sk.petsematary-第90部分

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　time；　he　monitored　all　the　checkpoints　between　the　mortal　and　the　eternal。　Dirty　needles；　poison　beetles；　downed　live　wires；　forest　fires。　Whirling　roller　skates　that　shot　nurdy　little　kids　into　busy　intersections。　When　you　got　into　the　bathtub　to　take　a　shower；　Oz　got　right　in　there　too…Shower　with　a　Friend。　When　you　got　on　an　airplane；　Oz　took　your　boarding　pass。　He　was　in　the　water　you　drank；　the　food　you　ate。　Who's　out　there？　you　howled　into　the　dark　when　you　were　frightened　and　all　alone；　and　it　was　his　answer　that　came　back：　Don't　be　afraid；　it's　just　me。　Hi；　howaya？　You　got　cancer　of　the　bowel；　what　a　bummer；　so　solly；　Cholly！　Septicemia！　Leukemia！　Atherosclerosis！　Coronary　thrombosis！　Encephalitis！　Osteomyelitis！　Hey…ho；　let's　go！　Junkie　in　a　doorway　with　a　knife。　Phone　call　in　the　middle　of　the　night。　Blood　cooking　in　battery　acid　on　some　exit　ramp　in　North　Carolina。　Big　handfuls　of　pills；　munch　em　up。　That　peculiar　blue　cast　of　the　fingernails　following　asphyxiation…in　its　final　grim　struggle　to　survive　the　brain　takes　all　the　oxygen　that　is　left；　even　that　in　those　living　cells　under　the　nails。　Hi；　folks；　my　name's　Oz　the　Gweat　and　Tewwible；　but　you　can　call　me　Oz　if　you　want…hell；　we're　old　friends　by　now。　Just　stopped　by　to　whop　you　with　a　little　congestive　heart　failure　or　a　cranial　blood　clot　or　something；　can't　stay；　got　to　see　a　woman　about　a　breach　birth；　then　I've　got　a　little　smoke…inhalation　job　to　do　in　Omaha。
　　And　that　thin　voice　is　crying；　〃I　love　you；　Tigger！　I　love　you！　I　believe　in　you；　Tigger！　I　will　always　love　you　and　believe　in　you；　and　I　will　stay　young；　and　the　only　Oz　to　ever　live　in　my　heart　will　be　that　gentle　faker　from　Nebraska！　I　love　you。　。
　　We　cruise。　。　。　my　son　and　I。　。　。　because　the　essence　of　it　isn't　war　or　sex　but　only　that　sickening；　noble；　hopeless　battle　against　Oz　the　Gweat　and　Tewwible。　He　and　I；　in　our　white　van　under　this　bright　Florida　sky；　we　cruise。　And　the　red　flasher　is　hooded；　but　it　is　there　if　we　need　it。　。　。　and　none　need　know　but　us　because　the　soil　of　a　man's　heart　is　stonier；　a　man　grows　what　he　can。　。　。　and　tends　it。
　　Thinking　such　troubled　half…dreaming　thoughts；　Louis　Creed　slipped　away；　unplugging　his　connections　to　waking　reality　line　by　line；　until　all　thoughts　ceased　and　exhaustion　dragged　him　down　to　black　dreamless　unconsciousness。
　　Just　before　the　first　signs　of　dawn　touched　the　sky　in　the　east；　there　were　footsteps　on　the　stairs。　They　were　slow　and　clumsy　but　purposeful。　A　shadow　moved　in　the　shadows　of　the　hail。　A　smell　came　with　it…a　stench。　Louis；　even　in　his　thick　sleep；　muttered　and　turned　away　from　that　smell。　There　was　the　steady　pull　and　release　of　respiration。
　　The　shape　stood　outside　the　master　bedroom　door　for　some　little　time；　not　moving。　Then　it　came　inside。　Louis's　face　was　buried　in　his　pillow。　White　hands　reached　out；　and　there　was　a　click　as　the　black　doctor's　bag　by　the　bed　was　opened。
　　A　low　clink　and　shift　as　the　things　inside　were　moved。
　　The　hands　explored；　pushing　aside　drugs　and　ampules　and　syringes　with　no　interest　at　all。　Now　they　found　something　and　held　it　up。　In　the　first　dim　light　there　was　a　gleam　of　silver。
　　The　shadowy　thing　left　the　room。
　　
　　
　　　PART　THREE
　　　OZ　THE　GWEAT　AND　TEWWIBLE
　　
　　Jesus　therefore；　groaning　inside　of　himself　and　full　of　trouble；　came　to　the　grave。　It　was　a　cave；　and　a　stone　had　been　raised　against　the　mouth。　〃Roll　away　the　stone；〃　Jesus　said。
　　Martha　said；　〃Lord；　by　this　time　he　will　have　begun　to　rot。　He　has　been　dead　four　days。〃。
　　And　when　he　had　prayed　awhile；　Jesus　raised　his　voice　and　cried；　〃Lazarus；　e　forth！〃　And　he　that　was　dead　came　forth；　bound　hand　and　foot　with　graveclothes；　and　his　face　was　bound　about　with　a　napkin。
　　Jesus　said　to　them；　〃Loose　him　and　let　him　go。〃
　　…JOHN'S　GOSPEL　（paraphrase）
　　
　　〃I　only　just　thought　of　it；〃　she　said　hysterically。　〃Why　didn't　I　think　of　it　before？　Why　didn't　you　think　of　it？〃
　　〃Think　of　what？〃　he　questioned。
　　〃The　other　two　wishes；〃　she　replied　rapidly。　〃We've　only　had　one。
　　〃Was　that　not　enough？〃　he　demanded　fiercely。
　　〃No；〃　she　cried　triumphantly：　〃we'll　have　one　more。　Co　down　and　get　it　quickly；　and　wish　our　boy　alive　again。〃
　　…w。　w。　JACOBS　（〃The　Monkey's　Paw〃）
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　　Jud　Crandall　came　awake　with　a　sudden　jerk；　almost　falling　out　of　his　chair。　He　had　no　idea　how　long　he　had　slept；　it　could　have　been　fifteen　minutes　or　three　hours。　He　looked　at　his　watch　and　saw　that　it　was　five　minutes　of　five。　There　was　a　feeling　that　everything　in　the　room　had　been　subtly　shifted　out　of　position；　and　there　was　a　line　of　pain　across　his　back　from　sleeping　sitting　up。
　　Oh　you　stupid　old　man；　look　what　you　gone　and　done！
　　But　he　knew　better；　in　his　heart；　he　knew　better。　It　wasn't　just　him。　He　hadn't　simply　fallen　asleep　on　watch；　he　had　been　put　to　sleep。
　　That　frightened　him；　but　one　thing　frightened　him　more：　what　had　awakened　him？　He　was　under　the　impression　that　there　had　been　some　sound；　some…　He　held　his　breath；　listening　over　the　papery　rustle　of　his　heart。
　　Here　was　a　sound…not　the　same　one　that　had　awakened　him；　but　something。　The　faint　creak　of　hinges。
　　Jud　knew　every　sound　in　this　house…which　floorboards　creaked；　which　stair　levels　squeaked；　where　along　the　gutters　the　wind　was　apt　to　hoot　and　sing　when　it　was　drunkenly　high；　as　it　had　been　last　night。　He　knew　this　sound　as　well　as　any　of　those。　The　heavy　front　door；　the　one　that　municated　between　his　porch　and　the　front　hail；　had　just　swung　open。　And　with　that　information　to　go　on；　his　mind　was　able　to　remember　the　sound　that　had　awakened　him。　It　had　been　the　slow　expansion　of　the　spring　on　the　screen　door　municating　between　the　porch　and　the　front　walk。
　　〃Louis？〃　he　called　but　with　no　real　hope。　That　wasn't　Louis　out　there。　Whatever　was　out　there　had　been　sent　to　punish　an　old　man　for　his　pride　and　vanity。
　　Footsteps　moved　slowly　up　the　hail　toward　the　living　room。
　　〃Louis？〃　he　tried　to　call　again；　but　only　a　faint　croak　actually　emerged　because　now　he　could　smell　the　thing　which　had　e　into　his　house　here　at　the　end　of　the　night。　It　was　a　dirty；　low　smell…the　smell　of　poisoned　tidal　flats。
　　Jud　could　make　out　bulking　shapes　in　the　gloom…Norma's　armoire；　the　Welsh　dresser；　the　highboy…but　no　details。　He　tried　to　get　to　his　feet　on　legs　that　had　gone　to　water；　his　mind　screaming　that　he　needed　more　time；　that　he　was　too　old　to　face　this　again　without　more　time；　Timmy　Baterman　had　been　bad　enough；　and　Jud　had　been　young　then。
　　The　swing　door　opened　and　let　in　shadows。　One　of　the　shadows　was　more　substantial　than　the　others。
　　Dear　God；　that　stink。
　　Shuffling　steps　in　the　darkness。
　　〃Gage？〃　Jud　gained　his　feet　at　last。　From　one　corner　of　his　eye　he　saw　the　neat　roll　of　cigarette　ash　in　the　Jim　Beam　ashtray。　〃Gage；　is　that　y…〃
　　A　hideous　mewling　sound　now　arose；　and　for　a　moment　all　of　Jud's　bones　turned　to　white　ice。　It　was　not　Louis's　son　returned　from　the　grave　but　some　hideous　monster。
　　No。　It　was　neither。
　　It　was　Church；　crouched　in　the　hail　doorway；　making　that　sound。　The　cat's　eyes　flared　like　dirty　lamps。　Then　his　eyes　moved　in　the　other　direction　and　fixed　on　the　thing　which　had　e　in　with　the　cat。
　　Jud　began　to　back　up；　trying　to　catch　at　his　thoughts；　trying　to　hold　on　to　his　reason　in　the　face　of　that　smell。　Oh；　it　was　cold　in　here…the　thing　had　brought　its　chill　with　it。
　　Jud　rocked　unsteadily　on　his　feet…it　was　the　cat；　twining　around　his　legs；　making　him　totter。　It　was　purring。　Jud　kicked　at　it；　driving　it　away。　It　bared　its　teeth　at　him　and　hissed。
　　Think！　Oh；　think；　you　stupid　old　man；　it　mayn't　be　too　late；　even　yet　it　mayn't　be　too　late　。　。　。　it's　back　but　it　can　he　killed　again。　。　。　if　you　can　only　do　it。　。　。　if　you　can　only　think。　。
　　He　backed　away　toward　the　kitchen；　and　he　suddenly　remembered　the　utensil　drawer　beside　the　sink。　There　was　a　meat　cleaver　in　that　drawer。
　　His　thin　shanks　struck　the　swinging　door　that　led　into　the　kitchen　and　he　pushed　it　open。　The　thing　that　had　e　into　his　house　was　still　indistinct；　but　Jud　could　hear　it　breathing。　He　could　see　one　white　hand　swinging　back　and　forth…there　was　somet