sk.cujo-第38部分

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d　herself　…　in　some　vauge　way　she　had　the　idea　that　it　must　be　the　dog。　She　ground　the　starter；　grimacing　horribly；　；wearing　at　it；　oblivious　of　Tad；　using　words　she　had　hardly　known　she　knew。　And　A　the　time　Cujo　stood　there；　trailing　his　shadow　from　his　heels　like　some　surreal　funeral　drape；　watching。
At　last　he　lay　down　in　the　driveway；　as　if　deciding　there　was　no　chance　for　them　to　escape。　She　hated　it　more　than　she　had　when　it　had　tried　to　force　its　way　in　through　Tad's　window。
'Mommy　。。。　Mommy　。。。　Mommy！'
From　far　away。　Unimportant。　What　was　important　now　was　this　goddamned　sonofabitching　little　car。　It　was　going　to　start。　She　was　going　to　make　it　start　by　pure　。。。　force。。。　of　will！
She　had　no　idea　how　long；　in　real　time；　she　sat　hunched　over　the　wheel　with　her　hair　hanging　in　her　eyes；　futilely　grinding　the　starter。　What　at　last　broke　through　to　her　was　not　Tad's　cries　…　they　had　trailed　off　to　whimpers　…　but　the　sound　of　the　engine。　It　would　crank　briskly　for　five　seconds；　then　lag　off；　then　crank　briskly　for　another　five；　then　lag　off　again。　A　longer　lag　each　time；　it　seemed。
She　was　killing　the　battery。
She　stopped。
She　came　out　of　it　a　little　at　a　time；　like　a　woman　ing　out　of　a　faint。　She　remembered　a　bout　of　gastroenteritis　she'd　had　in　college　…　everything　inside　her　had　either　e　up　by　the　elevator　or　dropped　down　the　chute　…　and　near　the　end　of　it　she　had　grayed　out　in　one　of　the　dorm　toilet　stalls。　ing　back　had　been　like　this；　as　if　you　were　the　same　but　some　invisible　painter　was　adding　color　to　the　world；　bringing　it　first　up　to　full　and　then　to　overfull。　Colors　shrieked　at　you。　Everything　looked　plastic　and　phony；　like　a　display　in　a　department　store　window　…SWING　INTO　SPRING；　perhaps；　or　READY　FOR　THE　FIRST　KICKOFF。
Tad　was　cringing　away　from　her；　his　eyes　squeezed　shut；　the　thumb　of　one　hand　in　his　mouth。　The　other　hand　was　pressed　against　his　hip　pocket；　where　the　Monster　Words　were。　His　respiration　was　shallow　and　rapid。
'Tad；'　she　said。　'Honey；　don't　worry。'
'Mommy；　are　you　all　right？'　His　voice　was　little　more　than　a　husky　whisper。
'Yeah。　So　are　you。　At　least　we're　safe。　This　old　car　will　go。　just　wait　and　see。'
'I　thought　you　were　mad　at　me。'
She　took　him　in　her　arms　and　hugged　him　tight。　She　could　smell　sweat　in　his　hair　and　the　lingering　undertone　of　Johnson's　No　More　Tears　shampoo。　She　thought　of　that　bottle　sitting　safely　and　sanely　on　the　second　shelf　of　the　medicine　cabinet　in　the　upstairs　bathroom。　If　only　she　could　touch　it！　But　all　that　was　here　was　that　faint；　dying　perfume。
'No；　honey；　not　at　you；'　she　said。　'Never　at　you。'
Tad　hugged　her　back。　'He　can't　get　us　in　here；　can　he？'
'No。'
'He　can't　。。。　he　can't　eat　his　way　in；　can　he？'
'No。'
'I　hate　him；'　Tad　said　reflectively。　'I　wish　he'd　die。'
'Yes。　Me　too。'
She　looked　out　the　window　and　saw　that　the　sun　was　getting　ready　to　go　down。　A　superstitious　dread　settled　into　her　at　the　thought。　She　remembered　the　childhood　games　of　hide…and…seek　that　had　always　ended　when　the　shadows　joined　each　other　and　grew　into　purple　lagoons；　that　mystic　call　drifting　through　the　suburban　streets　of　her　childhood；　talismanic　and　distant；　the　high　voice　of　a　child　announcing　suppers　that　were　ready；　doors　ready　to　be　shut　against　the　night：
'Alleee…alleee…infree！　Alleee…alleee…infree！'
The　dog　was　watching　her。　It　was　crazy；　but　she　could　no　longer　doubt　it。　Its　mad；　senseless　eyes　were　fixed　unhesitatingly　on　hers。
No；　you're　imagining　it。　It's　only　a　dog；　and　a　sick　dog　at　that。　Things　are　bad　enough　without　you　seeing　something　in　that　dog's　eyes　that　can't　be　there。
She　told　herself　that。　A　few　minutes　later　she　told　herself　that　Cujo's　eyes　were　like　the　eyes　of　some　portraits　which　seem　to　follow　you　wherever　you　move　in　the　room　where　they　are　hung。
But　the　dog　was　looking　at　her。　And　。。。　and　there　was　something　familiar　about　it。
No；　she　told　herself；　and　tried　to　dismiss　the　thought；　but　it　was　too　late
You've　seen　him　before；　haven't　you？　The　morning　after　Tad　bad　the　first　of　his　bad　dreams；　the　morning　that　the　blankets　and　sheets　were　back　on　the　chair；　his　Teddy　on　top　of　them；　and　for　a　moment　when　you　opened　the　closet　door　YOU　only　saw　a　slumped　shape　with　red　eyes；　something　in　Tad's　closet　ready　to　spring；　it　was　him；　it　was　Cujo；　Tad　was　right　all　along；　only　the　monster　wasn't　in　his　closet。。。　it　was　out　here。　It　was
（stop　it）
out　here　just　waiting　to
（！　YOU　STOP　IT　DONNA！）
She　stared　at　the　dog　and　imagined　she　could　bear　its　thoughts。　Simple　thoughts。　The　same　simple　pattern；　repeated　over　and　over　in　spite　of　the　whirling　boil　of　its　sickness　and　delirium。
Kill　THE　WOMAN　Kill　THE　BOYWOMAN。　Kill　THE　WOMAN　Kill　…Stop　it；　she　manded　herself　roughly。　It　doesn't　think　and　it's　not　some　goddamned　bogeyman　out　of　a　child's　closet。　It's　a　sick　dog　and　that's　all　it　is。　Next　you'll　believe　the　dog　is　God's　punishment　for　mitting　
Cujo　suddenly　got　up　…almost　as　if　she　had　called　him　…　and　disappeared　into　the　barn　again。
（almost　as　if　I　called　it）
She　uttered　a　shaky；　semi…hysterical　laugh。
Tad　looked　up。　'Mommy？'
'Nothing；　hon。'
She　looked　at　the　dark　maw　of　the　garage…barn；　then　at　the　back　door　of　the　house。　Locked？　Unlocked？　Locked？　Unlocked？　She　thought　of　a　coin　rising　in　the　air；　flipping　over　and　over。　She　thought　of　whirling　the　chamber　drum　of　a　pistol；　five　holes　empty；　one　full。　Locked？　Unlocked
The　sun　went　down；　and　what　was　left　of　the　day　was　a　white　line　painted　on　the　western　horizon。　It　looked　no　thicker　than　the　white　stripe　painted　down　the　center　of　the　highway。　That　would　be　gone　soon　enough。　Crickets　sang　in　the　high　grass　to　the　right　of　the　driveway；　making　a　mindlessly　cheerful　rickety…rickety　sound。
Cujo　was　still　in　the　barn。　Sleeping？　she　wondered。　Eating？
That　made　her　remember　that　she　had　packed　them　some　food。　She　crawled　between　the　two　front　buckets　and　got　the　Snoopy　lunchbox　and　her　own　brown　bag。　Her　Thermos　had　rolled　all　the　way　to　the　back；　probably　when　the　car　had　started　to　buck　and　jerk　ing　up　the　road。　She　had　to　stretch；　her　blouse　ing　untucked；　before　she　could　hook　it　with　her　fingers。　Tad；　who　had　been　in　a　half　doze；　stirred　awake。　His　voice　was　immediately　filled　with　a　sharp　fright　that　made　her　hate　the　damned　dog　even　more。
'Mommy？　Mommy？　What　are　you　…'
'…　Just　getting　the　food；'　she　soothed　him。　'And　my　Thermos　…see？'
'Okay。'　He　settled　back　into　his　seat　and　put　his　thumb　in　his　mouth　again。
She　shook　the　big　Thermos　gently　beside　her　ear；　listening　for　the　grating　sound　of　broken　glass。　She　only　heard　milk　swishing　around　inside。　That　was　something；　anyhow。
：Tad？　You　want　to　cat？'
I　want　to　take　a　nap；'　he　said　around　his　thumb；　not　opening　his　eyes。
'You　gotta　feed　the　machine；　chum；'　she　said。
He　didn't　even　smile。　'Not　hungry。　Sleepy。'
She　looked　at　him；　troubled；　and　decided　it　would　be　wrong　to　force　the　issue　any　further。　Sleep　was　Tad's　natural　weapon　…maybe　his　only　one　…　and　it　was　already　half　an　hour　past　his　regular　bedtime。　Of　course；　if　they　had　been　home；　he　would　have　had　a　glass　of　milk　and　a　couple　of　cookies　before　brushing　his　teeth　。。。　and　a　story；　one　of　his　Mercer　Mayer　books；　maybe　。。。　and　。。。
She　felt　the　hot　sting　of　tears　and　tried　to　push　all　those　thoughts　away。　She　opened　her　Thermos　with　shaky　hands　and　poured　herself　half　a　cup　of　milk。　She　set　it　on　the　dashboard　and　took　one　of　the　figbars。　After　one　bite　she　realized　she　was　absolutely　ravenous。　She　ate　three　more　figbars；　drank　some　milk；　popped　four　or　five　of　the　green　olives；　then　drained　her　cup。　She　burped　gently。。。　and　then　looked　more　sharply　at　the　barn。
There　was　a　darker　shadow　in　front　of　it　now。　Except　it　wasn't　just　a　shadow。　It　was　the　dog。　It　was　Cujo。
He's　standing　watch　over　us。
No；　she　didn't　believe　that。　Nor　did　she　believe　she　had　seen　a　vision　of　Cujo　in　a　pile　of　blankets　stacked　in　her　son's　closet。　She　didn't　。。。　except　。。。　except　part　of　her　did。　But　that　part　wasn't　in　her　mind。
She　glanced　up　into　the　rearview　mirror　at　where　the　road　was。　It　was　too　dark　now　to　see　it；　but　she　knew　it　was　there；　just　as　she　knew　that　nobody　was　going　to　go　by。　When　they　had　e　out　that　other　time　with　Vic's　Jag；　all　three　of　them　（the　dog　was　nice　then；　her　brain　muttered；　the　Tadder　patted　him　and　laughed；　remember？）；　laughing　it　up　and　having　a　great　old　time；　Vic　had　told　her　that　until　five　years　ago　the　Castle　Rock　Dump　had　been　out　at　the　end　of　Town　Road　No。　3。　Then　the　new　waste　treatment　plant　had　gone　into　operation　on　the　other　side　of　town；　and　now；　a　quarter　of　a　mile　beyond　the　Camber　place；　the　road　simply　ended　at　a　place　where　a　heavy　chain　was　strung　across　it。　The　sign　which　hung　from　the　chain　read　NO　TRESPASSING　DUMP　CLOSED。　Beyond　Cambers'；　there　was　just　no　place　to　go。
Donna　wondered　if　maybe　some　people　in　search　of　a　really　private　place　to　go　parking　might　not　ride　by；　but　she　couldn't　imagine　that　even　the　horniest　of　local　kids　would　want　to　neck　at　the　old　town　dump。　At　any　rate；　no　one　had　passed　yet。
The　white　line　on　the　western　horizon　had　faded　to　a　bare　afterglow　now　。　。　。　and　she　was　afraid　that　even　that　was　mostly　wishful　thinking。　There　was　no　moon。
Incredibly；　she　felt　drowsy　herself。　Maybe　sleep　was　her　n