The Resuscitation Of A Hanged Man - Plot & Excerpts
So much was off. All bets were off. The last deal was off. His timing was off, or he wouldn’t have come here at this moment, and also every second arc lamp along the peninsular highway was switched off. He’d been through several states along the turnpikes, through weary tollgates and stained mechanical restaurants, and by now he felt as if he’d crossed a hostile foreign land to reach this fog with nobody in it, only yellow lights blinking and yellow signs wandering past the car’s windows silently. There was a single fair-sized town on the peninsula, a place with more than one shopping center in it and boarded-up seafood stands strung along the roadside, and the traveller, whose name was Leonard English, thought he’d stop there for a drink, just one drink, before going on. But he was drawn into a very interesting conversation with a man whose face got to look more and more like a dead pig’s face in the dim red light. What they were talking about really wasn’t all that memorable—it was more the man’s face—but the drinks got slippery and English’s money was all wet by the time he got out of there, and as he made a U-turn through an intersection the world seemed to buckle beneath him and the car’s hood flew up before the window.
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