sk.cujo-第51部分

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ting　fortably；　at　least　for　the　time　being。
But　she　was　afraid　those　things　were　secondary　to　the　main　reason　she　was　still　here　…　that；　little　by　little；　some　psychological　point　of　readiness　had　been　reached　and　passed。　She　remembered　from　her　childhood　diving　lessons　at　Camp　Tapawingo　that　there　came　an　instant；　that　first　time　on　the　high　board；　when　you　either　had　to　try　it　or　retreat　ignominiously　to　let　the　girl　behind　you　have　her　crack　at　it。　There　came　a　day　during　the　learning…to…drive　experience　when　you　finally　had　to　leave　the　empty　country　roads　behind　and　try　it　in　the　city。　There　came　a　time。　Always　there　came　a　time。　A　time　to　dive；　a　time　to　drive；　a　time　to　try　for　the　back　door。
Sooner　or　later　the　dog　would　show　itself。　The　situation　was　bad；　granted；　but　not　yet　desperate。　The　right　time　came　around　in　cycles　…　that　was　not　anything　she　had　been　taught　in　a　psychology　class；　it　was　something　she　knew　instinctively。　If　you　chickened　down　from　the　high　board　on　Monday；　there　was　no　law　that　said　you　couldn't　go　right　back　again　on　Tuesday。　You　could　
Reluctantly；　her　mind　told　her　that　was　a　deadly…false　bit　of　reasoning。
She　was　not　as　strong　tonight　as　she　had　been　last　night。　She　would　be　even　weaker　and　more　dehydrated　tomorrow　morning。　And　that　was　not　the　worst　of　it。　She　had　been　sitting　almost　all　the　time　for　…　how　long？　…　it　didn't　seem　possible；　but　it　was　now　some　twenty…eight　hours。　What　if　she　was　too　stiff　to　do　it？　What　if　she　got　halfway　to　the　porch　only　to　be　doubled　up　and　then　dropped　flopping　to　the　ground　by　charley　horses　in　the　big　muscles　of　her　thighs？
In　matters　of　life　and　death；　her　mind　told　her　implacably；　the　right　time　only　es　around　once　…　once　and　then　it's　gone。
Her　breathing　and　heart　rate　had　speeded　up。　Her　body　was　aware　she　was　going　to　make　the　try　before　her　mind　was。　Then　she　was　wrapping　her　shirt　more　firmly　about　her　right　hand；　her　left　hand　was　settling　on　the　doorhandle；　and　she　knew。　There　had　been　no　conscious　decision　she　was　aware　of；　suddenly　she　was　simply　going。　She　was　going　now；　while　Tad　slept　deeply　and　there　was　no　danger　he　would　bolt　out　after　her。
She　pulled　the　doorhandle　up；　her　hand　sweat…slick。　She　was　holding　her　breath；　listening　for　any　change　in　the　world。
The　bird　sang　again。　That　was　all。
If　he's　basked　the　door　too　far　out　of　shape　it　won't　even　Open；　she　thought。　That　would　be　a　kind　of　bitter　relief。　She　could　sit　back　then；　rethink　her　options；　see　if　there　was　anything　she　had　left　out　of　her　calculations　。。。　and　get　a　little　thirstier　。。。　a　little　weaker　。。。　a　little　slower。。。。
She　brought　pressure　to　bear　against　the　door；　slugging　her　left　shoulder　against　it；　gradually　settling　more　and　more　of　her　weight　upon　it。　Her　right　hand　was　sweating　inside　the　cotton　shirt。　Her　fist　was　so　tightly　clenched　that　the　fingers　ached。　Dimly；　she　could　feel　the　crescents　of　her　nails　biting　into　her　palm。　Over　and　over　in　her　mind's　eye　she　saw　herself　punching　through　the　glass　beside　the　knob　of　the　porch　door；　beard　the　tinkle　of　the　shards　striking　the　boards　inside；　saw　herself　reaching　for　the　handle　。。。
But　the　car　door　wasn't　opening。　She　shoved　as　hard　as　she　could；　straining；　the　cords　in　her　neck　standing　out。　But　it　wasn't　opening。　It　
Then　it　did　open；　all　of　a　sudden。　It　swung　wide　with　a　terrible　clunking　sound；　almost　spilling　her　out　on　all　fours。　She　grabbed　for　the　doorhandle；　missed；　and　grabbed　again。　She　held　the　handle；　and　suddenly　a　panicky　certainty　stole　into　her　mind。　It　was　as　cold　and　numbing　as　a　doctor's　verdict　of　inoperable　cancer。　She　had　gotten　the　door　open。　but　it　wouldn't　close　again。　The　dog　was　going　to　leap　in　and　kill　them　both。　Tad　would　have　perhaps　one　confused　moment　of　waking；　one　last　merciful　instant　in　which　to　believe　it　was　a　dream；　before　Cujo's　teeth　ripped　his　throat　open。
Her　breath　rattled　in　and　out；　quick　and　quick。　It　felt　like　hot　straw。　It　seemed　that　she　could　see　each　and　every　piece　of　gravel　in　the　driveway；　but　it　was　hard　to　think。　Her　thoughts　tumbled　wildly。　Scenes　out　of　her　past　zipped　through　the　foreground　of　her　mind　like　a　film　of　a　parade　which　had　been　speeded　up　until　the　marching　bands　and　horseback　riders　and　baton　twirlers　seemed　to　be　fleeing　the　scene　of　some　weird　crime。
The　garbage　disposal　regurgitating　a　nasty　
green　mess　all　over　the　kitchen　ceiling；　backing　
up　through　the　bar　sink。
Failing　off　the　back　porch　when　she　was　five　and　breaking　her　wrist。
Looking　down　at　herself　during　period　2　…　algebra　…　one　day　when　she　was　a　high　school　freshman　and　seeing　to　her　utter　shame　and　horror　that　there　were　spots　of　blood　on　her　light　blue　linen　skirt；　she　had　started　her　period；　how　was　she　elver　going　to　get　up　from　her　seat　when　the　bell　rang　without　everybody　seeing；　without　everyone　knowing　that　DonnaRose　was　having　her　period？
The　first　boy　she　had　ever　kissed　with　her　mouth　open。　Dwight　Sampson。
Holding　Tad　in　her　arms；　newborn；　then　the　nurse　taking　him　away；　she　wanted　to　tell　the　nurse　not　to　do　that　…　Give　him　back；　I'm　not　done　with　him；　those　were　the　words　that　had　e　to　mind　…　but　she　was　too　weak　to　talk　and　then　the　horrible；　squelching；　gutty　sound　of　the　afterbirth　ing　out　of　her；　she　remembered　thinking　I'm　puking　up　his　life…support　systems；　and　then　she　had　passed　out。
Her　father；　crying　at　her　wedding　and　then　getting　drunk　at　the　reception。
Faces。　Voices。　Rooms。　Scenes。　Books。　The　terror　of　this　moment；　thinking　I　AM　GOING　TO　DIE　…
With　a　tremendous　effort；　she　got　herself　under　some　kind　of　control。　She　got　the　Pinto's　doorhandle　in　both　hands　and　gave　it　a　tremendous　yank。　The　door　flew　shut。　There　was　that　clunk　again　as　the　hinge　Cujo　had　knocked　out　of　true　protested。　There　was　a　hefty　bang　when　the　door　slammed　dosed　that　made　Tad　jump　and　then　mutter　a　bit　in　his　sleep。
Donna　leaned　back　in　the　seat；　shaking　helplessly　all　over；　and　cried　silently。　Hot　tears　slipped　out　from　under　her　lids　and　ran　back　on　a　slant　toward　her　cars。　She　had　never　in　her　fife　been　so　afraid　of　anything；　not　even　in　her　room　at　night　when　she　was　little　and　it　had　seemed　to　her　that　there　were　spiders　everywhere。　She　couldn't　go　now；　she　assured　herself。　It　was　unthinkable。　She　was　totally　done　up。　Her　nerves　were　shot。　Better　to　wait；　wait　for　a　better　chance。。。。
But　she　didn't　dare　let　that　idee　bee　fixe。
There　wasn't　going　to　be　abetter　chance　than　this　one。　Tad　was　out　of　it；　and　the　dog　was　out　of　it　too。　It　had　to　be　true；　A　logic　declared　it　to　be　true。　That　first　loud　clunk；　then　another　one　when　she　pulled　the　door　to；　and　the　slam　of　the　door　actually　shutting　again。　It　would　have　brought　him　on　the　run　if　he　had　been　in　front　of　the　car。　He　might　be　in　the　barn；　but　she　believed　he　would　have　heard　the　noise　in　there；　as　well。
He　had　almost　surely　gone　wandering　off　somewhere。　There　was　never　going　to　be　a　better　chance　than　right　now；　and　if　she　was　too　scared　to　do　it　for　herself；　she　musn't　be　too　scared　to　do　it　for　Tad。
All　suitably　noble。　But　what　finally　persuaded　her　was　a　vision　of　letting　herself　into　the　Cambers'　darkened　house；　the　reassuring　feel　of　the　telephone　in　her　hand。　She　could　hear　herself　talking　to　one　of　Sheriff　Bannerman's　deputies；　quite　calmly　and　rationally；　and　then　putting　the　phone　down。　Then　going　into　the　kitchen　for　a　cold　glass　of　water。　
She　opened　the　door　again；　prepared　for　the　clunking　sound　this　time　but　still　wincing　when　it　came。　She　cursed　the　dog　in　her　heart；　hoping　it　was　already　lying　someplace　dead　of　a　convulsion；　and　fly…blown。
She　swung　her　legs　out；　wincing　at　the　stiffness　and　the　pain。　She　put　her　tennis　shoes　on　the　gravel。　And　little　by　little　she　stood　up　under　the　darkling　sky。
The　bird　sang　somewhere　nearby：　it　sang　three　notes　and　was　still。
Cujo　heard　the　door　open　again；　as　instinct　had　told　him　it　would。　The　first：　time　it　opened　he　had　almost　e　around　from　the　front　of　the　car　where　he　had　been　lying　in　a　semi…stupor。　He　had　almost　e　around　to　get　THE　WOMAN　who　had　caused　this　dreadful　pain　in　his　head　and　in　his　body。　He　had　almost　e　around；　but　that　instinct　had　manded　him　to　lie　still　instead。　THE　WOMAN　was　only　trying　to　draw　him　out；　the　instinct　counseled；　and　this　had　proved　to　be　true。
As　the　sickness　had　tightened　down　on　him；　sinking　into　his　nervous　system　like　a　ravenous　grassfire；　all　dove…gray　smoke　and　low　rose…colored　flame；　as　it　continued　to　go　about　its　work　of　destroying　his　established　patterns　of　thought　and　behaviour；　it　had　somehow　deepened　his　cunning。　He　was　sure　to　get　THE　WOMAN　and　THE　Boy。　They　had　caused　his　pain　…both　the　agony　in　his　body　and　the　terrible　hurt　in　his　head　which　had　e　from　leaping　against　the　car　again　and　again。
Twice　today　he　had　forgotten　about　THE　WOMAN　and　THE　BOY；　leaving　the　barn　by　the　dog　bolthole　that　Joe　Camber　had　cut　in　the　door　of　the　back　room　where　he　kept　his　accounts。　He　had　gone　down　to　the　marsh　at　the　back　of　the　Camber　property；　both　times　passing　quite　close　to　the　overgrown　entrance　to　the　limestone　cave　where　the　bats　roosted。　There　was　water　in　the　marsh　and　he　was　horribly　thirsty；　but　the　actual　sight　of　the　water　had　driven　him　into　a　frenzy　both　times。　He　wanted　to　drink　t