It would have helped if they’d known that Dod Stebbits had been turned into a vampire; that he had awakened, one night later, and found himself too weak to free himself from his bonds; that when the sun came up on Monday morning, the pain was so intense that Dod had finally succeeded in loosening one arm out of sheer desperation; that he’d used the gun to blow his brains out and end the agony; that he had survived the gunshot, flopped around on the bed with half his face missing for almost an hour of inconceivable suffering before dying; that it was the sun, not the bullet, that had finally polished him off. I would be glad to come back later?