sk.cujo-第33章

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d　swilling　down　Black　Label　with　the　rest　of　the　boys　in　the　back　of　Emerson's　Sunoco；　sitting　in　piles　of　dead　bald　tires　and　telling　frenchman　jokes；　Jim　Brooks　had　been　in　law　school；　knocking　his　brains　out　to　make　grades；　because　when　you　made　the　grades　you　got　the　diploma；　and　the　diploma　was　your　ticket；　you　got　to　ride　the　merry…go…round。　Getting　on　didn't　mean　you'd　catch　the　brass　ring；　no；　but　it　guaranteed　you　the　chance　to　at　least　try。
'You　go　on　up　now　and　get　ready　for　bed；'　she　said　quietly。　'What　you　think　of　your　Uncle　Jim　is　between　you　and　you。　But　。。。　give　him　a　chance；　Brett。　Don't　just　judge　him　on　that。'　They　had　gone　through　into　the　family　room　now；　and　she　jerked　a　thumb　at　the　jukebox。
'No；　I　won't；'　he　said。
She　followed　him　up　into　the　kitchen；　where　Holly　was　making　cocoa　for　the　four　of　them。　Jim　junior　and　Gretchen　had　gone　to　bed　long　before。
'You　get　your　man？'　Holly　asked。
'No；　he's　probably　down　chewing　the　fat　with　that　friend　of　his；'　Charity　said。　'We'll　try　tomorrow。'
'Want　some　cocoa；　Brett？'　Holly　asked。
'Yes；　please。'
Charity　watched　him　sit　down　at　the　table。　She　saw　him　put　his　elbow　on　it　and　then　take　it　off　again　quickly；　remembering　that　it　was　impolite。　Her　heart　was　so　full　of　love　and　hope　and　fear　that　it　seemed　to　stagger　in　her　chest。
Time；　she　thought。　Time　and　perspective。　Give　him　that。　If　you　force　him；　you'll　lose　him　for　sure。
But　how　much　time　was　there？　Only　a　week；　and　then　he　would　be　back　under　Joe's　influence。　And　even　as　she　sat　down　next　to　her　son　and　thanked　Holly　for　her　cup　of　hot　cocoa；　her　thoughts　had　turned　speculatively　to　the　idea　of　divorce　again。
In　her　dream；　Vic　had　e。
He　simply　walked　down　the　driveway　to　the　Pinto　and　opened　her　door。　He　was　dressed　in　his　best　suit；　the　three…piece　charcoal…gray　one　（when　he　put　it　on　she　always　teased　him　that　he　looked　like　Jerry　Ford　with　hair）。　e　on；　you　two；　he　said；　and　that　quirky　little　grin　was　on　his　face。　Time　to　go　home　before　the　vampires　e　out。
She　tried　to　warn　him；　to　tell　him　the　dog　was　rabid；　but　no　words　came。　And　suddenly　Cujo　was　advancing　out　of　the　dark；　his　head　down；　a　steady　low　growl　rumbling　in　his　chest。　Watch　out！　she　tried　to　cry。　His　bite　is　death　I　But　no　sound　came　out。
But　just　before　Cujo　launched　himself　at　Vic；　he　turned　and　pointed　his　finger　at　the　dog。　Cujo's　fur　went　dead　white　instantly。　His　red；　rheumy　eyes　dropped　back　into　his　head　like　marbles　into　a　cup。　His　muzzle　fell　off　and　shattered　against　the　crushed　gravel　of　the　driveway　like　black　glass。　A　moment　later　all　that　was　left　in　front　of　the　garage　was　a　blowing　fur　coat。
Don't　you　worry；　Vic　said　in　a　dream。　Don't　you　worry　about　that　old　dog；　it's　nothing　but　a　fur　coat。　Did　you　get　the　mail　yet？　Never　mind　the　dog；　the　mail's　ing。　The　mail's　the　important　thing。　Right？　The　mail　
His　voice　was　disappearing　down　a　long　tunnel；　growing　echoey　and　faint。　And　suddenly　it　was　not　a　dream　of　Vic's　voice　but　a　memory　of　a　dream　…　she　was　awake　and　her　cheeks　were　wet　with　tears。　She　had　cried　in　her　sleep。　She　looked　at　her　watch　and　could　just　make　out　the　time：　quarter　past　one。　She　looked　over　at　Tad　and　saw　he　was　sleeping　soundly；　his　thumb　hooked　into　his　mouth。
Never　mind　the　dog　the　mail's　ing。　The　mail's　the　important　thing。
And　suddenly　the　significance　of　the　package　hung　over　the　mailbox　door　came　to　her；　hit　her　like　an　arrow　fired　up　from　her　subconscious　mind；　an　idea　she　had　not　quite　been　able　to　get　hold　of　before。　Perhaps　because　it　was　so　big；　so　simple；　so　elementary…my…dear…Watson。　Yesterday　was　Monday　and　the　mail　had　e。　The　J。　C。　Whitney　package　for　Joe　Camber　was　ample　proof　of　that。
Today　was　Tuesday　and　the　mail　would　e　again。
Tears　of　relief　began　to　roll　down　her　not…yet…dry　cheeks。　She　actually　had　to　restrain　herself　from　shaking　Tad　awake　and　telling　him　it　was　going　to　be　all　right；　that　by　two　o'clock　this　afternoon　at　the　lastest　…　and　more　probably　by　ten　or　eleven　in　the　morning；　if　the　mail　delivery　out　here　was　as　prompt　as　it　was　most　other　places　in　town　…this　nightmare　would　end。
The　mailman　would　e　even　if　he　had　no　mail　for　the　Cambers；　that　was　the　beauty　of　it。　It　would　be　his　job　to　see　if　the　flag　was　up；　signifying　outgoing　mail。　He　would　have　to　e　up　here；　to　his　last　stop　on　Town　Road　No。　3；　to　check　that　out；　and　today　he　was　going　to　be　greeted　by　a　woman　who　was　semi…hysterical　with　relief。
She　eyed　Tad's　lunchbox　and　thought　of　the　food　inside。　She　thought　of　herself　carefully　saving　some　of　it　aside；　in　case　。。。　well；　in　case。　Now　it　didn't　matter　so　much；　although　Tad　was　likely　to　be　hungry　in　the　morning。　She　ate　the　rest　of　the　cucumber　slices。　Tad　didn't　care　for　cucumbers　much　anyway。　It　would　be　an　odd　breakfast　for　him；　she　thought；　smiling。　Figbars；　olives；　and　a　Slim　Jim　or　two。
Munching　the　last　two　or　three　cucumber　slices；　she　realized　it　was　the　coincidences　that　had　scared　her　the　most。　That　series　of　coincidences；　utterly　random　but　mimicking　a　kind　of　sentient　fate；　had　been　what　seemed　to　make　the　dog　so　horribly　purposeful；　so　。。。　so　out　to　get　her　personally。　Vic　being　gone　for　ten　days；　that　was　coincidence　number　one。　Vic　calling　early　today；　that　was　coincidence　number　two。　If　he　hadn't　got　them　then；　he　would　have　tried　later；　kept　trying；　and　begun　to　wonder　where　they　were。　The　fact　that　all　three　of　the　Cambers　were　gone；　at　least　for　overnight；　the　way　it　looked　now。　That　was　number　three。　Mother；　son；　and　father。　All　gone。　But　they　had　left　their　dog。　Oh　yes。　They　had　
A　sudden　horrible　thought　occurred　to　her；　freezing　her　jaws　on　the　last　bite　of　cucumber。　She　tried　to　thrust　it　away。　but　it　came　back。　It　wouldn't　go　away　because　it　had　its　own　gargoyle…like　logic。
What　if　they　were　all　dead　in　the　barn？
The　image　rose　behind　her　eyes　in　an　instant。　It　had　the　unhealthy　vividness　of　those　waking　visions　which　sometimes　e　in　the　morning's　small　hours。　The　three　bodies　tumbled　about　like　badly　made　toys　on　the　floor　in　there；　the　sawdust　around　them　stained　red；　their　dusty　eyes　staring　up　into　the　blackness　where　barnswallows　cooed　and　fluttered；　their　clothing　ripped　and　chewed；　parts　of　them　
Oh　that's　crazy；　that's　
Maybe　he　had　gotten　the　boy　first。　The　other　two　are　in　the　kitchen；　or　maybe　upstairs　having　a　quickie；　they　hear　screams。　they　rush　out　
（stop　it　won't　you　stop　it）
…　they　rush　out　but　the　boy　is　already　dead；　the　dog　has　tom　his　throat　out；　and　while　they're　still　stunned　by　the　death　of　their　son；　the　Saint　Bernard　es　lurching　out　of　the　shadows；　old　and　terrible　engine　of　destruction；　yes；　the　old　monster　es　from　the　shadows；　rabid　and　snarling。　He　goes　for　the　woman　first　and　the　man　tries　to　save　her　
（no；　be　would　have　gotten　his　gun　or　brained　it　with　a　wrench　or　something　and　where's　the　cad　There　was　a　car　here　before　they　all　went　off　on　a　family　trip　…　do　you　bear　me　FAMILY　TRIP　…　took　the　car　left　the　truck）
Then　why　had　no　one　e　to　feed　the　dog？
That　was　the　logic　of　the　thing；　part　of　what　frightened　her。　Why　hadn't　anyone　e　to　feed　the　dog？　Because　if　you　were　going　to　be　away　for　a　day　or　for　a　couple　of　days。　you　made　an　arrangement　with　somebody。　They　fed　your　dog　for　you；　and　then　when　they　were　gone；　you　fed　their　cat　for　them；　or　their　fish；　or　their　parakeet；　or　whatever。　So　where　
And　the　dog　kept　going　back　into　the　barn。
Was　it　eating　in　there？
That's　the　answer；　her　mind　told　her；　relieved。　He　didn't　have　anyone　to　feed　the　dog；　so　he　poured　it　a　tray　of　food。　Gaines　Meal；　or　something。
But　then　she　stuck　upon　what　Joe　Camber　himself　had　stuck　upon　earlier　on　that　long；　long　day。　A　big　dog　would　gobble　it　all　at　once　and　then　go　hungry。　Surely　it　would　be　better　to　get　a　friend　to　feed　the　dog　if　you　were　going　to　be　gone。　On　the　other　hand；　maybe　they　had　been　held…　up。　Maybe　there　really　had　been　a　family　reunion；　and　Camber　had　gotten　drunk　and　passed　out。　Maybe　this；　maybe　that；　maybe　anything。
Is　the　dog　eating　in　the　barn？
（what　is　it　eating　in　there？　Gaines　Meal？　or　people？）
She　spat　the　last　of　the　cucumber　into　her　cupped　hand　and　felt　her　stomach　roll；　wanting　to　send　up　what　she　had　already　eaten。　She　set　her　will　upon　keeping　it　down；　and　because　she　could　be　very　determined　when　she　wanted　to；　she　did　keep　it　down。　They　had　left　the　dog　some　food　and　had　gone　off　in　the　car。　You　didn't　have　to　be　Sherlock　Holmes　to　deduce　that。　The　rest　of　it　was　nothing　but　a　bad　case　of　the　willies。
But　that　image　of　death　kept　trying　to　creep　back　in。　The　dominant　image　was　the　bloody　sawdust；　sawdust　which　had　gone　the　dark　color　of　natural…casing　franks。
Stop。　Think　about　the　mail；　if　you　have　to　think　about　anything。　Think　about　tomorrow。　Think　about　being　safe。
There　was　a　soft；　scuffling；　scratching　noise　on　her　side　of　the　car。
She　didn't　want　to　look　but　was　helpless　to　stop　herself。　Her　head　began　to　turn　as　if　forced　by　invisible　yet　powerful　hands。　She　could　hear　the　low　creak　of　the　tendons　in　her　neck。　Cujo　was　there；　looking　in　at　her。　His　face　was　less　than　six　inches　from　her　own。　Only　the　Saf…T…Glas　of　the　driver's　side　window　separated　them。　Those　red；　bleary　eyes　stared　into　hers。　The　dog's　muzzle　looked　as　if　it　had　been　badly　lathered　with　shaving　cream　that　had　been　left　to　dry。
Cujo　was　grinning　at　her。
She　felt　a　scream　building　in　her　chest；　ing　up　in　her　throat　like　iron；　because　she　could　feel　the　dog　thinking　at　her；　telling　her　I'm　going　to　get　you；　babe。　I'm　going　to　get　you；　kiddo。　Think　about　the　mailman　all　you　want　to。　I'll　kill　him　too　if　I　have　to；　the　way　I　killed　all　three　of　the　Cambers；　the　way　I'm　going　to　kill　you　and　your　son。　You　might　as　well　get　used　to　the　idea。　You　might　as　well　
The　scream；　ing　up　her　throat。　It　was　a　live　thing　struggling　to　get　out；　and　everything　was　ing　on　her　at　once：　Tad　having　to　pee；　she　had　unrolled　his　window　four　inches　and　held　him　up　so　he　could　do　it　out　the　window；　watching　all　the　time　for　the　dog；　and　for　a　long　time　he　hadn't　been　able　to　go　and　her　arms　had　begun　to　ache；　then　the　dream；　then　the　images　of　death；　and　now　this　
The　dog　was　grinning　in　at　her；　he　was　grinning　in　at　her；　Cujo　was　his　name；　and　his　bite　was　death。
The　scream　had　to　e
（but　Tad's）　or　she　would　go　mad。
（sleeping）
She　locked　her　jaws　against　the　scream　the　way　she　had　locked　her　throat　against　the　urge　to　vomit　a　few　moments　ago。　She　struggled　with　it；　she　fought　it。　And　at　last　her　heart　began　to　slow　down　and　she　knew　she　had　it　licked。
She　smiled　at　the　dog　and　raised　both　of　her　middle　fingers　from　closed　fists。　She　held　them　against　the　glass；　which　was　now　slightly　fogged　on　the　outside　with　Cujo's　breath。　'Go　get　fucked；'　she　whispered。
After　what　seemed　an　endless　time；　the　dog　put　its　forepaws　down　and　went　back　into　the　barn。　Her　mind　turned　down　the　same　dark　track　again
（what's　it　eating　in　there？）
and　then　she　slammed　a　door　shut　somewhere　in　her　mind。
But　there　would　be　no　more　sleep；　not　for　a　long　time；　and　it　was　so　long　until　dawn。　She　sat　upright　behind　the　wheel；　trembling；　telling　herself　over　and　over　again　that　it　was　ridiculous；　really　ridiculous；　to　feel　that　the　dog　was　some　kind　of　a　hideous　revenant　which　had　escaped　from　Tad's　closet；　or　that　it　knew　more　about