sk.petsematary-第19部分

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　　〃Gage！〃　he　yelled。　〃e　give　your　dad　a　kiss！〃
　　Gage　ignored　this。　He　was　following　Ellie　downstairs　as　rapidly　as　he　could；　yelling　〃Get　it！　Get…it…get…it…GET…IT！〃　at　the　top　of　his　lungs。　Louis　caught　just　a　glimpse　of　his　sturdy　little　kid's　body；　clad　only　in　diapers　and　rubber　pants。
　　Rachel　called　up　again；　〃Louis；　was　that　you？　You　awake？〃
　　〃Yeah；〃　he　said；　sitting　up。
　　〃Told　you　he　was！〃　Ellie　called。　〃I'm　goin。　Bye！〃　The　slam　of　the　front　door　and　Gage's　outraged　bellow　punctuated　this。
　　〃One　egg　or　two？〃　Rachel　called。
　　Louis　pushed　back　the　blankets　and　swung　his　feet　out　onto　the　nubs　of　the　hooked　rug；　ready　to　tell　her　he'd　skip　the　eggs；　just　a　bowl　of　cereal　and　he'd　run。　。　。　and　the　words　died　in　his　throat。
　　His　feet　were　filthy　with　dirt　and　pine　needles。
　　His　heart　leaped　up　in　his　throat　like　a　crazy　jack…in…the…box。　Moving　fast；　eyes　bulging；　teeth　clamped　unfeelingly　on　his　tongue；　he　kicked　the　covers　all　the　way　back。　The　foot　of　the　bed　was　littered　with　needles。　The　sheets　were　mucky　and　dirty。
　　〃Louis？〃
　　He　saw　a　few　errant　pine　needles　on　his　knees；　and　suddenly　he　looked　at　his　right　arm。　There　was　a　scratch　there　on　the　bicep；　a　fresh　scratch；　exactly　where　the　dead　branch　had　poked　him　in　the　dream。
　　I'm　going　to　scream。　I　can　feel　it。
　　And　he　could　too；　it　was　roaring　up　from　inside；　nothing　but　a　big　cold　bullet　of　fear。　Reality　shimmered。　Reality…the　real　reality；　he　thought…was　those　needles；　the　filth　on　the　sheets；　the　bloody　scratch　on　his　bare　arm。
　　I'm　going　to　scream　and　then　I'll　go　crazy　and　I　won't　have　to　worry　about　it　anymore…　〃Louis？〃　Rachel　was　ing　up　the　stairs。　〃Louis；　did　you　go　back　to　sleep？〃
　　He　grappled　for　himself　in　those　two　or　three　seconds；　he　fought　grimly　for　himself　just　as　he　had　done　in　those　moments　of　roaring　confusion　after　Pascow　had　been　brought　into　the　Medical　Center；　dying　in　a　blanket。　He　won。　The　thought　which　tipped　the　scales　was　that　she　must　not　see　him　this　way；　his　feet　muddy　and　coated　with　needles；　the　blankets　tossed　back　onto　the　floor　to　reveal　the　muck…splashed　ground　sheet。
　　〃I'm　awake；〃　he　called　cheerfully。　His　tongue　was　bleeding　from　the　sudden；　involuntary　bite　he　had　given　it。　His　mind　swirled；　and　somewhere　deep　inside；　away　from　the　action；　he　wondered　if　he　had　always　been　within　touching　distance　of　such　mad　irrationalities；　if　everyone　was。
　　〃One　egg　or　two？〃　She　had　stopped　on　the　second　or　third　riser。　Thank　God。
　　〃Two；〃　he　said；　barely　aware　of　what　he　was　saying。　〃Scrambled。〃
　　〃Good　for　you；〃　she　said；　and　went　back　downstairs　again。
　　He　closed　his　eyes　briefly　in　relief；　but　in　the　darkness　he　saw　Pascow's　silver　eyes。　His　eyes　flew　open　again。　Louis　began　to　move　rapidly；　putting　off　any　further　thought。　He　jerked　the　bedclothes　off　the　bed。　The　blankets　were　okay。　He　separated　out　the　two　sheets；　balled　them　up；　took　them　into　the　hallway；　and　dumped　them　down　the　laundry　chute。
　　Almost　running；　he　entered　the　bathroom；　jerked　the　shower　handle　on；　and　stepped　under　water　so　hot　it　was　nearly　scalding；　unmindful。　He　washed　the　dirt　from　his　feet　and　legs。
　　He　began　to　feel　better；　more　in　control。　Drying　off；　it　struck　him　that　this　was　how　murderers　must　feel　when　they　believe　they　have　gotten　rid　of　all　the　evidence。　He　began　to　laugh。　He　went　on　drying　himself；　but　he　also　went　on　laughing。　He　couldn't　seem　to　stop。
　　〃Hey；　up　there！〃　Rachel　called。　〃What's　so　funny？〃
　　〃Private　joke；〃　Louis　called　back；　still　laughing。　He　was　frightened；　but　the　fright　didn't　stop　the　laughter。　The　laughter　came；　rising　from　a　belly　that　was　as　hard　as　stones　mortared　into　a　wall。　It　occurred　to　him　that　shoving　the　sheets　down　the　laundry　chute　was　absolutely　the　best　thing　he　could　have　done。　Missy　Dandridge　came　in　five　days　a　week　to　vacuum；　clean　。　。　。　and　do　the　laundry。　Rachel　would　never　see　those　sheets　at　all　until　she　put　them　back　on　the　bed。　。　。　clean。　He　supposed　it　was　possible　that　Missy　would　mention　it　to　Rachel；　but　he　didn't　think　so。　She　would　probably　whisper　to　her　husband　that　the　Creeds　were　playing　some　strange　sex　game　that　involved　mud　and　pine　needles　instead　of　body　paints。
　　This　thought　made　Louis　laugh　all　the　harder。
　　The　last　of　the　giggles　and　chuckles　dried　up　as　he　was　dressing；　and　he　realized　that　he　felt　a　little　better。　How　that　could　be　he　didn't　know；　but　he　did。　The　room　looked　normal　now　except　for　the　stripped　bed。　He　had　gotten　rid　of　the　poison。　Maybe　〃evidence〃　was　actually　the　word　he　was　looking　for；　but　in　his　mind　it　felt　like　poison。
　　Perhaps　this　is　what　people　do　with　the　inexplicable；　he　thought。　This　is　what　they　do　with　the　irrational　that　refuses　to　be　broken　down　into　the　normal　causes　and　effects　that　run　the　Western　world。　Maybe　this　was　how　your　mind　coped　with　the　flying　saucer　you　saw　hovering　silently　over　your　back　field　one　morning；　casting　its　own　tight　little　pool　of　shadow；　the　rain　of　frogs；　the　hand　from　under　the　bed　that　stroked　your　bare　foot　in　the　dead　of　night。　There　was　a　giggling　fit　or　a　crying　fit。。。and　since　it　was　its　own　inviolable　self　and　would　not　break　down；　you　simply　passed　terror　intact；　like　a　kidney　stone。
　　Gage　was　in　his　chair；　eating　Cocoa　Bears　and　decorating　the　table　with　it。　He　was　decorating　the　plastic　mat　under　his　high　chair　with　Cocoa　Bears　and　apparently　shampooing　with　it。
　　Rachel　came　out　of　the　kitchen　with　his　eggs　and　a　cup　of　coffee。　〃What　was　the　big　joke；　Lou？　You　were　laughing　like　a　loon　up　there。　Scared　me　a　little。〃
　　Louis　opened　his　mouth　with　no　idea　of　what　he　was　going　to　say；　and　what　came　out　was　a　joke　he　had　heard　the　week　before　at　the　corner　market　down　the　road…something　about　a　Jewish　tailor　who　bought　a　parrot　whose　only　line　was　〃Ariel　Sharon　jerks　off。〃
　　By　the　time　he　finished；　Rachel　was　laughing　too…so　was　Cage　for　that　matter。
　　Fine。　Our　hero　has　taken　care　of　all　the　evidence…to　wit：　the　muddy　sheets　and　the　loony　laughter　in　the　bathroom。　Our　hero　will　now　read　the　morning　paper…or　at　least　look　at　it…putting　the　seal　of　normality　on　the　morning。
　　So　thinking；　Louis　opened　the　paper。
　　That's　what　you　do；　all　right；　he　thought　with　immeasurable　relief。　You　pass　it　like　a　stone；　and　that's　the　end　of　it。　。　。　unless　there　es　a　campfire　some　night　with　friends　when　the　wind　is　high　and　the　talk　turns　to　inexplicable　events。　Because　on　campfire　nights　when　the　wind　is　high；　talk　is　cheap。
　　He　ate　his　eggs。　He　kissed　Rachel　and　Gage。　He　glanced　at　the　square；　white…painted　laundry　cabinet　at　the　foot　of　the　chute　only　as　he　left。　Everything　was　okay。　It　was　another　knockout　of　a　morning。　Late　summer　showed　every　sign　of　just　going　on　forever；　and　everything　was　okay。　He　glanced　at　the　path　as　he　backed　the　car　out　of　the　garage；　but　that　was　okay　too。　Never　turned　a　hair。　You　passed　it　like　a　stone。
　　Everything　was　okay　until　he　had　gotten　ten　miles　down　the　road；　and　then　the　shakes　hit　him　so　hard　that　he　had　to　pull　off　Route　z　and　into　the　morning…deserted　parking　lot　of　Sing's；　the　Chinese　restaurant　not　far　from　the　Eastern　Maine　Medical　Center　。　。　。　where　Pascow's　body　would　have　been　taken。　The　EMMC；　that　is；　not　Sing's。　Vic　Pascow　was　never　going　to　eat　another　helping　of　moo　goo　gai　pan；　ha…ha。
　　The　shakes　twisted　his　body；　ripped　at　it；　had　their　way　with　it。　Louis　felt　helpless　and　terrified…not　terrified　of　anything　supernatural；　not　in　this　bright　sunshine；　but　simply　terrified　of　the　possibility　that　he　might　be　losing　his　mind。　It　felt　as　if　a　long；　invisible　wire　was　being　twirled　through　his　head。
　　〃No　more；〃　he　said。　〃Please；　no　more。〃
　　He　fumbled　for　the　radio　and　got　Joan　Baez　singing　about　diamonds　and　rust。　Her　sweet；　cool　voice　soothed　him；　and　by　the　time　she　had　finished；　Louis　felt　that　he　could　drive　on。
　　When　he　got　to　the　Medical　Center；　he　called　hello　to　Charlton　and　then　ducked　into　the　bathroom；　believing　that　he　must　look　like　hell。　Not　so。　He　was　a　little　hollow　under　the　eyes；　but　not　even　Rachel　had　noticed　that。　He　slapped　some　cold　water　on　his　face；　dried　off；　bed　his　hair；　and　went　into　his　office。
　　Steve　Mast