sk.petsematary-第62部分

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of　his　son　Timmy。　The　coffin　was　unloaded　by　four　railroad　men。　I　was　one　of　them。　There　was　an　army　fellow　on　board　from　Graves　and　Registration…that　was　the　army's　wartime　version　of　undertakers；　Louis…but　he　never　got　off　the　train。　He　was　sitting　drunk　in　a　boxcar　that　still　had　twelve　coffins　in　it。
　　〃We　put　Timmy　into　the　back　of　a　mortuary　Cadillac…in　those　days　it　still　wasn't　unmon　to　hear　such　things　called　'hurry…up　wagons'　because　in　the　old　days；　the　major　concern　was　to　get　them　into　the　ground　before　they　rotted。　Bill　Baterman　stood　by；　his　face　stony　and　kinda　。　。　。　I　dunno　。　。　。　kinda　dry；　I　guess　you'd　say。　He　wept　no　tears。　Huey　Garber　was　driving　the　train　that　day；　and　he　said　that　army　fella　had　really　had　a　tour　for　himself。　Huey　said　they'd　flown　in　a　whole　shitload　of　those　coffins　to　Limestone　in　Presque　Isle；　at　which　point　both　the　coffins　and　their　keeper　entrained　for　points　south。
　　〃The　army　fella　es　walking　up　to　Huey；　and　he　takes　a　fifth　of　rye　whiskey　out　of　his　uniform　blouse；　and　he　says　in　this　soft；　drawly　Dixie　voice；　'Well；　Mr。　Engineer；　you're　driving　a　mystery　train　today；　did　you　know　that？'
　　〃Huey　shakes　his　head。
　　〃Well；　you　are。　At　least；　that's　what　they　call　a　funeral　train　down　in　Alabama。'　Huey　says　the　fella　took　a　list　out　of　his　pocket　and　squinted　at　it。　'We're　going　to　start　by　dropping　two　of　those　coffins　off　in　Houlton；　and　then　I've　got　one　for　Passadumkeag；　two　for　Bangor；　one　for　Derry；　one　for　Ludlow；　and　so　on。　I　feel　like　a　fugging　milkman。　You　want　a　drink？'
　　〃Well；　Huey　declines　the　drink　on　the　grounds　that　the　Bangor　and　Aroostook　is　pretty　fussy　on　the　subject　of　train　drivers　with　rye　on　their　breaths；　and　the　fella　from　Graves　and　Registration　don't　hold　it　against　Huey；　any　more　than　Huey　holds　the　fact　of　the　army　fella's　drunkenness　against　him。　They　even　shook　on　her；　Huey　said。
　　〃So　off　they　go；　dropping　those　flag…covered　coffins　every　other　stop　or　two。　Eighteen　or　twenty　of　em　in　all。　Huey　said　it　went　on　all　the　way　to　Boston；　and　there　was　weeping　and　wailing　relatives　at　every　stop　except　Ludlow　。　。　。　and　at　Ludlow　he　was　treated　to　the　sight　of　Bill　Baterman；　who；　he　said；　looked　like　he　was　dead　inside　and　just　waiting　for　his　soul　to　stink。　When　he　got　off　that　train；　he　said　he　woke　up　that　army　fella；　and　they　hit　some　spots…fifteen　or　twenty…and　Huey　got　drunker　than　he　had　ever　been　and　went　to　a　whore；　which　he'd　never　done　in　his　whole　life；　and　woke　up　with　a　set　of　crabs　so　big　and　mean　they　gave　him　the　shivers；　and　he　said　that　if　that　was　what　they　called　a　mystery　train；　he　never　wanted　to　drive　no　mystery　train　again。
　　〃Timmy's　body　was　taken　up　to　the　Greenspan　Funeral　Home　on　Fern　Street…it　used　to　be　across　from　where　the　New　Franklin　Laundry　stands　now…and　two　days　later　he　was　buried　in　Pleasantview　Cemetery　with　full　military　honors。
　　〃Well；　I　tell　you；　Louis：　Missus　Baterman　was　dead　ten　years　then；　along　with　the　second　child　she　tried　to　bring　into　the　world；　and　that　had　a　lot　to　do　with　what　happened。　A　second　child　might　have　helped　to　ease　the　pain；　don't　you　think？　A　second　child　might　have　reminded　old　Bill　that　there's　others　that　feel　the　pain　and　have　to　be　helped　through。　I　guess　in　that　way；　you're　luckier…having　another　child　and　all；　I　mean。　A　child　and　a　wife　who　are　both　alive　and　well。
　　〃According　to　the　letter　Bill　got　from　the　lieutenant　in　charge　of　his　boy's　platoon；　Timmy　was　shot　down　on　the　road　to　Rome　on　July　15；　1943。　His　body　was　shipped　home　two　days　later；　and　it　got　to　Limestone　on　the　nineteenth。　It　was　put　aboard　Huey　Garber's　mystery　train　the　very　next　day。　Most　of　the　GIs　who　got　killed　in　Europe　were　buried　in　Europe；　but　all　of　the　boys　who　went　home　on　that　train　were　special…Timmy　had　died　charging　a　machine…gun　nest；　and　he　had　won　the　Silver　Star　posthumously。
　　〃Timmy　was　buried…don't　hold　me　to　this；　but　I　think　it　was　on　July　22。　It　was　four　or　five　days　later　that　Marjorie　Washburn；　who　was　the　mailwoman　in　those　days；　saw　Timmy　walking　up　the　road　toward　York's　Livery　Stable。　Well；　Margie　damn　near　drove　right　off　the　road；　and　you　can　understand　why。　She　went　back　to　the　post　office；　tossed　her　leather　bag　with　all　her　undelivered　mail　still　in　it　on　George　Anderson's　desk；　and　told　him　she　was　going　home　and　to　bed　right　then。
　　〃Margie；　are　you　sick？'　George　asks。　'You　are　just　as　white　as　a　gull's　wing。'
　　〃I've　had　the　fright　of　my　life；　and　I　don't　want　to　talk　to　you　about　it；'　Margie　Washburn　says。　'I　ain't　going　to　talk　to　Brian　about　it；　or　my　mom；　or　anybody。　When　I　get　up　to　heaven；　if　Jesus　asks　me　to　talk　to　Him　about　it；　maybe　I　will。　But　I　don't　believe　it。'　And　out　she　goes。
　　〃Everybody　knew　Timmy　was　dead；　there　was　his　bituary　in　the　Bangor　Daily　News　and　the　Ellsworth　American　just　the　week　before；　picture　and　all；　and　half　the　town　turned　out　for　his　funeral　up　to　the　city。　And　here　Margie　seen　him；　walking　up　the　road…lurching　up　the　road；　she　finally　told　old　George　Anderson
　　…only　this　was　twenty　years　later；　and　she　was　dying；　and　George　told　me　it　seemed　to　him　like　she　wanted　to　tell　somebody　what　she'd　seen。　George　said　it　seemed　to　him　like　it　preyed　on　her　mind；　you　know。
　　〃Pale　he　was；　she　said；　and　dressed　in　an　old　pair　of　chino　pants　and　a　faded　flannel　hunting　shirt；　although　it　must　have　been　ninety　degrees　in　the　shade　that　day。　Margie　said　all　his　hair　was　sticking　up　in　the　back。　'His　eyes　were　like　raisins　stuck　in　bread　dough。　I　saw　a　ghost　that　day；　George。　That's　what　scared　me　so。　I　never　thought　I'd　see　such　a　thing；　but　there　it　was。'
　　〃Well；　word　got　around。　Pretty　soon　some　other　people　saw　Timmy；　too。　Missus　Stratton…well；　we　called　her　'missus；'　but　so　far　as　anyone　knew　she　could　have　been　single　or　divorced　or　grass…widowed；　she　had　a　little　two…room　house　down　where　the　Pedersen　Road　joins　the　Hancock　Road；　and　she　had　a　lot　of　jazz　records；　and　sometimes　she'd　be　willing　to　throw　you　a　little　party　if　you　had　a　ten…dollar　bill　that　wasn't　working　too　hard。　Well；　she　saw　him　from　her　porch；　and　she　said　he　walked　right　up　to　the　edge　of　the　road　and　stopped　there。
　　〃He　just　stood　there；　she　said；　his　hands　dangling　at　his　sides　and　his　head　pushed　forward；　lookin　like　a　boxer　who's　ready　to　eat　him　some　canvas。　She　said　she　stood　there　on　her　porch；　heart　goin　like　sixty；　too　scared　to　move。　Then　she　said　he　turned　around；　and　it　was　like　watching　a　drunk　man　try　to　do　an　about…face。　One　leg　went　way　out　and　the　other　foot　turned；　and　he　just　about　fell　over。　She　said　he　looked　right　at　her　and　all　the　strength　just　run　out　of　her　hands　and　she　dropped　the　basket　of　washing　she　had；　and　the　clothes　fell　out　and　got　smutty　all　over　again。
　　〃She　said　his　eyes　。　。　。　she　said　they　looked　as　dead　and　dusty　as　marbles；　Louis。　But　he　saw　her。　。　。　and　he　grinned　。　。　。　and　she　said　he　talked　to　her。　Asked　her　if　she　still　had　those　records　because　he　wouldn't　mind　cutting　a　rug　with　her。　Maybe　that　very　night。　And　Missus　Stratton　went　back　inside；　and　she　wouldn't　e　out　for　most　of　a　week；　and　by　then　it　was　over　anyway。
　　〃Lot　of　people　saw　Timmy　Baterman。　Many　of　them　are　dead　now…Missus　Stratton　is；　for　one；　and　others　have　moved　on；　but　there　are　a　few　old　crocks　like　me　left　around　who'll　tell　you。　if　you　ask　em　right。
　　〃We　saw　him；　I　tell　you；　walking　back　and　forth　along　the　Pedersen　Road；　a　mile　east　of　his　daddy's　house　and　a　mile　west。　Back　and　forth　he　went；　back　and　forth　all　day；　and　for　all　anyone　knew；　all　night。　Shirt　untucked；　pale　face；　hair　all　stuck　up　in　spikes；　fly　unzipped　sometimes；　and　this　look　on　his　face。　。　。　this　look。　。　。〃
　　Jud　paused　to　light　a　cigarette；　then　shook　the　match　out；　and　looked　at　Louis　through　the　haze　of　drifting　blue　smoke。　And　although　the　story　was；　of　course；　utterly　mad；　there　was　no　lie　in　Jud's　eyes。
　　〃You　know；　they　have　these　stories　and　these　movies…I　don't　know　if　they're　true…about　zombies　down　in　Haiti。　In　the　movies　they　just　sort　of　shamble　along；　with　their　dead　eyes　starin　straight　ahead；　real　slow　and　sort　of　clumsy。　Timmy　Baterman　was　like　that；　Louis；　like　a　zombie　in　a　movie；　but　he　wasn't。