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.