sk.petsematary-第51部分

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　had　brought　in；　surely　clawed　to　bloody　ribbons；　its　intestines　dragging；　its　head　perhaps　gone。　Yes。　He　had　bought　it。　It　was　his　rat。
　　〃Let's　go　to　bed；〃　he　said；　turning　off　the　lights。　He　and　Rachel　went　up　the　stairs　together。　Louis　put　his　arm　around　her　waist　and　loved　her　the　best　he　could。　。　。　but　even　as　he　entered　into　her；　hard　and　erect；　he　was　listening　to　the　winter　whine　outside　the　frost…traced　windows；　wondering　about　Church；　the　cat　that　used　to　belong　to　his　daughter　and　now　belonged　to　him；　wondering　where　it　was　and　what　it　was　stalking　or　killing。　The　soil　of　a　man's　heart　is　stonier；　he　thought；　and　the　wind　sang　its　bitter　black　song；　and　not　so　many　miles　distant；　Norma　Crandall；　who　had　once　knitted　his　daughter　and　son　matching　caps；　lay　in　her　gray　steel　American　Eternal　coffin　on　a　stone　slab　in　a　Mount　Hope　crypt；　by　now　the　white　cotton　the　mortician　would　have　used　to　stuff　her　cheeks　would　be　turning　black。
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　　Ellie　turned　six。　She　came　home　from　kindergarten　on　her　birthday　with　a　paper　hat　askew　on　her　head；　several　pictures　friends　had　drawn　of　her　（in　the　best　of　them　Ellie　looked　like　a　friendly　scarecrow）；　and　baleful　stories　about　spankings　in　the　schoolyard　during　recess。　The　flu　epidemic　passed。　They　had　to　send　two　students　to　the　EMMC　in　Bangor；　and　Surrendra　Hardu　probably　saved　the　life　of　one　woefully　sick　freshman　boy　with　the　terrible　name　of　Peter　Humperton；　who　went　into　convulsions　shortly　after　being　admitted。　Rachel　developed　a　mild　infatuation　with　the　blond　bag　boy　at　the　A　&　P　in　Brewer　and　rhapsodized　to　Louis　at　night　about　how　packed　his　jeans　looked。　〃It's　probably　just　toilet　paper；〃　she　added。　〃Squeeze　it　sometime；〃　Louis　suggested。　〃If　he　screams；　it's　probably　not。〃　Rachel　had　laughed　until　she　cried。　The　blue；　still；　subzero　miniseason　of　February　passed　and　brought　on　the　alternating　rains　and　freezes　of　March；　potholes；　and　those　orange　roadside　signs　which　pay　homage　to　the　Great　God　BUMP。　The　immediate；　personal；　and　most　agonizing　grief　of　Jud　Crandall　passed；　that　grief　which　the　psychologists　say　begins　about　three　days　after　the　death　of　a　loved　one　and　holds　hard　from　four　to　six　weeks　in　most　cases…　like　that　period　of　time　New　Englanders　sometimes　call　〃deep　winter。〃　But　time　passes；　and　time　welds　one　state　of　human　feeling　into　another　until　they　bee　something　like　a　rainbow。　Strong　grief　bees　a　softer；　more　mellow　grief；　mellow　grief　bees　mourning；　mourning　at　last　bees　remembrance…a　process　that　may　take　from　six　months　to　three　years　and　still　be　considered　normal。　The　day　of　Gage's　first　haircut　came　and　passed；　and　when　Louis　saw　his　son's　hair　growing　in　darker；　he　joked　about　it　and　did　his　own　mourning…but　only　in　his　heart。
　　Spring　came；　and　it　stayed　awhile。
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　　Louis　Creed　came　to　believe　that　the　last　really　happy　day　of　his　life　was　March　24；　1984。　The　things　that　were　to　e；　poised　above　them　like　a　killing　sashweight；　were　still　over　seven　weeks　in　the　future；　but　looking　over　those　seven　weeks　he　found　nothing　which　stood　out　with　the　same　color。　He　supposed　that　even　if　none　of　those　terrible　things　had　happened；　he　would　have　remembered　the　day　forever。　Days　which　seem　genuinely　good…　good　all　the　way　through…are　rare　enough　anyway；　he　thought。　It　might　be　that　there　was　less　than　a　month　of　really　good　ones　in　any　natural　man's　life　in　the　best　of　circumstances。　It　came　to　seem　to　Louis　that　God；　in　His　infinite　wisdom；　seemed　much　more　generous　when　it　came　to　doling　out　pain。
　　That　day　was　a　Saturday；　and　he　was　home　minding　Gage　in　the　afternoon　while　Rachel　and　Ellie　went　after　groceries。　They　had　gone　with　Jud　in　his　old　and　rattling　'59　IH　pickup　not　because　the　station　wagon　wasn't　running　but　because　the　old　man　genuinely　liked　their　pany。　Rachel　asked　Louis　if　he　would　be　okay　with　Gage；　and　he　told　her　that　of　course　he　would。　He　was　glad　to　see　her　get　out；　after　a　winter　in　Maine；　most　of　it　in　Ludlow；　he　thought　that　she　needed　all　the　getting　out　she　could　lay　her　hands　on。　She　had　been　an　unremittingly　good　sport　about　it；　but　she　did　seem　to　him　to　be　getting　a　little　stir　crazy。
　　Gage　got　up　from　his　nap　around　two　o'clock；　scratchy　and　out　of　sorts。　He　had　discovered　the　Terrible　Twos　and　made　them　his　own。　Louis　tried　several　ineffectual　gambits　to　amuse　the　kid；　and　Gage　turned　them　all　down。　To　make　matters　worse；　the　rotten　kid　had　an　enormous　bowel　movement；　the　artistic　quality　of　which　was　not　improved　for　Louis　when　he　saw　a　blue　marble　sitting　in　the　middle　of　it。　It　was　one　of　Ellie's　marbles。　The　kid　could　have　choked。　He　decided　the　marbles　were　going　to　go…　everything　Gage　got　hold　of　went　right　to　his　mouth…but　that　decision；　while　undoubtedly　laudable；　didn't　do　a　thing　about　keeping　the　kid　amused　until　his　mother　got　back。
　　Louis　listened　to　the　early　spring　wind　gust　around　the　house；　sending　big　blinkers　of　light　and　shadow　across　Mrs。　Vinton's　field　next　door；　and　he　suddenly　thought　of　the　Vulture　he　had　bought　on　a　whim　five　or　six　weeks　before；　while　on　his　way　home　from　the　university。　Had　he　bought　twine　as　well？　He　had；　by　God！
　　〃Gage！〃　he　said。　Gage　had　found　a　green　Crayola　under　the　couch　and　was　currently　scribbling　in　one　of　Ellie's　favorite　books…something　else　to　feed　the　fires　of　sibling　rivalry；　Louis　thought　and　grinned。　If　Ellie　got　really　pissy　about　the　scribbles　Gage　had　managed　to　put　in　Where　the　Wild　Things　Are　before　Louis　could　get　it　away　from　him；　Louis　would　simply　mention　the　unique　treasure　he　had　uncovered　in　Gage's　Pampers。
　　〃What！〃　Gage　responded　smartly。　He　was　talking　pretty　well　now；　Louis　had　decided　the　kid　might　actually　be　half…bright。
　　〃You　wanna　go　out？〃
　　〃Wanna　go　out！〃　Gage　agreed　excitedly。　〃Wanna　go　out。　Where　my　neeks；　Daddy？〃
　　This　sentence；　if　reproduced　phonetically；　would　have　looked　something　like　this：　Weh　ma　neeks；　Dah…dee？　The　translation　was　Where　are　my　sneakers；　Father？　Louis　was　often　struck　by　Gage's　speech；　not　because　it　was　cute；　but　because　he　thought　that　small　children　all　sounded　like　immigrants　learning　a　foreign　language　in　some　helter…skelter　but　fairly　amiable　way。　He　knew　that　babies　make　all　the　sounds　the　human　voice　box　is　capable　of。　。　。　the　liquid　trill　that　proves　so　difficult　for　first…year　French　students；　the　glottal　grunts　and　clicks　of　the　Australian　bush　people；　the　thickened；　abrupt　consonants　of　German。　They　lose　the　capability　as　they　learn　English；　and　Louis　wondered　now　（and　not　for　the　first　time）　if　childhood　was　not　more　a　period　of　forgetting　than　of　learning。
　　Gage's　neeks　were　finally　found。　。　。　they　were　also　under　the　couch。　One　of　Louis's　other　beliefs　was　that　in　families　with　small　children；　the　area　under　living　room　couches　begins　after　a　while　to　develop　a　strong　and　mysterious　electromagnetic　force　that　eventually　sucks　in　all　sorts　of　litter…everything　from　bottles　and　diaper　pins　to　green　Crayolas　and　old　issues　of　Sesame　Street　magazine　with　food　mouldering　between　the　pages。
　　Gage's　jacket；　however；　wasn't　under　the　couch…it　was　halfway　down　the　stairs。　His　Red　Sox　cap；　without　which　Gage　refused　to　leave　the　house；　was　the　most　difficult　of　all　to　find　because　it　was　where　it　belonged…in　the　closet。　That　was；　naturally；　the　last　place　they　looked。
　　〃Where　goin；　Daddy？〃　Gage　asked　panionably；　giving　his　father　his　hand。
　　〃Going　over　in　Mrs。　Vinton's　field；〃　he　said。　〃Gonna　go　fly　a　kite；　my　man。〃
　　〃Kiiiyte？〃　Gage　asked　doubtfully。
　　〃You'll　like　it；〃　Louis　said。　〃Wait　a　minute；　kiddo。〃
　　They　were　in　the　garage　now。　Louis　found　his　keyring；　unlocked　the　little　storage　closet；　and　turned　on　the　light。　He　rummaged　through　the　closet　and　found　the　Vulture；　still　in　its　store　bag　with　the　sales　slip　stapled　to　it。　He　had　bought　it　in　the　depths　of　mid…February；　when　his　soul　had　cried　out　for　some　hope。
　　〃Lat？〃　Gage　asked。　This　was　Gage…ese　for　〃Whatever　in　the　world　might　you　have　there；　Father？〃
　　〃It's　the　kite；〃　Louis　said　and　pulled　it　out　of　the　bag。　Gage　watched；　interested；　as　Louis　unfurled　the　Vulture；　which　spread　its　wings　over　perhaps　five　feet　of　tough　plastic。　Its　bulgy；　bloodshot　eyes　stared　ou