Chapter 10 8

"Can we go home, Mom?" Ted asked blankly. "Soon, baby." She looked at the key ring on the ignition switch for three other keys: the house key, the garage key, and the pinto hatch key.There is also a piece of leather on the ring, and a mushroom trademark is printed on the leather.This key ring is her April.Bought it at Swantson's in Bridgetown.Her dream of being a happy housewife had been shattered, and she felt lost and terrified, but at that time, how did she know what real terror was?The real horror is when a mad dog drools on the back of your hand as you try to reach out and shake your child's windowpane.

She reached out, touched the leather tag...and withdrew her hand. The truth is: she dared not try. It was a quarter past seven. Pinto's shadow had trailed to the garage door, but it was still daylight, and her husband and his partner were still watching the screencast at Mirror Eye Studios in Cambridge.She didn't know why no one answered the SOS signal she beeped.In the book, someone should have come, as a reward for such a clever idea for the heroine. But no one has come yet. Of course the sound had reached the crumbling house at the foot of the hill.Maybe the owners of the two cars on the driveway (the front yard, her mind automatically corrected her, they called it here) went out together in the third car.She wished she could see the house, but she couldn't, it was on the downside of the hill.

Finally she gave up sending SOS signals. She was worried that honking the horn all the time would drain the Pinto's battery. They hadn't changed the battery since they bought the car for so long.She was convinced that the Pinto would still start as long as the engine was cool enough.It always used to be like this. But you're afraid to try it, because if it doesn't start... then what? As she reached for the ignition again, the dog stumbled back into view, where it had been lying out of sight in front of the car.It walked slowly toward the barn now; head down, tail down behind.It staggered and crossed like a ghost, and the pinto's long roar had brought it to a painful end.Cujo stepped into the shadow of the building without looking back, and disappeared.

Her hand withdrew from the key again. "Mommy? Aren't we leaving?" "Let's think about it, honey," she said. She looked out the window on the left, and it was eight paces to the Camber's back door. In middle school, she was a running star on the school's girls' track team, and she continues to jog to this day.She can get in the door before the dog and close it behind her, she sure can do that. There should be a telephone in the house.Just one call to Chief Bannerman's office and the terror will be over. On the other hand, if she tried to start the engine again and it wouldn't work...that would set the dog up again.She knew next to nothing about rabies, but she recalled reading somewhere that rabid animals had a preternatural sensitivity to sound, and that high pitches made them go berserk.

"Mommy?" "Shh, Ted, shhh!" Run for eight steps and think about it. Even if Cujo was watching her every move from somewhere in the garage she couldn't see, she could be sure—she'd win the race to the back door.The phone, of course, and ... of course a man like Joe Campbell would have a gun, probably a whole rack of guns.How much fun it would be to beat the damn dog's head like cereal or sea sauce! Run up to eight steps. Of course, think again. What if the door to the porch is locked?Is the risk worth it? She analyzed the various situations, her heart pounding.If all goes well, the situation is the same, but what if the door is locked?She can run to the door before the dog, but not to the door and back to the car.What if it got out, what if it came at her again like before?What about Ted?If Tad saw his mother ravaged, scratched, bitten, torn apart by a mad two-hundred-pound dog—

No, they are safer here. Try the engine again! She reached for the ignition, a voice in her mind shouting, it's safer to wait a little longer!Wait for the engine to cool down completely—— Cool down completely?They have been here for more than three hours. She grabbed the key and turned it.The engine rattled once, twice, three times—and roared. "Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed. "Mommy?" Thad squealed. "Are we leaving? Are we leaving?" "We're leaving." She said coldly, adjusting the transmission to reverse.Cujo stormed out of the barn...and just stood there, watching, "Fuck you, dog!" she yelled at it braggingly.

She stepped on the gas pedal.Pinto rolled back about two feet—stopped. "NO!" she screamed when the red stop light came on.Cujo took another two steps forward as the engine stopped, and now he just stood there soundlessly, head bowed.Watch over me, the thought came up again.Its shadow trailed behind, as clear as a half-length silhouette cut from a piece of black textured paper. Donna fumbled for the ignition switch, and turned it from on to on.The motor started to spin, but this time the car didn't start.A heavy panting sound could be heard in her ears, which she vaguely believed to be the dog's, but it took several seconds to realize that it was her own.She shook the starter desperately, her face twisted into a horrible look, she cursed, completely forgot about Ted, and said things she didn't know.All the while Cujo just stood there, a long shadow trailing by his side, looking at her like in a surreal funeral dress.

At last it lay down on the driveway, as if it had condemned them to no chance of escape. She hated him even more now than when he tried to force his way through Tad's window. "Mommy... Mommy... Mommy!" The sound is only far away, it doesn't matter. All that matters is the goddamn son of a bitch. It's about to start.She's gonna get it going, she has pure...spiritual...power! She didn't know how long, the actual time, she was hunched over the steering wheel, her hair draped in front of her eyes, her hands shaking the starter in vain. All she could hear was not Tad's shouting—it had faded to a whimper—but the sound of the engine.It spun for five seconds, then slowed down, and then spun for five seconds, and then slowed down again, as if the time for slowing down was prolonging each time.

She is wasting battery. She stopped. She woke up little by little, like a woman gradually awakening from a faint.She remembers a bout of gastroenteritis in college—everything in her body seemed to be lifted by a lift, or slid down a waterfall—and she ended up passing out in a dorm bathroom. Regaining consciousness is the feeling of an invisible painter coloring the world, first filling it up, then overfilling it.The colors scream at you, everything looks plastic, fake, like a display in a shop window – spring sales start or grand opening. Tad crouched to one side, eyes closed, one thumb in his mouth, the other on the back pocket of his trousers, where the Devil's Words were, and his breathing was short and rapid.

"Ted," she said, "Don't worry, Baokou." "Mummy, are you okay?" His voice was little more than a husky whisper. "It's okay, you're okay, at least we're safe now. The old car will go, we'll just have to wait and see." "Are you mad at me just now?" She pulled him into her arms and hugged him tightly.She could smell the sweat on his brow and a touch of Johnson's No Tears Shampoo. That bottle, she thought, was probably sitting steady on the second shelf in the makeup cabinet in the upstairs bathroom, and she wanted to touch it!But all it has here is its vague, dying aroma.

"No, baby, not to you," she said, "never to you." Ted hugged her back tightly. "It can't touch us, can it?" "yes." "It can't...can't bite in, can it?" "yes." "I hate it," Thad mused. "I wish he was dead." "Yes, me too." She looked out the window, the sun was about to set. A superstitious fear settled into her mind.She remembered playing hide-and-seek as a child, and it was over every time the shadows in the street joined together to form patches of purple lagoon.That mysterious memory floated across the small suburban streets of her childhood, like a kind of talisman, so far away, she heard the screams of children, dinner was ready, the door was about to shut the darkness tightly: "All-all-free! All-all-free!" The dog was looking at her, it was crazy, she was convinced of that.Its crazy, feelingless eyes stared at her motionlessly. No, it's just your imagination, it's just a dog, a sick dog.Even if you don't see something in the dog's eyes that doesn't really exist, things are bad in the world. she told herself so. After a few minutes, she told herself, Cujo's eyes were just like the eyes in the portraits on the wall, they follow you wherever you go. But the dog was watching her.And...and there was something familiar in its eyes. No, she told herself, trying to push the thought away, but it was too late. You've seen it before, haven't you?The morning after Ted's first bad dream, the morning when the blanket and sheets were put back on the chair, his teddy bear piled on top, and the moment you opened the door to the laundry pot, all you saw was a hunched figure And the red eyes, the thing was ready to pounce, it was it, it was Cujo.Ted was right all along, it's just that the devil isn't in his closet...it's here.it-- (stop.) Here, just waiting. (You stop Donna!) She stared at the dog, imagining she could hear its thoughts.Simple thought, the same simple pattern, despite its sickness and delirious hallucinations seething, that thought just repeats itself over and over again. Kill this woman, kill this boy, kill this woman, kill— Stop, she ordered herself roughly.It has no mind, it is not a witch out of a child's closet.It's just a sick dog, that's all.Next time you'll believe that dog was sent by God to punish a criminal— Cujo stood up abruptly—almost as if she had just given him an order—and disappeared into the barn again. (Like I ordered?) She let out a trembling, half-hysterical laugh. Ted looked up: "Mommy?" "Nothing, baby." She looked from the dark door of the barn to the back door of the house.locked?Not locked?locked?Not locked?In her mind was a coin flying into the air, tumbling, and the drum of a pistol spinning, with five empty eyes, each with a bullet in it.locked?Not locked? The sun was setting, and the last rays of the day were a white line on the western horizon. It doesn't look as thick as the white line in the middle of the road, which will soon disappear.The crickets sang in the tall grass to the right of the driveway, making joyful, dull sounds without thinking. Cujo was still in the barn. sleep?She was thinking, eat? It reminded her that she had brought some food.She crawled between the front two seats and got Snoopy's lunch box and her own brown bag.Her thermos had rolled to the back, probably from the car's uphill drive.She had to straighten herself up, and the shirt was open, to hook her fingers to it.Tad was dozing off when the noise she made woke him up.He barked immediately, a voice full of horror, which made her hate the dog even more. "Mommy? Mommy? Are you—" "Just grabbing something to eat," she reassured him, "I'm grabbing my thermos—understand?" "Remorse." He leaned back on his seat and put his thumb in his mouth again. She gently shook the large thermos in her ear, expecting to hear the harsh grinding sound of broken glass.But there was only the sound of milk sloshing.Finally something. "Ted, want to eat?" "I want to take a nap." He said with his thumb in his mouth, without opening his eyes. "You've fed the machine, dear friend," she said. He didn't even smile: "Not hungry, want to sleep." She looked at him, not knowing what to do, and finally decided not to force him to eat.Sleep was Tad's natural weapon, probably his only weapon, and it was half an hour past his usual rest period. Of course, if they were at home, he would drink a glass of milk and eat two slices of cake before brushing his teeth...to a story, a story from his The Marketer Meyer Tales, which might...maybe... The tears stung her, and she tried to drive the thoughts out. She opened the thermos with trembling hands and poured herself half a glass of milk.She put it on the dashboard and pulled out a fig stick.After taking a bite, she found herself extremely hungry.She ate three more figs, drank some milk, and ate four more.Five green olives, and finish off a glass of milk.She belched softly...and looked sharply at the barn. There was a darker shadow in front of the barn, only it wasn't a shadow. It's the dog, it's Cujo. It stands there watching over us. No, she didn't believe that, nor did she believe that she had seen visions of Cujo among the pile of blankets in her son's closet. She doesn't believe...unless...unless it's just a shadow in the back of her mind that does.But that shadow is not in her mind now. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see where the road was.It was too dark for her to see, but she knew it was there, like she knew no one would pass by. All three of them were there the last time they came out of Vic's Jaguar (the dog was still good then, murmured her thought, and Tad patted it and laughed, remember? ) Those were the good old days. Vic had said that five years ago the Castle Rock dump had been at the end of No. 3 Town Road.Then the new waste disposal site was built on the other side of town. Now, a quarter of a mile past the Campbell's house, No. 3 Town Road ends at a point where a thick chain stops, and on one of the links there is a sign: No Crossing, Garbage Dump Closed.Now that No. 3 Town Road has reached Campbell's house, there is nowhere to go. Donna wondered if someone who wanted to park would pass by looking for a private home, or some lecherous local kid would come to the dump for a kiss.But no one passed by. The white line in the west has receded, and there is only a golden sunset glow in the sky... She began to fear, the sunset glow is already the best situation. no moon. She found herself drowsy, almost in disbelief.Maybe sleeping is also her own natural weapon. What else do you do if you don't sleep?The dog was still there (at least she thought it was; the night was getting late, and she could no longer see whether the shadow in front of the barn was a real shape or just a shadow).Batteries also need to rest.Then she can try again.Why don't you sleep? The package in his mailbox.That package from JC Whitney. She sat up a little, a bewildered frown creeping up her brow.She turned her head, but now the front corner of the house blocked her view of the mailbox.Don't look at it, she has seen the package, it's hanging in front of the mailbox.Why would she think of it?Does it tell anything? She was still holding the plate, with the olives and sliced ​​cucumbers neatly wrapped in the Sharon wrapper.She didn't eat any more, but carefully covered the saucer and put it back in Tad's lunch box.She didn't allow herself to think too much about why she had to be so careful with her food.She sat back in the seat, found the lever, and flipped the seat back.She was going to think about the package hanging on the mailbox—what was in there.She was almost sure - but soon her mind slid away to a more realistic place, and she fell asleep. Campbell went to visit relatives.Relatives might live in some small town that's a two- or three-hour drive away, maybe Kennybunker, or Hollis, or Augusta.Probably a family reunion. She began to dream, and she saw more than 50 people gathering on a green lawn, which was as big and beautiful as the lawn in the TV commercial.There was a rough stone barbecue pit, glowing and steaming from the pit.There were at least fifty people sitting at a long trestle table, and they were passing around platters of corn on the cob and plates of Butterfly's home baked beans—peas, soldier beans, red kidney beans; and there were plates of barbecue sausage. (Donna's stomach makes a low growl) The table is covered with a homely checked tablecloth.It was hosted by a lovely old woman with silver hair that fell to the nape of her neck in a curl.Donna had already entered the dream capsule completely, and she was not surprised to find that the old woman was her mother. The Cambers were there, but they weren't the real Cambers at all, Joe Campbell in a clean Sears smock like Vic, Mrs Campbell in Donna's green moiré gown.Their son looks just like Ted did in fifth grade... "Mami?" The picture fluctuated and began to crack. She tries to keep it, it's peaceful, it's beautiful, it's a model of family life that she never had, she and Vic have a child as planned, carefully designed their own family life, but never Never lived a life like this. In a sudden dismay, she wondered why they had never thought of what was in the picture before. "Mom?" The picture fluctuated again and began to dim. That sound from outside pierced the illusion like a needle piercing the shell of an egg. Don't worry, the Cambers are out for a family reunion and will be back soon, just around ten o'clock, beaming and full of roasts.Everything will be fine, and Joe Campbell with the Vic face will take care of everything and everything will be fine again.There are some things God will not allow to happen.meeting-- "Mommy!" She awoke from her sleep, sat up, and was surprised to find herself behind the wheel of a Pinto instead of sleeping in her bed at home... But she was only surprised for a second, and the lovely surreal image of the picnic reunion with relatives sitting around the plywood table began to fade, and fifteen seconds later, she could not remember having a dream at all. "Huh? What?" Suddenly, the telephone at the Campbell's house began to ring. The dog stood up, and the moving shadows clarified themselves, and a huge, hideous shape emerged. "Mommy? I need to go to the bathroom." Cujo started growling in the direction of the ringing phone.It's not barking, it's growling.Suddenly it rushed towards the house and slammed into the back door so hard that it rattled inside the cabinet. No, she's pale, oh no, stop, please stop-- "Mommy, I have to—" The dog was howling and biting the wood on the door.She could hear the uncomfortable crackling of its teeth. "—to pee." The phone rang six times, eight times, ten times. Then stopped. She realized she had been holding her breath, and she let it escape through her teeth in a low, manic sigh. Cujo stood in front of the door, his hind paws on the ground, his front paws on the top step.The low growl continued in its chest—a hateful, nightmarish sound.At last it turned and looked at Pinto for a moment—Donna could see him with dry foam on his kiss and breast—and then he walked back into the shadows, blurred step by step.Can't see where it went.In the garage, maybe, could be somewhere along the side of the barn. Thad tugged desperately at her sleeve. "Mommy, I'm definitely going to go bad!" She looked at him helplessly. Brett Campbell put the phone down slowly: "No answer, he's not home, I guess." Charity nodded, not terribly surprised.She was glad that Jim had suggested that they call in his office, which was downstairs and separate from the "family room."The family room is soundproofed and has some bookshelves with game tapes, a big Panasonic color TV with VCR and Atari video game console attached, and a lovely old Woolitzer jukebox in the corner , it still works. "Down at Gary's, I guess," said Brett gloomily. "Yeah, I think he's with Gary," she agrees, which isn't quite the same as saying they're at Gary's house together.She remembered the distant look in Jo's eyes when she finally made a deal with him that got her and Brett here.She hoped Brett would not call the directory service for Gary's number, because she doubted there would be an answer there.Somewhere, she figured, two old dogs were barking into the moonlight. "You think Cujo is all right, Mom?" "Of course, as long as he doesn't leave by himself, I don't think your father will leave him alone," she said.It's the truth - she doesn't believe he's like, "Why don't we just stop here today and call him in the morning? You should go to bed anyway. It's past ten and you've been tired all day gone." "I am not tired." "Well, it's not good to be nervous and excited for too long. I've got your toothbrush out, and Aunt Holly has a washcloth and hand towel for you. Do you remember which room you slept in?" "Of course I remember. Did you go to bed too? Mom?" "Soon, I'm going to sit with Aunt Holly for a while. We've got a lot of past memories to remember, just her and me." Brett said timidly, "She's kind of like you, you know?" Charity looked at him, a little surprised. "Does she look like it? Yes, I think she does, kind of. "That kid, Jimmy, he landed a real right hook, bang!" Blaid laughed. "Did he hurt your stomach?" "Damn it, no." Brett looked carefully around Jim's study, noting an Endwood typewriter on the desk, and a row of open folders with names written alphabetically on the labels. There was a careful, measuring look in his eyes, which she could not understand and evaluate.He seemed to have just come back from afar, "No, he can't hurt me, he's just a kid." He stretched his head towards her, "My cousin, isn't it?" "yes." "Blood relationship." He seemed to be thinking carefully. "Brett, do you like Uncle Jim and Aunt Holly?" "I like Aunt Holly. I can't tell Uncle Jim. That jukebox, it's amazing. But..." He shook his head impatiently. "What do you mean, Brett?" "He's so proud of it!" said Brett. "It's the first thing he showed me, like a kid with a toy, and it's amazing, you know. "Well, he's only had it for a while," said Charity, as an invisible fear began to build up in her.Thinking about it, somehow it reminded her of Kai—what did he say when he took Brett out on the sidewalk? "Everybody's going to have a preference for something new. Holly wrote me and said they finally got it, said Jim wanted to have one of those things when he was a young man. Man... dear, different people buy different things Come...to show they've succeeded, I think, not necessarily because it's worth it, but often it's just that they don't get it when they're poor." "Was Uncle Jim poor?" "I really don't know," she said, "but they're not poor now." "I mean he had nothing to do with it. You know what I mean?" He stared at her hard,'" He paid for it, hired someone to put it up, hired another Somebody from here got it here, and he said it was his, but he didn't... you know... he didn't... oh, I don't know." "Didn't he make it with his own hands?" Her voice was soft, despite her growing fear of joining together. "That's right! That's right! He paid for it, but he has nothing to it—" "have what--" "Yes, yes, it doesn't matter, but now he's, it seems, proud of it "He said the jukebox was an elaborate, intricate machine." "Daddy can make it spin," Bright said flatly.Charity heard a door slam shut, a high, dull, terrifying slam.It's not in this house, it's in her heart. "Daddy can pack it up, it should be his." "Brett," she said (her voice was soft, her ears adjusting to it), "not everyone is as good at packing as your father is." "I know," he said, still looking around the office, "but Jim shouldn't be proud of his money just because he's got it, see? It's his pride in it that annoys me—makes me Very annoying." She was suddenly very angry with him.She wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him back and forth; she wanted to raise her voice until she could shout the truth into his head. Money doesn't just fall from the sky; it's always the result of the dogged effort of some will that is at the heart of a person's character.She would tell him when his father was perfecting his tinker's craft, hanging out with his gang and gulping hard liquor, or sitting in a pile of bare bad tires making French jokes, Jim City Rooks is in law school, racking his brains for credits, because with credits you get a diploma, and a diploma is your ticket to ride a merry-go-round, which doesn't mean you grab No brass rings, but at least you're guaranteed a chance to try. "You go up now and get ready for bed," she said quietly. "What you think of your Uncle Jim is your own. But...give him a chance, Brett, and don't judge him by it alone." They've entered The family room was gone, and she tapped on the jukebox. "No, I don't want to," he said. She followed him up into the kitchen, where Holly was making cocoa for the four of them.Little Jim and Gretchen went to bed early. "Find your man?" Holly asked. "No, he's probably down the hill eating fat with that friend of his," said Charity. "We'll try tomorrow." "Would you like some cocoa, Brett?" "Okay, some more, please." Charity watched him sit at the table.She saw him put his elbow on the table, and quickly retracted it, probably remembering that it was impolite.Her heart was full of love, hope, and fear, wavering in her breast. Time, she thought, time and insight, give him that.If you force him, you will definitely lose him. But how much time?It was only a week, and then he was going back to continue being under Joe's influence.As she sat beside her son, thanking Holly for the cocoa, her mind mulled over divorce. In the dream, Vic came. He was walking down the driveway to the Pinto and opened her door. He wears his best suit, the charcoal three-piece suit (when he wears them, she always jokes that he looks like Jiri Ford with hair growing out, come on, you ask two, he says , grinning playfully. It's time to go home, the vampire will be out in a while. She tried to warn him, tell him that the dog was mad, but she never uttered a word.Suddenly Cujo emerged from the darkness, head bowed, a constant low growl rumbling in his chest.beware!She tried to shout, its bite was fatal!But no sound came out. But just as Cujo was about to pounce on Vic, Vic turned and pointed a finger at it.Cujo's fur had all gone white, and his red, gooey eyes fell into his head like marbles into holes.Its snout came off and hit the gravel of the driveway like black glass.After a while, there was only a fur coat fluttering in the wind left in front of the garage. Don't you worry, Vic said in the dream, don't you worry about the old dog, it's just a fur coat.Did you get the mail?Leave that dog alone.The mail is coming, it's important, you know?mail-- His voice faded away down a long pipe, and it echoed, fading away. Suddenly it wasn't Vic's dream anymore, but the memory of a dream—she woke up with wet tears on her cheeks, cried in her sleep.She looked at her watch and could barely see the time: a quarter past one.She looked at Tad, who was fast asleep with his thumb in his mouth. Leave the dog alone, the mail is coming and it's important. Suddenly the meaning of the package hanging on the mailbox appeared, and it hit her like an arrow shot from her subconscious mind, a thought she hadn't been able to grasp before.Probably because it's so obvious, so simple, so basic!Yesterday was Monday, and the mail came, JC.Whitney's package for Joe Campbell is proof of that. Today is Tuesday and the mail will come. A tear of relief rolled down her wet cheeks.Already she was trying to keep herself from shaking Tad and telling him he'd be fine, by two in the afternoon at the latest—more likely ten or eleven in the morning, as long as the mail was on time like it usually is in town Deliver—the nightmare is over. Even if there is no mail, the postman will come, and that's the trick.It was his duty to see if the little flag showing mail was up.He had to come, check out at the last stop of his town road 3, where a half-hysterical, half-relieved woman would welcome him today. She glanced at Tad's lunchbox and thought of the food in it, and thought of the little bit she'd carefully kept in there, ready for once... well, once. Although Ted would most likely be hungry in the morning, that didn't matter anymore. She ate the leftover cucumber slices, and Ted didn't like cucumbers very much.He's going to have a strange breakfast, she thought, laughing.Fig sticks, olives, a fine Jim or two. As she munched on the last two or three slices of cucumber, she realized that what had terrified her was just a coincidence, a chain of coincidences, entirely by chance.But it creates an illusion, as if everything has been decided by a big number of flesh and blood, which makes the dog so terrifyingly purposeful, so... so like it is specially designed to catch her. Vic is going out for ten days, coincidence number one; Vic called early this morning, coincidence number two, if he didn't find them then, he'd try later, try again, then doubt Where did they go; all three of the Campbells were out, at least for one night, and this was the third, as seen now. Mother, son, father, all went out. But they kept the dog.Oh yes.them-- A horrible thought popped into her mouth that she was squirting the last mouthful of cucumber.She tried to throw it out, but it came back, and it didn't go because it had its own weird logic. Could it be that they all died in the barn? Suddenly an image rose before her eyes. It was as morbidly realistic as a vision that had occurred in just a few hours this morning: three bodies lying limp on the floor like poorly made toys, the sawdust around them stained red, their gray Eyes staring into the darkness (where house swallows cooed and flapped their wings), their clothes were torn, and parts of their bodies— oh!how crazy, how— Maybe it was the boy first, and the other two were in the kitchen, or maybe they were hurrying upstairs, and they heard the screams and rushed out— (Stop, can you stop!) —they rushed out, but the boy was dead, the dog bit his throat; and while they were stupefied at the death of their son, the St. The old Destruction Machine, yes, the old fiend came out of the shadows, howling wildly.It pounced on the woman first, and the man tried to save her—a (No, he's going to get a gun, or crack its head off with a wrench, or something, where's the car? At least a car they can take family trips—you hear no family trips—take Cars leave trucks.) So why is no one coming to feed the dogs? That was the logic of the thing, and part of it frightened her.Why is no one coming to feed the dog?Because if you go out for a day, or two days, you arrange for certain people to feed you the dog so that when they go out, you feed them the cat, or the fish, or the parrot, or whatever.So these— Dogs are always running to the barn. Is it there to eat? That was the answer, her mind told her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.He didn't find anyone to feed the dogs, so he left a plate there.Gaines groats, or something. But then she was thinking of a problem that Jo had been thinking about all day. 一条大狗会把那点东西一次吃光，然后又会饿了。当然，你要出去的话，最好还是找到一个朋友来喂这条狗；另一方面，可能他们被耽搁了，可能确实有一个家族团聚，坎伯喝醉酒晕了过去。可能这样，可能那样，什么都可能。 狗在谷仓里吃东西吗？ （它在那儿吃什么呢？盖恩斯碎谷粉？人？） 她把最后一块黄瓜吐进手里，感觉胃在翻滚，想把她刚吃的所有东西都吐出来，但她鼓起意志把它压了下去，因为只要她坚持，她就可以把它压下去。 他们给狗留了一些食物，然后乘着小车出去了。你不需要是福尔摩斯也能推出来。 但是死亡的印象又不断地要往回爬，她首先看见的是沾血的锯末，它们已经变成比生牛肉香肠深一点的那种颜色。 停下来，如果你必须想什么的话，就想一想邮件，想一想明天，想一想就要安全了。 车边有一种轻轻的扭打、刮擦的声音。 她不想看，但控制木住自己，她的头好像被一只无形的手推着，开始转过去，她可以听见自己脖子上的锅发出的低低的辗轧声。 库乔在那儿，看着她；他的脸距她的脸只有不到六英寸，中间只隔着驾驶员侧的安全玻璃。那双红色、模糊的眼睛正盯进她的眼睛。狗的鼻吻看起来好像胡乱地涂着刮胡膏，正等着它干。 库乔对她咧着嘴。 她感觉一声尖叫在她胸中产生，像一块烙铁，顺着她的喉咙向上爬，因为她可以感觉到狗在算计着她，在告诉她：我会抓住你，宝贝，只要我想，我还会抓住他，那个小孩。想一想你指望的那个邮递员，只要我想，我也会抓住他，我会杀了他，就像我杀了坎伯一家三口那样，就像我要杀你和你儿子一样。你最好逐渐习惯这种想法，你最好—— 那声尖叫，到了的她喉咙口。 它是一个活的东西，挣扎着要出来，所有的事情都一起向她袭来：泰德不得不撒尿，她把他的窗子摇下了四英寸，把他举起来，这样他可以对窗外撤，她同时还一直观望着，提防着狗出现，很长一段时间他就是撒不出来，她的肩膀开始发酸；然后是那个梦，然后是死亡的印象，现在—— 狗在咧着嘴对她笑；它在咧着嘴对她笑。 库乔是它的名字，它的咬是致命的。 那声尖叫不得不—— （但是泰德在。） 否则她会疯的。 （睡觉！） 她锁住下颌不让那声尖叫出来，就像刚才她锁住喉咙不让自己吐出来。她挣扎着这样做，她战斗着这样做。最后她的心跳开始慢下来，她知道她获胜了。 她对着狗微笑，从握紧的双拳里伸出两个中指，她举着它们指向玻璃，玻璃的外侧已经在库乔的呼吸下模糊了。 “滚！”她低低地说。 过了一段无穷无尽的时间，狗放下前爪，向谷仓走回去。 她的思想又顺着那条黑暗的轨迹走下去 （它在那里吃什么？） 然后她的思想某处有一扇门砰地关上了。 但再也睡不着了，很长时间，这么长，一直到破晓。她直直地坐在方向盘后面，颤抖着，一遍一遍告诉自己这很可笑，实在很可笑，竟然会感觉狗是从泰德的衣橱里来的可怕的幽灵，或感觉它比她更清楚现在的情况。