sk.petsematary-第76部分

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　　〃Plane？〃　Jud's　voice　seemed　to　sharpen　a　trifle。　〃Where　are　you；　Rachel？〃
　　〃Chicago；〃　she　said。　〃Ellie　and　I　came　back　to　spend　some　time　with　my　parents。〃
　　〃Louis　didn't　go　with　you？〃
　　〃He's　going　to　join　us　by　the　end　of　the　week；〃　Rachel　said；　and　now　it　was　a　struggle　to　keep　her　voice　even。　There　was　something　in　Jud's　voice　she　didn't　like。
　　〃Was　it　his　idea　that　you　should　go　out　there？〃
　　〃Well。　。　。　yes。　Jud；　what's　wrong？　Something　is　wrong；　isn't　it？　And　you　know　something　about　it。〃
　　〃Maybe　you　ought　to　tell　me　the　child's　dream；〃　Jud　said　after　a　long　pause。　〃I　wish　you　would。〃
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　　After　he　and　Rachel　were　done　talking；　Jud　put　on　his　light　coat
　　…the　day　had　clouded　up　and　the　wind　had　begun　to　blow…and　crossed　the　road　to　Louis's　house；　pausing　on　his　side　of　the　road　to　look　carefully　for　trucks　before　crossing。　It　was　the　trucks　that　had　been　the　cause　of　all　this。　The　damned　trucks。
　　Except　it　wasn't。
　　He　could　feel　the　Pet　Sematary　pulling　at　him…and　something　beyond。　Where　once　its　voice　had　been　a　kind　of　seductive　lullabye；　the　voice　of　possible　fort　and　a　dreamy　sort　of　power；　it　was　now　lower　and　more　than　ominous…it　was　threatening　and　grim。　Stay　out　of　this；　you。
　　But　he　would　not　stay　out　of　it。　His　responsibility　went　back　too　far。
　　He　saw　that　Louis's　Honda　Civic　was　gone　from　the　garage。　There　was　only　the　big　Ford　wagon；　looking　dusty　and　unused。　He　tried　the　back　door　of　the　house　and　found　it　open。
　　〃Louis？〃　he　called；　knowing　that　Louis　was　not　going　to　answer；　but　needing　to　cut　across　the　heavy　silence　of　this　house　somehow。　Oh；　getting　old　was　starting　to　be　a　pain　in　the　ass…his　limbs　felt　heavy　and　clumsy　most　of　the　time；　his　back　was　a　misery　to　him　after　a　mere　two　hours　in　the　garden；　and　it　felt　as　if　there　was　a　screw　auger　planted　in　his　left　hip。
　　He　began　to　go　through　the　house　methodically；　looking　for　the　signs　he　had　to　look　for…world's　oldest　housebreaker；　he　thought　without　much　humor　and　went　right　on　looking。　He　found　none　of　the　things　that　would　have　seriously　upset　him：　boxes　of　toys　held　back　from　the　Salvation　Army；　clothes　for　a　small　boy　put　aside　behind　a　door　or　in　the　closet　or　under　a　bed　perhaps　worst　of　all；　the　crib　carefully　set　up　in　Gage's　room　again。　There　were　absolutely　none　of　the　signs；　but　the　house　still　had　an　unpleasant　blank　feel；　as　if　it　were　waiting　to　be　filled　with。　。　。　well；　something。
　　P'raps　I　ought　to　take　a　little　run　out　to　Pleasantview　Cemetery。　See　if　anything's　doing　out　there。　Might　even　run　into　Louis　Creed。　I　could　buy　him　a　dinner；　or　somethin。
　　But　it　wasn't　at　Pleasantview　Cemetery　in　Bangor　that　there　was　danger；　the　danger　was　here；　in　this　house；　and　beyond　it。
　　Jud　left　again　and　crossed　the　road　to　his　own　house。　He　pulled　a　six…pack　of　beer　out　of　the　kitchen　fridge　and　took　it　into　the　living　room。　He　sat　down　in　front　of　the　bay　window　that　looked　out　on　the　Creed　house；　cracked　a　beer；　and　lit　a　cigarette。　The　afternoon　drew　down　around　him；　and　as　it　did　so　often　these　last　few　years；　he　found　his　mind　turning　back　and　back　in　a　widening　gyre。　If　he　had　known　the　run　of　Rachel　Creed's　earlier　thoughts　he　could　have　told　her　that　what　her　psych　teacher　had　told　her　was　maybe　the　truth；　but　when　you　got　older　that　dimming　function　of　the　memory　broke　down　little　by　little；　the　same　way　that　everything　else　in　your　body　broke　down；　and　you　found　yourself　recalling　places　and　faces　and　events　with　an　eerie　surety。　Sepia…toned　memories　grew　bright　again；　the　colors　trueing　up；　the　voices　losing　that　tinny　echo　of　time　and　regaining　their　original　resonance。　It　wasn't　informational　breakdown　at　all；　Jud　could　have　told　him。　The　name　for　it　was　senility。
　　In　his　mind　Jud　again　saw　Lester　Morgan's　bull　Hanratty；　his　eyes　rimmed　with　red；　charging　at　everything　in　sight；　everything　that　moved。　Charging　at　trees　when　the　wind　jigged　the　leaves。　Before　Lester　gave　up　and　called　it　off；　every　tree　in　Hanratty's　fenced　meadow　was　gored　with　his　brainless　fury　and　his　horns　were　splintered　and　his　head　was　bleeding。　When　Lester　put　Hanratty　down；　Lester　had　been　sick　with　dread…the　way　Jud　himself　was　right　now。
　　He　drank　beer　and　smoked。　Daylight　faded。　He　did　not　put　on　the　light。　Gradually　the　tip　of　his　cigarette　became　a　small　red　pip　in　the　darkness。　He　sat　and　drank　beer　and　watched　Louis　Creed's　driveway。　He　believed　that　when　Louis　came　home　from　wherever　he　was；　he　would　go　over　and　have　a　little　talk　with　him。　Make　sure　Louis　wasn't　planning　to　do　anything　he　shouldn't。
　　And　still　he　felt　the　soft　tug　of　whatever　it　was；　whatever　sick　power　it　was　that　inhabited　that　devil's　place；　reaching　down　from　its　bluff　of　rotted　stone　where　all　those　cairns　had　been　built。
　　Stay　out　of　this；　you。　Stay　out　of　it　or　you're　going　to　be　very；　very　sorry。
　　Ignoring　it　as　best　he　could；　Jud　sat　and　smoked　and　drank　beer。　And　waited。
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　　While　Jud　Crandall　was　sitting　in　the　ladderbacked　rocker　and　watching　for　him　out　of　his　bay　window；　Louis　was　eating　a　big　tasteless　dinner　in　the　Howard　Johnson's　dining　room。
　　The　food　was　plentiful　and　dull…exactly　what　his　body　seemed　to　want。　Outside　it　had　grown　dark。　The　headlights　of　the　passing　cars　probed　like　fingers。　He　shoveled　the　food　in。　A　steak。　A　baked　potato。　A　side　dish　of　beans　which　were　a　bright　green　nature　had　never　intended。　A　wedge　of　apple　pie　with　a　scoop　of　ice　cream　on　top　of　it　melting　into　a　soft　drool。　He　ate　at　a　corner　table；　watching　people　e　and　go；　wondering　if　he　might　not　see　someone　he　knew。　In　a　vague　way；　he　rather　hoped　that　would　happen。　It　would　lead　to　questions…where's　Rachel；　what　are　you　doing　here；　how's　it　going？　…and　perhaps　the　questions　would　lead　to　plications；　and　maybe　plications　were　what　he　really　wanted。　A　way　out。
　　And　as　a　matter　of　fact；　a　couple　that　he　did　know　came　in　just　as　he　was　finishing　his　apple　pie　and　his　second　cup　of　coffee。　Rob　Grinnell；　a　Bangor　doctor；　and　his　pretty　wife　Barbara。　He　waited　for　them　to　see　him；　sitting　here　in　the　corner　at　his　table　for　one；　but　the　hostess　led　them　to　the　booths　on　the　far　side　of　the　room；　and　Louis　lost　sight　of　them　entirely　except　for　an　occasional　glimpse　of　Grinnell's　prematurely　graying　hair。
　　The　waitress　brought　Louis　his　check。　He　signed　for　it；　jotting　his　room　number　under　his　signature；　and　left　by　the　side　door。
　　Outside　the　wind　had　risen　to　near…gale　force。　It　was　a　steady　droning　presence；　making　the　electrical　wires　hum　oddly。　He　could　see　no　stars　but　had　a　sense　of　clouds　rushing　past　overhead　at　high　speed。　Louis　stood　on　the　walk　for　a　moment；　hands　in　pockets；　face　tilted　into　that　wind。　Then　he　turned　back　and　went　up　to　his　room　and　turned　on　the　television。　It　was　too　early　to　do　anything　serious；　and　that　nightwind　was　too　full　of　possibilities。　It　made　him　nervous。
　　He　watched　four　hours　of　TV；　eight　back…to…back　half…hour　edy　programs。　He　realized　it　had　been　a　very　long　time　since　he　had　watched　so　much　TV　in　a　steady；　uninterrupted　stream。　He　thought　that　all　the　female　leads　on　the　sits　were　what　he　and　his　friends　had　called　〃cockteasers〃　back　in　high　school。
　　In　Chicago；　Dory　Goldman　was　wailing；　〃Fly　back？　Honey；　why　do　you　want　to　fly　back？　You　just　got　here！〃
　　In　Ludlow；　Jud　Crandall　sat　by　his　bay　window；　smoking　and　drinking　beer；　motionless；　examining　the　mental　scrapbook　of　his　own　past　and　waiting　for　Louis　to　e　home。　Sooner　or　later　Louis　would　e　home；　just　like　Lassie　in　that　old　movie。　There　were　other　ways　up　to　the　Pet　Sematary　and　the　place　beyond；　but　Louis　didn't　know　them。　If　he　intended　to　do　it；　he　would　begin　from　his　own　dooryard。
　　Unaware　of　these　other　happenings；　like　slow…moving　projectiles　aimed　not　at　where　he　was；　but　rather　in　the　best　ballistics　tradition　at　the　place　where　he　would　be；　Louis　sat　and　watched　the　HoJo　color　television　set。　He　had　never　seen　any　of　these　programs　before；　but　he　had　heard　vague　rumors　of　them：　a　black　family；　a　white　family；　a　little　kid　who　was　smarter　than　the　rich　grown…ups　he　lived　with；　a　woman　who　was　single；　a　woman　who　was　married；　a　woman　who　was　divorced。　H