sk.cujo-第66部分

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floors　can　never　quite　make　their　final　stilling　impact；　Holly　would　recognize　that　she　might　have　escaped　a　similar　marriage；　a　similar　life；　by　the　thinnest　of　margins。
She　hadn't　told　because　Holly　had　entrenched　herself　in　her　upper…middle…class　suburban　life　like　a　watchful　soldier　in　a　foxhole。　She　hadn't　told　because　horrified　anger　could　not　solve　her　problems。　She　hadn't　told　because　no　one　likes　to　look　like　a　freak　in　a　sideshow；　living　through　the　days　and　weeks　and　months　and　years　with　an　unpleasant；　unmunicative；　sometimes　frightening　man。　Charity　had　discovered　there　were　things　you　didn't　want　to　tell。　Shame　wasn't　the　reason。　Sometimes　it　was　just　better　…　kinder　…　to　keep　up　a　front。
Mostly　she　hadn't　told　because　these　things　were　her　problems。　What　happened　to　Brett　was　her　problem。。。　and　over　the　last　two　days　she　had　e　more　and　more　to　beheve　that　what　he　did　with　his　life　would　depend　less　on　her　and　Joe　in　the　final　reckoning　than　it　would　on　Brett　himself。
There　would　he　no　divorce。　She　would　continue　to　fight　her　unceasing　guerilla　war　with　Joe　for　the　boy's　soul。。。　for　whatever　good　that　would　do。　In　her　worry　over　Brett's　wanting　to　emulate　his　father；　she　had　perhaps　forgotten　…　or　overlooked　…the　fact　that　there　es　a　time　when　children　stand　in　judgment　and　their　parents　~　mother　as　well　as　father　…must　stand　in　the　dock。　Brett　had　noticed　Holly's　ostentatious　display　of　credit　cards。　Charity　could　only　hope　Brett　would　notice　that　his　father　ate　with　his　hat　on　。。。　among　other　things。
The　dawn　was　brightening。　She　took　her　robe　from　the　back　of　the　door　and　put　it　on。　She　wanted　a　shower　but　would　not　take　one　until　the　others　in　the　house　were　stirring。　The　strangers。　That　was　what　they　were。　Even　Holly's　face　was　strange　to　her　now；　a　face　that　bore　only　a　faint　resemblance　to　the　snapshots　in　the　family　albums　she　had　brought　with　them　。。。　even　Holly　herself　had　looked　at　those　photographs　with　a　faint　air　of　puzzlement。
They　would　go　back　to　Castle　Rock；　back　to　the　house　at　the　end　of　Town　Road　No。　3；　back　to　Joe。　She　would　pick　up　the　threads　of　her　life；　and　things　would　continue。　That　would　be　best。
She　reminded　herself　to　call　Alva　just　before　seven　o'clock；　when　he　would　be　at　breakfast。
It　was　just　past　6　A。M。　and　the　day　was　ing　bright　when　Tad　had　his　convulsion。
He　had　awakened　from　an　apparently　sound　sleep　around　5：　15　and　had　roused　Donna　from　a　low　doze；　plaining　of　being　hungry　and　thirsty。　As　if　he　had　pressed　a　button　deep　down　inside　her；　Donna　had　bee　aware　for　the　first　time　that　she　was　hungry　too。　The　thirst　she　had　been　aware　of　…　it　was　more　or　less　constant　…　but　she　could　not　remember　actually　thinking　of　food　since　sometime　yesterday　morning。　Now　she　was　suddenly　ravenous。
She　soothed　Tad　as　best　she　could；　telling　him　hollow　things　that　no　longer　meant　anything　real　to　her　one　way　or　another　…　that　people　would　show　up　soon；　the　bad　dog　would　be　taken　away；　they　would　be　rescued。
The　real　thing　was　the　thought　of　food。
Breakfasts；　for　instance；　take　breakfasts：　two　eggs　fried　in　butter；　over　easy　if　you　don't　mind；　waiter。　French　toast。　Big　glasses　of　fresh…squeezed　orange　juice　so　cold　that　moisture　beaded　the　glass。　Canadian　bacon。　Home　fries。　Bran　flakes　in　cream　with　a　sprinkle　of　blueberries　on　top　…　bloobies；　her　father　had　always　called　them；　another　one　of　those　ic　irrationalities　that　had　irritated　her　mother　out　of　all　proportion。
Her　stomach　made　a　loud　rumbling　sound；　and　Tad　laughed。　The　sound　of　his　laughter　startled　her　and　pleased　her　with　its　unexpectedness。　It　was　like　finding　a　rose　growing　in　a　rubbish　heap；　and　she　smiled　back。　The　smile　hurt　her　lips。
'Heard　that；　huh？'
'I　think　you　must　be　hungry　too。'
'Well；　I　wouldn't　turn　down　an　Egg　McMuffin　if　someone　threw　it　my　way。'
Tad　groaned；　and　that　made　them　both　laugh　again。　In　the　yard；　Cujo　had　pricked　up　his　ears。　He　growled　at　the　sound　of　their　laughter。　For　a　moment　he　made　as　if　to　get　to　his　feet；　perhaps　to　charge　the　car　again；　then　he　settled　wearily　back　on　his　haunches；　head　drooping。
Donna　felt　that　irrational　lift　in　her　spirits　that　almost　always　es　with　daybreak。　Surely　it　would　be　over　soon；　surely　they　had　passed　the　worst。　All　the　luck　had　been　against　them；　but　sooner　or　later　even　the　worst　luck　changes。
Tad　seemed　almost　his　old　self。　Too　pale；　badly　used；　terribly　tired　in　spite　of　his　sleep；　but　still　indubitably　the　Tadder。　She　hugged　him；　and　he　hugged　her　back。　The　pain　in　her　belly　had　subsided　somewhat；　although　the　scrapes　and　gouges　there　had　a　puffy；　inflamed　look。　Her　leg　was　worse；　but　she　found　she　was　able　to　flex　it；　although　it　hurt　to　do　so　and　the　bleeding　started　again。　She　would　have　a　scar。
The　two　of　them　talked　for　the　next　forty　minutes　or　so。　Donna；　hunting　for　a　way　to　keep　Tad　alert　and　to　also　pass　the　time　for　both　of　them；　suggested　Twenty　Questions。　Tad　agreed　eagerly。　He　had　never　been　able　to　get　enough　of　the　game；　the　only　problem　had　always　been　getting　one　or　the　other　of　his　parents　to　play　it　with　him。　They　were　on　their　fourth　game　when　the　convulsion　struck。
Donna　had　guessed　some　five　questions　ago　that　the　subject　of　the　interrogation　was　Fred　Redding；　one　of　Tad's　daycamp　chums；　but　had　been　spinning　things　out。'
'Does　he　have　red　hair？'　she　asked。
'No；　he's　。　。　。　he's　。。。　he's　。　。　。'
Suddenly　Tad　was　struggling　to　catch　his　breath。　It　came　and　went　in　gasping；　tearing　whoops　that　caused　fear　to　leap　up　her　throat　in　a　sour；　coppery…tasting　rush。
'Tad？　Tad？'
Tad　gasped。　He　clawed　at　his　throat；　leaving　red　lines　there。　His　eyes　rolled　up；　showing　only　the　bottoms　of　the　irises　and　the　silvery　whites。
'Tad！'
She　grabbed　him；　shook　him。　His　Adam's　apple　went　up　and　down　rapidly；　like　a　mechanical　bear　on　a　stick。　His　hands　began　to　flop　aimlessly　about；　and　then　they　rose　to　his　throat　again　and　tore　at　it。　He　began　to　make　animal　choking　sounds。
For　a　moment　Donna　entirely　forgot　where　she　was。　She　grabbed　for　the　doorhandle；　pulled　it　up；　and　shoved　the　door　of　the　Pinto　open；　as　if　this　had　happened　while　she　was　in　the　supermarket　parking　lot　and　there　was　help　close　by。　Cujo　was　on　his　feet　in　an　instant。　He　leaped　at　the　car　before　the　door　was　more　than　half　open；　perhaps　saving　her　from　being　savaged　at　that　instant。　He　struck　the　opening　door；　fell　back；　and　then　came　again；　snarling　thickly。　Loose　excrement　poured　onto　the　crushed　gravel　of　the　driveway。
Screaming；　she　yanked　the　door　closed。　Cujo　leaped　at　the　side　of　the　car　again；　bashing　the　dent　in　a　little　deeper。　He　reeled　back；　then　sprang　at　the　window；　thudding　off　it　with　a　dull　cracking　sound。　The　silver　crack　running　through　the　glass　suddenly　developed　half　a　dozen　tributaries。　He　leaped　at　it　again　and　the　Saf…T…Glas　starred　inward；　still　holding　together　but　sagging　now。　The　outside　world　was　suddenly　a　milky　blur。
If　he　es　again。。。
Instead；　Cujo　withdrew；　waiting　to　see　what　she　would　do　next。
She　turned　to　her　son。
Tad's　entire　body　was　jerking；　as　if　with　epilepsy。　His　back　was　bowed。　His　buttocks　came　out　of　the　seat；　thumped　back；　rose　again；　thumped　back。　His　face　was　taking　on　a　bluish　color。　The　veins　in　his　temples　stood　out　prominently。　She　had　been　a　candy…striper　for　three　years；　her　last　two　in　high　school　and　the　summer　following　her　freshman　year　at　college；　and　she　knew　what　was　happening　here。　He　had　not　swallowed　his　tongue；　outside　of　the　more　purple　mystery　novels；　that　was　impossible。　But　his　tongue　had　slid　down　his　throat　and　was　now　blocking　his　windpipe。　He　was　choking　to　death　in　front　of　her　eyes。
She　grabbed　his　chin　in　her　left　hand　and　yanked　his　mouth　open。　Panic　made　her　rough；　and　she　heard　the　tendons　in　his　jaw　creak。　Her　probing　fingers　found　the　tip　of　his　tongue　incredibly　far　back；　almost　to　where　his　wisdom　teeth　would　be　if　they　every　grew　out。　She　tried　to　grip　it　and　couldn't；　it　was　as　wet　and　slippery　as　a　baby　eel。　She　tried　to　tweeze　it　between　her　thumb　and　forefinger；　only　faintly　aware　of　the　lunatic　race　of　her　heart。　I　think　I'm　losing　him；　she　thought。　Oh　my　dear　God；　I　think　I'm　losing　my　son。
Now　his　teeth　suddenly　clashed　down；　drawing　blood　from　her　probing　fingers　and　fr