sk.petsematary-第86部分

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his　stomach　there　was　a　feeling　similar　to　the　one　he'd　had　there　last　fall　when　that　Pascow　thing　cropped　up…a　feeling　of　miserable　surprise　and　almost　leaden　disillusion。　He　was　by　no　means　a　religious　man　（in　college　Steve　had　been　a　member　of　the　Atheist's　Society　for　two　semesters　and　had　dropped　out　only　when　his　advisor　had　told　him…privately　and　very　much　off　the　record…that　it　might　hurt　his　chances　to　obtain　a　med　school　scholarship　later　on）；　but　he　supposed　he　fell　as　much　heir　to　whatever　biological　or　biorhythmic　conditions　passed　for　premonitions　as　any　other　human　being；　and　the　death　of　Pascow　had　seemed　to　set　a　tone　for　the　year　which　followed；　somehow。　Not　a　good　year　by　any　means。　Two　of　Surrendra's　relatives　had　been　clapped　in　jail　back　home；　some　political　thing；　and　Surrendra　had　told　him　that　he　believed　one　of　them…an　uncle　he　cared　for　very　much…might　well　now　be　dead。　Surrendra　had　wept；　and　the　tears　from　the　usually　benign　Indian　had　frightened　Steve。　And　Charlton's　mother　had　had　a　radical　mastectomy。　The　tough　nurse　was　not　very　optimistic　about　her　mother's　chances　for　joining　the　Five…Year　Club。　Steve　himself　had　attended　four　funerals　since　the　death　of　Victor　Pascow…his　wife's　sister；　killed　in　a　car　crash；　a　cousin；　killed　in　a　freak　accident　as　the　result　of　a　barroom　bet　（he　had　been　electrocuted　while　proving　he　could　shinny　all　the　way　to　the　top　of　a　power　pole）；　a　grandparent；　and　of　course　Louis's　little　boy。
　　He　liked　Louis　enormously；　and　he　wanted　to　make　sure　Louis　was　all　right。　Louis　had　been　through　hell　lately。
　　When　he　saw　the　billows　of　smoke；　his　first　thought　was　that　this　was　something　else　to　lay　at　the　door　of　Victor　Pascow；　who　seemed；　in　his　dying；　to　have　removed　some　sort　of　crash　barrier　between　these　ordinary　people　and　an　extraordinary　run　of　bad　luck。　But　that　was　stupid；　and　Louis's　house　was　the　proof。　It　stood　calm　and　white；　a　little　piece　of　clean…limbed　New　England　architecture　in　the　midmorning　sun。
　　People　were　running　toward　the　old　duck's　house；　and　as　Steve　banked　his　bike　across　the　road　and　pulled　into　Louis's　driveway；　he　saw　a　man　dash　up　onto　the　old　duck's　porch；　approach　the　front　door；　and　then　retreat。　It　was　well　that　he　did；　a　moment　later　the　glass　pane　in　the　center　of　the　door　blew　out；　and　flames　boiled　through　the　opening。　If　the　fool　actually　had　gotten　the　door　open；　the　blowout　would　have　cooked　him　like　a　lobster。
　　Steve　dismounted　and　put　the　Honda　on　its　kickstand；　Louis　momentarily　forgotten。　He　was　drawn　by　all　the　old　mystery　of　fire。　Maybe　half　a　dozen　people　had　gathered；　except　for　the　would…be　hero；　who　lingered　on　the　Crandalls'　lawn；　they　kept　a　respectful　distance。　Now　the　windows　between　the　porch　and　the　house　blew　out。　Glass　danced　in　the　air。　The　would…be　hero　ducked　and　ran　for　it。　Flames　ran　up　the　inner　wail　of　the　porch　like　groping　hands；　blistering　the　white　paint。　As　Steve　watched；　one　of　the　rattan　easy　chairs　smouldered　and　then　exploded　into　flame。
　　Over　the　crackling　sounds；　he　heard　the　would…be　hero　cry　out　with　a　shrill　and　absurd　sort　of　optimism：　〃Gonna　lose　her！　Gonna　lose　her　sure！　If　Jud's　in　there；　he's　a　gone　goose！　Told　im　about　the　creosote　in　that　chimbly　a　hunnert　times！〃
　　Steve　opened　his　mouth　to　holler　across　and　ask　if　the　fire　department　had　been　called；　but　just　then　he　heard　the　faint　wail　of　sirens；　approaching。　A　lot　of　them。　They　had　been　called；　but　the　would…be　hero　was　right：　the　house　was　going。　Flames　probed　through　half　a　dozen　broken　windows　now；　and　the　front　eave　had　grown　an　almost　transparent　membrane　of　fire　over　its　bright　green　shingles。
　　He　turned　back；　then；　remembering　Louis…but　if　Louis　were　here；　wouldn't　he　be　with　the　others　across　the　street？
　　Steve　caught　something　then；　just　barely　caught　it　with　the　tail　of　his　eye。
　　Beyond　the　head　of　Louis's　hot…topped　driveway　there　was　a　field　that　stretched　up　a　long；　gently　rising　hill。　The　timothy　grass；　although　still　green；　had　grown　high　already　this　May；　but　Steve　could　see　a　path；　almost　as　neatly　mowed　as　a　putting　green　on　a　golf　course。　It　wound　and　meandered　its　way　up　the　slope　of　the　field；　rising　to　meet　the　woods　that　began；　thick　and　green；　just　below　the　horizon。　It　was　here；　where　the　pale　green　of　the　timothy　grass　met　the　thicker；　denser　green　of　the　woods；　that　Steve　had　seen　movement…a　flash　of　bright　white　that　seemed　to　be　moving。　It　was　gone　almost　as　soon　as　his　eye　registered　it；　but　it　had　seemed　to　him　for　that　brief　moment　that　he　had　seen　a　man　carrying　a　white　bundle。
　　That　was　Louis；　his　mind　told　him　with　sudden　irrational　certainty。　That　was　Louis；　and　you　better　get　to　him　quick　because　something　damn　bad　has　happened　and　pretty　quick　something　even　more　damn　bad　is　going　to　happen　if　you　don't　stop　him。
　　He　stood　indecisively　at　the　head　of　the　driveway；　shifting　one　foot　for　the　other；　his　weight　jittery　between　the　two　of　them。
　　Steve　baby；　you're　scared　shitless　just　about　now；　aren't　you？
　　Yes。　He　was。　He　was　scared　shitless　and　for　no　reason　at　all。　But　there　was　also　a　certain。　。　。　a　certain
　　（attraction）
　　yes；　a　certain　attraction　here；　something　about　that　path；　that　path　leading　up　the　hill　and　perhaps　continuing　on　into　the　woods…surely　that　path　had　to　go　somewhere。；　didn't　it？　Yes；　of　course　it　did。　All　paths　eventually　went　somewhere。
　　Louis。　Don't　forget　about　Louis；　you　dummy！　Louis　was　the　man　you　came　out　to　see；　remember？　You　didn't　e　out　to　Ludlow　to　go　exploring　the　goddam　woods。
　　〃What　you　got　there；　Randy？〃　the　would…be　hero　cried。　His　voice；　still　shrill　and　somehow　optimistic；　carried　well。
　　Randy's　reply　was　almost　but　not　quite　obscured　by　the　growing　wail　of　the　fire　sirens。　〃Dead　cat。〃
　　〃Burnt　up？〃
　　〃Don't　look　burnt；〃　Randy　returned。　〃Just　looks　dead。〃
　　And　Steve's　mind　returned　implacably；　as　if　the　exchange　across　the　street　had　something　to　do　with　what　he　had　seen…or　what　he　thought　he　had　seen：　That　was　Louis。
　　He　started　to　move　then；　trotting　up　the　path　toward　the　woods；　leaving　the　fire　behind　him。　He　had　worked　up　a　good　sweat　by　the　time　he　reached　the　edge　of　the　woods；　and　the　shade　felt　cool　and　good。　There　was　the　sweet　aroma　of　pine　and　spruce；　bark　and　sap。
　　Once　into　the　woods　he　broke　into　an　all…out　run；　not　sure　why　he　was　running；　not　sure　why　his　heart　was　beating　double　time。　His　breath　whistled　in　and　out。　He　was　able　to　lengthen　his　run　to　a　sprint　going　downhill…the　path　was　admirably　clear…but　he　reached　the　arch　that　marked　the　entrance　to　the　Pet　Sematary　at　little　more　than　a　fast　walk。　There　was　a　hot　stitch　high　in　his　right　side；　just　under　the　armpit。
　　His　eyes　barely　registered　the　circles　of　graves…the　beaten　tin　squares；　the　bits　of　board　and　slate。　His　gaze　was　fixed　on　the　bizarre　sight　at　the　far　side　of　the　circular　clearing。　It　was　fixed　on　Louis；　who　was　climbing　a　deadfall；　seemingly　in　outright　defiance　of　gravity。　He　mounted　the　steep　fall　step　by　step；　his　eyes　straight　ahead；　like　a　man　who　has　been　mesmerized　or　who　is　sleepwalking。　In　his　arms　was　the　white　thing　that　Steve　had　seen　from　the　tail　of　his　eye。　This　close；　its　configuration　was　undeniable…it　was　a　body。　One　foot；　clad　in　a　black　shoe　with　a　low　heel；　protruded。　And　Steve　knew　with　a　sudden　and　sickening　certainty　that　Louis　was　carrying　Rachel's　body。
　　Louis's　hair　had　gone　white。
　　〃Louis！〃　Steve　screamed。
　　Louis　didn't　hesitate；　didn't　pause。　He　reached　the　top　of　the　deadfall　and　began　down　the　far　side。
　　He'll　fall；　Steve　thought　incoherently。　He's　been　damned　lucky；　incredibly　lucky；　but　pretty　soon　he's　going　to　fall　and　if　his　leg's　the　only　thing　he　breaks…　But　Louis　did　not　fall。　He　reached　the　other　side　of　the　deadfall；　was　temporarily　out　of　Steve's　sight；　and　then　reappeared　as　he　walked　toward　the　woods　again。
　　〃Louis！〃　Steve　yelled　again。
　　This　time　Louis　stopped　and　turned　back。
　　Steve　was　struck　dumb　by　what　he　saw。　Besides　the　white　hair；　Louis's　face　was　that　of　an　old；　old　man。
　　At　first　there　was　no　recognition　at　all　in　Louis's　face。　It　dawned　little　by　little；　as　if　someone　was　turning　a　rheostat　up　in　his　brain。　Louis's　mouth　was　twitching。　After　a　while　Steve　realized　that　Louis　was　trying　to　smile。
　　〃Steve；〃　he　said　in　a　cracked；　uncertain　voice。　〃Hello；　Steve。　I'm　going　to　bury　her。　Have　to　do　it　with　my　bare　hands；　I　guess。　It　may　take　until　dark。　The　soil　up　there　is　very　stony。　I　don't　suppose　you'd　want　to　give　me　a　hand？〃
　　Steve　opened　his　mouth；　but　no　words　came　out。　In　spite　of　his　surprise；　in　spite　of　his　horror；　he　did　want　to　give　Louis　a　hand。　Somehow；　up　here　in　the　woods；　it　seemed　very　right；　very　。　very　natural。
　　〃Louis；〃　he　managed　to　croak　at　last；　〃what　happened？　Good　Christ；　what　happened？　Was　she。　。　。　was　she　in　the　fire？〃
　　〃I　waited　too　long　with　Gage；〃　Louis　said。　〃Something　got　into　him　because　I　waited　too　long。　But　it　will　be　different　with　Rachel；　Steve。　I　know　it　will。〃
　　He　staggered　a　little；　and　Steve　saw　that　Louis　had　gone　insane…he　saw　this　quite　clearly。　Louis　was　insane　and　abysmally　weary。　But　somehow　only　the　latter　seemed　to　carry　weight　in