sk.petsematary-第19节

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at　was　knocked　over。　He　had　done　that　when　the　vision　of　Pascow　approached；　near　the　end　of　what　he　could　remember　of　the　dream。　Louis　righted　it　absently　and　walked　over　to　the　deadfall。
　　He　didn't　like　it。　The　memory　of　all　these　weather…whitened　branches　and　dead　trees　turning　into　a　pile　of　bones　still　had　the　power　to　chill。　He　forced　himself　to　reach　out　and　touch　one。　Balanced　precariously　on　the　jackstraw　pile；　it　rolled　and　fell；　bouncing　down　the　side　of　the　heap。　Louis　jumped　back　a　step　before　it　could　touch　his　shoe。
　　He　walked　along　the　deadfall；　first　to　the　left；　then　to　the　right。　On　both　sides　the　underbrush　closed　in　so　thickly　as　to　be　impenetrable。　Nor　was　it　the　kind　of　brush　you'd　try　to　push　your　way　through…not　if　you　were　smart；　Louis　thought。　There　were　lush　masses　of　poison　ivy　growing　close　to　the　ground　（all　his　life　Louis　had　heard　people　boast　that　they　were　immune　to　the　stuff；　but　he　knew　that　almost　no　one　really　was）；　and　farther　in　were　some　of　the　biggest；　most　wicked…looking　thorns　he　had　ever　seen。
　　Louis　strolled　back　to　the　rough　center　of　the　deadfall。　He　looked　at　it；　hands　stuck　in　the　back　pockets　of　his　jeans。
　　You're　not　going　to　try　to　climb　that；　are　you？
　　Not　me；　boss。　Why　would　I　want　to　do　a　stupid　thing　like　that？
　　Great。　Had　me　worried　for　just　a　minute　there；　Lou。　Looks　like　a　good　way　to　land　in　your　own　infirmary　with　a　broken　ankle；　doesn't　it？
　　Sure　does！　Also；　it's　getting　dark。
　　Sure　that　he　was　all　together　and　in　total　agreement　with　himself；　Louis　began　to　climb　the　deadfall。
　　He　was　halfway　up　when　he　felt　it　shift　under　his　feet　with　a　peculiar　creaking　sound。
　　Roll　dem　bones；　Doc。
　　When　the　pile　shifted　again；　Louis　began　to　clamber　back　down。　The　tail　of　his　shirt　had　pulled　out　of　his　pants。
　　He　reached　solid　ground　without　incident　and　dusted　crumbled　bits　of　bark　off　his　hands。　He　walked　back　to　the　head　of　the　path　which　would　return　him　to　his　house…to　his　children　who　would　want　a　story　before　bed；　to　Church；　who　was　enjoying　his　last　day　as　a　card…carrying　tomcat　and　lady…killer；　to　tea　in　the　kitchen　with　his　wife　after　the　kids　were　down。
　　He　surveyed　the　clearing　again　before　leaving；　struck　by　its　green　silence。　Tendrils　of　ground　fog　had　appeared　from　nowhere　and　were　beginning；　to　wind　around　the　markers。　Those　concentric　circles。　。　。　as　if；　all　unknowing；　the　childish　hands　of　North　Ludlow's　generations　had　built　a　kind　of　scale…model　Stonehenge。
　　But；　Louis；　is　this　all？
　　Although　he　had　gotten　only　the　barest　glimpse　over　the　top　of　the　deadfall　before　the　shifting　sensation　had　made　him　nervous；　he　could　have　sworn　there　was　a　path　beyond；　leading　deeper　into　the　woods。
　　No　business　of　yours；　Louis。　You've　got　to　let　this　go。
　　Okay；　boss。
　　Louis　turned　and　headed　home。
　　He　stayed　up　that　night　an　hour　after　Rachel　went　to　bed；　reading　a　stack　of　medical　journals　he　had　already　been　through；　refusing　to　admit　that　the　thought　of　going　to　bed…going　to　sleep
　　…made　him　nervous。　He　had　never　had　an　episode　of　somnambulism　before；　and　there　was　no　way　to　be　sure　it　was　an　isolated　incident。　。　。　until　it　did　or　didn't　happen　again。
　　He　heard　Rachel　get　out　of　bed；　and　then　she　called　down　softly；　〃Lou？　Hon？　You　ing　up？〃
　　〃Just　was；〃　he　said；　turning　out　the　lamp　over　his　study　desk　and　getting　up。
　　It　took　a　good　deal　longer　than　seven　minutes　to　shut　the　machine　down　that　night。　Listening　to　Rachel　draw　the　long；　calm　breaths　of　deep　sleep　beside　him；　the　apparition　of　Victor　Pascow　seemed　less　dreamlike。　He　would　close　his　eyes　and　see　the　door　crashing　open　and　there　he　was；　Our　Special　Guest　Star；　Victor　Pascow；　standing　there　in　his　jogging　shorts；　pallid　under　his　summer　tan；　his　collarbone　poking　up。
　　He　would　slide　down　toward　sleep；　think　about　how　it　would　be　to　e　fully；　coldly　awake　in　the　Pet　Sematary；　to　see　those　roughly　concentric　circles　litten　by　moonlight；　to　have　to　walk　back；　awake；　along　the　path　through　the　woods。　He　would　think　these　things　and　then　snap　fully　awake　again。
　　It　was　sometime　after　midnight　when　sleep　finally　crept　up　on　his　blind　side　and　bagged　him。　There　were　no　dreams。　He　woke　up　promptly　at　seven…thirty；　to　the　sound　of　cold　autumn　rain　beating　against　the　window。　He　threw　the　sheets　back　with　some　apprehension。　The　ground　sheet　on　his　bed　was　flawless。　No　purist　would　describe　his　feet；　with　their　rings　of　heel　calluses；　that　way；　but　they　were　at　least　clean。
　　Louis　caught　himself　whistling　in　the　shower。
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　　Missy　Dandridge　kept　Gage　while　Rachel　ran　Winston　Churchill　to　the　vet's　office。　That　night　Ellie　stayed　awake　until　after　eleven；　plaining　querulously　that　she　couldn't　sleep　without　Church　and　calling　for　glass　after　glass　of　water。　Finally　Louis　refused　to　let　her　have　any　more　on　the　grounds　that　she　would　wet　the　bed。　This　caused　a　crying　tantrum　of　such　ferocity　that　Rachel　and　Louis　stared　at　each　other　blankly；　eyebrows　raised。
　　〃She's　scared　for　Church；〃　Rachel　said。　〃Let　her　work　it　out；　Lou。〃
　　〃She　can't　keep　it　up　at　that　pitch　for　long；〃　Louis　said。　〃I　hope。〃
　　He　was　right。　Ellie's　hoarse；　angry　cries　became　hitches　and　hiccups　and　moans。　Finally　there　was　silence。　When　Louis　went　up　to　check　on　her；　he　found　she　was　sleeping　on　the　floor　with　her　arms　wrapped　tightly　around　the　cat　bed　that　Church　hardly　even　deigned　to　sleep　in。
　　He　removed　it　from　her　arms；　put　her　back　in　bed；　brushed　her　hair　back　from　her　sweaty　brow　gently；　and　kissed　her；　On　impulse　he　went　into　the　small　room　that　served　as　Rachel's　office；　wrote　a　quick　note　in　large　block　letters　on　a　sheet　of　paper…　I　WILL　BE　BACK　TOMORROW；　LOVE；　CHURCH…and　pinned　it　to　the　cushion　on　the　bottom　of　the　cat　bed。　Then　he　went　into　his　bedroom；　looking　for　Rachel。　Rachel　was　there。　They　made　love　and　fell　asleep　in　each　other's　arms。
　　Church　returned　home　on　the　Friday　of　Louis's　first　full　week　of　work；　Ellie　made　much　of　him；　used　part　of　her　allowance　to　buy　him　a　box　of　cat　treats；　and　nearly　slapped　Gage　once　for　trying　to　touch　him。　This　made　Cage　cry　in　a　way　mere　parental　discipline　could　never　have　done。　Receiving　a　rebuke　from　Ellie　was　like　receiving　a　rebuke　from　Cod。
　　Looking　at　Church　made　Louis　feel　sad。　It　was　ridiculous；　but　that　didn't　change　the　emotion。　There　was　no　sign　of　Church's　former　feistiness。　No　more　did　he　walk　like　a　gunslinger；　now　his　walk　was　the　slow；　careful　walk　of　the　convalescent。　He　allowed　Ellie　to　hand…feed　him。　He　showed　no　sign　of　wanting　to　go　outside；　not　even　to　the　garage。　He　had　changed。　Perhaps　it　was　ultimately　for　the　better　that　he　had　changed。
　　Neither　Rachel　nor　Ellie　seemed　to　notice。
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　　Indian　summer　came　and　went。　Brazen　color　came　into　the　trees；　rioted　briefly；　and　then　faded。　After　one　cold；　driving　rain　in　mid…October；　the　leaves　started　to　fall。　Ellie　began　to　arrive　home　laden　with　Halloween　decorations　she　had　made　at　school　and　entertained　Gage　with　the　story　of　the　Headless　Horseman。　Gage　spent　that　evening　babbling　happily　about　somebody　named　Itchybod　Brain。　Rachel　got　giggling　and　couldn't　stop。　It　was　a　good　time　for　them；　that　early　autumn。
　　Louis's　work　at　the　university　had　settled　into　a　demanding　but　pleasant　routine。　He　saw　patients；　he　attended　meetings　of　the　Council　of　Colleges；　he　wrote　the　obligatory　letters　to　the　student　newspaper；　advising　the　university's　co…ed　population　of　the　confidentiality　of　the　infirmary's　treatment　for　VD　and　exhorting　the　student　population　to　get　flu　boosters；　as　the　A…type　was　apt　to　be　prevalent　again　that　winter。　He　sat　on　panels。　He　chaired　panels。　During　the　second　week　in　October；　he　went　to　the　New　England　Conference　on　College　and　University　Medicine　in　Providence　and　presented　a　paper　on　the　legal　ramifications　of　student　treatment。　Victor　Pascow　was　mentioned　in　his　paper　under　the　fictitious　name　of　〃Henry　Montez。〃　The　paper　was　well　received。　He　began　working　up　the　infirmary　budget　for　the　next　academic　year。
　　His　evenings　fell　into　a　routine：　kids　after　supper；　a　beer　or　two　with　Jud　Crandall　later。　Sometimes　Rachel　came　over　with　him　if　Missy　was　available　to　sit　for　an　hour；　and　sometimes　Norma　joined　them；　but　mostly　it　was　just　Louis　and　Jud。　Louis　found　the　old　man　as　fortable　as　an　old　slipper；　and　he　would　talk　about　Ludlow　history　going　back　three　hundred　years　almost　as　though　he　had　lived　all　of　it。　He　talked　but　never　rambled。　He　never　bored　Louis；　although　he　had　seen　Rachel　yawning　under　her　hand　on　more　than　one　occasion。
　　He　would　cross　the　road　to　his　house　again　before　ten　on　most　evenings；　and；　like　as　not；　he　and　Rachel　would　make　love。　Never　since　the　first　year　of　their　marriage　had　they　made　love　so　often；　and　never　so　successfully　and　pleasurably。　Rachel　said　she　believed　it　was　something　in　the　artesian　well　water；　Louis　opted　for　the　Maine　air。
　　The　nasty　death　of　Victor　Pascow　on　the　first　day　of　the　fall　semester　began　to　fade　in　the　memory　of　the　student　body　and　in　Louis's　own；　Pascow's　family　no　doubt　still　grieved。　Louis　had　spoken　to　the　tearful；　mercifully　faceless　voice　of　Pascow's　father　on　the　telephone；　the　father　ha