sk.cujo-第30部分

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This　time　there　was　no　struggle　with　his　gorge。　This　time　he　simply　let　everything　e　up　in　a　series　of　hopeless　choking　sounds。　Crazily；　the　back　of　his　mind　had　turned　to　Charity　with　childish　resentment。　Charity　had　gotten　her　trip；　but　he　wasn't　going　to　get　his。　He　wasn't　going　to　get　his　because　some　crazy　bastard　had　done　a　jack　the　Ripper　act　on　poor　old　Gary　Pervier　and　
…　and　he　had　to　call　the　police。　Never　mind　all　the　rest　of　it。　Never　mind　the　way　the　ole　Pervert's　eyes　were　glaring　up　at　the　ceiling　in　the　shadows；　the　way　the　sheared…copper　smell　of　his　blood　mingled　with　the　sickish…sweet　aroma　of　the　honeysuckle。
He　got　to　his　feet　and　staggered　down　toward　the　kitchen。　He　was　moaning　deep　in　his　throat　but　was　hardly　aware　of　it。　The　phone　was　on　the　wall　in　the　kitchen。　He　had　to　call　the　State　Police；　Sheriff　Bannerman；　someone　
He　stopped　in　the　doorway。　His　eyes　widened　until　they　actually　seemed　to　be　bulging　from　his　head。　There　was　a　pile　of　dog　droppings　in　the　doorway　of　the　kitchen　。。。　and　he　knew　from　the　size　of　the　pile　whose　dog　had　been　here。
'Cujo；'　he　whispered。　'Oh　my　God；　Cujo's　gone　rabid！'
He　thought　he　heard　a　sound　behind　him　and　he　whirled　around；　hair　freezing　up　from　the　back　of　his　neck。　The　hallway　was　empty　except　for　Gary；　Gary　who　had　said　the　other　night　that　Joe　couldn't　sic　Cujo　on　a　yelling　nigger；　Gary　with　his　throat　laid　open　all　the　way　to　the　knob　of　his　backbone。
There　was　no　sense　in　taking　chances。　He　bolted　back　down　the　hallway；　skidding　momentarily　in　Gary's　blood；　leaving　an　elongated　footmark　behind　him。　He　moaned　again；　but　when　he　had　shut　the　heavy　inner　door　he　felt　a　little　better。
He　went　back　to　the　kitchen；　shying　his　way　around　Gary's　body；　and　looked　in；　ready　to　pull　the　kitchen　hallway　door　shut　quickly　if　Cujo　was　in　there。　Again　he　wished　distractedly　for　the　forting　weight　of　his　shotgun　over　his　arm。
The　kitchen　was　empty。　Nothing　…moved　except　the　curtains；　stirring　in　a　sluggish　breeze　which　whispered　through　the　open　windows。　There　was　a　smell　of　dead　vodka　bottles。　It　was　sour；　but　better　than　that　。。。　that　other　smell。　Sunlight　lay　on　the　faded　hilly　linoleum　in　orderly　patterns。　The　phone；　its　once…white　plastic　case　now　dulled　with　the　grease　of　many　bachelor　meals　and　cracked　in　some　long…ago　drunken　stumble；　hung　on　the　wall　as　always。
Joe　went　in　and　closed　le　door　firmly　behind　him。　He　crossed　to　the　two　open　windows　and　saw　nothing　in　the　tangle　of　the　back　yard　except　the　rusting　corpses　of　the　two　cars　that　had　predated　Gary's　Chrysler。　He　closed　the　windows　anyway。
He　went　to　the　telephone；　pouring　sweat　in　the　explosively　hot　kitchen。　The　book　was　hanging　beside　the　phone　on　a　hank　of　hayrope。　Gary　had　made　the　hole　through　the　book　where　the　hayrope　was　threaded　with　Joe's　drillpunch　about　a　year　ago；　drunk　as　a　lord　and　proclaiming　that　he　didn't　give　a　shit。
Joe　picked　the　book　up　and　then　dropped　it。　The　book　thudded　against　the　wall。　His　hands　felt　too　heavy。　His　mouth　was　slimy　with　the　taste　of　vomit。　He　got　hold　of　the　book　again　and　opened　it　with　a　jerk　that　nearly　tore　off　the　cover。　He　could　have　dialed　0；　or　555…1212；　but　in　his　shock　he　never　thought　of　it。
The　sound　of　his　rapid；　shallow　breathing；　his　racing　heart；　and　the　riffle　of　the　thin　phonebook　pages　masked　a　faint　noise　from　behind　him：　the　low　creak　of　the　cellar　door　as　Cujo　nosed　it　open。
He　had　gone　down　cellar　after　killing　Gary　Pervier。　The　light　in　the　kitchen　had　been　too　bright；　too　dazzling。　It　sent　white…hot　shards　of　agony　into　his　deposing　brain。　The　cellar　door　had　been　ajar　and　he　had　padded　jerkily　down　the　stairs　into　the　blessedly　cool　dark。　He　had　fallen　asleep　next　to　Gary's　old　Army　footlocker；　and　the　breze　from　the　open　windows　had　swung　the　cellar　door　most　of　the　way　closed。　The　breeze　had　not　been　quite　strong　enough　to　latch　the　door。
The　moans；　the　sound　of　Joe　retching；　the　thumpings　and　slammings　as　Joe　ran　down　the　hall　to　close　the　front　door　…these　things　had　awakened　him　to　his　pain　again。　His　pain　and　his　dull；　ceaseless　fury。　Now　he　stood　behind　Joe　in　the　dark　doorway。　His　head　was　lowered。　His　eyes　were　nearly　scarlet。　His　thick；　tawny　fur　was　matted　with　gore　and　drying　mud。　Foam　drizzled　from　his　mouth　in　a　lather；　and　his　teeth　showed　constantly　because　his　tongue　was　beginning　to　swell。
Joe　had　found　the　Castle　Rock　section　of　the　book。　He　got　the　C's　and　ran　a　shaking　finger　down　to　CASTLE　ROCK　MUNICIPAL　SERVICES　in　a　boxed…off　section　halfway　down　one　column。　There　was　the　number　for　the　sheriffs　office。　He　reached　up　a　finger　to　begin　dialing；　and　that　was　when　Cujo　began　to　growl　deep　in　his　chest。
All　the　nerves　seemed　to　run　out　of　Joe　Camber's　body。　The　telephone　book　slithered　from　his　fingers　and　thudded　against　the　wall　again。　He　turned　slowly　toward　that　growling　sound。　He　saw　Cujo　standing　in　the　cellar　doorway。
'Nice　doggy；'　he　whispered　huskily；　and　spit　ran　down　his　chin。
He　made　helpless　water　in　his　pants；　and　the　sharp；　ammoniac　reek　of　it　struck　Cujo's　nose　like　a　keen　slap。　He　sprang。　Joe　lurched　to　one　side　on　legs　that　felt　like　stilts　and　the　dog　struck　the　wall　hard　enough　to　punch　through　the　wallpaper　and　knock　out　plaster　dust　in　a　white；　gritty　puff。　Now　the　dog　wasn't　growling；　a　series　of　heavy；　grinding　sounds　escaped　him；　sounds　more　savage　than　any　barks。
Joe　backed　toward　the　rear　door。　His　feet　tangled　in　one　of　the　kitchen　chairs。　He　pinwheeled　his　arms　madly　for　balance；　and　might　have　gotten　it　back；　but　before　that　could　happen　Cujo　bore　down　on　him；　a　bloodstreaked　killing　machine　with　strings　of　foam　flying　backward　from　his　jaws。　There　was　a　green；　swampy　stench　about　him。
'ob　m'　God　lay　off'n　me！'　Joe　Camber　shrieked。
He　remembered　Gary。　He　covered　his　throat　with　one　hand　and　tried　to　grapple　with　Cujo　with　the　other。　Cujo　backed　off　momentarily；　snapping；　his　muzzle　wrinkled　back　in　a　great　humorless　grin　that　showed　teeth　like　a　row　of　slightly　yellowed　fence　spikes。　Then　he　came　again。
And　this　time　he　came　for　Joe　Camber's　balls。
'Hey　kiddo；　you　want　to　e　grocery　shopping　with　me？　And　have　lunch　at　Mario's？'
Tad　got　up。　'Yeah　I　Good！'
'e　on；　then。'
She　had　her　bag　over　her　shoulder　and　she　was　wearing　jeans　and　a　faded　blue　shirt。　Tad　thought　she　was　looking　very　pretty。　He　was　relieved　to　see　there　were　no　sign　of　her　tears；　because　when　she　cried；　he　cried。　He　knew　it　was　a　baby　thing　to　do；　but　he　couldn't　help　it。
He　was　halfway　to　the　car　and　she　was　slipping　behind　the　wheel　when　he　remembered　that　her　Pinto　was　all　screwed　UP。
'Mommy？'
'What？　Get　in。'
But　he　hung　back　a　little；　afraid。　'What　if　the　car　goes　kerflooey？'
'Ker　…？'She　was　looking　at　him；　puzzled；　and　then　he　saw　by　her　exasperated　expression　that　she　had　forgotten　all　about　the　car　being　screwed　up。　He　had　reminded　her；　and　now　she　was　unhappy　again。　Was　it　the　Pinto's　fault；　or　was　it　his？　He　didn't　know；　but　the　guilty　feeling　inside　said　it　was　his。　Then　her　face　smoothed　out　and　she　gave　him　a　crooked　little　smile　that　he　knew　well　enough　to　feel　it　was　his　special　smile；　the　one　she　saved　just　for　him。　He　felt　better。
'We're　just　going　into　town；　Tadder。　If　Mom's　ole　blue　Pinto　packs　it　in；　we'll　just　have　to　blow　two　bucks　on　Castle　Rock's　one　and　only　taxi　getting　back　home。　Right？'
'Oh；　Okay。'　He　got　in　and　managed　to　pull　the　door　shut。
She　watched　him　closely；　ready　to　move　at　an　instant；　and　Tad　supposed　she　was　thinking　about　last　Christmas；　when　he　had　shut　the　door　on　his　foot　and　had　to　wear　an　Ace　bandage　for　about　a　month。　But　he　had　been　just　a　baby　then；　and　now　he　was　four　years　old。　Now　he　was　a　big　boy。　He　knew　that　was　true　because　his　dad　had　told　him。　He　smiled　at　his　mother　to　show　her　the　door　had　been　no　problem；　and　she　smiled　back。
'Did　it　latch　tight？'
'Tight；'　Tad　agreed；　so　she　opened　it　and　slammed　it　again；　because　moms　didn't　beheve　you　unless　you　told　them　something　bad；　like　you　spilled　the　bag　of　sugar　reaching　for　the　peanut　butter　or　broke　a　window　while　trying　to　throw　a　rock　all　the　way　over　the　garage　roof。
'Hook　your　belt；'　she　said；　getting　in　herself　again。　'When　that　needle　valve　or　whatever　it　is　messes　up；　the　car　jerks　a　lot。'
A　little　apprehensively；　Tad　buckled　his　seat　belt　and　harness。　He　sure　hoped　they　weren't　going　to　have　an　accident；　like　in　Ten…Truck　Wipe　Out。　Even　more　than　that；　he　hoped　Mom　wouldn't　cry。
'Flaps　down？'　she　asked；　adjusting　invisible　goggles。
'Flaps　down；'　he　agreed；　grinning。　It　was　just　a　game　they　played。
'Runway　clear？'
'Clear。'
'Then　here　we　go。'　She　keyed　the　ignition　and　backed　down　the　driveway。　A　moment　later　they　were　headed　for　town。
After　about　a　mile　they　both　relaxed。　Up　to　that　point　Donna　had　been　sitting　bolt　upright　behind　the　wheel　and　Tad　had　been　doing　the　same　in　the　passenger　bucket。　But　the　Pinto　ran　so　smoothly　that　it　might　have　popped　off　the　assembly　line　only　yesterday。
They　went　to　the　Agway　Market　and　Donna　bought　forty　dollars'　worth　of　groceries；　enough　to　keep　them　the　ten　days　that　Vic　would　be　gone。　Tad　insisted　on　a　fresh　box　of　Twinkles；　and　would　have　added　Cocoa　Bears　if　Donna　had　let　him。　They　got。　shipments　of　the　Sharp　cereals　regularly；　but　they