sk.cujo-第2部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


'No；　Daddy；'　Tad　said；　because　in　that　instant　his　father's　eyes　seemed　shadowed　and　far；　as　if　he　needed　to　be　convinced。　'No　monsters。'　Except　for　the　one　in　my　closet。
The　light　snapped　off。
'Good　night；　Tad。'　His　mother's　voice　trailed　back　to　him　lightly；　softly；　and　in　his　mind　he　cried　out；　Be　careful；　Mommy；　they　eat　the　ladies！　In　all　the　movies　they　catch　the　ladies　and　carry　them　off　and　eat　them！　Oh　please　oh　please　oh　please　
But　they　were　gone。
So　Tad　Trenton；　four　years　old；　lay　in　his　bed；　all　wires　and　stiff　Erector　Set　braces。　He　lay　with　the　covers　pulled　up　to　his　chin　and　one　arm　crushing　Teddy　against　his　chest；　and　there　was　Luke　Skywalker　on　one　wall；　there　was　a　chipmunk　standing　on　a　blender　on　another　wall；　grinning　cheerily　（IF　LIFE　HANDS　YOU　LEMONS；　MAKE　LEMONADE！　the　cheeky；　grinning　chipmunk　was　saying）；　there　was　the　whole　motley　Sesame　Street　crew　on　a　third：　Big　Bird；　Bert；　Ernie；　Oscar；　Grover。　Good　totems；　good　magic。　But　oh　the　wind　outside；　screaming　over　the　roof　and　skating　down　black　gutters！　He　would　sleep　no　more　this　night。
But　little　by　little　the　wires　unsnarled　themselves　and　stiff　Erector　Set　muscles　relaxed。　His　mind　began　to　drift。。。。
And　then　a　new　screaming；　this　one　closer　than　the　nightwind　outside；　brought　him　back　to　staring　wakefulness
The　hinges　on　the　closet　door。
Creeeeeeeeeeee
That　thin　sound；　so　high　that　perhaps　only　dogs　and　small　boys　awake　in　the　night　could　have　heard　it。　His　closet　door　swung　open　slowly　and　steadily；　a　dead　mouth　opening　on　darkness　inch　by　inch　and　foot　by　foot。
The　monster　was　in　that　darkness。　It　crouched　where　it　had　crouched　before。　It　grinned　at　him；　and　its　huge　shoulders　bulked　above　its　cocked　head；　and　its　eyes　glowed　amber；　alive　with　stupid　cunning。　I　told　you　they'd　go　away；　Tad；　it　whispered。　They　always　do；　in　the　end。　And　then　I　can　e　back。　I　like　to　e　back。　I　like　you；　Tad。　I'll　e　back　every　night　now；　I　think；　and　every　night　I'll　e　a　little　closer　to　your　bed　。。。　and　a　little　closer　。。。　until　one　night；　before　you　can　scream　for　them；　you'll　bear　something　growling；　something　growling　right　beside　you；　Tad；　it'll　be　me；　and　I'll　pounce；　and　then　I'll　eat　you　and　you'll　be　in　me。
Tad　stared　at　the　creature　in　his　closet　with　drugged；　horrified　fascination。　There　was　something　that　。。。　was　almost　familiar。　Something　he　almost　knew。　And　that　was　the　worst；　that　almost　knowing。　Because　
Because　I'm　crazy；　Tad。　I'm　here。　I've　been　here　all　along。　My　name　was　Frank　Dodd　once；　and　I　killed　the　ladies　and　maybe　I　ate　them；　too。　I've　been　here　all　along；　I　stick　around；　I　keep　my　ear　to　the　ground。　I'm　the　monster；　Tad；　the　old　monster；　and　I'll　have　you　soon；　Tad。　Feel　me　getting　closer　。。。　and　closer。。。。
Perhaps　the　thing　in　the　closet　spoke　to　him　in　its　own　hissing　breath；　or　perhaps　its　voice　was　the　wind's　voice。　Either　way；　neither　way；　it　didn't　matter。　He　listened　to　its　words；　drugged　with　terror；　near　fainting　…（but　oh　so　wide　awake）；　he　looked　upon　its　shadowed；　snarling　face；　which　he　almost　knew。　He　would　sleep　no　more　tonight；　perhaps　he　would　never　sleep　again。
But　sometime　later；　sometime　between　the　striking　of　half　past　midnight　and　the　hour　of　one；　perhaps　because　he　was　small；　Tad　drifted　away　again。　Thin　sleep　in　which　hulking；　furred　creatures　with　white　teeth　chased　him　deepened　into　dreamless　slumber。
The　wind　held　long　conversations　with　the　gutters。　A　rind　of　white　spring　moon　rose　in　the　sky。　Somewhere　far　away；　in　some　still　meadow　of　night　or　along　some　pine…edged　corridor　of　forest；　a　dog　barked　furiously　and　then　fell　silent。
And　in　Tad　Trenton's　closet；　something　with　amber　eyes　held　watch。
'Did　you　put　the　blankets　back？'　Donna　asked　her　husband　the　next　morning。　She　was　standing　at　the　stove；　cooking　bacon。　Tad　was　in　the　other　room；　watching　The　New　Zoo　Revue　and　eating　a　bowl　of　Twinkles。　Twinkles　was　a　Sharp　cereal；　and　the　Trentons　got　all　their　Sharp　cereals　free。
'Hmmm？'　Vic　asked。　He　was　buried　deep　in　the　sports　pages。　A　transplanted　New　Yorker；　he　had。　so　far　successfully　resisted　Red　Sox　fever。　But　he　was　masochistically　pleased　to　see　that　the　Mets　were　off　to　another　superlatively　cruddy　start。
'The　blankets。　In　Tad's　closet。　They　were　back　in　there。　The　chair　was　back　in　there；　too；　and　the　door　was　open　again。'　She　brought　the　bacon；　draining　on　a　paper　towel　and　still　sizzling；　to　the　table。　'Did　you　put　them　back　on　his　chair？'
'Not　me；'　Vic　said；　turning　a　page。　'It　smells　like　a　mothball　convention　back　there。'
'That's　funny。　He　must　have　put　them　back。'
He　put　the　paper　aside　and　looked　up　at　her。　'What　are　you　talking　about；　Donna？'
'You　remember　the　bad　dream　last　night
'Not　apt　to　forget。　I　thought　the　kid　was　dying。　Having　a　convulsion　or　something。'
She　nodded。　'He　thought　the　blankets　were　some　kind　of　…'　She　shrugged。
'Bogeyman；'　Vic　said；　grinning。
'I　guess　so。　And　you　gave　him　his　teddybear　and　put　those　blankets　in　the　back　of　the　closet。　But　they　were　back　on　the　chair　when　I　went　to　make　his　bed。'　She　laughed。　'I　looked　in；　and　for　just　a　second　there　I　thought　…'
'Now　I　know　where　he　gets　it；'　W　said；　picking　up　the　newspaper　again。　He　cocked　a　friendly　eye　at　her。　'Three　hot　dogs；　my　ass。'
Later；　after　Vic　had　shot　off　to　work；　Donna　asked　Tad　why　he　had　put　the　chair　back　in　the　closet　with　the　blankets　on　it　if　they　had　scared　him　in　the　night。
Tad　looked　up　at　her；　and　his　normally　animated；　lively　face　seemed　pale　and　watchful　…too　old。　His　Star　Wars　coloring　book　was　open　in　front　of　him。　He　had　been　doing　a　picture　from　the　interstellar　cantina；　using　his　green　Crayola　to　color　Greedo。
'I　didn't；'　he　said。
'But　Tad；　if　you　didn't；　and　Daddy　didn't；　and　I　didn't
'The　monster　did　it；'　Tad　said。　'The　monster　in　my　closet。'
He　bent　to　his　picture　again。
She　stood　looking　at　him；　troubled；　a　little　frightened。　He　was　a　bright　boy；　and　perhaps　too　imaginative。　This　was　not　such　good　news。　She　would　have　to　talk　to　Vic　about　it　tonight。　She　would　have　to　have　a　long　talk　with　him　about　it。
'Tad；　remember　what　your　father　said；'　she　told　him　now。　'There　aren't　any　such　things　as　monsters。'
'Not　in　the　daytime；　anyway；'　he　said；　and　smiled　at　her　so　openly；　so　beautifully；　that　she　was　charmed　out　of　her　fears。　She　ruffled　his　hair　and　kissed　his　cheek。
She　meant　to　talk　to　Vic；　and　then　Steve　Kemp　came　while　Tad　was　at　nursery　school；　and　she　forgot；　and　Tad　screamed　that　night　too；　screamed　that　it　was　in　his　closet；　the　monster；　the　monster！
The　closet　door　hung　ajar；　blankets　on　the　chair。　This　time　Vic　took　them　up　to　the　third　floor　and　stacked　them　in　the　closet　up　there。
'Locked　it　up；　Tadder；'　Vic　said；　kissing　his　son。　'You're　all　set　now。　Go　back　to　sleep　and　have　a　good　dream。'
But　Tad　did　not　sleep　for　a　long　time；　and　before　he　did　the　closet　door　swung　dear　of　its　latch　with　a　sly　little　snicking　sound；　the　dead　mouth　opened　on　the　dead　dark　…'　the　dead　dark　where　something　furry　and　sharp…toothed　and　…clawed　waited；　something　that　smelled　of　sour　blood　and　dark　doom。
Hello；　Tad；　it　whispered　in　its　rotting　voice；　and　the　moon　peered　in　Tad's　window　like　the　white　and　slitted　eye　of　a　dead　man。
The　oldest　living　person　in　Castle　Rock　that　late　spring　was　Evelyn　Chalmers；　known　as　Aunt　Evvie　by　the　town's　older　residents；　known　as　'that　old　loudmouth　bitch'　by　George　Meara；　who　had　to　deliver　her　mail　…'　which　mostly　consisted　of　catalogues　and　offers　from　the　Reader's　Digest　and　prayer　folders　from　the　Crusade　of　the　Eternal　Christ　…'　and　listen　to　her　endless　monologues。　'The　only　thing　that　old　loudmouth　bitch　is　any　good　at　is　telling　the　weather；'　George　had　been　known　to　allow　when　in　his　cups　and　in　the　pany　of　his　cronies　down　at　the　Mellow　Tiger。　It　was　one　stupid　name　for　a　bar；　but　since　it　was　the　only　one　Castle　Rock　could　boast；　it　looked　like　they　were　pretty　much　stuck　with　it。
There　was　general　agreement　with　George's　opinion。　As　the　oldest　resident　of　Castle　Rock；　Aunt　Evvie　had　held　the　Boston　Post　cane　for　the　last　two　years；　ever　since　Arnold　Heebert；　who　had　been　one　hundred　and　one　and　so　far　gone　in　senility　that　talking　to　him　held　all　the　intellectual　challenge　of　talking　to　an　empty　catfood　ca