sk.cujo-第78章

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face　had　smoothed　out。　Her　eyes　were　blank　。。。　but　was　it　shock　behind　that　blankness　or　the　dreamy　awakening　of　possibility？
If　she　had　seen　Charity　Camber's　face　when　she　had　checked　the　numbers　on　her　winning　lottery　ticket；　she　might　have　known。
'Charity？'
'It　was　the　dog；'　Charity　said。　'It　was　Cujo。'
'The　dog？'　At　first　she　was　bewildered；　unable　to　see　any　possible　connection　between　the　death　of　Charity's　husband　and　the　Camber　family　dog。　Then　she　realized。　The　implications　came　in　terms　of　Red　Timmins's　horribly　mangled　left　arm；　and　she　said；　in　a　higher；　shriller　tone；　'The　dog？'
Before　Charity　could　reply　…　if　she　had　meant　to　…　there　were　cheery　voices　in　the　back　yard：　Jim　Junior's　high；　piping　one　and　then　Brett's；　lower　and　amused；　answering。　And　now　Charity's　face　changed。　It　became　stricken。　It　was　a　face　that　Holly　remembered　and　hated　well；　an　expression　that　made　all　faces　the　same　…　an　expression　she　had　felt　often　enough　on　her　own　face　in　those　old　days。
'The　boy；'　Charity　said。　'Brett。　Holly　。。。　how　am　I　going　to　tell　Brett　his　father　is　dead？'
Holly　had　no　answer　for　her。　She　could　only　stare　helplessly　at　her　sister　and　wish　neither　of　them　had　e。
RABID　DOG　KILLS　4　IN　BIZARRE　THREE…DAY　REIGN　OF　TERROR；　the　headline　on　that　evening's　edition　of　the　Portland　Evening　Express　blared。　The　subhead　read：　Lone　Survivor　at　Northern　Cumberland　Hospital　in　Guarded　Condition。　The　headline　on　the　following　day's　Press…Herald　read：　FATHER　TELLS　OF　WIFE'S　DOOMED　STRUGGLE　TO　SAVE　SON。　That　evening　the　story　had　been　relegated　to　the　bottom　of　page　one：　MRS。　TRENTON　RESPONDING　TO　RABIES　TREATMENT；　DOCTOR　SAYS。　And　in　a　sidebar：　DOG　HAD　NO　SHOTS：　LOCAL　VET。　Three　days　after　it　had　ended；　the　story　was　inside；　on　page　four：　STATE　HEALTH　AGENCY　BLAMES
RABID　FOX　OR　RACCOON　FOR　DOG'S　CASTLE　ROCK　RAMPAGE。
A　final　story　that　week　carried　the　news　that　Victor　Trenton　had　no　intention　of　suing　the　surviving　members　of　the　Camber　family；　who　were　said　to　be　in　'deep　shock'。　This　intelligence　was　scant；　but　provided　a　pretext　upon　which　the　entire　tale　could　be　rehashed。　A　week　later；　the　front　page　of　the　Sunday　paper　carried　a　feature　story　on　what　had　happened。　A　week　after　that；　a　national　tabloid　offered　a　fervid　synopsis　of　what　had　happened；　headed：　TRAGIC　BATTLE　IN　MAINE　AS　MOM　BATTLES　KILLER　SAINT　BERNARD。
And　that　was　really　the　end　of　the　coverage。
There　was　a　rabies　scare　in　central　Maine　that　fall。　An　expert　attributed　it　to　'rumor　and　the　horrifying　but　isolated　incident　in　Castle　Rock。'
Donna　Trenton　was　in　the　hospital　for　nearly　four　weeks。　She　finished　her　cycle　of　treatments　for　the　rabid　dog　bites　with　a　good　deal　of　pain　but　no　serious　problems；　but　because　of　the　potential　seriousness　of　the　disease　…　and　because　of　her　deep　mental　depression　…　she　was　closely　watched。
In　late　August；　Vic　drove　her　home。
They　spent　a　quiet；　showery　day　around　the　house。　That　evening　as　they　sat　in　front　of　the　television；　not　really　watching　it；　Donna　asked　him　about　Ad　Worx。
'Everything's　fine　there；'　he　said。　'Roger　got　the　last　Cereal　Professor　mercial　on　the　rails　single…handed　。。。　with　Rob　Martin's　help；　of　course。　Now　we're　involved　in　a　major　new　campaign　for　the　whole　Sharp　line。'　Half　a　lie；　Roger　was　involved。　Vic　went　in　three；　sometimes　four　days　a　week；　and　either　pushed　his　pencil　around　or　looked　at　his　typewriter。　'But　the　Sharp　people　are　being　very　careful　to　make　sure　that　none　of　what　we're　doing　will　go　beyond　the　two…year　period　we　signed　for。　Roger　was　right。　They're　going　to　dump　us。　But　by　then　it　won't　matter　if　they　do。'
'Good；'　she　said。　She　had　bright　periods　now；　periods　when　she　seemed　very　much　like　her　old　self；　but　she　was　still　listless　most　of　the　time。　She　had　lost　twenty　pounds　and　looked　scrawny。　Her　plexion　was　not　very　good。　Her　nails　were　ragged。
She　looked　at　the　TV　for　a　while　and　then　turned　to　him。　She　was　crying。
'Donna；'　he　said。　'Oh　babe。'　He　put　his　arms　around　her　and　held　her。　She　was　soft　but　unyielding　to　his　arms。　Through　the　softness　he　could　feel　the　angles　of　her　bones　in　too　many　places。
'Can　we　live　here？'　she　managed　in　an　unsteady　voice。　'Vic；　can　we　live　here？'
'I　don't　know；'　he　said。　'I　think　we　ought　to　give　it　a　damned　good　shot。'
'Maybe　I　should　ask　if　you　can　go　on　living　with　me。　If　you　said　no；　I'd　understand。　I'd　understand　perfectly。'
'I　don't　want　anything　else　but　to　live　with　you。　I　knew　that　all　along；　I　think。　Maybe　there　was　an　hour　…　right　after　I　got
Kemp's　note　…　when　I　didn't　know。　But　that　was　the　only　time。　Donna；　I　love　you。　I　always　have。
Now　she　put　her　arms　around　him　and　hugged　him　tight。　Soft　summer　rain　struck　the　windows　and　made　gray　and　black　shadow　patterns　on　the　floor。
'I　couldn't　save　him；'　she　said。　'That's　what　keeps　ing　back　on　me。　I　can't　get　rid　of　it。　I　go　over　it　again　。。。　and　again　。　。　。　and　again。　If　I'd　run　for　the　porch　sooner　。。。　or　gotten　the　baseball　bat。　。　。'She　swallowed。　'And　when　I　finally　did　get　up　the　guts　to　go　out　there；　it　was　just　。。。　over。　He　was　dead。'
He　could　have　reminded　her　that　she'd　had　Tad's　welfare　in　mind　above　her　own　all　the　time。　That　the　reason　she　hadn't　gone　for　the　door　was　because　of　what　would　have　happened　to　Tad　if　the　dog　had　gotten　to　her　before　she　could　get　inside。　He　could　have　told　her　that　the　siege　had　probably　weakened　the　dog　as　much　as　it　had　Donna　herself；　and　if　she　had　tried　Cujo　with　the　baseball　bat　earlier　on；　the　oute　might　have　been　terribly　different；　as　it　was；　the　dog　had　almost　killed　her　in　the　end。　But　he　understood　that　these　points　had　been　brought　to　her　attention　again　and　again；　by　himself　and　by　others；　and　that　not　all　the　logic　in　the　world　could　blunt　the　pain　of　ing　upon　that　mute　pile　of　coloring　books；　or　seeing　the　swing；　empty　and　motionless　at　the　bottom　of　its　arc；　in　the　back　yard。　Logic　could　not　blunt　her　terrible　sense　of　personal　failure。　Only　time　could　do　those　things；　and　time　would　do　an　imperfect　job。
He　said；　'I　couldn't　save　him　either。'
'You　…'
'I　was　so　sure　it　was　Kemp。　If　I'd　gone　up　there　earlier；　if　I　hadn't　fallen　asleep；　even　if　I　hadn't　talked　to　Roger　on　the　phone。'
'No；'　she　said　gently。　'Don't。'
'I　have　to。　I　guess　you　do　too。　We'll　just　have　to　get　along。　That's　what　people　do；　you　know？　They　just　get　along。　And　try　to　help　each　other。'
'I　keep　feeling　him　sensing　him　。。。　around　every　er。'
'Yeah。　Me　too。'
He　and　Roger　had　taken　all　of　Tad's　toys　to　the　Salvation　Army　two　Saturdays　ago。　When　it　was　done；　they　had　e　back　here　and　had　a　few　beers　in　front　of　the　ballgame；　not　talking　much。　And　when　Roger　went　home；　Vic　went　upstairs　and　sat　on　the　bed　in　Tad's　room　and　wept　until　it　seemed　the　weeping　would　pull　all　his　insides　apart。　He　wept　and　wanted　to　die　but　he　hadn't　died　and　the　next　day　he　had　gone　back　to　work。
'Make　us　some　coffee；'　he　said；　and　slapped　her　lightly　on　the　rump。　'I'll　light　a　fire。　Chilly　in　here。'
'All　right。'　She　got　up。　'Vic？'
'What？'
Her　throat　worked。　'I　love　you　too。'
'Thanks；'　he　said。　'I　think　I　needed　that。'
She　smiled　wanly　and　went　to　make　the　coffee。　And　they　got　through　the　evening；　although　Tad　was　still　dead。　They　got　through　the　next　day　as　well。　And　the　next。　It　was　not　much　better　at　the　end　of　August；　nor　in　September；　but　by　the　time　the　leaves　had　turned　and　began　to　fall；　it　was　a　little　better。　A　little。
She　was　wired　with　tension　and　trying　not　to　show　it。
When　Brett　came　back　from　the　barn；　knocked　the　snow　from　his　boots；　and　let　himself　in　the　kitchen　door；　she　was　sitting　at　the　kitchen　table；　drinking　a　cup　of　tea。　For　a　moment　he　only　looked　at　her；　He　had　lost　some　weight　and　had　grown　taller　in　the　last　six　months。　The　total　effect　was　to　make　him　look　gangling；　where　he　had　always　before　seemed　pact　and　yet　lithe。　His　grades　during　the　first　quarter　hadn't　been　so　good；　and　he　had　been　in　trouble　twice　…　scuffles　in　the　schoolyard　both　times；　probably　over　what　had　happened　this　last　summer。　But　his　second…quarter　marks　had　been　a　lot　better。
'Mom？　Momma？　Is　it　…'
'Alva　brought　him　over；'　she　said。　She　set　the　teacup　on　the　saucer　carefully；　and　it　did　not　chatter。　'No　law　says　you　have　to　keep　him。'
'Has　he　had　his　sho