sk.cujo-第26章

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'Shut　up！'　she　yelled　at　him。　'Oh　Christ；　just　shut　up；　Tad！'
He　began　to　cry　harder；　and　his　hand　went　to　the　bulge　in　his　back　pocket；　where　the　Monster　Words；　folded　up　to　packet　size；　were　stowed　away。　Touching　them　made　him　feel　a　little　bit　better。　Not　much；　but　a　little。
Donna　decided　she　was　going　to　have　to　pull　over　and　stop；　there　was　nothing　else　for　it。　She　began　to　steer　toward　the　shoulder；　using　the　last　of　her　forward　motion　to　get　there。　They　could　use　Tad's　wagon　to　pull　the　groceries　up　to　the　house　and　then　decide　what　to　do　about　the　Pinto。　Maybe　
just　as　the　Pinto's　offside　wheels　crunched　over　the　sandy　gravel　at　the　edge　of　the　road；　the　engine　backfired　twice　and　then　the　jerks　smoothed　out　as　they　had　done　on　previous　occasions。　A　moment　later　she　was　scooting　up　to　the　driveway　of　the　house　and　turning　in。　She　drove　uphill；　shifted　to　park；　pulled　the　emergency　brake；　turned　off　the　motor；　leaned　over　the　wheel；　and　cried。
'Mommy？'　Tad　said　miserably。　Don't　cry　no　more；　he　tried　to　add；　but　he　had　no　voice　and　he　could　only　mouth　the　words　soundlessly；　as　if　struck　dumb　by　laryngitis。　He　looked　at　her　only；　wanting　to　fort；　not　knowing　just　how　it　was　done。　forting　her　was　his　daddy's　job；　not　his；　and　suddenly　he　hated　his　father　for　being　somewhere　else。　The　depth　of　his　emotion　both　shocked　and　frightened　him；　and　for　no　reason　at　all　he　suddenly　saw　his　closet　door　ing　open　and　spilling　out　a　darkness　that　stank　of　something　low　and　bitter。
At　last　she　looked　up；　her　face　puffy。　She　found　a　handkerchief　in　her　purse　and　wiped　her　eyes。　'I'm　sorry；　honey。　I　wasn't　really　shouting　at　you。　I　was　shouting　at　this　。。。　this　thing。'　She　struck　the　steering　wheel　with　her　hand；　hard。　'Ow！'　She　put　the　edge　of　her　hand　in　her　mouth　and　then　laughed　a　little。　It　wasn't　a　happy　laugh。
'Guess　it's　still　kerflooey；'　Tad　said　glumly。
'I　guess　it　is；'　she　agreed；　almost　unbearably　lonesome　for　Vic。　'Well；　let's　get　the　things　in。　We　got　the　supplies　anyway；　Cisco。'
'Right；　Pancho；'　he　said。　'I'll　get　my　wagon。'
He　brought　his　Redball　Flyer　down　and　Donna　loaded　the　three　bags　into　it；　after　repacking　the　bag　that　had　fallen　over。　It　had　been　a　ketchup　bottle　that　had　shattered。　You'd　figure　it；　wouldn't　you？　Half　a　bottle　of　Heinz　had　puddled　out　on　the　powder…blue　pile　carpeting　of　the　hatchback。　It　looked　as　if　someone　had　mitted　hara…kiri　back　there。　She　supposed　she　could　sop　up　the　worst　of　it　with　a　sponge；　but　the　stain　would　still　show。　Even　if　she　used　a　rug　shampoo　she　was　afraid　it　would　show。
She　tugged　the　wagon　up　to　the　kitchen　door　at　the　side　of　the　house　while　Tad　pushed。　She　lugged　the　groceries　in　and　was　debating　whether　to　put　them　away　or　clean　up　the　ketchup　before　it　could　set　when　the　phone　rang。　Tad　was　off　for　it　like　a　sprinter　at　the　sound　of　a　gun。　He　had　gotten　very　good　at　answering　the　phone。
'Yes；　who　is　it　please？'
He　listened；　grinned；　then　held　out　the　phone　to　her。
Figures；　she　thought。　Someone　who'll　want　to　talk　for　two　hours　about　nothing。　To　Tad　she　said；　'Do　you　know　who　it　is；　hon？'
'Sure；'　he　said。　'It's　Dad。'
Her　heart　began　to　beat　more　rapidly。　She　took　the　phone　from　Tad　and　said；　'Hello？　Vic？'
'Hi；　Donna。'　It　was　his　voice　all　right；　but　so　reserved　。。。　so　careful。　It　gave　her　a　deep　sinking　feeling　that　she　didn't　need　on　top　of　everything　else。
'Are　you　all　right？'　she　asked。
'Sure。'
'I　just　thought　you'd　call　later。　If　at　all。
'Well；　we　went　right　over　to　Image…Eye。　They　did　all　the　Sharp　Cereal　Professor　spots；　and　what　do　you　think？　They　can't　find　the　frigging　kinescopes。　Roger's　ripping　his　hair　out　by　the　roots。'
'Yes；'　she　said；　nodding。　'He　hates　to　be　off　schedule；　doesn't　he？'
'That's　an　understatement。'　He　sighed　deeply。　'So　I　just　thought；　while　they　were　looking　。　。　。'
He　trailed　off　vaguely；　and　her　feelings　of　depression　…　her　feelings　of　sinking　…feelings　that　were　so　unpleasant　and　yet　so　childishly　passive；　turned　to　a　more　active　sense　of　fear。　Vic　never　trailed　off　like　that；　not　even　if　he　was　being　distracted　by　stuff　going　on　at　his　end　of　the　wire。　She　thought　of　the　way　he　had　looked　on　Thursday　night；　so　ragged　and　close　to　the　edge。
'Vic；　are　you　all　right？'　She　could　hear　the　alarm　in　her　voice　and　knew　he　must　hear　it　too；　even　Tad　looked　up　from　the　coloring　book　with　which　he　had　sprawled　out　on　the　hall　floor；　his　eyes　bright；　a　tight　little　frown　on　his　small　forehead。
'Yeah；'　he　said。　'I　just　started　to　say　that　I　thought　I'd　call　now；　while　they're　rummaging　around。　Won't　have　a　chance　later　tonight；　I　guess。　How's　Tad？'
'Tad's　fine。'
She　smiled　at　Tad　and　then　tipped　him　a　wink。　Tad　smiled　back；　the　lines　on　his　forehead　smoothed　out；　and　he　went　back　to　his　coloring。　He　sounds　tired　and　I'm　not　going　to　lay　all　that　shit　about　the　car　on　him；　she　thought；　and　then　found　herself　going　right　ahead　and　doing　it　anyway。
She　heard　the　familiar　whine　of　self…pity　creeping　into　her　voice　and　struggled　to　keep　it　out。　Why　was　she　even　telling　him　all　of　this；　for　heaven's　sake？　He　sounded　like　he　was　falling　apart；　and　she　was　prattling　on　about　her　Pinto's　carburetor　and　a　spilled　bottle　of　ketchup。
'Yeah；　it　sounds　like　the　needle　valve；　okay；'　Vic　said。　He　actually　sounded　a　little　better　now。　A　little　less　down。　Maybe　because　it　was　a　problem　which　mattered　so　little　in　the　greater　perspective　of　things　which　they　had　now　been　forced　to　deal　with。　'Couldn't　Joe　Camber　get　you　in　today？'
'I　tried　him　but　he　wasn't　home。'
'He　probably　was；　though；'　Vic　said。　'There's　no　phone　in　his　garage。　Usually　his　wife　or　his　kid　runs　his　messages　out　to　him。　Probably　they　were　out　someplace。'
'Well；　he　still　might　be　gone　…'
'Sure；'　Vic　said。　'But　I　really　doubt　it；　babe。　If　a　human　being　could　actually　put　down　roots；　Joe　Camber's　the　guy　that　would　do　it。'
'Should　I　just　take　a　chance　and　drive　out　there？'　Donna　asked　doubtfully。　She　was　thinking　of　the　empty　miles　along　117　and　the　Maple　Sugar　Road　。。。　and　all　that　was　before　you　got　to　Camber's　road；　which　was　so　far　out　it　didn't　even　have　a　name。　And　if　that　needle　valve　chose　a　stretch　of　that　desolation　in　which　to　pack　up　for　good；　it　would　just　make　another　hassle。
'No；　I　guess　you　better　not；'　Vic　said。　'He's　probably　there　。。。　unless　you　really　need　him。　In　which　case　he'd　be　gone。　Catch…22。'　He　sounded　depressed。
'Then　what　should　I　do？'
'Call　the　Ford　dealership　and　tell　them　you　want　a　tow。'
'But　…'
'No；　you　have　to。　If　you　try　to　drive　twenty…two　miles　over　to　South　Paris；　it'll　pack　up　on　you　for　sure。　And　if　you　explain　the　situation　in　advance；　they　might　be　able　to　get　you　a　loaner。　Barring　that；　they'll　lease　you　a　car。'
'Lease　。。。　Vic；　isn't　that　expensive？'
'Yeah；'　he　said。
She　thought　again　that　it　was　wrong　of　her　to　be　dumping　all　this　on　him。　He　was　probably　thinking　that　she　wasn't　capable　of　anything　。。。　except　maybe　screwing　the　local　furniture　refinisher。　She　was　fine　at　that。　Hot　salt　tears；　partly　anger；　partly　self…pity；　stung　her　eyes　again。　'I'll　take　care　of　it；'　she　said；　striving　desperately　to　keep　her　voice　normal；　light。　Her　elbow　was　propped　on　the　wall　and　one　hand　was　over　her　eyes。　'Not　to　worry。'
'Well；　I　…　oh；　shit；　there's　Roger。　He's　dust　up　to　his　neck；　but　they　got　the　kinescopes。　Put　Tad　on　for　a　second；　would　you。
Frantic　questions　backed　up　in　her　throat。　Was　it　all　right？　Did　he　think　it　could　be　all　right？　Could　they　get　back　to　go　and　start　again？　Too　late。　No　time。　She　had　spent　the　time　gabbing　about　the　car。　Dumb　broad；　stupid　quiff。
'Sure；'　she　said。　'He'll　say　good…bye　for　both　of　us。　And　。。。　Vic？'
'What？'　He　sounded　impatient　now；　pressed　for　time。
'I　love　you；'　she　said；　and　then　before　he　could　reply；　she　added：　'Here's　Tad。'　She　gave　the　phone　to　Tad　quickly；　almost　conking　him　on　the　head　with　it；　and　went　through　the　house　to　the　front　porch；　stumbling　over　a　hassock　and　sending　it　spinning；　seeing　everything　through　a　prism　of　tears。
She　stood　on　the　porch　looking　out　at　117；　clutching　her　elbows；　struggling　to　get　herself　under　control　…　control；　dammit；　control　…　and　it　was　amazing；　wasn't　it；　how　bad　you　could　hurt　when　there　was　nothing　physically　wrong。
Behind　her　she　could　hear　the　soft　murmur　of　Tad's　voice；　telling　Vic　they　had　eaten　at　Mario's；　that　Mommy　had　her　favorite　Fat　Pizza　and　the　Pinto　had　been　okay　until　they　were　almost　home。　Then　he　was　telling　Vic　that　he　loved　him。　Then　there　was　the　soft　sound　of　the　phone　being　hung　up。　Contact　broken。
Control。
At　last　she　felt　as　if　she　had　some。　She　went　back　into　the　kitchen　and　began　putting　away　the　groceries。
Charity　Camber　stepped　down　from　the　Greyhound　bus　at　quarter　past　three　that　afternoon。　Brett　was　right　at　her　heels。　She　was　clutching　the　strap　of　her　purse　spasmodically。　She　was　suddenly；　irrationally　afraid　that　she　would　not　recognize　Holly。　Her　sister's　face；　held　in　her　mind　like　a　photograph　all　these　years　（The　Younger　Sister　Who　Had　Married　Well）；　had　gone　suddenly　and　mysteriously　out　of　her　mind；　leaving　only　a　fogged　blank　where　the　picture　should　have　been。
'You　see　her？'　Brett　asked　as　they　alighted。　He　looked　around　at　the　Stratford　bus　depot　with　bright　interest　and　no　more。　There　was　certainly　no　fear　in　his　face。
'Give　me　a　chance　to　look　around！'　Charity　said　sharply。　'Probably　she's　in　the　coffee　shop　or
'Charity？'
She　turned　and　there　was　Holly。　The　picture　held　in　her　memory　came　flooding　back；　but　it　was　now　a　transparency　overlying　the　real　face　of　the　woman　standing　by　the　Space　Invaders　game。　Charity's　first　thought　was　that　Holly　was　wearing　glasses　…　how　funny！　Her　second；　shocked；　was　that　Holly　had　wrinkles　…　not　many；　but　there　could　be　no　question　about　what　they　were。　Her　third　thought　was　not　precisely　a　thought　at　all。　It　was　an　image；　as　dear；　true；　and　heartbreaking　as　a　sepia…toned　photograph：　Holly　leaping　into　old　man　Seltzer's　cowpond　in　her　underpants；　pigtails　standing　up　against　the　sky；　thumb　and　forefinger　of　left　hand　pinching　her　nostrils　closed　for　ic　effect。　No　glasses　then；　Charity　thought；　and　pain　came　to　her　then；　and　it　squeezed　her　heart。
Standing　at　Holly's　sides；　looking　shyly　at　her　and　Brett；　were　a　boy　of　about　five　and　a　girl　who　was　perhaps　two　and　a　half。　The　little　girl's　bulgy　pants　spoke　of　diapers　beneath。　Her　stroller　stood　off　to　one　side。
'Hi；　Holly；'　Charity　said；　and　her　voice　was　so　thin　she　could　hardly　hear　it。
The　wrinkles　were　small。　They　turned　upward；　the　way　their　mother　had　always　said　the　good　ones　did。　Her　dress　was　dark　blue；　moderately　expensive。　The　pendant　she　wore　was　either　a　very　good　piece　of　costume　jewelry　or　a　very　small　emerald。
There　was　a　moment　then。　Some　space　of　time。　In　it；　Charity　felt　her　heart　fill　with　a　joy　so　fierce　and　plete　that　she　knew　there　could　never　be　any　real　question　about　what　this　trip　had　or　had　not　cost　her。　For　now　she　was　free；　her　son　was　free。　Ibis　was　her　sister　and　those　children　were　her　kin；　not　pictures　but　real。
Laughing　and　crying　a　little；　the　two　women　stepped　toward　each　other；　hesitantly　at　first；　then　quickly。　They　embraced。　Brett　stood　where　he　was。　The　little　girl；　maybe　scared；　went　to　her　mother　and　wrapped　a　hand　firmly　around　the　hem　of　her　dress；　perhaps　to　keep　h