THE MUNSON CHAPTERS" IS AN ONGOING FIRST DRAFT, MAKE-IT-UP-AS-I-GO-ALONG "EXPERIMENT," NOTHING IS SET AND STONE. AND, WHILE I HAVE AN IDEA OF HOW IT'S GOING TO PROGRESS, THERE ARE DETAILS IN THE MEAT OF THIS SANDWICH THAT ARE NOT NECESSARILY SCRIPTED.

HERE'S WHERE YOU COME IN...

CREATE A CHARACTER FOR "THE MUNSON CHAPTERS" AND SUBMIT HIM/HER TO ME VIA E-MAIL. IF YOUR CHARACTER IS SELECTED, HE/SHE WILL MAKE AN APPEARANCE IN **** CHAPTER 25 ****

TO SUBMIT A CHARACTER, JUST COPY/PASTE THE FOLLOWING FORM INTO AN E-MAIL AND SEND IT TO riggenterprises@gmail.com BY NOVEMBER 10. ENTER AS OFTEN AS YOU LIKE. THEN KEEP READING "MUNSON" TO SEE IF YOUR CHARACTER APPEARS.

CHARACTER SUBMISSION FORM:
NAME:
RACE / SEX:
AGE:
OCCUPATION:
GOOD/EVIL/INDIFFERENT:
PHOBIAS:
LIKES/DISLIKES:
THREE ADJECTIVES TO DESCRIBE THIS CHARACTER'S CHARACTER:

THE REST ... IS UP TO ... ME ...

BEST OF LUCK! SEE YOU IN CHAPTER 25!

16. Contemplating the Olive (D1)

__ "Whatcha gonna do? Ya gotta open the door for the kid," Munson grinned.
__ Ardy kept glancing from the door, to Doug, to Munson.
__ Doug sneered down the barrel of the pistol toward the killer. "We don't gotta do anything. We can just not answer the door, lunkhead."
__ "Lunkhead? Oh, that's a good one, bird tester."
__ "My name is Mr. Testerbird, jackass."
__ Munson laughed. "Even better."
__ Ardy barked in a harsh whisper, "Would you two knock it off?"
__ Doug offered, "Can you read the guy's mind?" and nodded toward the door.
__ "Don't bother," Munson croaked, cleared his voice and shouted, "Hang on! Be right there!"
__ Both Ardy and Doug flinched. Doug darted forward with the Glock. His hand tensed on the trigger.
__ Ardy pushed the barrel of the gun up and stepped between them, "No!"
__ "That's my girl," the killer crooned.
__ Ardy and Doug: "Shut up!" Then Ardy, "Just a minute. I gotta get my purse."
__ The kid beyond the door said, "Um. No prob."
__ "Help me with him."
__ Ardy and Doug took a minute circling and re-circling the throne, trying to find the best grip, test the heavy chair's strength tipping it from side to side. Doug suggested they could each get on one side, tip it back a bit, and slide Munson into the next room or the kitchen.
__ "There's a door to the bedroom. Kitchen doesn't have one," Ardy suggested.
__ "Good point."
__ But as the two tipped back the throne they discovered it was much heavier than anticipated. Both let out a grunt, Ardy groaned with the strain and Doug let out a huff of exasperation. Munson decided to make matters worse by wiggling as they tipped him back.
__ The chair gained momentum and slipped through their fingers, landing with a loud thud on the hardwood floor. Munson let out a grunt but then started chuckling like an idiot.
__ "Watch him," Doug said, and raced to the couch, across to the bedroom, back again. His arms were overloaded with blankets and pillows.
__ Ardy said, "What are you going to do with those?"
__ "Burry him."
__ Munson laughed harder. "That's ironic."
__ As Doug wrestled a wad of damp rag into Munson's mouth and wrapped his head in duct tape, Ardy went for her purse and fished out some cash. She got to the door just as the kid on the other side started to lose his patience and knock again.
__ "Coming." She glanced back and saw that Doug had arranged the blankets and pillows to look like -- well, it didn't look like anything beyond an overturned heavy chair with blankets and a killer underneath, but it was the best he could do.
__ This is stupid. I'm an idiot. It's not going to work, Doug thought.
__ "What did you say?" Ardy frowned at him.
__ "Wha? Nothin'." He nodded toward the door.
__ Ardelene Jacobi threw on her best fake smile and opened the door as she fished into her purse.
__ The kid was just that. No more than seventeen or eighteen, he had starchy white-blond hair under a crooked Pizza King cap. He wore a matching red windbreaker over a Korn t-shirt and jeans, and his shoes showed the one-sided wear of a skateboarder. His eyes were bright blue but the bags under them betrayed long nights of videogames or drug-scoring mischief, Ardy could be sure which, but she knew they weren't from test cramming. The car was a gray primered Monte Carlo with a Pizza King sign strapped to the roof. Metal music blazed from the open door.
__ Upon seeing Ardelene barefoot, tracing up her slender legs to her shorts and settling on either side of the mast of the sailboat on her t-shirt, the boy grinned. "Hey."
__ Ardy held the purse up to block the view of her chest as she continued digging inside. She also stood so there was no clear view of what's going on inside. "How much?"
__ "Are you the psychic chick?" the teen asked. He shifted his weight to his other foot and no longer appeared to be in a hurry.
__ "Yeah, that's me. How much?"
__ "Wow. That's cool. My ma believes in that crap, but not me."
__ Ardy looked up and met his eyes, "How much?"
__ "Maybe I can come by and have my fortune told some time, huh? Maybe. That'd be cool -- oh, it's sixteen fifty minus tip -- You could prove you're psychic by tellin' me somethin' you couldn't possibly know."
__ Ardy withdrew a ten, a five, and two singles and handed them to the kid who took the money without counting it and stuffed it in his jean pocket.
__ "I thought I heard a man's voice before. You gotta customer?" the kid persisted as he slowly handed the pizza box over to Ardy. He stood kind of angling himself toward her as though he was contemplating a risky move, not quite releasing the box when Ardy tried to take it from him.
__ "Nobody but me," Ardy said. "You must've heard the TV."
__ "Oh," the kid smiled. He licked his lips and finally released the box.
__ Ardy took the food and started to step back into the room.
__ The Pizza King kid took a step forward too.
__ That's when she blurted out, "When you were twelve, you pushed your six year-old sister off the swings in Billy Laird's backyard. You broke her jaw and knocked three teeth down her throat. You swore her to secrecy under the threat of a beating and later told your parents she fell out of a tree. Just last year you copped a feel on Lydia Hutchin's at the Junior Harvest Dance
when she feel asleep on the bleachers. You got so excited you had an accident in your pants and had to leave. Now get the hell away from my shop."
__ Ardy stepped back and kicked the door shut with a slam. She spun and collapsed her back against it and took three exhausted breaths before sniffing back tears and straining to stay quiet.
__ Munson was buried in bedding and hadn't heard what went on at the door, and Doug only heard bits and pieces. The latter now stared at Ardy with his mouth hanging open.
__ They both held that position until the car door slammed and the kid pulled away, the Monte spewing gravel from her drive before screeching away down Route Nine.
__ "You okay?" Doug asked after another moment.
__ Ardy took a final deep breath and smiled. "Let's eat."


__ After righting Munson's chair, removing his gag and fixing the table, the three sat around the pizza box and ate. Doug had suggested he would feed the killer his slices, but Ardy let Doug keep the gun and instructed him to shoot Munson in the face if he didn't behave. Then she untied his left arm so he could eat.
__ They ate in silence for a short while, not realizing how hungry they all truly were.
__ Surprising to both Doug and Ardy, Munson was the first to speak. His voice was calm and friendly and added to the illusion that they were just three friends enjoying a late night snack together.
__ He said, "Thank you, Ardy. Doug."
__ The couple looked at each other. Doug suggested, "What for?"
__ Munson didn't meet their eyes. He centered his gaze on a small olive stuck to the cardboard in the pizza box. "I just been thinkin'."
__ Ardy finished chewing and swallowed. "What about, R. Lee?"
__ Doug shot her a glance for using the killer's familiar name but let it slide.
__ "You all are gonna save me."
__ "Save you?" Doug asked. "From what? The cops? Oh, don't even think that you're --."
__ "From Hell."
__ Ardy and Doug looked at each other. Neither spoke.
__ Munson glanced at each of them, then back to the olive. "I'm sorry. I just feel kina... I don't know.... Repentant?"
__ "That's good, R. Lee. That's the first step." Then to Doug, "Re-tie his arm so we can clean up this mess?"
__ "Sure."
__ Munson cooperated while Doug carried out her wish. He didn't even struggle after they left him alone.
__ In the kitchen, as Doug folded and crushed the pizza box into the garbage pail, he whispered, "You're not serious?"
__ "About what?"
__ "Letting him go."
__ "Now who's the mindreader?"
__ Doug huffed. "Don't need to be. It's obvious you're fallin' for his line of malarkey. I think we should call the cops."
__ "Maybe you're right," Ardy offered with a shrug. "We'll just leave him tied up for now. And... I just want to relax a bit before we call the Covert P.D. He wont' do anything."
__ "Hope you're right," Doug said. He smiled at her and left the kitchen as she stacked plates in the sink.
__ He worries too much and reacts too quickly, Ardy thought. She couldn't tell Doug how right he was; that Munson was daydreaming about slitting both their throats and chopping up their bodies the entire time he was eating.
__ And she couldn't tell him that the Pizza King kid was planning a return.
__ Or that he was planning on bringing his buddies and some booze.
__ Ardy yawned. That made her smile. There would be no rest this night.

15. Messenger of The King (D1)

__ Munson's stomach grumbled audibly. "I'm hungry," he muttered. The killer's head hung low, his face was lined and pale and sweat dotted his forehead. He appeared -- from what Ardy could see anyway -- to be a beaten man. Weak. Resigned.
__ She wasn't going to risk it.
__ Doug walked up to her and looked down at Munson. "What do you want?"
__ Ardy glanced at him, a crinkle in her brow saying, "Are you serious?"
__ But Doug continued with unbridled sarcasm, "Here. I got a couple bucks. Ardelene, why don't you untie our friend here so he can make a run out to McDonald's for us?"
__ Munson tried to raise his head to meet Doug's gaze, but all he could do was stare at the buttons on his shirt.
__ "C'mon," Ardy nudged Doug. "Help me in the kitchen. He's not going anywhere and we need to talk in private." Then she knelt before Munson, put her hands on his knees.
__ Doug put a hand on her shoulder to urge her to not be so close, but she ignored the gentle reminder. To Munson, she said, "Look. I know you're not thinking about leaving. You're scared. In fact, you're scared that you're not going to make it through the night." She glanced at Doug and shivered visibly. "You might be right, R. Lee."
__ Doug caught the look and the shiver and thought about shooting back, "What? Me? I wasn't going to --," but thought better of it. It's a good thing he had. A glint in her eye gave away Ardy's tactic.
__ Leaving R. Lee Munson to stew in his wonder of what the night would hold, Doug and Ardy moved to the kitchen.
__ Doug squatted down and started picking up the silverware. Ardy moved to the sink and started dampening a kitchen towel to wipe up the blood.
__ "You'll probably want to re-wash all these," Doug said inspecting a fork, "Where's your dishwasher?"
__ Ardy smiled and tossed him the wet towel. "You're it."
__ As Doug finished picking up all the silverware and scrubbing it in the sink, working at bloodstained cutlery with an S.O.S. Pad, Ardy knelt down over the puddle of her own blood and started hand mopping the spot. Periodically, she would turn and glance over to Munson's immobile throne. The killer wasn't moving.


__ After a few moments of silent scrubbing, Doug said, "So, um."
__ "Would I go out with you if ya asked?" Ardy said without looking up.
__ When he didn't answer she looked up at him. Their eyes met for a brief second and she flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Doug. I didn't read your mind, I swear. I was just finishing your thought."
__ He nodded slowly at first, then smiled as her sincerity sank in. "I don't know if I could date someone who could read my mind, tell the truth."
__ "I could imagine," she said. "But just think of all the good stuff. We'd never get into any fights because I'd always see your side."
__ "We'd always get into fights because you'd see that I had a side."
__ Ardy raised an eyebrow, "But don't you think most couples get into overblown arguments because they misunderstand each other?"
__ "Do they? I've never...." He let it trail off as he decided whether to place the forks tines up or tines down in the drying tray.
__ "Never what?"
__ Doug took a deep breath, jammed the forks tines-down in the utensil tray. "I've never really had a lasting relationship. Not long enough to know what a fight would be like anyway."
__ Ardy rose and stood next to him. She pried the forks out of the tray and rearranged them tine side up. When their eyes met, she smiled at him.
__ "Now if I could read your mind...," he laughed.
__ She sighed and started wringing out the bloody towels. "I wish you could, Doug."
__ He saw her chin quiver slightly and shyly moved away, went about adjusting the chairs around the tiny dinette. He kept glancing back at her until finally he gathered up the courage.
__ Stepping up next to her, Doug reached into the sink to take the towels from her. When his hands closed over hers, he paused. She looked up at him, her gaze distant, detatched.
__ Doug said, "There is a way I can read your mind, Ardy."
__ Her face formed the question.
__ "Just tell me," he whispered. "Tell me what you saw... when you were...."
__ "Dead."


__ The kitchen was cleaned top to bottom. After the blood and broken drawer bits were cleaned up, Doug and Ardy went about scrubbing down the rest of the room. As Ardy cleaned the oven ("Can't tell you the last time I did this"), Doug worked at dusting higher shelves and replacing ant traps. They talked and laughed. There were quiet moments where Doug risked putting a hand on Ardy's shoulder. But she never told him what she saw or heard while her body's heart was stopped.
__ "So you lived here in town your whole life and I never saw your anywhere but the store?"
__ Doug wiped his brow with the back of his hand as he replaced the final glass in the cabinet. "No reason to, really. I mean, aside from church, I didn't need to go nowhere. I live above the store, ya know."
__ Ardy asked him what church he attended.
__ "St. Matthews, across town."
__ "Why there," she wondered. "Isn't Trinity closer to where you live? That's where I go."
__ He shrugged. "Dunno. Like the drive I guess."
__ Ardy thought about it. The route from the general store to St. Matthews on the other side of town cut past Crescent Lake and through Palley's Woods. It would be a beautiful drive, especially in the fall. "I see."
__ "Strange," he mused without offering anything further.
__ "What's that?"
__ "All this time, I could have seen you every Sunday."
__ "Instead of just the odd Wednesday when I go to your store."
__ "And sometimes Saturdays."
__ They shared another smile together. Neither one had thought about R. Lee Munson in the other room until a loud knock boomed at the front door.
__ "Oh, my God."
__ Doug held up a hand. "Are you expecting anyone?"
__ Ardy shook her head but still glanced up at the clock. It was after 9 p.m. "No. Nobody."
__ They both went into the main room which was aglow from car headlights beaming through the closed blinds in the front.
__ There was another bang at the door. "Hello!?" The muffled voice on the other side was male, young. The car was running and loud rock music thrummed from what could only be an open driver's door.
__ "Who?" Doug started, but Ardy held up a hand to silence him. She was staring at Munson who was sitting up straight in the throne, still bound, but intently focused on the door. He was smiling mischievously.
__ He turned his head slowly toward her and her new friend, the store clerk. His smile twisted slightly. "I told ya. I told ya I was hungry."
__ Ardy and Doug followed each other's gaze to the table next to Munson. Somehow he had managed to lean into it enough to leverage it toward his chest. The satchel the killer had brought in had been sitting on one end of it the whole time. Munson was able to bounce the table enough to overturn the case and spill the contents toward him. Ardy saw syringes, vials, handcuffs, plyers, rubber gloves, a couple small 35mm film cannisters, and a cell phone.
__ The phone had been chewed open.
__ Ardy gasped. Doug moved quickly for the Glock and held it at the ready.
__ She read Doug's thought, He called for backup!
__ But she also read Munson's.
__ "I was hawwwwwwngry," Munson said in a mock whine.
__ Pounding on the door resumed and made Doug and Ardy jump.
__ The young man outside tried one more time. "Pizza King. Anybody home?"

14. Healing Hands (D1)

__ Douglas Testerbird sat quietly, regaining his strength slowly, listening to Ardelene's continued mental attack on Munson intently.
__ He kept his eyes closed and tried not to flinch at some of the dark depraved things she was reciting to the captive killer. Munson said nothing. He shook and whimpered. He screamed and cried. He shook his head violently sending tears and sweat spraying from his face.
__ When he could stand it no more, and it looked like Ardelene wasn't going to stop any time soon, he simply said, "That's enough."
__ Ardy stopped, stumbled back almost weak from the attack and pressed her palms to her temples. Turning to Douglas she said, "Douglas? You're okay?"
__ "Look at him," the store owner said standing. "Seriously. Don't you think you've beat him enough?"
__ Pressing a finger to the bridge of her nose and wincing at the sudden migraine, she said, "Not nearly. You should see --."
__ "No thanks." Douglas held up a hand. "I've heard enough, thank you. I don't need to see it too."
__ "I wish I could block it from my thoughts, but I can't."
__ Now it was Ardelene's turn to break down. Maybe it was the strain of what she saw in Munson's mind. Maybe it was the pressure of being in anyone's mind. Maybe it was the stress of rising from the dead.... Whatever it was, it had taken her toll. Ardelene staggered past Douglas and plopped down on the couch. Her chest and shoulders heaved as she was racked with sobs. She wailed.
__ "I'll get you some water," Douglas mumbled, and stalked off to the kitchen.
__ Munson sat limp where he was duct taped to the false throne. His sweaty head hung low, his body kept up only by the will of the tape. He appeared unconscious, like a captured Mob rat beaten to near death with a lead pipe. But the only blood was what had dried on his head from the earlier attack. His breathing was shallow and spotted with stutters of whimpering.
__ In the kitchen, Douglas caught sight of himself reflected in the clutter of silverware on the floor. Ardelene's blood had congealed into a deep reddish black slick, smeared in places with her hand and body prints as well as his. Douglas swallowed hard and breathed through his mouth to avoid smelling the harsh iron scent of the dying puddle. He stepped to the sink and filled a glass with water.
__ He was in a daze, almost sure this whole thing was some kind of nightmare or trance. Maybe he wasn't even here? Maybe his car slid off the wet road and he died before getting here. Maybe this was some kind of strange and bizarre purgatory. Ardelene Jacobi was a real psychic. She rose from the dead before his eyes. A cruel and sadistic killer was strapped to a chair in the other room, reduced to the facade of a blubbering child. None of this was real. It couldn't be.
__ He blinked. The cold water was overrunning the glass and pouring over his hand which was now shaking. He took a drink before shutting off the flow and returning to the main room.
__ Douglas gave Munson a wide berth as he stepped up to Ardelene on the couch. He held out the water. She took the glass and sipped. Her hands were shaking too.
__ Sitting beside her, Douglas volunteered, "I wasn't expecting this when I came out here."
__ Ardelene finished the water and set the glass on the floor near the end of the couch. She sat up, leaned into Douglas' shoulder and laughed through a sniffle. "You're tellin' me, Douglas."
__ "Doug," he offered.
__ "Doug. And, please, call me Ardy." She waved a weak shaking hand toward Munson. "If he can be familair, why not you?"
__ Not sure exactly how to read that, Doug simply asked, "How are you feeling? You look a bit pale."
__ "Good." Another short laugh. "I'd hate to feel this crappy and keep it all to myself."
__ "Care to talk about it?"
__ Ardy closed her eyes and crinkled up her face. She rested her head on his shoulder. "No."
__ A silence passed between them.
__ Ardy spoke finally, "He ain't going anywhere." She sighed. "Let's just talk like it never happened."
__ Doug cleared his throat. "How d'you mean?"
__ "Well," she said suddenly brightening a bit, "You were on your way over here to see me, right? To do what? Have your fortune told?"
__ Doug smiled but didn't laugh. "Not really."
__ "You wanted to ask me out, didn't you?"
__ Doug blushed visibly and leaned away. Her shoulder against his was suddenly hot and uncomfortable. Her thigh was hot against his pant leg. "N-No. Um, I don't --."
__ "It's okay." Ardy patted his knee but moved a few inches down the couch to give him some space. "You know I saw into your mind -- but I need you to know it was by accident. I didn't mean to."
__ Doug couldn't meet her eyes. He looked down at the bruised and cracked knuckles of his right hand. That must've happened in a scuffle with the killer, or when he feinted. The knuckle on his middle finger had bled and dribbled toward the fingernail. He absently scratched at the sore.
__ "Doug.... Look at me."
__ He couldn't. It was too difficult. But Ardy placed a gentle finger under his chin and raised his head toward her. "They were only thoughts."
__ "But--"
__ "And they were appreciated." She smiled.
__ Doug took a deep shuddering breath. He nodded as if to say, "I'll be okay. We'll be okay. It'll be okay."
__ Ardy said, "You'll be okay. We'll be okay...."
__ He smiled, "It'll be okay."
__ It wasn't quite like one of those Hollywood moments where the couple in a dire situation suddenly realizes their feelings for one another, leans in, and kisses passionately. On the contrary, Ardy patted his knee and said, "We have to think about what we're going to do -- with him." She nodded toward Munson who was now wide awake and staring at them.
__ "Ain't that a pertty pictie," the killer sneered. "You... whore."
__ Ardy rose and went to the table where the duct tape sat. She began pulling new lengths with a long, sharp Sheeeeeek't. She applied new layers to Munson's bonds. He didn't struggle.
__ Doug took a deep breath and wondered about what she had said. What are they going to do? It's far more complicated now than simply calling the police. He turned back to examining his hand.
__ And saw that his skin was smooth, scrape free, and clean.

13. Ardy's Mission (D1)

__ "This is ffffff--"
__ "This is just...."
__ "Aaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!"
__ Munson rocked back and forth in his throne of captivity, thrashing his head from side to side and straining to see the kitchen doorway. He had moved the heavy chair enough that he could make out Douglas' legs on the floor and a dark puddle that looked like... blood?
__ Ardy had calmly walked out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. A door closed gently. And a shower started. Now she was in there taking a shower and singing. Singing!
__ "Bird Tester! Hey, you read me in there? The hell's goin' on? You dead?"
__ More thrashing. More straining at the duct tape that held him in place. Munson could feel the heavy bonds start to peel, but only slightly, at his right wrist. He would still never get out in time. Had she killed him? Did Ardy kill the Bird Tester and now she was takin' a shower to get the blood off 'er?
__ The sound of a groan tapped Munson on the shoulder and he held his breath. "That you?"
__ Mmmmm. Augh.
__ "Bird man?"
__ Douglas Testerbird staggered in from the kitchen, the bloody knife in his fist. He rubbed at his temples and groaned like a man suffering from an infernal migraine. He righted himself as best he could and stepped in front of Munson who was staring wide-eyed at the blood smeared steak knife blade.
__ "Whatcha gonna do with that, buddy?"
__ "I ain't your buddy, buddy," Douglas slurred and placed a hand on Munson's shoulder and touched the tip of the blade to his chest just over his heart. "I wanna show you somethin'."
__ "Don't."
__ Both men turned and saw Ardy standing in the doorway. She had changed into an oversized t-shirt with a sailboat on it and a pair of baggy shorts. "Put the knife down, Douglas. We need to talk."
__ Douglas swallowed hard and tossed the knife aside, then he staggered back and collapsed on the couch.
__ Munson glanced between the two. "What the unholy hell is goin' on? You two are spookin' the crap outta me."
__ Ardy stood staring past Munson to Douglas, studying him. It was like she was waiting for him to suddenly spring to life and yell "Surprise!" Or maybe she was more leery about him going for the knife? If Munson could scratch his head, he would.
__ "Please, Ardy."
__ "Ssh!"
__ Ardy walked past the bound killer and sat next to Douglas on the couch. He appeared to be unconscious, or at least drained to his core. "Are you all right, Douglas?"
__ His eyes fluttered open and the store owner muttered, "Weak. Weak. Tired."
__ Ardy stood and eased him down. She lifted his legs to stretch him out on the couch and fluffed the pillow behind his head. Then she looked over at Munson.
__ The killer watched as she rose, walked slowly toward the table, pulled a cigarette from the nearly-empty pack, and stepped up to him. Leaning close, almost face to face, she reached her hand into his front jean pocket and squirmed out the lighter.
__ "Hey," Munson protested. Then he leaned into her and said, "Now if you want to get personal, I'd be happy to oblige."
__ Ardy lit the cigarette, dropped the lighter on the table, and took a long dark drag. After blowing out the smoke, she leaned in to Munson once more and held the glowing red tip of the cigarette close to his cheek. Munson leaned away, but she was sure to keep it close enough to feel the heat.
__ "Now you listen to me, R. Lee Munson, because we have a lot to discuss."
__ "What?" He tried to hold the tough guy image, but it was hard when he was taped to a chair leaning away from a branding iron. "What could we possibly have to diss-cuss? You got me. You n' the bird man. Why don't you just call the damn sheriff?"
__ Ardy stood up straight, turned the cigarette around and offered the smoke to Munson. He apprehensively parted his lips and accepted the smoke, drew, blew out the puff. "Well?"
__ Ardy dropped the butt and stomped it out with her bare foot. She didn't even wince at the stinging burn. "We have to discuss how I'm gonna save you."
__ "Save me?" Munson snorted. "That's easy. Get me outta this damn chair for starters."
__ She shook her head. "No. There you will stay until I figure out what it is I'm supposed to do."
__ Munson's demeanor changed. He stared into her eyes and seemed to catch something that wasn't there before and, for the first time since he met Ardelene Jacobi, he looked afraid.
__ Ardy continued, "Before I came back from the dead, I was given a message. Save him."
__ The killer glanced over at Douglas. He was out cold. He turned back to Ardy. "Back from the dead?"
__ "I have to save you, R. Lee." Ardy smiled and swelled her chest with a deep breath. With her hands on her hips she looked like she was sizing up a dirty job that had to be done and she just wasn't quite ready to do it. "I've been charged with saving your soul and I intend to do it."
__ Munson glanced back and forth between the crazy psychic woman and the unconscious homo store clerk. "What the--?" He coughed and tried to shift uncomfortably in his chair. He could only wobble his head. "What kinda game are you two playin' at?"
__ "No game," Ardy said. She moved behind him where he couldn't see her but soon reappeared with the other chair. She set it down and sat before him. "I was dead, in there. In the kitchen. I was on the other side, R. Lee. I was given a commandment."
__ "You're effin' crazed."
__ Ardy slowly shook her head. "I don't expect you to understand, but you have to believe me."
__ "How do you expect me to believe--"
__ "What's the name of our little boy again?"
__ Munson's lower lip wobbled but no sound came out.
__ "You and I. We got us a little red-headed boy, calls you daddy and runs up to give you a big hug when you come home from work. I meet you at the doorstep in my June Cleaver apron and a big smile...."
__ His eyes widened.
__ "How many bells does that ring?"
__ "How did you--?"
__ "And I suggest we start by you telling that other voice in your head to stop talking. Afterall...." Ardy stood and moved to the darkened window. She closed the blinds. "You're not going to kill me. Are you, R. Lee?"
__ Munson lowed his head. He was shaking. His head vibrated like his grandfather's used to, uncontrollable, weak. He hated that in the old man and he hated that he was showing the same weakness now. But he wanted to cry. Wanted to scream. Wished he had never come here.
__ "While you're wishing," Ardy smiled from the dim end of the room, "Why don't you just wish you never lied to me about those other murders? And why don't you wish you never killed Clye."
__ Munson swallowed hard and tried to think scary, mean thoughts. He tried to scare the psychic woman out of his mind. He glared at her and envisioned --.
__ "Cutting my throat?"
__ He gasped. Choked back air. Suddenly he felt like he couldn't breathe.
__ "I don't need the crystal ball no more, R. Lee. I can see it all."
__ "I can't stand it," he sputtered in a near whimper.
__ "What? What can't you stand?" Ardy's voice was monotone. She stayed back in the dim so he couldn't see her eyes.
__ "This. THIS!"
__ "You want to go home?"
__ "Yes."
__ "You have no home."
__ "No."
__ "You see? I can say out loud anything you think. Maybe it would help if you heard your own thoughts. Maybe that would help you repent, R. Lee?"
__ He shook his bowed head. "No. Please."
__ Ardy stepped forward and began reciting what she saw in his mind: "Please don't. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know what's in my mind. Shouldn't have done it. I didn't mean to kill him, but he hurt me. He hurt me bad. He put his --"
__ Munson's scream vibrated the walls.
__ On the couch, Douglas continued to pretend he was sleeping.

12. Over the Brink (D1)

__ After Ardy washed off the crystal ball, she buffed it with a kitchen towel until it glinted like real German crystal. She was vaguely aware of Munson's threats in the other room and hoped the killer wouldn't intimidate Douglas while he was taped to the big chair.
__ Still, she hurried, wanting to get back to the store owner to give her demonstration. She had to find something new in his mind. She couldn't very well tell him she knew he was coming here with the intention of playing the part of "gentleman caller." That would be instantly embarrassing and could lead to anything from a fearful outburst of some kind to Douglas just bolting for the door and away to who-knows-where. Besides, it would give Munson ammunition. She had to find something harmless. Something inside his mind, perhaps a memory from childhood that --
__ A glint bounced off the crystal ball, a yellow flash reflected from the small light above the range, and stabbed her in the eyes. Ardy felt herself real back, twirling and shrinking as she floated and sank out of her tumbling body. Not having anything to support it, Ardy watched as her unconscious form tilted back before falling forward, crystal ball still held out before it, as it thumped into the counter and partially-open silverware drawer. The weight of her body caught the drawer and snapped it out of its tracks as the crystal ball rolled out of its hands and cracked on the floor.
__ Ardy wanted to close her minds eye to the fall. She wouldn't feel the pain her body felt, but she would feel the aftermath when she re-entered it. Mentally wincing, she followed her body as it tumbled over the wrecked drawer and fall in slow motion toward the tumble of broken plywood, plastic trays, and silver forks, knives, and spoons.
__ Ooh, I hope I don't --
__ The sensation was immediate and alarming. A cold spike of energy shot through her corporeal self and suddenly everything seemed even clearer and brighter than it was before. Her "psychic imagery" as she thought to call it was now as intense as a 360-degree high definition Dolby surround sound extravaganza. The blaring IMAX-like images were bright and colors exploded that she had never noticed before. Every intense detail of the tile floor, her body's clothes, the tiny crack in the outlet where the toaster was plugged, every scratch and knick in the silverware, and every one of the thousand or so infinitesimal impurities in the molded glass sphere of her crystal ball.
__ Then her body rolled onto its side and she saw it. The handle of the steak knife jutting from her chest. "Oh, no! NO!"
__ Ardy tried to will herself back into her form, straining to get back into her body, reach up, and pull the knife out with her last ounce of strength.... but she could do nothing but watch.
__ Watch... as Douglas Testerbird knelt beside her and began to weep.
__ "No, no! God, no. I can't be dead! I can't!"
__ And then it happened.
__ The room suddenly became crowded with other bodiless spirits like her own. Blue glowing images at first, the coalesced and became solid forms. Men, women, children. She recognized none of them, but they were all familiar somehow. They were all kind, welcoming, and reaching out to her with gentle, sorrowful faces. She could see that they were reading her pain and empathized with her shock. They called her by name, "Ardy," "Ardelene," "Miss Jacobi," "Daughter," "Sister."
__ She wanted to go with them, be comforted by them.
__ A kind male spirit approached her, his outstretched arms hidden in the sleeves of a long robe. He said, "Come, Ardelene."
__ I can't believe this. Ardy was a regular church-goer, though she was shunned by her own congregation. When they heard about her line of work, they called her such silly things as "false prophet," "Purveyor of lies," and "heathen."
__ She felt bad about the perceptions, but could not help who and what she was. In fact, her role as "Psychic Advisor" -- while indeed fake -- was to provide comfort and guidance to people who needed it. Most of the time she guided people to the very church where she was ostracized and relegated to sit shyly in the back corner pew, to come in late and leave early. She used a mainstream hocus-pocus parody to turn people to God.
__ While Ardy wasn't exactly prepared to leave this earth, the warmth and love she was feeling from the crowd, and the man leading them in particular, was too much to resist. All her cares and earthly worries were leaving her, dropping and shedding away from her. Everything from the murderer in her living room to the tiniest blemish on her physical form, every care and worry, every thought, was melting away rapidly and being replaced by the most intense heartfelt and unconditional love she had ever imagined.
__ And then it all stopped.
__ While her cross-over to death was heralded by a cold snap, her cross back into life was a hot, painful rip.
__ Ardy's chest heaved ceilingward and she gargled a bloody gasp as the knife ejected itself from her bosom. Her body was suddenly heavy, gawky, filled with tiny aches and pains and pressures she hadn't felt on the other side.
__ And the only thing she could hear from her incredibly deaf ears, was a warm voice saying, "There is much yet for you to do. It cannot be your time, Ardelene. You must save him."
__ Another bloody gasp and rasping coughs jarred her whole body. Her limbs felt cold and clammy, her blinking eyes burned because they had frozen open in death and were dry, and she felt an uncomfortable dampness in her pants as her body had released its hold on her at the moment of death.
__ She sat up and tore at her shirt to see the wound left by the knife. There was none.
__ But the blade, held in Douglas' shaking fist, was as bloody as a prop in a horror film.
__ Douglas feinted, dropping the knife harmlessly and collapsing backwards off his knees.
__ R. Lee Munson called from the other room, "What the hell is goin' on in there!?"
__ Ardy cleared her throat and stood on shaky legs. "Hell has nothin' to do with it, R. Lee. Nothin' at all."
__ Or, she wondered, was hell yet to come?