sk.cujo-第15章

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g　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　the　still；　hot　night。　Aunt　Evvie　Chalmers　lived　close　by；　and　Tad's　shouts　of　terrified　glee　were　the　last　sounds　she　heard　as　she　died；　her　heart　gave　out；　one　of　its　paper…thin；　walls　breaching　suddenly　（and　almost　painlessly）　as　she　sat　in　her　kitchen　chair；　a　cup　of　coffee　by　one　hand　and　a　straight…eight　Herbert　Tareyton　by　the　other；　she　leaned　back　and　her　vision　darkened　and　somewhere　she　heard　a　child　crying；　and　for　a　moment　it　seemed　that　the　cries　were　joyful；　but　as　she　went　out；　suddenly　propelled　as　if　by　a　hard　but　not　unkind　push　from　behind；　it　seemed　to　her　that　the　child　was　screaming　in　fear；　in　agony；　then　she　was　gone；　and　her　niece　Abby　would　find　her　the　following　day；　her　coffee　as　cold　as　she　was；　her　cigarette　a　perfect　and　delicate　tube　of　ash；　her　lower　plate　protruding　from　her　wrinkled　mouth　like　a　slot　filled　with　teeth。
Just　before　Tad's　bedtime；　he　and　Vic　sat　on　the　back　stoop。　Vic　had　beer。　Tad　had　milk。
'Daddy？'
'What？'
'I　wish　you　didn't　have　to　go　away　next　week。'
'I'll　be　back。'
'Yeah；　but　…'
Tad　was　looking　down；　struggling　with　tears。　Vic　put　a　hand　on　his　neck。
'But　what；　big　guy？'
'Who's　gonna　say　the　words　that　keep　the　monster　out　of　the　closet？　Mommy　doesn't　know　them！　Only　you　know　them！'
Now　the　tears　spilled　over　and　ran　down　Tad's　face。
'Is　that　all？'　Vic　asked。
The　Monster　Words　（Vic　had　originally　dubbed　them　the　Monster　Catechism；　but　Tad　had　trouble　with　that　word；　so　it　had　been　shortened）　had　e　about　in　late　spring；　when　Tad　began　to　be　afflicted　by　bad　dreams　and　night　fears。　There　was　something　in　his　closet；　he　said；　sometimes　at　night　his　closet　door　would　swing　open　and　he　would　see　it　in　there；　something　with　yellow　eyes　that　wanted　to　cat　him　up。　Donna　had　thought　it　might　have　been　some　fallout　with　Maurice　Sendak's　book　Where　the　Wild　Things　Are。　Vic　had　wondered　aloud　to　Roger　（but　not　to　Donna）　if　maybe　Tad　had　picked　up　a　garbled　account　of　the　mass　murders　that　had　taken　place　in　Castle　Rock　and　had　decided　that　the　murderer　…　who　had　bee　a　kind　of　town　bogeyman　…　was　alive　and　well　in　his　closet。　Roger　said　he　supposed　it　was　possible；　with　kids；　anything　was　possible。
And　Donna　herself　had　begun　to　get　a　little　spooked　after　a　couple　of　weeks　of　this；　she　told　Vic　one　morning　in　a　kind　of　laughing；　nervous　way　that　things　in　Tad's　closet　sometimes　appeared　moved　around。　Well；　Tad　did　it；　Vic　had　responded。　You　don't　understand；　Donna　said。　He　doesn't　go　back　there　any　more；　Vic　。。。　never。　He's　scared　to。　And　she　had　added　that　sometimes　it　seemed　to　her　that　the　closet　actually　smelled　bad　after　Tad's　bouts　of　nightmare；　followed　by　waking　fear。　Like　an　animal　had　been　caged　up　in　there。　Disturbed；　Vic　had　gone　into　the　closet　and　sniffed。　In　his　mind　was　a　half…formed　idea　that　perhaps　Tad　was　sleepwalking；　perhaps　going　into　his　closet　and　urinating　in　there　as　a　part　of　some　odd　dream　cycle。　He　had　smelled　nothing　but　mothballs。　The　closet；　finished　wall　on　one　side　and　bare　lathing　on　the　other；　stretched　back　some　eight　feet。　It