19. Back Without a Hand Basket (D1)

__ Rain bashed at the roof of the Psychic Parlor on Route 9, heavy drops ripping down on lightning strikes like sparks from Thor's hammer. It was only an hour or so from sunrise, but the night refused to let go of the darkness.
__ Doug stood in front of Munson's chair and stared agape at the man's reconstructed face. It sported the scars of a dozen or so puncture marks and his right eye was slightly more caved in and lower than his left, but beyond that there was no sign that a quarter of the man's brains were sprayed out by a shotgun blast.
__ For nearly ten minutes, Doug watched mystified as Munson's visage reformed around his ruined skull; the whole time the killer cried and screamed not to be released -- From what? Doug wondered -- begged and pleaded and wept.
__ Ardy regained composure at some point during Munson's resurrection and rose from the floor in the kitchen. Doug hadn't gone to her because he figured A) the seizures were probably part of the "attempt to resurrect a guy" process and B) how many times do you see someone come back to life before your eyes?
__ Now she was standing beside Doug, her arm twined around his and they stood looking down at the weeping murderer.
__ "It's a miracle," Doug muttered. "You did it."
__ Ardy then burst into tears herself and fell to her knees in front of Munson. She wrapped her arms around him as his tears increased as well.
__ Doug stepped back, not quite getting the picture and deciding it was best to let it calm down on its own.
__ That is until Ardy started tearing at Munson's bonds.
__ "No! Ardy don't!" Doug stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders, but she turned and swatted him away.
__ Munson raised his bloodshot eyes to Doug's and screamed with the anguish of a man who had just been told his wife -- no, his pregnant wife -- no, his pregnant wife who was told she could never have kids before today -- was mangled in a horrific car accident.
__ But that wasn't right either. Munson's -- and for that matter Ardy's -- tears were the deepest wretches of anguish and sorrow he had ever seen. They were almost surreal in their magnitude.
__ Then he realized -- gazing into Munson's wide and soulful dark eyes -- what was causing the terrible reaction. Doug's breath hitched in his throat and he backed away helpess to understand what Ardy and the killer had shared.
__ As Ardy tore off the last of the duct tape, Munson struggled to stand but collapsed on the floor. Ardy fell down beside him and tried to wrestle him back on his feet, both continually crying and screaming.
__ When he was back on his feet, Munson's and Ardy's arms wrapped around each other and they hugged and wept.
__ Doug glanced around, searching out the Glock, and found it on the floor near the bedroom door in the silvery flash of lightning through the window. He went to the weapon and picked it up. He considered holding it levelled at Munson in case the killer was going to try something -- in case this impossible act were the most outrageous yet Oscar-worthy performance in the history of fakery. But, instead, he went with his heart and tucked the pistol into the back of his pants.


__ Lightning flashed again and thunder followed immediately like the roar of napalm over the farm fields across the road. A large white bread truck coasted by, its driver keeping several miles under the posted limit so he could see through the torrent on his windshield.
__ Doug stood at the broad picture window and gazed out into the darkness. The horizon was yet to show despite the morning hour and the storm was as bad as it was over an hour ago.
__ He turned and looked at the silhouettes huddled together on the couch. R. Lee Munson's and Ardy's tears had all but dried up, but the two continued to cry. Periodically, they would groan. Once in a while, one of them would wail. But they had yet to address him or comment, or to say anything beyond the odd "Oh no," or "Oh, God, please, no."
__ So Doug continued to wait them out.
__ He turned back to the window and closed his eyes as lightning struck again. The flash made a sudden red blip appear on his retinas through his eyelids. In a whisper, he prayed.
__ He prayed that he would not see what they had seen.
__ He prayed he would never see Hell.
__ And he prayed that the two tortured souls on the couch would never see it again.
__ Even R. Lee Munson.