sk.cujo-第3部分

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'Fieldmice　has　all　gone　outta　the　root　cellars！　Tommy　Neadeau　seen　deer　out　by　Moosuntic　Pond　rubbin　velvet　off'n　their　antlers　ere　the　first　robin　showed　up！　Grass　under　the　snow　when　she　melted！　Green　grass；　Meara！'
'That　so；　Evvie？'　George　replied；　since　some　reply　seemed　necessary。　He　was　getting　a　headache。
'What？'
'THAT　SO；　AUNT　EVVIE？'　George　Mear　screamed。　Saliva　flew　from　his　lips。
'Oh；　ayuh！'　Aunt　Evvie　howled　back　contentedly。　'And　I　seen　beat　lightnin　last　night　late！　Bad　sign；　Meara！　Early　beat's　a　bad　sign！　Be　people。　die　of　the　heat　this　summer！　It's　gonna　be　a　bad　un！'
'I　got　to　go；　Aunt　Evvie！'　George　yelled。　'Got　a　Special　Delivery　for　Stringer　Beaulieu！'
Aunt　Evvie　Chalmers　threw　her　head　back　and　cackled　at　the　spring　sky。　She　cackled　until　she　was　fit　to　choke　and　more　cigarette　ashes　rolled　down　the　front　of　her　housedress。　She　spat　the　last　quarter　inch　of　cigarette　out　of　her　mouth；　and　it　lay　smoldering　in　the　driveway　by　one　of　her　old…lady　shoes　…　a　shoe　as　black　as　a　stove　and　as　tight　as　a　corset；　a　shoe　for　the　ages。
'You　got　a　Special　Delivery　for　Frenchy　Beaulieu？　Why；　he　couldn't　read　the　name　on　his　own　tombstone！'
'I　got　to　go；　Aunt　Evvie！'　George　said　hastily；　and　threw　his　car　in　gear。
'Frenchy　Beaulieu　is　a　stark　natural…born　fool　if　God　ever　made　one！'　Aunt　Evvie　hollered；　but　by　then　she　was　hollering　into　George　Meara's　dust；　he　had　made　good　his　escape。
She　stood　there　by　her　mailbox　for　a　minute；　watching　him　go。　There　was　no　personal　mad　for　her；　these　days　there　rarely　was。　Most　of　the　people　she　knew　who　had　been　able　to　write　were　now　dead。　She　would　follow　soon　enough；　she　suspected。　The　oning　summer　gave　her　a　bad　feeling；　a　scary　feeling。　She　could　speak　of　the　mice　leaving　the　root　cellars　early；　or　of　heat　lightning　in　a　spring　sky；　but　she　could　not　speak　of　the　heat　she　sensed　somewhere　just　over　the　horizon；　crouched　like　a　scrawny　yet　powerful　beast　with　mangy　fur　and　red；　smoldering　eyes；　she　could　not　speak　of　her　dreams；　which　were　hot　and　shadowless　and　thirsty；　she　could　not　speak　of　the　morning　when　tears　had　e　for　no　reason；　tears　that　did　not　relieve　but　stung　the　eyes　like　August…mad　sweat　instead。　She　smelled　lunacy　in　a　wind　that　had　not　arrived。
'George　Meara；　you're　an　old　fart；'　Aunt　Evvie　said；　giving　the　word　a　juicy　Maine　resonance　which　built　it　into　something　that　was　both　cataclysmic　and　ludicrous：　faaaaaat
She　began　working　her　way　back　to　the　house；　leaning　on　her　Boston　Post　cane；　which　had　been　given　her　at　a　Town　Hall　ceremony　for　no　more　than　the　stupid　acplishment　of　growing　old　successfully。　No　wonder；　she　thought；　the　goddamned　paper　had　gone　broke。
She　paused　on　her　stoop；　looking　at　a　sky　which　was　still　spring…pure　and　pastel　soft。　Oh；　but　she　sensed　it　ing。　something　hot。　Something　foul。
A　year　before　that　summer；　when　Vic　Trenton's　old　jaguar　developed　a　distressing　clunking　sound　somewhere　inside　the　rear　left　wheel；　it　had　been　George　Meara　who　remended　that　he　take　it　up　to　Joe　Camber's　Garage　on　the　outskirts　of　Castle　Rock。　'He's　got　a　funny　way　of　doing　things　for　around　here；'　George　told　Vic　that　day　as　Vic　stood　by　his　mailbox。　'Tells　you　what　the　job's　gonna　cost；　then　he　does　the　job；　and　then　he　charges　you　what　he　said　it　was　gonna　cost。　Funny　way　to　do　business；　huh？'　And　he　drove　away；　leaving　Vic　to　wonder　if　the　mailman　had　been　serious　or　if　he　（Vic）　had　just　been　on　the　receiving　end　of　some　obscure　Yankee　joke。
But　he　had　called　Camber；　and　one　day　in　July　（a　much　cooler　July　than　the　one　which　would　follow　a　year　later）；　he　and　Donna　and　Tad　had　driven　out　to　Camber's　place　together。　It　really　was　far　out；　twice　Vic　had　to　stop　and　ask　directions；　and　it　was　then　that　he　began　to　call　those　farthest　reaches　of　the　township　East　Galoshes　Corners。
He　pulled　into　the　Camber　dooryard；　the　back　wheel　clunking　louder　than　ever。　Tad；　then　three；　was　sitting　on　Donna　Trenton's　lap；　laughing　up　at　her；　a　ride　in　Daddy's　'no…top'　always　put　him　in　a　fine　mood；　and　Donna　was　feeling　pretty　fine　herself。
A　boy　of　eight　or　nine　was　standing　in　the　yard；　hitting　an　old　baseball　with　an　even　older　baseball　bat。　The　ball　would　travel　through　the　air；　strike　the　side　of　the　barn；　which　VIC　assumed　was　also　Mr。　Camber's　garage；　and　then　roll　most　of　the　way　back。
'Hi；'　the　boy　said。　'Are　you　Mr。　Trenton？'
'That's　right；'　Vic　said。
'I'll　get　my　dad；'　the　boy　said；　and　went　into　the　barn。
The　three　Trentons　got　out；　and　Vic　walked　around　to　the　back　of　his　jag　and　squatted　by　the　bad　wheel；　not　feeling　very　confident。　Perhaps　he　should　have　tried　to　nurse　the　car　into　Portland　after　all。　The　situation　out　here　didn't　look　very　promising；　Camber　didn't　even　have　a　sign　hung　out。
His　meditations　were　broken　by　Donna；　calling　his　name　nervously。　And　then：　'Oh　my　God；　Vic　…'
He　got　up　quickly　and　saw　a　huge　dog　emerging　from　the　barn。　For　one　absurd　moment　he　wondered　if　it　really　was　a　dog；　or　maybe　some　strange　and　ugly　species　of　pony。　Then；　as　the　dog　padded　out　of　the　shadows　of　the　barn's　mouth；　he　saw　its　sad　eyes　and　realized　it　was　a　Saint　Bernard。
Donna　had　impulsively　snatched　up　Tad　and　retreated　toward　the　hood　of　the　jag；　but　Tad　was　struggling　impatiently　in　her　arms；　trying　to　get　down。
'Want　to　see　the　doggy；　Mom　。。。　want　to　see　the　doggy！'
Donna　cast　a　nervous　glance　at　Vic；　who　shrugged；　also　uneasy。　Then　the　boy　came　back　and　ruffled　the　dog's　head　as　he　approached　Vic。　The　dog　wagged　a　tail　that　was　absolutely　huge；　and　Tad　redoubled　his　struggles。
'You　can　let　him　down；　ma'am；'　the　boy　said　politely。　'Cujo　likes　kids。　He　won't　hurt　him。'　And　then；　to　Vic：　'My　dad's　ing　right　out。　He's　washing　his　hands。'
'All　right；'　Vic　said。　'That's　one　hell　of　a　big　dog；　son。　Are　you　sure　he's　safe？'
'He's　safe；'　the　boy　agreed；　but　Vic　found　himself　moving　up　beside　his　wife　as　his　son；　incredibly　small；　toddled　toward　the　dog。　Cujo　stood　with　his　head　cocked；　that　great　brush　of　a　tail　waving　slowly　back　and　forth。
'Vic　…'　Donna　began。
'It's　all　right；'　Vic　said；　thinking；　I　hope。　The　dog　looked　big　enough　to　swallow　the　Tadder　in　a　single　bite。
Tad　stopped　for　a　moment；　apparently　doubtful。　He　and　the　dog　looked　at　each　other。
'Doggy？'　Tad　said。
'Cujo；'　Camber's　boy　said；　walking　over　to　Tad。　'His　name's　Cujo。'
'Cujo；'　Tad　said；　and　the　dog　came　to　him　and　began　to　lick　his　face　in　great；　goodnatured；　slobbery　swipes　that　had　Tad　giggling　and　trying　to　fend　him　off。　He　turned　back　to　his　mother　and　father；　laughing　the　way　he　did　when　one　of　them　was　tickling　him。　He　took　a　step　toward　them　and　his　feet　tangled　in　each　other。　He　fell　down；　and　suddenly　the　dog　was　moving　toward　him；　over　him；　and　Vic；　who　had　his　arm　around　Donna's　waist；　felt　his　wife's　gasp　as　well　as　he　heard　it。　He　started　to　move　forward　。。。　and　then　stopped。
Cujo's　teeth　had　clamped　on　the　back　of　Tad's　SpiderMan　T…shirt。　He　pulled　the　boy　up　…　for　a　moment　Tad　looked　like　a　kitten　in　its　mother's　mouth　…　and　set　the　boy　on　his　feet。
Tad　ran　back　to　his　mother　and　father。　'Like　the　doggy！　Mom！　Dad！　I　like　the　doggy！'
Camber's　boy　was　watching　this　with　mild　amusement；　his　hands　stuffed　into　the　pockets　of　his　jeans。
'Sure；　it's　a　great　dog；'　Vic　said。　He　was　amused；　but　his　heart　was　still　beating　fast。　For　just　one　moment　there　he　had　really　believed　that　the　dog　was　going　to　bite　off　Tad's　head　like　a　lollipop。　'It's　a　Saint　Bernard；　Tad；'　he　said。
'Saint。。。　Berinart　！'　Tad　cried；　and　ran　back　toward　Cujo；　who　was　now　sitting　outside　the　mouth　of　the　barn　like　a　small　mountain。　'Cujo！　Coooojo！'
Donna　tensed　beside　Vic　again。　'Oh；　Vic；　do　you　think
But　now　Tad　was　with　Cujo　again；　first　hugging　him　extravagantly　and　then　looking　closely　at　his　face。　With　Cujo　sitting　down　（his　tail　thumping　on　the　gravel；　his　tongue　lolling　out　pinkly）；　Tad　could　almost　look　into　the　dog's　eyes　by　standing　on　tiptoe。
'I　think　they're　fine；'　Vic　said。
Tad　had　now　put　one　of　his　small　hands　into　Cujo's　mouth　and　was　peering　in　like　the　world's　smallest　dentist。　That　gave　Vic　another　uneasy　moment；　but　then　Tad　was　running　back　to　them　again。　'Doggy's　got　teeth；'　he　told　Vic。
'Yes；'　Vic　said。　'Lots　of　teeth。；
He　turned　to　the　boy；　meaning　to　ask　him　where　he　had　e　up　with　that　name。　but　then　Joe　Camber　was　ing　out　of　the　barn；　wiping　his　hands　On　3　Piece　of　waste　so　he　could　shake　without　getting　Vic　greasy。
Vic　was　pleasantly　surprised　to　find　that　Camber　knew　exactly　what　he　was　doing。　He　listened　carefully　to　the　clunking　sound　as　he　and　Vic　drove　down　to　the　house　at　the　bottom　of　the　hill　and　then　back　up　to　Camber's　place。
'Wheel　bearing's　going；'　Camber　said　briefly。　'You're　lucky　it　ain't　froze　up　on　you　already。'
'Can　you　fix　it？'　Vic　asked。
'Oh；　ayuh。　Fix　it　right　now　if　you　don't　mind　hanging　around　for　a　couple　of　hours。'
'That'd　be　all　right；　I　guess；'　Vic　said。　He　looked　toward　Tad　and　the　dog。　Tad　had　gotten　the　baseball　Camber's　son　had　been　hitting。　He　would　throw　it　as　far　as　he　could　（which　wasn't　very　far）；　and　the　Cambers'　Saint　Bernard　would　obediently　get　it　and　bring　it　back　to　Tad。　The　ball　was　looking　decidedly　slobbery。　'Your　dog　is　keeping　my　son　amused。'
'Cujo　likes　kids；'　Camber　agreed。　'You　want　to　drive　yo