sk.cujo-第68节

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on　to　be　dead；　and　it　simply　would　not　be。
It　would　not　be。
She　breathed。　She　breathed。　She　breathed　for　her　son。
She　was　still　doing　it　when　the　ambulance　pulled　into　the　driveway　twenty　minutes　later。　She　would　not　Iet　Vic　near　the　boy。　When　he　came　near；　she　bared　her　teeth　and　growled　soundlessly　at　him。
Stunned　with　grief　nearly　to　the　point　of　distraction；　deeply　sure　at　the　final　bedrock　level　of　his　consciousness　that　none　of　this　could　be　happening；　he　broke　into　Camber's　house　by　way　of　the　porch　door　at　which　Donna　had　stared　so　long　and　hard。　The　inner　door　beyond　it　had　not　been　locked。　He　used　the　telephone。
When　he　came　outside　again；　Donna　was　still　administering　mouth…to…mouth　resuscitation　to　their　dead　son。　He　started　toward　her　and　then　swerved　away。　He　went　to　the　Pinto　instead　and　opened　the　hatchback　again。　Heat　roared　out　at　him　like　an　invisible　Iion。　Had　they　existed　in　there　Monday　afternoon　and　all　day　Tuesday　and　until　noon　of　today？　It　was　impossible　to　believe　they　had。
Underneath　the　hatchback's　floor；　where　the　spare　tire　was；　he　found　an　old　blanket。　He　shook　it　out　and　put　it　over　Bannerman's　mutilated　body。　He　sat　down　on　the　grass　then；　and　stared　out　at　Town　Road　No。　3　and　the　dusty　pines　beyond。　His　mind　floated　serenely　away。
The　ambulance　driver　and　the　two　orderlies　loaded　Bannerman's　body　into　the　Castle　Rock　Rescue　Unit。　They　approached　Donna。　Donna　bared　her　teeth　at　them。　Her　parched　lips　formed　the　words　He's　alive！　Alive！　When　one　of　the　orderlies　tried　to　pull　her　gently　to　her　feet　and　lead　her　away；　she　bit　him。　Later　this　orderly　would　need　to　go　to　hospital　himself　for　anti…rabies　treatment。　The　other　orderly　came　to　help。　She　fought　them。
They　stood　away　warily。　Vic　still　sat　on　the　lawn；　his　chin　propped　in　his　hands；　looking　across　the　road。
The　Rescue　Unit　driver　brought　a　syringe。　There　was　a　struggle。　The　syringe　was　broken。　Tad　lay　on　the　grass；　still　dead。　His　patch　of　shade　was　a　little　bigger　now。
Two　more　police　cars　arrived。　Roscoe　Fisher　was　in　one　of　them。　When　the　ambulance　driver　told　him　that　George　Bannerman　was　dead；　Roscoe　began　to　cry。　Two　other　policemen　advanced　on　Donna。　There　was　another　struggle；　short　and　furious；　and　Donna　Trenton　was　finally　pulled　away　from　her　son　by　four　sweating；　straining　men。　She　nearly　broke　free　again　and　Roscoe　Fisher；　still　crying；　joined　them。　She　screamed　soundlessly；　whipping　her　head　from　side　to　side。　Another　syringe　was　produced；　and　she　was　injected　successfully　this　time。
A　stretcher　came　down　from　the　ambulance；　and　the　orderlies　wheeled　it　over　to　where　Tad　lay　on　the　grass。　Tad；　still　dead；　was　put　on　it。　A　sheet　was　pulled　up　over　his　head。　At　the　sight　of　this；　Donna　redoubled　her　struggles。　She　freed　one　hand　and　began　to　flail　about　wildly　with　it。　Then；　suddenly；　she　was　free。
'Donna；'　Vic　said。　He　got　to　his　feet。　'Honey；　it's　over。　Honey；　please。　Let　go；　let　go。'
She　did　not　go　for　the　stretcher　that　her　son　lay　on。　She　went　for　the　baseball　bat。　She　picked　it　up　and　began　to　bludgeon　the　dog　again。　The　flies　rose　in　a　shiny　green…black　cloud。　The　sound　of　the　ball　bat　making　contact　was　heavy　and　terrible；　a　butcher…shop　sound。　Cujo's　body　jumped　a　little　each　time　she　struck　it。
The　cops　began　to　move　forward。
'No；'　one　of　the　orderlies　said　quietly；　and　a　few　moments　later　Donna　simply　collapsed。　Brett　Camber's　bat　rolled　away　from　her　relaxing　hand。
The　ambulance　left　five　minutes　or　so　later；　siren　howling。　Vic　had　been　offered　a　shot　~'to　calm　your　nerves；　Mr。　Trenton'　…and　although　he　felt　utterly　tranquilized　already；　he　had　accepted　the　shot　to　be　polite。　He　picked　up　the　cellophane　the　orderly　had　stripped　from　the　syrette　and　examined　the　word　UPJOHN　printed　on　it　carefully。　'We　ran　an　advertising　campaign　for　these　guys　once；'　he　told　the　orderly。
'That　so？'　the　orderly　asked　cautiously。　He　was　a　fairly　young　man　and　he　felt　that　he　might　throw　up　sometime　soon。　He　had　never　seen　such　a　mess　in　his　life。
One　of　the　police　cars　was　standing　by　to　take　Vic　to　Northern　Cumberland　Hospital　in　Bridgton。
'Can　you　wait　a　minute？'　he　asked。
The　two　cops　nodded。　They　were　also　staring　at　Vic　Trenton　in　a　very　cautious　way；　as　if　whatever　he　had　might　be　catching。
He　opened　both　doors　of　the　Pinto。　He　had　to　tug　long　and　hard　at　Donna's；　the　dog　had　dented　it　in　a　way　he　wouldn't　have　believed。　Her　purse　was　in　there。　Her　shirt。　The　shirt　had　a　jagged　tear　in　it；　as　if　maybe　the　dog　had　taken　a　chomp　out　of　it。　There　was　some　empty　Slim　Jim　wrappers　on　the　dashboard　and　Tad's　Thermos　bottle；　smelling　of　sour　milk。　Tad's　Snoopy　lunchbox。　His　heart　gave　a　heavy；　horrid　wrench　at　the　sight　of　that；　and　he　wouldn't　allow　himself　to　think　of　what　that　meant　in　terms　of　the　future　…　if　there　was　any　future　after　this　terrible　hot　day。　He　found　one　of　Tad's　sneakers。
Tadder；　he　thought。　Oh　Tadder。
The　strength　went　out　of　his　legs　and　he　sat　down　heavily　on　the　passenger　scat；　looking　between　his　legs　at　the　strip　of　chrome　at　the　bottom　of　the　doorframe。　Why？　Why　had　something　like　this　been　allowed　to　happen？　How　could　so　many　events　have　conspired　together？
His　head　was　suddenly　throbbing　violently。　His　nose　closed　with　tears　and　his　sinuses　began　to　pound。　He　snorted　the　tears　back　and　passed　a　hand　over　his　face。　It　occurred　to　him　that；　counting　Tad；　Cujo　had　been　responsible　for　the　deaths　of　at　least　three　people；　more　than　that　if　the　Cambers　were　discovered　to　be　among　his　victims。　Did　the　cop　he　had　covered　with　the　blanket　have　a　wife　and　children？　Probably。
If　I'd　gotten　here　even　an　hour　earlier。　If　I　hadn't　gone　to　sleep　
His　mind　cried：　I　was　so　sure　it　was　Kemp！　So　sure！
If　I'd　gotten　here　just　fifteen　minutes　earlier；　would　that　have　been　enough？　If　I　hadn't　talked　to　Roger　so　long；　would　Tad　be　alive　now？　When　did　he　die？　Did　it　really　happen　at　all？　And　how　am　I　supposed　to　deal　with　it　for　the　rest　of　my　life　without　going　mad？　What's　going　to　happen　to　Donna？
Another　police　car　pulled　up。　One　of　the　cops　got　out　of　it　and　conferred　with　one　of　the　cops　waiting　for　Vic。　The　latter　stepped　forward　and　said　quietly。　'I　think　we　ought　to　go；　Mr。。　Trenton。　Quentin　here　says　there　are　reporters　on　the　way。　You　don't　want　to　talk　to　any　reporters　just　now。'
'No；'　Vic　agreed；　and　started　to　get　up。　As　he　did；　he　saw　a　bit　of　yellow　at　the　very　bottom　of　his　field　of　vision。　A　bit　of　paper　poking　out　from　under　Tad's　seat。　He　pulled　it　out　and　saw　it　was　the　Monster　Words　he　had　written　to　case　Tad's　mind　at　bedtime。　The　sheet　was　crumpled　and　ripped　in　two　places　and　badly　stained　with　sweat；　along　the　deep　creases　it　was　nearly　transparent。
Monsters；　stay　out　of　this　room！
You　have　no　business　here。
No　monsters　under　Tad's　bed！
You　can't　fit　under　there。
No　monsters　hiding　in　Tad's　closet！
It's　too　small　in　there。
No　monsters　outside　of　Tad's　window！
You　can't　hold　on　out　there。
No　vampires；　no　werewolves；　no　things　that　bite。
You　have　no　business　here。
Nothing　will　touch　Tad；　or　hurt　Tad；　all　this　ni
He　could　read　no　more。　He　crumpled　the　sheet　of　paper　up　and　threw　it　at　the　dead　dog's　body。　The　paper　was　a　sentimental　lie；　it's　sentiments　as　inconstant　as　the　color　in　that　stupid　runny…dyed　cereal。　It　was　all　a　lie。　The　world　was　full　of　monsters；　and　they　were　all　allowed　to　bite　the　innocent　and　the　unwary。
He　let　himself　be　led　to　the　police　car。　They　drove　him　away；　as　George　Bannerman　and　Tad　Trenton　and　Donna　Trenton　had　been　driven　away　before　him。　After　a　while；　a　veterinarian　came　in　a　panel　truck。　She　looked　at　the　dead　dog；　then　donned　long　rubber　gloves　and　brought　out　a　circular　bone　saw。　The　cops；　realizing　what　she　was　going　to　do；　turned　away。
The　vet　cut　off　the　Saint　Bernard's　head　and　put　it　in　a　large　white　plastic　garbage　bag。　Later　that　day　it　was　forwarded　to　the　State　missioner　of　Animals；　where　the　brain　would　be　tested　for　rabies。
So　Cujo　was　gone；　too。
It　was　quarter　to　four　that　afternoon　when　Holly　called　Charity　to　the　telephone。　Holly　looked　mildly　worried。　'It　sounds　like　somebody　official；'　she　said。　About　an　hour　earlier；　Brett　had　given　in　to　Jim　Junior's　endless　supplications　and　had　acpanied　his　young　cousin　down　to　the　playground　at　the　Stratford　munity　Center。
Since　then　the　house　had　been　silent　except　for　the　women's　voices　as　they　talked　over　old　times　…　the　good　old　times；　Charity　amended　slightly。　The　time　Daddy　had　fallen　off　the　haytruck　and　gone　into　a　great　big　cowflop　in　Back　Field　（but　no　mention　of　the　times　he　had　beaten　them　until　they　couldn't　sit　down　in　payment　for　some　real　or　imagined　transgression）；　the　time　they　had　snuck　into　the　old　Met　Theater　in　Lisbon　Falls　to　see　Elvis　in　Love　Me　Tender　（but　not　the　time　Momma　had　had　her　credit　cut　off　at　the　Red　&　White　and　had　backed　out　of　the　grocery　in　tears；　leaving　a　full　basket　of　provisions　behind　and　everybody　watching）；　how　Red　Timmins　from　up　the　road　was　always　trying　to　kiss　Holly　on　their　walk　back　from　school　（but　not　how　Red　had　lost　an　arm　when　his　tractor　turned　turtle　on　him　in　August　of　1962）。　The　two　of　them　had　discovered　it　was　all　right　to　open　the　closets　。。。　as　long　as　you　didn't　poke　too　far　back　in　them。　Because　things　might　sti