sk.cujo-第58部分

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　wearing　the　horns。
'It's　all　right；'　Vic　said；　starting　to　dress。
'All　this　on　your　mind　。。。　and　you　went　ahead　with　the　trip？'
'What　good　would　it　have　done　to　stay　at　home？'　Vic　asked。　'It　happened。　I　。。。　I　only　found　out　on　Thursday。　I　thought　。。。　some　distance。　。　time　to　think　。。。　perspective　。。。　I　don't　know　all　the　stupid　goddam　things　I　thought。　Now　this。'
'Not　your　fault；'　Roger　said　earnestly。
'Rog；　at　this　point　I　don't　know　what's　my　fault　and　what　isn't。　I'm　worried　about　Donna；　and　I'm　out　of　my　mind　about　Tad。　I　just　want　to　get　back　there。　And　I'd　like　to　get　my　hands　on　that　fucker　Kemp。　I'd。　。　。'His　voice　had　been　rising。　It　abruptly　sank。　His　shoulders　sagged。　For　a　moment　he　looked　drawn　and　old　and　almost　totally　used　up。　Then　he　went　to　the　suitcase　on　the　floor　and　began　to　hunt　for　fresh　clothes。　'Call　Avis　at　the　airport；　would　you；　and　get　me　a　car？　My　wallet's　there　on　the　nightstand。　They'll　want　the　American　Express　number。'
'I'll　call　for　both　of　us。　I'm　going　back　with　you。'
'No。'
'But　？
'But　nothing。'　Vic　slipped　into　a　dark　blue　shirt。　He　had　it　buttoned　halfway　up　before　he　saw　he　had　it　wrong；　one　tail　hung　far　below　the　other。　He　unbuttoned　it　and　started　again。　He　was　in　motion　now；　and　being　in　motion　was　better；　but　that　feeling　of　unreality　persisted。　He　kept　having　thoughts　about　movie　sets；　where　what　looks　like　Italian　marble　is　really　just　Con…Tact　paper；　where　all　the　rooms　end　just　above　the　camera's　sight　line　and　where　someone　is　always　lurking　in　the　background　with　a　clapper　board。　Scene　#41；　Vic　convinces　Roger　to　Keep　On　Plugging；　Take　One。　He　was　an　actor　and　this　was　some　crazy　absurdist　film。　But　it　was　undeniably　better　when　the　body　was　in　motion。
'Hey；　man
'Roger；　this　changes　nothing　in　the　situation　between　Ad　Worx　and　the　Sharp　pany。　I　came　along　after　I　knew　about　Donna　and　this　guy　Kemp　partly　because　I　wanted　to　keep　up　a　front　…　I　guess　no　guy　wants　to　advertise　when　he　find　out　his　wife　has　been　getting　it　on　the　side　…　but　mostly　because　I　knew　that　the　people　who　depend　on　us　have　to　keep　eating　no　matter　who　my　wife　decides　to　go　to　bed　with。'
'Go　easy　on　yourself；　Vic。　Stop　digging　yourself　with　it。'
'I　can't　seem　to　do　that；'　Vic　said。　'Even　now　I　can't　seem　to　do　that。'
'And　I　can't　just　go　on　to　New　York　as　if　nothing's　happened！'
'As　far　as　we　know；　nothing　has。　The　cop　kept　emphasizing　that　to　me。　You　can　go　on。　You　can　see　it　through。　Maybe　it'll　turn　out　to　have　been　nothing　but　a　charade　all　along；　but　。。。　people　have　to　try；　Roger。　There's　nothing　else　to　do。　Besides；　there's　nothing　you　can　do　back　in　Maine　except　hang　out。'
'Jesus；　it　feels　wrong。　It　feels　all　wrong。'
'It's　not。　I'll　call　you　at　the　Biltmore　as　soon　as　I　know　something。'　Vic　zippered　his　slacks　and　stepped　into　his　loafers。　'Now　go　on　and　call　Avis　for　me。　I'll　catch　a　cab　out　to　Logan　from　downstairs。　Here；　I'll　write　my　Amex　number　down　for　you。'
He　did　this；　and　Roger　stood　silently　by　as　he　got　his　coat　and　went　to　the　door。
'Vic；'　Roger　said。
He　turned；　and　Roger　embraced　him　clumsily　but　with　surprising　strength。　Vic　hugged　him　back；　his　cheek　against　Roger's　shoulder。
'I'll　pray　to　God　everything's　okay；'　Roger　said　hoarsely。
'Okay；'　Vic　said；　and　went　out。
The　elevator　hummed　faintly　on　the　way　down　…　not　really　moving　at　all；　he　thought。　It's　a　sound　effect。　Two　drunks　supporting　each　other　got　on　at　lobby　level　as　he　got　off。　Extras；　he　thought。
He　spoke　to　the　doorman　…　another　extra　…　and　after　about　five　minutes　a　cab　rolled　up　to　the　blue　hotel　awning。
The　cab　driver　was　black　and　silent。　He　had　his　radio　tuned　to　an　FM　soul　station。　The　Temptations　sang　'Power'　endlessly　as　the　cab　took　him　toward　Logan　Airport　through　streets　that　were　almost　pletely　deserted。　Helluva　good　movie　set；　he　thought。　As　the　Temptations　faded　out；　a　jiveass　dj　came　on　with　the　weather　forecast。　It　had　been　hot　yesterday；　he　reported；　but　you　didn't　see　nuthin　yesterday；　brothers　and　sisters。　Today　was　going　to　be　the　hottest　day　of　the　summer　so　far；　maybe　a　record…breaker。　The　big　G's　weather　prognosticator；　Altitude　Lou　McNally；　was　calling　for　temperatures　of　over　100　degrees　inland　and　not　much　cooler　on　the　coast。　A　mass　of　warm；　stagnant　air　had　moved　up　from　the　south　and　was　being　held　in　place　over　New　England　by　hands　of　high　pressure。　'So　if　you　gas　gonna　reach；　you　gotta　head　for　the　beach；'　the　jiveass　dj　finished。　'It　ain't　goan　be　too　pretty　if　you　hangin　out　in　the　city。　And　just　to　prove　the　point；　here's　Michael　Jackson。　He's　goin　〃Off　the　Wall〃。'
The　forecast　meant　little　or　nothing　to　Vic；　but　it　would　have　terrified　Donna　even　more　than　she　already　was；　had　she　known。
As　she　had　the　day　before；　Charity　awoke　just　before　dawn。　She　awoke　listening；　and　for　a　few　moments　she　wasn't　even　sure　what　she　was　listening　for。　Then　she　remembered。　Boards　creaking。　Footsteps。　She　was　listening　to　see　if　her　son　was　going　to　go　walking　again。
But　the　house　was　silent。
She　got　out　of　bed；　went　to　the　door；　and　looked　out　into　the　hall。　The　hall　was　empty。　After　a　moment's　debate　she　went　down　to　Brett's　room　and　looked　in　on　him。　There　was　nothing　showing　under　his　sheet　but　a　lick　of　his　hair。　If　he　had　gone　walking；　he　had　done　it　before　she　woke　up。　He　was　deeply　asleep　now。
Charity　went　back　to　her　room　and　sat　on　her　bed；　looking　out　at　the　faint　white　line　on　the　horizon。　She　was　aware　that　her　decision　had　been　made。　Somehow；　secretly；　in　the　night　while　she　slept。　Now；　in　the　first　cold　light　of　day；　she　was　able　to　examine　what　she　had　decided；　and　she　felt　that　she　could　count　the　cost。
It　occurred　to　her　that　she　had　never　unburdened　herself　to　her　sister　Holly　as　she　had　expected　she　would　do。　She　still　might　have；　if　not　for　the　credit　cards　at　lunch　yesterday。　And　then　last　night　she　had　told　Charity　how　much　this；　that；　and　the　other　had　cost　…　the　Buick　four…door；　the　Sony　color　set；　the　parquet　floor　in　the　hallway。　As　if；　in　Holly's　mind；　each　of　these　things　still　carried　invisible　price　tags　and　always　would。
Charity　still　liked　her　sister。　Holly　was　giving　and　kindhearted；　impulsive；　affectionate；　warm。　But　her　way　of　living　had　forced　her　to　close　off　some　of　the　heartless　truths　about　the　way　she　and　Charity　had　grown　up　poor　in　rural　Maine；　the　truths　that　had　more　or　less　force　Charity　into　marriage　with　Joe　Camber　while　luck　…　really　no　different　from　Charity's　winning　lottery　ticket　…　had　allowed　Holly　to　meet　Jim　and　escape　the　life　back　home　forever。
She　was　afraid　that　if　she　had　told　Holly　that　she　had　been　trying　to　get　Joe's　permission　to　e　down　here　for　years；　that　this　trip　had　only　occurred　because　of　brutal　generalship　on　her　part；　and　that　even　so　it　had　almost　e　down　to　Joe's　strapping　her　with　his　leather　belt。。。　she　was　afraid　that　if　she　told　Holly　those　things；　her　sister's　reaction　would　be　horrified　anger　rather　than　anything　rational　and　helpful。　Why　horrified　anger？　Perhaps　because；　deep　down　in　a　part　of　the　human　soul　where　Buick　station　wagons；　and　Sony　color　TVs　with　Trinitron　picture　tubes；　and　parquet　floors　can　never　quite　make　their　final　stilling　impact；　Holly　would　recognize　that　she　might　have　escaped　a　similar　marriage；　a　similar　life；　by　the　thinnest　of　margins。
She　hadn't　told　because　Holly　had　entrenched　herself　in　her　upper…middle…class　suburban　life　like　a　watchful　soldier　in　a　foxhole。　She　hadn't　told　because　horrified　anger　could　not　solve　her　problems。　She　hadn't　told　because　no　one　likes　to　look　like　a　freak　in　a　sideshow；　living　through　the　days　and　weeks　and　months　and　years　with　an　unpleasant；　unmunicative；　sometimes　frightening　man。　Charity　had　discovered　there　were　things　you　didn't　want　to　tell。　Shame　wasn't　the　reason。　Sometimes　it　was　just　better　…　kinder　…　to　keep　up　a　front。
Mostly　she　hadn't　told　because　these　things　were　her　problems。　What　happened　to　Brett　was　her　problem。。。　and　over　the　last　two　days　she　had　e　more　and　more　to　beheve　that　what　he　did　with　his　life　would　depend　less　on　her　and　Joe　in　the　final　reckoning　than　it　would　on　Brett　himself。
There　would　he　no　divorce。　She　would　continue　to　fight　her　unceasing　guerilla　war　with　Joe　for　the　boy's　soul。。。　for　whatever　good　that　would　do。　In　her　worry　over　Brett's　wanting　to　emulate　his　father；　she　had　perhaps　forgotten　…　or　overlooked　…the　fact　that　there　es　a　time　when　children　stand　in　judgment　and　their　parents　~　mother　as　well　as　father　…must　stand　in　the　dock。　Brett　had　noticed　Holly's　ostentatious　display　of　credit　cards。　Charity　could　only　hope　Brett　would　notice　that　his　father　ate　with　his　hat　on　。。。　among　other　things。
The　dawn　was　brightening。　She　took　her　robe　from　the　back　of　the　door　and　put　it　on。　She　wanted　a　shower　but　would　not　take　one　until　the　others　in　the　house　were　stirring。　The　strangers。　That　was　what　they　were。　Even　Holly's　face　was　strange　to　her　now；　a　face　that　bore　only　a　faint　resemblance　to　the　snapshots　in　the　family　albums　she　had　brought　with　them　。。。　even　Holly　herself　had　looked　at　those　photographs　with　a　faint　air　of　puzzlement。
They　would　go　back　to　Castle　Rock；　back　to　the　house　at　the　end　of　Town　Road　No。　3；　back　to　Joe。　She　would　pick　up　the　threads　of　her　life；　and　things　wo