sk.petsematary-第15部分

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roken　glass；　arose　from　the　direction　of　Masterton's　shout。　It　was　followed　by　a　sharp　slap　and　Chariton　saying；　〃Stop　that　or　get　the　hell　out　of　here！　Stop　it　right　now！〃
　　Louis　burst　into　the　waiting　room　and　was　first　only　conscious　of　the　blood…there　was　a　lot　of　blood。　One　of　the　candy…stripers　was　sobbing。　The　other；　pale　as　cream；　had　put　her　fisted　hands　to　the　corners　of　her　mouth；　pulling　her　lips　into　a　big　revolted　grin。　Masterton　was　kneeling　down；　trying　to　hold　the　head　of　the　boy　sprawled　on　the　floor。
　　Steve　looked　up　at　Louis；　eyes　grim　and　wide　and　frightened　He　tried　to　speak。　Nothing　came　out。
　　People　were　congregating　at　the　Student　Medical　Center's　big　glass　doors；　peering　in；　their　hands　cupped　around　their　faces　to　cut　out　the　glare。　Louis's　mind　conjured　up　an　insanely　appropriate　image：　sitting　in　the　living　room　as　a　kid　of　no　more　than　six　with　his　mother　in　the　morning　before　she　went　to　work。　watching　the　television。　Watching　the　old　〃Today〃　show；　with　Dave　Garroway。　People　were　outside；　gaping　in　at　Dave　and　Frank　Blair　and　good　old　J。　Fred　Muggs。　He　looked　around　and　saw　other　people　standing　at　the　windows。　He　couldn't　do　anything　about　the　doors；　but…　〃Shut　the　drapes；〃　he　snapped　at　the　candy…striper　who　had　screamed。
　　When　she　didn't　move　immediately；　Charlton　slapped　her　can。　〃Do　it；　girl！〃
　　The　candy…striper　got　in　gear。　A　moment　later　green　drapes　were　jerked　across　the　windows。　Chariton　and　Steve　Masterton　moved　instinctively　between　the　boy　or。　the　floor　and　the　doors；　cutting　off　the　view　as　best　they　could。
　　〃Hard　stretcher；　Doctor？〃　Chariton　asked。
　　〃If　we　need　it；　get　it；〃　Louis　said；　squatting　beside　Masterton。　〃I　haven't　even　had　a　chance　to　look　at　him。〃
　　〃e　on；〃　Chariton　said　to　the　girl　who　had　closed　the　drapes。　She　was　pulling　the　corners　of　her　mouth　with　her　fists　again；　making　that　humorless；　screaming　grin。　She　looked　at　Charlton　and　moaned；　〃Oh；　ag；〃
　　〃Yeah；　oh；　ag　is　right。　e　on。〃　She　gave　the　girl　a　hard　yank　and　got　her　moving；　her　red　and　white　pinstriped　skirt　swishing　against　her　legs。
　　Louis　bent　over　his　first　patient　at　the　University　of　Maine　at　Orono。
　　He　was　a　young　man；　age　approximately　twenty；　and　it　took　Louis　less　than　three　seconds　to　make　the　only　diagnosis　that　mattered：　The　young　man　was　suing　to　die。　Half　of　his　head　was　crushed。　His　neck　had　been　Broken。　One　collarbone　jutted　from　his　swelled　and　twisted　right　shoulder。　From　his　head；　blood　and　a　yellow；　pussy　fluid　seeped　sluggishly　into　the　carpet。　Louis　could　see　the　man's　brain；　whitish…gray　and　pulsing　through　a　shattered　section　of　skull。　It　was　like　looking　through　a　broken　window。　The　incursion　was　perhaps　five　centimeters　wide；　if　he　had　had　a　baby　in　his　skull；　he　could　almost　have　birthed　it；　like　Zeus　delivering　from　his　forehead。　That　he　was　still　alive　at　all　was　incredible。　In　his　mind　suddenly　he　heard　Jud　Crandall　saying　sometimes　you　could　feel　it　bite　your　ass。　And　his　mother：　dead　is　dead。　He　felt　a　crazy　urge　to　laugh。　Dead　was　dead；　all　right。　That's　affirmative；　good　buddy。
　　〃Holler　for　the　ambulance；〃　he　snapped　at　Masterton。
　　〃Louis；　the　ambulance　is…〃
　　〃Oh　Christ；〃　Louis　said；　slapping　his　own　forehead。　He　shifted　his　gaze　to　Charlton。　〃Joan；　what　do　you　do　in　a　case　like　this？　Call　Campus　Security　or　the　EMMC？〃
　　Joan　looked　flustered　and　upset…an　extreme　rarity　with　her；　Louis　guessed。　But　her　voice　was　posed　enough　as　she　replied。　〃Doctor；　I　don't　know。　We've　never　had　a　situation　like　this　before　in　my　time　at　the　Medical　Center。〃
　　Louis　thought　as　fast　as　he　could。　'Call　the　campus　police。　We　can't　wait　for　EMMC　to　send　out　their　own　ambulance。　If　they　have　to；　they　can　take　him　up　to　Bangor　in　one　of　the　fire　engines。　At　least　it　has　a　siren；　flashers。　Go　do　it；　Joan。〃
　　She　went　but　not　before　he　caught　her　deeply　sympathetic　glance　and　interpreted　it。　This　young　man；　who　was　deeply　tanned　and　well…muscledperhaps　from　a　summer　working　on　a　roadcrew　somewhere；　or　painting　houses；　or　giving　tennis　lessons…and　dressed　now　only　in　red　gym　shorts　with　white　piping；　was　going　to　die　no　matter　what　they　did。　He　would　be　just　as　dead　even　if　their　ambulance　had　been　parked　out　front　with　the　motor　idling　when　the　patient　was　brought　in。
　　Incredibly；　the　dying　man　was　moving。　His　eyes　fluttered　and　opened。　Blue　eyes；　the　irises　ringed　with　blood。　They　stared　vacantly　around；　seeing　nothing。　He　tried　to　move　his　head；　and　Louis　exerted　pressure　to　keep　him　from　doing　so；　mindful　of　the　broken　neck。　The　cranial　trauma　did　not　preclude　the　possibility　of　pain。
　　The　hole　in　his　head；　oh　Christ；　the　hole　in　his　head。
　　〃What　happened　to　him？〃　he　asked　Steve；　aware　that　it　was；　under　the　circumstances；　a　stupid　and　pointless　question。　The　question　of　a　bystander。　But　the　hole　in　the　man's　head　confirmed　his　status；　a　bystander　was　all　he　was。　〃Did　the　police　bring　him？〃
　　〃Some　students　brought　him　in　a　blanket　sling。　I　don't　know　what　the　circumstances　were。〃
　　There　was　what　happened　next　to　be　thought　of。　That　was　his　responsibility　too。　〃Go　out　and　find　them；〃　Louis　said。　〃Take　them　around　to　the　other　door。　I　want　them　handy；　but　I　don't　want　them　to　see　any　more　of　this　than　they　already　have。〃
　　Masterton；　looking　relieved　to　be　away　from　what　was　happening　in　here；　went　to　the　door　and　opened　it；　letting　in　a　babble　of　excited；　curious；　confused　conversation。　Louis　could　also　hear　the　warble　of　a　police　siren。　Campus　Security　was　here　then。　Louis　felt　a　kind　of　miserable　relief。
　　The　dying　man　was　making　a　gurgling　sound　in　his　throat。　He　tried　to　speak。　Louis　heard　syllables…phonetics；　at　least…　but　the　words　themselves　were　slurred　and　unclear。
　　Louis　leaned　over　him　and　said；　〃You're　going　to　be　all　right；　fella。〃　He　thought　of　Rachel　and　Ellie　as　he　said　it；　and　his　stomach　gave　a　great；　unlovely　lurch。　He　put　a　hand　over　his　mouth　and　stifled　a　burp。
　　〃Caaa；〃　the　young　man　said。　〃Gaaaaaa…〃
　　Louis　looked　around　and　saw　that　he　was　momentarily　alone　with　the　dying　man。　Dimly　he　could　hear　Joan　Charlton　yelling　at　the　candy…stripers　that　the　hard　stretcher　was　in　the　supply　closet　off　Room　Two。　Louis　doubted　if　they　knew　Room　Two　from　a　frog's　gonads；　it　was；　after　all；　their　first　day　on　the　job。　They　had　gotten　a　hell　of　an　introduction　to　the　world　of　medicine。　The　green　wall…to…wall　carpet　was　now　soaked　a　muddy　purple　in　an　expanding　circle　around　the　young　man's　ruined　head；　the　leakage　of　intercranial　fluid　had；　mercifully；　stopped。
　　〃In　the　Pet　Sematary；〃　the　young　man　croaked　。　。　。　and　he　began　to　grin。　This　grin　was　remarkably　like　the　mirthless　hysterical　grin　of　the　candy…striper　who　had　closed　the　drapes。
　　Louis　stared　down　at　him；　at　first　refusing　to　credit　what　he　had　heard。　Then　Louis　thought　he　must　have　had　an　auditory　hallucination。　He　made　some　more　of　those　phonetic　sounds　and　my　subconscious　made　them　into　something　coherent；　cross…patched　the　sounds　into　my　own　experience。　But　that　was　not　what　had　happened；　and　a　moment　later　he　was　forced　to　realize　it。　A　swooning；　mad　terror　struck　him　and　his　flesh　began　to　creep　avidly；　seeming　to　actually　move　up　and　down　his　arms　and　along　his　belly　in　waves。　。　。　but　even　then　he　simply　refused　to　believe　it　Yes；　the　syllables　had　been　on　the　bloody　lips　of　the　man　on　the　carpet　as　well　as　in　Louis's　ears；　but　that　only　meant　the　hallucination　had　been　visual　as　well　as　auditory。
　　'What　did　you　say？〃　he　whispered。
　　And　this　time；　as　clear　as　the　words　of　a　speaking　parrot　or　a　crow　whose　tongue　had　been　split；　the　words　were　unmistakable：　〃It's　not　the　real　cemetery。〃　The　eyes　were　vacant；　not…seeing；　rimmed　with　blood：　the　mouth　grinning　the　large　grin　of　a　dead　carp。
　　Horror　rolled　through　Louis；　gripping　his　warm　heart　in　its　cold　hands；　squeezing。　It　reduced　him；　made　him　less　and　less；　until　he　felt　like　taking　to　his　heels　and　running　from　this　bloody；　twisted；　speaking　head　on　the　floor　of　the　infirmary　waiting　room。　He　was　a　man　with　no　deep　religious　training；　no　bent　toward　the　superstitious　or　the　occult。　He　was　ill…prepared　for　this。　。　。　whatever　it　was。
　　Fighting　the　urge　to　r