sk.cujo-第41节

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She　spat　the　last　of　the　cucumber　into　her　cupped　hand　and　felt　her　stomach　roll；　wanting　to　send　up　what　she　had　already　eaten。　She　set　her　will　upon　keeping　it　down；　and　because　she　could　be　very　determined　when　she　wanted　to；　she　did　keep　it　down。　They　had　left　the　dog　some　food　and　had　gone　off　in　the　car。　You　didn't　have　to　be　Sherlock　Holmes　to　deduce　that。　The　rest　of　it　was　nothing　but　a　bad　case　of　the　willies。
But　that　image　of　death　kept　trying　to　creep　back　in。　The　dominant　image　was　the　bloody　sawdust；　sawdust　which　had　gone　the　dark　color　of　natural…casing　franks。
Stop。　Think　about　the　mail；　if　you　have　to　think　about　anything。　Think　about　tomorrow。　Think　about　being　safe。
There　was　a　soft；　scuffling；　scratching　noise　on　her　side　of　the　car。
She　didn't　want　to　look　but　was　helpless　to　stop　herself。　Her　head　began　to　turn　as　if　forced　by　invisible　yet　powerful　hands。　She　could　hear　the　low　creak　of　the　tendons　in　her　neck。　Cujo　was　there；　looking　in　at　her。　His　face　was　less　than　six　inches　from　her　own。　Only　the　Saf…T…Glas　of　the　driver's　side　window　separated　them。　Those　red；　bleary　eyes　stared　into　hers。　The　dog's　muzzle　looked　as　if　it　had　been　badly　lathered　with　shaving　cream　that　had　been　left　to　dry。
Cujo　was　grinning　at　her。
She　felt　a　scream　building　in　her　chest；　ing　up　in　her　throat　like　iron；　because　she　could　feel　the　dog　thinking　at　her；　telling　her　I'm　going　to　get　you；　babe。　I'm　going　to　get　you；　kiddo。　Think　about　the　mailman　all　you　want　to。　I'll　kill　him　too　if　I　have　to；　the　way　I　killed　all　three　of　the　Cambers；　the　way　I'm　going　to　kill　you　and　your　son。　You　might　as　well　get　used　to　the　idea。　You　might　as　well　
The　scream；　ing　up　her　throat。　It　was　a　live　thing　struggling　to　get　out；　and　everything　was　ing　on　her　at　once：　Tad　having　to　pee；　she　had　unrolled　his　window　four　inches　and　held　him　up　so　he　could　do　it　out　the　window；　watching　all　the　time　for　the　dog；　and　for　a　long　time　he　hadn't　been　able　to　go　and　her　arms　had　begun　to　ache；　then　the　dream；　then　the　images　of　death；　and　now　this　
The　dog　was　grinning　in　at　her；　he　was　grinning　in　at　her；　Cujo　was　his　name；　and　his　bite　was　death。
The　scream　had　to　e
（but　Tad's）　or　she　would　go　mad。
（sleeping）
She　locked　her　jaws　against　the　scream　the　way　she　had　locked　her　throat　against　the　urge　to　vomit　a　few　moments　ago。　She　struggled　with　it；　she　fought　it。　And　at　last　her　heart　began　to　slow　down　and　she　knew　she　had　it　licked。
She　smiled　at　the　dog　and　raised　both　of　her　middle　fingers　from　closed　fists。　She　held　them　against　the　glass；　which　was　now　slightly　fogged　on　the　outside　with　Cujo's　breath。　'Go　get　fucked；'　she　whispered。
After　what　seemed　an　endless　time；　the　dog　put　its　forepaws　down　and　went　back　into　the　barn。　Her　mind　turned　down　the　same　dark　track　again
（what's　it　eating　in　there？）
and　then　she　slammed　a　door　shut　somewhere　in　her　mind。
But　there　would　be　no　more　sleep；　not　for　a　long　time；　and　it　was　so　long　until　dawn。　She　sat　upright　behind　the　wheel；　trembling；　telling　herself　over　and　over　again　that　it　was　ridiculous；　really　ridiculous；　to　feel　that　the　dog　was　some　kind　of　a　hideous　revenant　which　had　escaped　from　Tad's　closet；　or　that　it　knew　more　about　the　situation　than　she　did。
Vic　jerked　awake　in　total　darkness；　rapid　breath　as　dry　as　salt　in　his　throat。　His　heart　was　triphammering　in　his　chest；　and　he　was　totally　disoriented　…　so　disoriented　that　for　a　moment　he　thought　he　was　falling；　and　reached　out　to　clutch　the　bed。
He　closed　his　eyes　for　a　moment；　forcibly　holding　himself　together；　making　himself　coalesce。
（you　are　in）
He　opened　his　eyes　and　saw　a　window；　a　bedstand；　a　lamp。
（the　Ritz…CarIton　Hotel　in　Boston　Massachusetts）
He　relaxed。　That　reference　point　given；　everything　came　together　with　a　reassuring　click；　making　him　wonder　how　he　could　have　been　so　lost　and　totally　apart；　even　momentarily。　It　was　being　in　a　strange　place；　he　supposed。　That；　and　the　nightmare。
Nightmare！　Jesus；　it　had　been　a　beaut。　He　couldn't　remember　having　such　a　bad　one　since　the　failing　dreams　that　had　plagued　him　off　and　on　during　early　puberty。　He　reached　for　the　Travel…Ette　clock　on　the　nightstand；　gripped　it　in　both　hands；　and　brought　it　close　to　his　face。　It　was　twenty　minutes　of　two。　Roger　was　snoring　lightly　in　the　other　bed；　and　now　that　his　eyes　had　adjusted　to　the　dark　he　could　see　him；　sleeping　flat　on　his　back。　He　had　kicked　the　sheet　over　the　end　of　the　bed。　He　was　wearing　an　absurd　pair　of　pajamas　covered　with　small　yellow　college　pennants。
Vic　swung　his　legs　out　of　bed；　went　quietly　into　the　bathroom；　and　closed　the　door。　Roger's　cigarettes　were　on　the　washstand　and　he　helped　himself　to　one。　He　needed　it。　He　sat　on　the　toilet　and　smoked；　tapping　ashes　into　the　sink。
An　anxiety　dream；　Donna　would　have　said；　and　God　knew　he　had　enough　to　be　anxious　about。　Yet　he　had　gone　to　bed　around　ten　thirty　in　better　spirits　than　he　had　been　in　for　the　last　week。　After　arriving　back　at　the　hotel；　he　and　Roger　had　spent　half　an　hour　in　the　Ritz…CarIton's　bar；　kicking　the　apology　idea　around；　and　then；　from　the　bowels　of　the　huge　old　wallet　he　hauled　around；　Roger　produced　the　home　number　of　Yancey　Harrington。　Harrington　was　the　actor　who　played　the　Sharp　Cereal　Professor。
'Might　as　well　see　if　he'll　do　it　before　we　go　any　further；'　Roger　said。　He　had　picked　up　the　phone　and　dialed　Harrington；　who　lived　in　Westport；　Connecticut。　Vic　hadn't　known　just　what　to　expect。　If　pressed　for　his　best　guess；　he　would　have　said　that　probably　Harrington　would　have　to　be　stroked　a　little　…　he　had　been　just　miserable　over　the　Zingers　affair　and　what　he　considered　it　had　done　to　his　image。
Both　of　them　had　been　in　for　a　happy　surprise。　Harrington　had　agreed　instantly。　He　recognized　the　realities　of　the　situation　and　knew　the　Professor　was　pretty　well　finished　（'Poor　old　guy's　a　gone　goose；'　Harrington　had　said　glumly）。　But　he　thought　the　final　ad　might　he　just　the　thing　to　get　the　pany　over　the　affair。　Put　it　back　on　the　rails；　so　to　speak。
'Bullshit；'　Roger　said；　grinning；　after　he　had　hung　up。　'He　just　likes　the　idea　of　one　final　curtain　call。　Not　many　actors　in　advertising　get　a　chance　like　that。　He'd　buy　his　own　plane　ticket　to　Boston　if　we　asked　him　to。'
So　Vic　had　gone　to　bed　happy　and　had　fallen　asleep　almost　instantly。　Then；　the　dream。　He　was　standing　in　front　of　Tad's　closet　door　in　the　dream　and　telling　Tad　that　there　was　nothing　in　there；　nothing　at　all；　I'll　show　you　once　and　for　all；　he　told　Tad。　He　opened　the　closet　door　and　saw　that　Tad's　clothes　and　toys　were　gone。　There　was　a　forest　growing　in　Tad's　closet　…　old　pines　and　spruces；　ancient　hardwoods。　The　closet　floor　was　covered　with　fragrant　needles　and　leafy　mulch。　He　had　scraped　at　it；　wanting　to　see　if　the　floor　of　painted　boards　was　beneath。　It　wasn't；　his　foot　scraped　up　rich　black　forest　earth　instead。
He　stepped　into　the　closet　and　the　door　closed　behind　him。　That　was　all　right。　There　was　enough　light　to　see　by。　He
found　a　trail　and　began　to　hike　along　it。　All　at　once　he　realized　there　was　a　pack　on　his　back　and　a　canteen　slung　over　one　shoulder。　He　could　hear　the　mysterious　sound　of　the　wind；　soughing　through　the　firs；　and　faint　birdsong。　Seven　years　ago；　long　before　Ad　Worx；　they　had　all　gone　hiking　on　part　of　the　Appalachian　Trail　during　one　of　their　vacations；　and　that　land　had　looked　a　good　deal　like　the　geography　of　his　dream。　They　had　done　it　only　that　once；　sticking　to　the　seacoast　after　that。　Vic；　Donna；　and　Roger　had　had　a　wonderful　time；　but　Althea　Breakstone　loathed　hiking　and　had　e　down　with　a　good；　itchy　case　of　poison　oak　on　top　of　that。
The　first　part　of　the　dream　had　been　rather　pleasant。　The　thought　that　all　this　had　been　right　inside　Tad's　closet　was；　in　its　own　strange　way；　wonderful。　Then　he　had　e　into　a　clearing　and　he　had　seen　。。。　but　it　was　already　beginning　to　tatter；　the　way　dreams　do　when　they　are　exposed　to　waking　thought。
The　other　side　of　the　clearing　had　been　a　sheer　gray　wall　rising　maybe　a　thousand　feet　into　the　sky。　About　twenty　feet　up　there　was　a　cave　…　no；　not　really　deep　enough　to　be　a　cave。　It　was　more　of　a　niche；　just　a　depression　in　the　rock　that　happened　to　have　a　flat　floor。　Donna　and　Tad　were　cowering　inside。　Cowering　from　some　sort　of　monster　that　was　trying　to　reach　up；　trying　to　reach　up　and　then　reach　in。　Get　them。　Eat　them。
It　had　been　like　that　scene　in　the　original　King　Kong　after　the　great　ape　has　shaken　Fay　Wray's　would…be　rescuers　from　the　log　and　is　trying　to　get　the　lone　survivor。　But　the　guy　has　gotten　into　a　hole；　and　Kong　isn't　quite　able　to　get　him。
The　monster　in　his　dream　hadn't　been　a　giant　ape；　though。　It　had　been　a　。。。　what？　Dragon？　No；　nothing　like　that。　Not　a　dragon；　not　a　dinosaur；　not　a　troll。　He　couldn't　get　it。　Whatever　it　was；　it　couldn't　quite　get　in　and　get　Donna　and　Tad；　so　it　was　merely　waiting　outside　their　bolthole；　like　a　cat　waiting　with　dreadful　patience　for　a　mouse。
He　began　to　run；　but　no　matter　how　fast　he　went；　he　never　got　any　closer　to　the　other　side　of　the　clearing。　He　could　hear
Donna　screaming　for　help；　but　when　he　called　back　his　words　seemed　to　die　two　feet　out　of　his　mouth。　It　was　Tad　who　had　finally　spotted　him。
'They　don't　work！'　Tad　had　screamed　in