sk.cujo-第39部分

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essories；　customizing　equipment。　A　package　for　Joe　Camber　from　J。　C。　Whitney　was　the　most　natural　thing　in　the　world。　But　if　he　was　here；　he　surely　would　have　gotten　his　mail　by　now。
Nobody　home；　she　thought　dispiritedly；　and　felt　a　weary　sort　of　anger　at　Vic。　He's　always　home；　sure　he　is；　the　guy　would　put　down　roots　in　his　garage　if　he　could。　sure　he　would；　except　when　I　need　him。
'Well；　let's　go　see；　anyhow；'　she　said；　opening　her　door。
'I　can't　get　my　seatbelt　unhooked；'　Tad　said；　scratching　futilely　at　the　buckle　release。
'Okay；　don't　have　a　hemorrhage；　Tad。　I'll　e　around　and　let　you　out。'
She　got　out；　slammed　her　door；　and　took　two　steps　toward　the　front　of　the　car；　intending　to　cross　in　front　of　the　hood　to　the　passenger　side　and　let　Tad　out　of　his　harness。　It　would　give　Camber　a　chance　to　e　out　and　see　who　his。　pany　was；　if　he　was　here。　She　somehow　didn't　relish　poking　her　head　in　on　him　unannounced。　It　was　probably　foolish；　but　since　that　ugly　and　frightening　scene　with　Steve　Kemp　in　her　kitchen；　she　had　bee　more　aware　of　what　it　was　to　be　an　unprotected　woman　than　she　had　since　she　was　sixteen　and　her　mother　and　father　had　let　her　begin　dating。
The　quiet　struck　her　at　once。　It　was　hot　and　so　quiet　that　it　was　somehow　unnerving。　There　were　sounds；　of　course；　but　even　after　several　years　in　Castle　Rock；　the　most　she　could　say　about　her　ears　was　that　they　had　slowly　adapted　from　'city　ears'　to　'town　ears'。　They　were　by　no　means　'country　cars'　。　。　。　and　this　was　the　real　country。
She　heard　birdsong；　and　the　harsher　music　of　a　crow　somewhere　in　the　long　field　which　stretched　down　the　flank　of　the　hill　they　had　just　climbed。　There　was　the　sigh　of　a　light　breeze；　and　the　oaks　that　lined　the　driveway　made　moving　patterns　of　shadow　around　her　feet。　But　she　could　not　hear　a　single　car　engine；　not　even　the　faraway　burp　of　a　tractor　or　a　baling　machine。　City　ears　and　town　ears　are　most　closely　attuned　to　man…made　sounds；　those　that　nature　makes　tend　to　fall　outside　the　tightly　drawn　net　of　selective　perception。　A　total　lack　of　such　sounds　makes　for　unease。
I'd　bear　him　if　be　was　working　in　the　barn；　Donna　thought。　But　the　only　sounds　that　registered　were　her　own　crunching　footfalls　on　the　crushed　gravel　of　the　driveway　and　a　low　humming　sound；　barely　audible　…　with　no　real　conscious　thought　at　all；　her　mind　placed　it　as　the　hum　of　a　power　transformer　on　one　of　the　poles　back　by　the　road。
She　reached　the　front　of　the　hood　and　started　to　cross　in　front　of　the　Pinto；　and　that　was　when　she　heard　a　new　sound。　A　low；　thick　growling。
She　stopped；　her　head　ing　up　at　once；　trying　to　pinpoint　the　source　of　that　sound。　For　a　moment　she　couldn't　and　she　was　suddenly　terrified；　not　by　the　sound　itself　but　by　its　seeming　directionlessness。　It　was　nowhere。　It　was　everywhere。　And　then　some　internal　radar　…　survival　equipment；　perhaps　…turned　on　all　the　way；　and　she　understood　that　the　growling　was　ing　from　inside　the　garage。
'Mommy？'　Tad　poked　his　head　out　his　open　window　as　far　as　the　seatbelt　harness　would　allow。　'I　can't　get　this　damn　old　…~
'Shhhh！'
（growling）
She　took　a　tentative　step　backward；　her　right　hand　resting　lightly　on　the　Pinto's　low　hood；　her　nerves　on　tripwires　as　thin　as　filaments；　not　panicked　but　in　a　state　of　heightened　alertness；　thinking：　It　didn't　growl　before。
Cujo　came　out　of　Joe　Camber's　garage。　Donna　stared　at　him；　feeling　her　breath　e　to　a　painless　and　yet　plete　stop　in　her　throat。　It　was　the　same　dog。　It　was　Cujo。　But　
But　oh　my
（oh　my　God）
The　dog's　eyes　settled　on　hers。　They　were　red　and　rheumy。　They　were　leaking　some　viscous　substance。　The　dog　seemed　to　be　weeping　gummy　tears。　His　tawny　coat　was　caked　and　matted　with　mud　and　
Blood。　is　that
（it　is　it's　blood　Christ　Christ）
She　couldn't　seem　to　move。　No　breath。　Dead　low　tide　in　her　lungs。　She　had　heard　about　being　paralyzed　with　fear　but　had　never　realized　it　could　happen　with　such　totality。　There　was　no　contact　between　her　brain　and　her　legs。　That　twisted　gray　filament　running　down　the　core　of　her　spine　had　shut　off　the　signals。　Her　hands　were　stupid　blocks　of　flesh　south　of　her　wrists　with　no　feeling　in　them。　Her　urine　went。　She　was　unaware　of　it　save　for　some　vague　sensation　of　distant　warmth。　…
And　the　dog　seemed　to　know。　His　terrible；　thoughtless　eyes　never　left　Donna　Trenton's　wide　blue　ones。　He　paced　forward　slowly；　almost　languidly。　Now　he　was　standing　on　the　barnboards　at　the　mouth　of　the　garage。　Now　he　was　on　the　crushed　gravel　twenty…five　feet　away。　He　never　stopped　growling。　It　was　a　low；　purring　sound；　soothing　in　its　menace。　Foam　dropped　from　Cujo's　snout。　And　she　couldn't　move；　not　at　all。
Then　Tad　saw　the　dog；　recognized　the　blood　which　streaked　its　fur；　and　shrieked　…　a　high　piercing　sound　that　made　Cujo　shift　his　eyes。　And　that　was　what　seemed　to　free　her。
She　turned　in　a　great　shambling　drunk's　pivot；　slamming　her　lower　leg　against　the　Pinto's　fender　and　sending　a　steely　bolt　of　pain　up　to　her　hip。　She　ran　back　around　the　hood　of　the　car。　Cujo's　growl　rose　to　a　shattering　roar　of　rage　and　he　charged　at　her。　Her　feet　almost　skidded　out　from　under　her　in　the　loose　gravel；　and　she　was　only　able　to　recover　by　slamming　her　arm　down　on　the　Pinto's　hood。　She　hit　her　crazybone　and　uttered　a　thin　shriek　of　pain。
The　car　door　was　shut。　She　had　shut　it　herself；　automatically；　after　getting　out。　The　chromed　button　below　the　handle　suddenly　seemed　dazzlingly　bright；　winking　arrows　of　sun　into　her　eyes。　I'll　never　be　able　to　get　that　door　open　and　get　in　and　get　it　shut；　she　thought；　and　the　choking
realization　that　she　might　be　about　to　die　rose　up　in　her。　Not　enough　time。　No　way。
She　raked　the　door　open。　She　could　hear　her　breath　sobbing　in　and　out　of　her　throat。　Tad　screamed　again；　a　shrill；　breaking　sound。
She　sat　down；　almost　falling　into　the　driver's　seat。　She　got　a　glimpse　of　Cujo　ing　at　her；　hindquarters　tensing　down　for　the　leap　that　would　bring　all　two　hundred　pounds　of　him　right　into　her　lap。
She　yanked　the　Pinto's　door　shut　with　both　hands；　reaching　over　the　steering　wheel　with　her　right　arm；　honking　the　horn　with　her　shoulder。　She　was　just　in　time。　A　split　second　after　the　door　slammed　closed　there　was　a　heavy；　solid　thud；　as　if　someone　had　swung　a　chunk　of　stovewood　against　the　side　of　the　car。　The　dog's　barking　roars　of　rage　were　cut　off　cleanly；　and　there　was　silence。
Knocked　himself　out；　she　thought　hysterically。　Thank　God；　thank　God　for　that　
And　a　moment　later　Cujo's　foam…covered；　twisted　face　popped　up　outside　her　window；　only　inches　away；　like　a　horror…movie　monster　that　has　decided　to　give　the　audience　the　ultimate　thrill　by　ing　right　out　of　the　screen。　She　could　see　his　huge；　heavy　teeth。　And　again　there　was　that　swooning；　terrible　feeling　that　the　dog　was　looking　at　her；　not　at　a　woman　who　just　happened　to　be　trapped　in　her　car　with　her　little　boy；　but　at　Donna　Trenton；　as　if　he　had　just　been　hanging　around；　waiting　for　her　to　show　up。
Cujo　began　to　bark　again；　the　sound　incredibly　loud　even　through　the　Saf…T…Glas。　And　suddenly　it　occurred　to　her　that　if　she　had　not　automatically　rolled　her　window　up　as　she　brought　the　Pinto　to　a　stop　（something　her　father　had　insisted　on：　stop　the　car；　roll　up　the　windows；　set　the　brake；　take　the　keys；　lock　the　car）；　she　would　now　be　minus　her　throat。　Her　blood　would　be　on　the　wheel；　the　dash；　the　windshield。　That　one　action；　so　automatic　she　could　not　even　really　remember　performing　it。
She　screamed。
The　dog's　terrible　face　dropped　from　view。
She　remembered　Tad　and　looked　around。　When　she　saw　him；　a　new　fear　invaded　her；　drilling　like　a　hot　needle。　He　had　not　fainted；　but　he　was　not　really　conscious；　either。　He　had　fallen　back　against　the　seat；　his　eyes　dazed　and　blank。　His　face　was　white。　His　lips　had　gone　bluish　at　the　corners。
'Tad！'　She　snapped　her　fingers　under　his　nose；　and　he　blinked　sluggishly　at　the　dry　sound。　'Tad！'
'Mommy；'　he　said　thickly。　'How　did　the　monster　in　my　closet　get　out？　Is　it　a　dream？　Is　it　my　nap？'
'It's　going　to　be　all　right；'　she　said；　chilled　by　what　he　had　said　about　his　closet　nonetheless。　'It's　…'
She　saw　the　dog's　tail　and　the　top　of　its　broad　back　over　the　hood　of　the　Pinto。　It　was　going　around　to　Tad's　side　of　the　car　
And　Tad's　windo