sk.cujo-第13节

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do　the　work。　Once　that　letter　was　mailed；　a　change　of　air　might　be　in　order。　But　not　too　big　a　change；　at　least　not　for　a　while。　He　felt　he　owed　it　to　himself　to　stay　in　the　area　long　enough　to　make　at　least　one　more　visit　to　Little　Miss　Highpockets　。。。　when　it　could　be　ascertained　that　Handsome　Hubby　was　definitely　not　around；　of　course。　Steve　had　played　tennis　with　the　guy　and　he　was　no　ball　of　fire　…　thin；　heavy　glasses；　spaghetti　backhand　…　but　you　never　knew　when　a　Handsome　Hubby　was　going　to　go　off　his　gourd　and　do　something　antisocial。　A　good　many　Handsome　Hubbies　kept　guns　around　the　house。　So　he　would　want　to　check　out　the　scene　carefully　before　popping　in。　He　would　allow　himself　the　one　single　visit　and　then　close　this　show　entirely。　He　would　maybe　go　to　Ohio　for　a　while。　Or　Pennsylvania。　Or　Taos；　New　Mexico。　But　like　a　practical　joker　who　had　stuffed　a　load　into　someone's　cigarette；　he　wanted　to　stick　around　（at　a　prudent　distance；　of　course）　and　watch　it　blow　up。
The　driver　of　the　pickup　and　his　wife　were　peering　into　the　shop　to　see　if　he　was　there。　Steve　strolled　out；　hands　in　the　pockets　of　his　jeans；　smiling。　The　woman　smiled　back　immediately。　'HI；　folks；　can　I　help　you？'　he　asked；　and　thought　that　he　would　mail　the　letters　as　soon　as　he　could　get　rid　of　them。
That　evening；　as　the　sun　went　down　red　and　round　and　hot　in　the　west；　Vic　Trenton；　his　shirt　tied　around　his　waist　by　the　arms；　was　looking　into　the　engine　partment　of　his　wife's　Pinto。　Donna　was　standing　beside　him；　looking　young　and　fresh　in　a　pair　of　white　shorts　and　a　red…checked　sleeveless　blouse。　Her　feet　were　bare。　Tad；　dressed　only　in　his　bathing　suit；　was　driving　his　trike　madly　up　and　down　the　driveway；　playing　some　sort　of　mind　game　that　apparently　had　Ponch　and　John　from　CHiPS　pitted　against　Darth　Vader。
'Drink　your　iced　tea　before　it　melts；'　Donna　told　Vic。
'Uh…huh。'　The　glass　was　on　the　side　of　the　engine　partment。　Vic　had　a　couple　of　swallows；　put　it　back　without　looking；　and　it　tumbled　off　…　into　his　wife's　hand。
'Hey；'　he　said。　'Nice　catch。'
She　smiled。　'I　just　know　you　when　your　mind's　somewhere　else；　that's　all。　Look。　Didn't　spill　a　drop。'
They　smiled　into　each　other's　eyes　for　a　moment　…　a　good　moment；　Vic　thought。　Maybe　it　was　just　his　imagination；　or　wishful　thinking；　but　lately　it　seemed　there　were　more　of　the　good　small　moments。　Less　of　the　sharp　words。　Fewer　silences　which　were　cold；　or　…maybe　this　was　worse　~　just　indifferent。　He　didn't　know　what　the　cause　was；　but　he　was　grateful。
'Strictly　Triple…A　farm　club；'　he　said。　'You　got　a　ways　to　go　before　you　make　the　bigs；　kid。'
'So　what's　wrong　with　my　car；　coach？'
He　had　the　air　cleaner　off；　it　was　sitting　in　the　driveway。　'Never　saw　a　Frisbee　like　that　before；'　Tad　had　said　matter…of…factly　a　few　moments　ago；　swerving　his　trike　around　it。　Vic　leaned　back　in　and　poked　aimlessly　at　the　carburetor　with　the　head　of　his　screwdriver。
'It's　in　the　carb。　I　think　the　needle　valve's　sticking。'
'That's　bad？'
'Not　too　bad；'　he　said；　'but　it　can　stop　you　cold　if　it　decides　to　stick　shut。　The　needle　valve　controls　the　flow　of　gas　into　the　carb；　and　without　gas　you　don't　go。　It's　like　a　national　law；　babe。'
'Daddy；　will　you　push　me　on　the　swing？'
'Yeah；　in　a　minute。'
'Good！　I'll　be　in　the　back！'
Tad　started　round　the　house　toward　the　swing…and…gym　set　Vic　had　built　last　summer；　while　lubricating　himself　wed　with　gin　and　tonics；　working　from　a　set　of　plans；　doing　it　after　supper　on　week　nights　and　on　weekends　with　the　voices　of　the　Boston　Red　Sox　announcers　blaring　from　the　transistor　radio　beside　him。　Tad；　then　three；　sat　solemnly　on　the　cellar　bulkhead　or　on　the　back　steps；　chin　cupped　in　his　hands；　fetching　things　sometimes；　mostly　watching　silently。　Last　summer。　A　good　summer；　not　as　beastly　hot　as　this　one。　It　had　seemed　then　that　Donna　had　finally　adjusted　and　was　seeing　that　Maine；　Castle　Rock；　Ad　Worx　…　those　things　could　be　good　for　all　of　them。
Then　the　mystifying　bad　patch；　the　worst　of　it　being　that　nagging；　almost　psychic　feeling　that　things　were　even　more　wrong　than　he　wanted　to　think　about。　Things　in　the　house　began　to　seem　subtly　out　of　place；　as　if　unfamiliar　hands　had　been　moving　them　around。　He　had　gotten　the　crazy　idea　…　was　it　crazy？　…　that　Donna　was　changing　the　sheets　too　often。　They　were　always　clean；　and　one　night　that　old　fairy…tale　question　had　popped　into　his　mind；　echoing　unpleasantly：　Who's　been　sleeping　in　my　bed？
Now　things　had　loosened　up；　it　seemed。　If　not　for　the　crazy　Razberry　Zingers　business　and　the　rotten　trip　hanging　over　his　head；　he　would　feel　that　this　could　be　a　pretty　good　summer　too。　It　might　even　rum　out　that　way。　You　won；　sometimes。　Not　all　hopes　were　vain。　He　believed　that；　although　his　belief　had　never　been　seriously　tested。
'Tad！'　Donna　yelled；　bringing　the　boy　to　a　screeching　halt。　'Put　your　trike　in　the　garage。'
'Mom…mee！'
'Now；　please；　monsieur。'
'Monsewer；'　Tad　said；　and　laughed　into　his　hands。　'You　didn't　put　your　car　away；　Mom。'
'Daddy　is　working　on　my　car。'
'Yeah；　but…'
'Mind　your　mom；　Tadder；'　Vic　said；　picking　up　the　air　cleaner。　'I'll　be　around　shortly。'
Tad　mounted　his　trike　and　drove　it　into　the　garage；　acpanying　himself　with　a　loud；　ululating　ambulance　wail。
'Why　are　you　putting　it　back　on？'　Donna　asked。　'Aren't　you　going　to　fix　it？'
'It's　a　precision　job；'　Vic　said。　'I　don't　have　the　tools。　Even　if　I　did；　I'd　probably　make　it　worse　instead　of　better。'
'Damn；'　she　said　morosely；　and　kicked　a　tire。　'These　things　never　happen　until　after　the　warranty　runs　out；　do　they？'　The　Pinto　had　just　over　20；000　miles　on　it；　and　was　still　six　months　from　being　theirs；　free　and　dear。
'That's　like　a　national　law　too；'　Vic　said。　He　put　the　air　cleaner　back　on　its　post　and　tightened　the　butterfly　nut。
'I　guess　I　can　run　it　over　to　South　Paris　while　Tad's　in　his　daycamp。　I'll　have　to　get　a　loaner；　though；　with　you　being　gone。　Will　it　get　me　to　South　Paris；　Vic？'
'Sure。　But　you　don't　have　to　do　that。　Take　it　out　to　Joe　Camber's　place。　That's　only　seven　miles；　and　he　does　good　work。　Remember　when　that　wheel　bearing　went　on　the　jag？　He　took　it　out　with　a　chainfall　made　out　of　old　lengths　of　telephone　pole　and　charged　ten　bucks。　Man；　if　I'd　gone　to　that　place　in　Portland；　they　would　have　mounted　my　checkbook　like　a　moosehead。'
'That　guy　made　me　nervous；'　Donna　said。　'Aside　from　the　fact　that　he　was　about　two　and　a　half　sheets　to　the　wind；　I　mean。'
'How　did　he　make　you　nervous？'
'Busy　eyes。'
Vic　laughed。　'Honey；　with　you；　there's　a　lot　to　be　busy　about。'
'Thank　you；'　she　said；　'A　woman　doesn't　necessarily　mind　being　looked　at。　It's　being　mentally　undressed　that　makes　you　nervous。'　She　paused；　strangely；　he　thought；　looking　away　at　the　grim　red　light　in　the　west。　Then　she　looked　back　at　him。　'Some　men　give　you　the　feeling　that　there's　a　little　movie　called　The　Rape　of　the　Sabine　Women　going　on　in　their　heads　all　the　time　and　you　just　got　the　。。。　the　starring　role。'
He　had　that　curious；　unpleasant　feeling　that　she　was　talking　about　several　things　at　once　…　again。　But　he　didn't　want　to　get　into　that　tonight；　not　when　he　was　finally　crawling　out　from　under　a　shitheap　of　a　month。
'Babe；　he's　probably　pletely　harmless。　He's　got　a　wife；　a　kid　…~
'Yes；　probably　he　is。'　But　she　crossed　her　arms　over　her　breasts　and　cupped　her　elbows　in　her　palms；　a　characteristic　gesture　of　nervousness　with　her。
'Look；'　he　said。　'I'll　run　your　Pinto　up　there　this　Saturday　and　leave　it　if　I　have　to；　okay？　More　likely　he'll　be　able　to　get　right　to　it。　I'll　have　a　couple　of　beers　with　him　and　pat　his　dog。　You　remember　that　Saint　Bernard？'
Donna　grinned。　'I　even　remember　his　name。　He　practically　knocked　Tad　over　licking　him。　You　remember？'
Vic　nodded。　'The　rest　of　the　afternoon　Tad　goes　around　after　him　saying　〃Cooojo　。。。　heere；　Cooojo。〃'
They　laughed　together。
'I　feel　so　damn　stupid　sometimes；'　Donna　said。　'If　I　could　use　a　standard　shift；　I　could　just　run　the　jag　while　you're　gone。'
'You're　just　as　well　off。　The　jag's　eccentric。　You　gotta　talk　to　it。'　He　slammed　the　hood　of　the　Pinto　back　down。
'Ooooh；　you　DUMMY！'　she　moaned。　'Your　iced　tea　glass　was　in　there！'
And　he　looked　so　ically　surprised　that　she　went　off　into　gales　of　laughter。　After　a　minute　he　joined　her。　Finally　it　got　so　bad　that　they　had　to　hang　on　to　each　other　like　a　couple　of　drunks。　Tad　came　back　around　the　house　to　see　what　was　going　on；　his　eyes　round。　At　last；　convinced　that　they　were　mostly　all　right　in　spite　of　the　nutty　way　they　were　acting；　he　joined　them。　This　was　about　the　same　time　that　Steve　Kemp　mailed　his　letter　less　than　two　miles　away。
Later；　as　dusk　settled　down　and　the　heat　slacked　off　a　little　and　the　first　fireflies　started　to　stitch　seams　in　the　air　across　the　back　yard；　Vic　pushed　his　son　on　the　swing。
'Higher；　Daddy！　Higher！'
'If　you　go　any　highter；　you're　gonna　loop　the　loop；　kid。'
'Gimme　under；　then；　Dad！　Gimme　under！'
Vic　gave　Tad　a　huge　push；　propelling　the　swing　toward　a　sky　where　the　first　stars　were　just　beginning　to　appear；　and　ran　all　the　way　under　the　swing。　Tad　screamed　joyfully；　his　head　tilted　back；　his　hair　blowing。
'That　was　good；　Daddy！　Gimme　under　again！'
Vic　gave　his　son　under　again；　from　the　front　this　time；　and　Tad　went　soaring　into　t