sk.cujo-第47章

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。　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　a　hopeless；　despairing　voice　that　had　hollowed　out　Vic's　guts　with　fear。　'Daddy；　the　Monster　Words　don't　work！　Oh；　Daddy；　they　don't　work；　they　never　worked！　You　lied；　Daddy！　You　lied！'
He　ran　on；　but　it　was　as　if　he　were　on　a　treadmill。　And　he　had　looked　at　the　base　of　that　high　gray　wall　and　had　seen　a　heaped　drift　of　old　bones　and　grinning　skulls；　some　of　them　furred　with　green　moss。
That　was　when　he　woke　up。
What　had　the　monster　been；　anyway？
He　just　couldn't　remember。　Already　the　dream　seemed　like　a　scene　observed　through　the　wrong　end　of　a　telescope。　He　dropped　the　cigarette　into　the　john；　flushed　it；　and　ran　water　into　the　sink　as　well　to　swirl　the　ashes　down　the　drain。
He　urinated；　shut　off　the　light；　and　went　back　to　bed。　As　he　lay　down　he　glanced　at　the　telephone　and　felt　a　sudden　irrational　urge　to　call　home。　Irrational？　That　was　putting　it　mildly。　It　was　ten　minutes　of　two　in　the　morning。　He　would　not　only　wake　her　up；　he　would　probably　scare　the　living　hell　out　of　her　in　the　bargain。　You　didn't　interpret　dreams　literally；　everyone　knew　that。　When　both　your　marriage　and　your　business　seemed　in　danger　of　running　off　the　rails　at　the　same　time；　it　wasn't　really　surprising　that　your　mind　pulled　a　few　unsettling　head　games；　was　it？
Still；　just　to　bear　her　voice　and　know　she's　okay
He　turned　away　from　the　telephone；　punched　up　the　pillow；　and　resolutely　shut　his　eyes。
Call　her　in　the　morning；　if　that'll　make　you　feel　better。　Call　her　right　after　breakfast。
That　eased　his　mind；　and　very　shortly　he　drifted　off　to　sleep　again。　This　time　he　did　not　dream　…　or　if　he　did；　these　dreams　never　imprinted　themselves　on　his　conscious　mind。　And　when　the　wake…up　call　came　on　Tuesday；　he　had　forgotten　A　about　the　dream　of　the　beast　in　the　clearing。　He　had　only　the　vaguest　recollection　of　having　gotten　up　in　the　night　at　all。　Vic　did　not　call　home　that　day。
Charity　Camber　awoke　that　Tuesday　morning　on　the　dot　of　five　and　went　through　her　own　brief　period　of　disorientation　…yellow　wallpaper　instead　of　wood　walls；　colorful　green　print　curtains　instead　of　white　chintz；　a　narrow　single　bed　instead　of　the　double　that　had　begun　to　sag　in　the　middle。
Then　she　saw　where　she　was　…　Stratford；　Connecticut　…　and　felt　a　burst　of　pleased　anticipation。　She　would　have　the　whole　day　to　talk　to　her　sister；　to　hash　over　old　times；　to　find　out　what　she　had　been　doing　the　last　few　years。　And　Holly　had　talked　about　going　into　Bridgeport　to　do　some　shopping。
She　had　awakened　an　hour　and　a　half　before　her　usual　time；　probably　two　hours　or　more　before　things　began　to　stir　in　this　household。　But　a　person　never　slept　well　in　a　strange　bed　until　the　third　night　…　that　had　been　one　of　her　mother's　sayings；　and　it　was　a　true　one。
The　silence　began　to　give　up　its　Iittle　sounds　as　she　lay　awake　and　listening；　looking　at　the　thin　five…o'clock　light　that　fell　between　the　half…drawn　curtains　。。。　dawn's　early　fight；　always　so　white　and　clear　and　fine。　She　heard　the　creak　of　a　single　board。　A　bluejay　having　its　morning　tantrum。　The　day's　first　muter　train；　bound　for　Westport；　Greenwich；　and　New　York　City。
The　board　creaked　again。
And　again。
It　wasn't　just　the　house　settling。　It　was　footsteps。
Charity　sat　up　in　bed；　the　blanket　and　sheet　pooling　around　the　waist　of　her　sensible　pink　nightgown。　Now　the　steps　were　going　slowly　downstairs。　It　was　a　light　tread：　bare　feet　or　sock　feet。　It　was　Brett。　When　you　lived　with　people；　you　got　to　know　the　sound　of　their　walk。　It　was　one　of　those　mysterious　things　that　just　happen　over　a　course　of　years；　like　the　shape　of　a　leaf　sinking　into　a　rock。
She　pushed　the　covers　back；　got　up；　and　went　to　the　door。　Her　room　opened　on　the　upstairs　hall；　and　she　just　saw　the　top　of　Brett's　head　disappearing；　his　cowlick　sticking　up　for　a　moment　and　then　gone。
She　went　after　him。
When　Charity　reached　the　top　of　the　stairs；　Brett　was　just　disappearing　down　the　hallway　that　ran　the　width　of　the　house；　from　the　front　door　to　the　kitchen。　She　opened　her　mouth　to　call　him　。。。　and　then　shut　it　again。　She　was　intimidated　by　the　sleeping　house　that　wasn't　her　house。
Something　about　the　way　he　had　been　walking。。。　the　set　of　his　body　。。。　but　it　had　been　years　since　
She　descended　the　stairs　quickly　and　quietly　in　her　bare　feet。　She　followed　Brett　into　the　kitchen。　He　was　dressed　only　in　light　blue　pajama　bottoms；　their　white　cotton　drawstring　hanging　down　to　below　the　neat　fork　of　his　crotch。　Although　it　was　barely　midsummer　he　was　already　very　brown　…　he　was　naturally　dark；　like　his　father；　and　tanned　easily。
Standing　in　the　doorway　she　saw　him　in　profile；　that　same　fine；　clear　morning　light　pouring　over　his　body　as　he　hunted　along　the　line　of　cupboards　above　the　stove　and　the　counter　and　the　sink。　Her　heart　was　full　of　wonder　and　fear。　He's　beautiful；　she　thought。　Everything　that's　beautiful；　or　ever　was；　in　us；　is　in　him。　It　was　a　moment　she　never　forgot　…　she　saw　her　son　dad　only　in　his　pajama　bottoms　and　for　a　moment　dimly　prehended　the　mystery　of　his　boyhood；　so　soon　to　be　left　behind。　Her　mother's　eyes　loved　the　slim　curves　of　his　muscles；　the　line　of　his　buttocks；　the　clean　soles　of　his　feet。　He　seemed　。。。　utterly　perfect。
She　saw　it　clearly　because　Brett　wasn't　awake。　As　a　child　there　had　been　episodes　of　sleepwalking；　about　two　dozen　of　them　in　all；　between　the　ages　of　four　and　eight。　She　had　finally　gotten　worried　enough　…　scared　enough　…　to　consult　with　Dr。　Gresham　（without　Joe's　knowledge）。　She　wasn't　afraid　that　Brett　was　losing　his　mind　…anyone　who　was　around　him　could　see　he　was　bright　and　normal　…　but　she　was　afraid　that　he　might　hurt　himself　while　he　was　in　that
strange　state。　Dr。　Gresham　had　told　her　that　was　very　unlikely；　and　that　most　of　the　funny　ideas　people　had　about　somnambulism　came　from　cheap；　badly　researched　movies。
'We　only　know　a　Iittle　about　sleepwalking；'　he　had　told　her；　'but　we　do　know　that　it　is　more　mon　in　children　than　it　is　in　adults。　There's　a　constantly　growing；　constantly　maturing　interaction　between　the　mind　and　body；　Mrs。　Camber；　and　a　lot　of　people　who　have　done　research　in　this　field　believe　that　sleepwalking　may　be　a　sympton　of　a　temporary　and　not　terribly　significant　imbalance　between　the　two。'
'Like　growing　pains？'　she　had　asked　doubtfully。
'Very　much　like　that；'　Gresham　had　said　with　a　grin。　He　drew　a　bell　curve　on　his　office　pad；　suggesting　that　Brett's　somnambulism　would　reach　a　peak；　hold　for　a　while；　then　begin　to　taper　off。　Eventually　it　would　disappear。
She　had　gone　away　a　little　reassured　by　the　doctor's　conviction　that　Brett　would　not　go　sleepwalking　out　a　window　or　down　the　middle　of　a　highway；　but　without　being　much　enlightened。　A　week　later　she　had　brought　Brett　in。　He　had　been　just　a　month　or　two　past　his　sixth　birthday　then。　Gresham　had　given　him　a　plete　physical　and　had　pronounced　him　normal　in　every　way。　And　indeed；　Gresham　had　appeared　to　be　right。　The　last　of　what　Charity　thought　of　as　his　'nighwalks'　had　occurred　more　than　two　years　ago。
The　last；　that　was；　until　now。
Brett　opened　the　cupboards　one　by　one；　dosing　each　neatly　before　going　on　to　the　next；　disclosing　Holly's　casserole　dishes；　the　extra　elements　to　her　Jenn…Aire　range；　her