Chapter 14 12

It was six o'clock in the morning, and it was getting light, when Ted had a convulsion. He woke up at about 5:15, waking up Donna who was in a daze. He had slept soundly just now, and now he woke up screaming that he was hungry and hungry.Donna felt hungry for the first time, as if he had pushed a button deep inside her body.She had been feeling thirsty--a feeling that came and went, always haunting her--but at some point yesterday morning she couldn't remember actually thinking about food.But now, she suddenly felt very hungry. She did her best to comfort Ted, telling him things she didn't even believe—that someone would come soon, and they'd take that vile dog, and they'd be saved.

But actually she just wants to eat. For example, breakfast, for example, breakfast: two eggs fried in butter, isn't it too simple?Maybe you don't mind, waiter.French toast.The freshly squeezed fresh oranges in the big cup are cold, and the water vapor has formed crystal clear water droplets on the glass.Canadian style smoked bacon.Home cooking.Creamy chaff flakes, topped with a sprinkling of huckleberry blue berries—her father always called them blue brubies—yet another thing that would comically blow her mom away Weird thing. Her stomach made a loud growl, and Tad laughed.His laughter startled her and cheered her up.It's like finding a red rose growing out of a dump.She smiled at him too, a smile that made her lips ache.

"Did you hear that voice, eh?" "I think you must be hungry too." "Oh, if someone threw an egg pie at my place, I wouldn't say no." Ted shushed her, which made them both laugh again. Cujo pricked up his ears in the yard, and he growled at their laughter.For a moment it seemed to be about to get up, probably to throw itself at the car again; but then it crouched down wearily, with its head drooping. Donna felt that irrational urge rising in her soul again, which almost always came back to her with the first light of dawn. The present situation must soon be over; the worst is over.They are extremely unlucky, but everything changes, and even the worst luck changes sooner or later.

Ted looked almost his old self again.He was very pale and overworked. Although he had slept, he was still extremely tired, but there was no doubt that he was the same Ted. She hugged him tightly, and he hugged her tightly. The scrapes and lacerations on her stomach were swollen and looked inflamed, but the pain had subsided.Her leg was worse, but she found she could bend it, it just hurt, and it started bleeding again.She will leave a scar. Then they talked for more than forty minutes.Donna, who had been looking for a way to keep Ted awake and also to pass the time, suggested a game called "Twenty Questions," which Ted eagerly agreed to.He never got enough of the game, the only problem was that he couldn't find his mother or father to play it with him.By the fourth round of their game, Ted's twitches began violently.

Before five questions, Donna guessed that the person to be cleared in the game was Flanders Ledding, a good friend from Ted's summer camp, but Donna was still asking slowly like a cocoon. . "Is his hair red?" she asked. "No, his hair is... is... is..." Suddenly Tad struggled, struggling to catch his breath.He struggled, gasping for breath, causing fear to well up in her chest, and a sour venom-like taste in her throat. "Ted? Ted?" Ted gasped, scratching and burning his throat, red streaks immediately appeared on his neck, his eyes bulged out, revealing the fundus and silvery whites of his eyes.

"Ted!" She held him tightly, shaking him. His Adam's apple jerked up and down rapidly, like a small mechanical punch on a rod.His hands started flapping aimlessly around, then came up again, tearing at his throat.He began to make the sound of an animal suffocating. For a moment Donna completely forgot where she was.She grabbed the doorknob, pulled it up, and pushed the Pinto's door open as if she were in a supermarket parking lot with helpers beside her. Cujo stood up instantly. The door wasn't even halfway open when it lunged at the car, which probably saved her from being torn to pieces right then and there.It pounced on the opening door, slammed back, and then it pounced on it again, letting out a dull growl.Its loose excrement spilled over the disfigured gravel of the driveway.

She screamed and slammed the door shut with all her might. Cujo lunged at the side of the car again, driving the side dent even deeper.It lurched back, and then struck the window again, with a dull thud as if something had broken, and then it fell.Six or seven small cracks suddenly added to the silvery crack on the top of the glass.It hit the glass again, and this time the safety glass bulged in. The glass was still connected, but a crater appeared on the glass, and the outside world suddenly became white. If it pounces on again—— But Cujo stepped back, wanting to see what she was going to do next.

She turned to her son. Tad's whole body was writhing and convulsing, like shofars.His back arched.His ass left the seat, fell back down, lifted it up, fell down again.His face was gradually turning blue, and the veins on his temples were bulging.She had been a volunteer soil nurse for three years, her last two years of high school and the summer after her freshman year of college, and she knew what was going on.He wouldn't swallow his tongue, that kind of thing only happens in thrilling detective novels.But his tongue had slipped down his throat and was now blocking the windpipe.He would have suffocated right in front of her.

Her left hand grabbed his jaw and pulled his mouth away.She was rough with extreme fear, and she could hear the muscular cavities in his jaw rattling.Her fingers found the tip of his tongue, which was unbelievably far away from where his future wisdom teeth would grow.She tried to catch it but couldn't, it was wet and slippery like a small catfish.She tried to tweeze it again with her thumb and forefinger. Her heart was beating wildly, but she could only feel it a little. I'm about to lose him.She thought, oh my god, I think I'm losing my son. His teeth came down with a sudden jerk, bleeding both her thrusting fingers and his own cracked, blistered lip.Blood dripped down his chin.But she feels little pain.Tad's feet started bouncing on the floor mat of the Pinto.She desperately reached for the tip of his tongue.She reached it...but it slipped from her fingers again.

(That dog, that bastard bastard's dog is all made by it, bastard dog bastard damned dog of the next 18 hells I'm going to kill you I swear to God I'm going to kill you!) Tad's teeth snapped at her fingers again, but she grabbed his tongue again, and this time she didn't hesitate: she dug her nails into the spongy stuff on the tip of the tongue, and penetrated. , pulling it outwards, like a woman pulling down a sunshade; at the same time she placed her other hand under his chin and pushed his head back, thus creating the greatest possible airway. Tad was gasping again—he was making a raspy rattling sound, like the breathing of an old man with emphysema.He was panting again!

She slapped him hard, she didn't know what else to do, so she slapped him. Tad let out one last long, piercing gasp, followed by quick little gasps.Donna herself was out of breath.Waves of dizziness surged over her head like waves.She had twisted her injured leg somehow, and she could feel the warmth and wetness of the fresh blood. "Ted," she screamed, taking a big breath, "Ted can you hear me?" He nodded, just a little bit, his eyes still closed. "Relax, as relaxed as you can. You have to relax your whole body." "... want to go home... Mommy... the devil..." "Shh-Tad, don't talk, don't think about those demons. Do as I say." The Devil's Words had fallen to the floor, and she picked up the yellow paper and put it in his hand.Ted clung to it like a drowning man at a straw. "Now focus on breathing, slowly and regularly, Tad. This is how you recover. Breathe slowly and regularly." Glancing past him, she saw again the cracked bat, its handle wrapped in friction tape, lying among the tall weeds on the right side of the driveway. "Relax completely, Ted, try it, can you do it?" Ted nodded slightly, still not opening his eyes. "Just a little longer, my dear, I promise you, I promise you." Outside, it was getting brighter and hotter. The temperature in the car began to rise. seventy-nine It was twenty past five when Vic got home.His wife was pulling his tongue out from the depths of his son's mouth as he turned around in the living room, slowly putting things back into place, moving as if in a dream.While he was doing this, Chief Bannerman, a State Police detective, and a State Department of Justice detective were sitting on the sectional sofa drinking instant coffee. "I've told you all I know," Vic said. "If she's not with anyone you've contacted, she's not with anyone." He had a broom and a dustpan, and from the kitchen cupboard he brought a large box full of bags.Now he was sliding a dustpan of broken glass into one of the big bags, the glass jingling rhythmically, "Unless it's Camp." An uncomfortable silence followed.Vic had never been so tired as long as he could remember, but he believed he wouldn't be able to sleep unless someone gave him a sedative.His thoughts were confused and his mind was not clear.Ten minutes after arriving home, the phone rang, and he sprang up like a wild animal, oblivious to the gentle reminder from the man from the state Department of Justice that it might be his call.Not that person's phone.It was Roger calling, wanting to know if Vic was home, and asking for news. There was some news, but all the news was inconclusive and maddening.The house was littered with fingerprints, and several tracers, also from Augusta, had collected several sets from the house attached to the skinning shop where Kemp had recently worked. Fingerprints.The results of the comparative examination will be in shortly, and they will be able to conclude that the man who smashed the downstairs is not Kemp.To Vic, this was a waste of time; he knew it was Kemp. The State Police had checked out the license plate number and date of manufacture of the Camp van. It was a 1971 Ford Econolin, registered in Maine, number 641-644; the color was light gray, but they From Kemp's landlords—who woke him from bed at four o'clock in the morning—the side of a van was painted with murals of the desert: butts, mesas, and dunes.There are two bumpers on the rear of the car, one says: split wood, don't split atoms, and the other reads: Ronald Reagan shot J.R.Steve Kemp was an interesting guy, and the murals and the two bumpers would make the van easy to spot, and unless he drove it into a ditch, he'd be spotted before dark.Manhunt alerts have been sent to states in New England, and to New York State as well.In addition, the FBI in Portland and Boston have also moved to investigate the possible kidnapping. They searched for Kemp's name from the Washington file. They found that he had been in the anti-Vietnam War demonstration There were three arrests during the march, once a year from 1968 to 1970. "There's only one thing in all of this that bothers me," the state Justice Department man said.He put the notebook on his lap, but he'd told them all Vic could tell.The man from Augusta was just brooding. "Frankly, it's fucking beyond me." "What's the matter?" Vic asked.He picked up the family photo, looked at it, and shook it a few times to shake the broken glass into the big bag, where they clinked slightly unpleasantly again. "The car. Where's your wife's car?" His name was Mason, with an e in it, which he had told Vic when he shook hands with him. Now he goes to the window, slapping his legs unconsciously with the notebook in his hand.Vic's battered racing car was parked in the driveway, alongside Bannerman's patrol car.Vic started the car from the airport in Portland, where he left his Elvis cab all the way from Boston. "What does this mean?" Vic asked. Mason shrugged: "Maybe it can't explain anything, maybe it can explain something, maybe it can explain everything, it probably can't explain anything. But it makes me very unhappy that this matter is so unclear. Kemp is here, Right? He got your wife and son. Why? He's crazy, that's enough. He can't afford to lose. Maybe it's even a weird joke he made." These are Vic's own words, which he repeats almost verbatim. "So what did he do? He bundled them up and stuffed them into his Ford van with desert murals on the sides. He either ran away with them or hid somewhere, right?" "Yes, that's exactly what I'm worried about—" Mason turned to face him from the window. "So where's her car?" "This—" Vic racked his brains over the question, it was too hard for him.He was very tired, "Maybe—" "Maybe one of his associates drove it off," Mason said, "which would probably mean it was a kidnapping for ransom. If he had taken them away by himself, it might have been just a moment of madness.If kidnapping for money, why the car?For a car change?Absurd.That Pinto was at least as eye-catching as his fancy van.And I repeat, if there were no accomplices, if he was alone, then who was driving that car? " "Perhaps he came back later to get the car," the State Police detective whispered. "After hiding the boy and your wife, he came back and took her car away." "It's easy to go wrong if you don't have an accomplice," Mason said, "but even if he can do it. He takes them somewhere nearby and walks back to get Mrs. Trenton's Pinto, or take the They take them somewhere far away and hitch a ride back on the way. But for what?" Bannerman spoke for the first time: "It's possible that Donna herself was driving." Mason turned to look at him suddenly, his eyebrows raised. "If he catches the boy—" Sergeant Bannerman looked at Vic and nodded slightly, "I'm sorry, Mr. Trenton, but if Kemp catches the boy and binds him up, Put a gun on him, and tell your wife to follow closely, and tell her that if she dares to do tricks, like cornering or flashing lights, then he's going to put that boy on the line—" Vic nodded, he was very uncomfortable with this picture. Mason looked irritated by Bannerman, perhaps because he hadn't thought of the possibility himself, "I repeat: for what purpose?" Bannerman shook his head.Vic himself couldn't think of any reason why Camp wanted Donna's car. Mason lit a Happy Horse, coughed, and looked around for an ashtray. "I'm sorry," Vic said, feeling like an actor again, feeling like he wasn't himself, but someone else, reading lines someone had written for him, "Two ashtrays here are gone Broken. I'll get you one from the kitchen." Mason came out with him, got an ashtray, and said, "You don't mind if we go out on the terrace over there! It's a bloody bitch, it's hot as hell. If it's July I would like the weather to be more civilized." "Yes." Vic replied feebly. As they came out, he glanced at the thermometer tacked to the side of the house...a Christmas present from Donna last Christmas.The temperature has reached 73 degrees Fahrenheit, and the needle on the barometer is firmly in the column marked "Sunny". "Let's delve a little deeper into this matter," said Mason. "That's really odd to me. A woman with a son whose husband is away on business. If she wants to get around She'd really need her car. Even though it's only half a mile into town, and the way back is all uphill, it's much more convenient to have a car. So let's say Kemp catches her here, then The car should still be here. In another case, Kemp came and smashed the house, but he was still angry. He saw them somewhere else in the city and took them. In that case, the car should still be there.In town, possibly, or in the parking lot of a sales center. " "Couldn't someone have dragged it away in the middle of the night?" Vic asked. "It's possible," Mason replied. "Do you think she parked her car somewhere, Mr. Trenton?" Then Vic remembered.That needle valve. "Something ticks in your head," Mason said. "It's not a tick, it's a bang. The car isn't here because it's at the Ford dealership in South Paris. It's got a carburetor problem, the needle valve keeps clogging. We talked on the phone Monday afternoon. she was so pissed off and felt so bad. I was going to get someone in town to fix it for her, but I forgot about it because..." His mind wandered, and he wondered why he had forgotten. "You forgot to book her an auto mechanic in this town, so she took the car to South Paris?" "Yeah, I guess so." He couldn't recall exactly what they had said, except that she had worried that the car would break down while she was driving to get it repaired. " Mason glanced at his watch and stood up, and Vic followed suit. "No, don't get up. I just wanted to make a quick phone call. I'll come when I go." Vic sat where he was.The screen door slammed shut behind Mason, and the sound reminded him of Tad again, and his brow furrowed as he thought about it so vividly that he had to clench his teeth to keep the tears from streaming down his face. where are theyAfter all, the fact that the Pinto wasn't here had only briefly fueled his hopes. The sun was now fully up, and a brilliant rose-colored light hung over the house and the street below, and across Castle Hill.A ray of sunlight hits the swing where he's pushed Ted so many times before... all he wants now is to be able to push his son on the swing again with his wife standing beside him .If Tad wanted to, he'd push it over and over, and never mind if it came off. Dad, I want to do somersaults, I want to! The voice in his head chilled his heart.This voice sounds like the voice of a ghost. After a while the screen door opened. Mason sat down beside him and lit another cigarette. "The Blessed Cities of South Paris," he said, "is there?" "Yes, that's where we bought our Pinto." "I figured it was there and gave them a call. Luckily, their service manager was on duty. Your Pinto isn't there and has never been there. Who's the local auto mechanic? " "Joe Campbell," Vic said, "she must have driven there in the end. She didn't want to because he lived in the outer suburbs and she didn't answer his phone calls. I told She said he was probably actually at home, working in the garage. It was a converted barn, and I don't think there was a phone in there. At least the last time I was there, there wasn't a phone in there." "We'll find out," said Mason, "but her car won't be there either, Mr. Trenton, I'm sure." "Why not here?" "Because it's not logical at all," Mason said, "and I'm ninety-five percent sure the car isn't in South Paris either. Come to think of it, nothing has changed from what we said at first. A young woman with a A kid, she needs a car. Suppose she takes it to the Ford Twin Cities and they tell her it will take a few days to fix, how does she get back?" "Here... borrow a car... or if they don't lend her a car, I guess they'll have a rental car for her. It'll be cheaper." "That's right! Great! And where's the car?" Vic looked down the driveway, almost as if expecting the car to appear. "If Kemp has no reason to hijack your wife's Pinto, he has even less reason to hijack her rental car," Mason said, "which pretty much rules out her going to a Ford dealership first." ...now let's see what happens if she takes the car to Camber's garage. What if Camber lends her a broken car so she can get around while he's working on it? Back to where we started: Where did that wreck go? Let’s go further and assume that she took the car to Camber, who said he was going to keep it fixed for a while, but he didn’t have a car for her to drive. She wanted to go back to the city. So she hung up on a friend, and the friend came out to pick her up. Are you following my train of thought?" "Yes, of course." "So who is this friend? You gave us a list and we got them all out of bed. Luckily they were all home. None of them mentioned ever picking them both up. Monday Neither of them has seen a shadow of either of them since morning." "Okay, let's stop talking about it here, shall we?" Vic said. "Give Campbell a call and we'll know the letter." "Let's wait until seven o'clock," Mason said. "It's seven in fifteen minutes. Give him a chance to wash his face and clear his head. Managers in the service industry usually go to work very early. But this guy is a one-man business." Vic shrugged.All of this is like a crazy dark passage. Camp grabbed Donna and Ted, and he knew it, just as he knew only Camp would smash the house and then cum on him and Donna's bed. "Of course, it doesn't have to be a friend," Mason said, watching the cigarette smoke curl up into the morning sky with a dreamy look. "There are all kinds of possibilities. She drove the car to There, and someone she only met once happened to be there, so this guy, or this lady, offered to drive Mrs. Trenton and your son back to town. Or maybe Camber drove them home himself , or his wife. Is he married y' "It's done. Very nice woman." "It could be him, his wife, anyone. People are always willing to do a lady in distress a favor." "Yes," said Vic, lighting a cigarette himself. "But all of that doesn't help because the question is always the same: where's the damn car? Because it's always the same in the end anyway. Only women and children, only themselves.She has to do grocery shopping, vegetables, fruit, etc., has to go to the dry cleaners, has to go to the post office, and has to do dozens of small errands.If her husband was only away for a few days, or even a week, she might try to get by without a car.But what if you leave for ten days or two weeks?God, in this small town with only one jerk taxi, it's been like years, just a long wait. In this case the car rental company is more than happy to deliver the car.She could have Hertz, or Elvis, or National Rent-A-Cars send a rental car here or to the Campbells.So where is that rental car?We keep coming back to the same starting point.There should be a car in this yard, understand? " "I don't think it matters," Vick said. "Maybe it really doesn't matter. We'll find some simple explanation and say, oh hey, how could we be so stupid? But this thing just makes me feel more and more wrong the more I think about it. . . Is the valve broken? Are you sure it's the needle valve?" "I'm sure." Mason shook his head and said, "Then why does she want to borrow or rent a car? Repairing a needle valve is only fifteen minutes' work for a person with tools and skills. Drives in, drives out. So where is it? Her—” "—her damn car!" Vic continued wearily.Now he felt that the whole world was moving together like waves, moving closer and further away. "Why don't you go upstairs and lie down?" Mason said. "You look exhausted." "No, I want to stay sane, and if something happens—" "Somebody's going to wake you up if something happens. The FBI is putting a call-back system on your phone. Those people are so loud they can wake the dead. It's gone—so you don't have to worry about it. Move." Vic was so overworked that he could barely feel anything but a numb sense of terror: " "Do you really think it's necessary for them to install the interrogation system? " "It's better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it," Mason said, pointing to the cigarette. "Go and rest for a while and you'll feel better, Vic, go." "Ok." He went upstairs slowly.The bed had been stripped down to the mattress, which he had done himself.He put two pillows at his sides, took off his shoes, and lay down.The morning sun shone brightly through the window panes. I'm not going to sleep, he thought, but I'm going to rest, I'm going to try to rest, anyway.Fifteen minutes...maybe half an hour, bah... But when the phone rang and woke him up, it was already the hot and scorching noon of the day. After her morning coffee, Charity Campbell called Alva Thornton in Castle Rock.This time Alva picked it up himself.He already knew that Charity had talked to Bessie the night before. "No," said Alva, "I haven't seen a hair of Joe since last Thursday, Charity, he fixed a tractor tire for me, and he came to give me that last time." Tires, he didn't mention feeding Cujo. If he did, I'd be willing to help." "Alva, can you go up to the house on the hill and see Cujo? Brett saw him before we left for my sister on Monday morning, and he said he looked sick. But I— I don't know who Joe will find to feed it." According to the habit of the villagers, she added, "Don't worry too much about this matter." "I'll go up the hill and see," said Alva. "I'll go after I've fed these goddam cooing hens and given them some water." "That's very kind, Alva," Charity said gratefully, before giving him her sister's phone number. "Thank you so much." They talked for a while, mainly about the weather.The constant heat has Alva worried about his chickens.Then she hung up the phone. Brett looked up from his bowl of porridge when Charity came into the kitchen.Little Jim was carefully making circles on the table with his orange pair, and talking nonsense from time to time.At some point during the past forty-eight hours he had identified Brett Campbell as a close relative of Jesus Christ. "How is it?" Brett asked. "You're right. Your dad didn't let Alvaf feed Cujo." She went on, seeing the look of disappointment and concern on Brett's face, "but he's going to see Cujo this morning, and he put As soon as the chickens are ready. I left my phone number this time. He said he'd call back no matter what." "Thank you, Mom." When Holly called Jim upstairs to change, Jim left the table giggling, "Brett, do you want to come upstairs with me?" Brett smiled at him: "I'll be waiting for you, little slob." "Okay," Jim yelled, running out, "Mum, Brett said he'd be waiting for me, and Brett's going to wait for me to get dressed!" There was a banging sound upstairs, like the heavy footsteps of elephants. "He's a nice little thing," said Brett casually. "I think," said Charity, "we might be able to go home a little earlier if it suits you." Brett's face lit up immediately, and even though she had made the decision, the light on Brett's face made her feel a little sad. "When are you leaving?" he asked. "How about going tomorrow?" She had meant to suggest Friday. "Excellent! But—" He looked intently into her face—''Is your visit over?Mother?I mean, she's your sister after all. " Charity thought of the credit cards, and of the water-pressed Liesel jukebox that Holly's husband could afford but couldn't install.It was these things that impressed Brett, and they impressed her in the same way.Maybe that was what she was seeing dimly in Brett's eyes... through Jo's eyes, enough, enough, enough of it all. "Yes," she said, "I think I'm done visiting and I'll tell Holly this morning." "Okay, Mom," he looked at her with a little shyness on his face, "I'd mind coming back later, I think you know. I really like them. He's a nice clean little guy. Wish he could come to Maine sometime." "Of course," she said, surprised and pleased, and she thought Jo would have no objection. "Well, I can arrange for them to come." "That would be great. Can you tell me what Mr. Thornton said?" "I will." But Alva never called again. While he was feeding the chicks that morning, the motor in his large air conditioner suddenly failed, and he was immediately caught in a life-and-death struggle to save his chicks from the scorching heat.Dona Trenton might have called it another blow of the same fate, as she saw it in Cujo's gray, murderous eyes. The problem with the Thornton's air conditioner was not resolved until four o'clock that afternoon (Alva lost sixty-two chicks that day and had to sell them cheaply), and by then the sunny yard of the Cambers' The standoff that began on Monday afternoon in the city is also over. Andy Mason was a prodigy in the Maine Department of Justice, and it was said that one day—and the day would come soon—would head the state Department of Justice's crimes section.But Andy Mason aims much higher than that.He hoped to be attorney general himself in 1984 and be fully prepared to run for governor by 1987.After eight years as governor, who knows? He came from a large and poor family. He, his three brothers and two sisters grew up in a white slum that looked like a rabbit hole on Sabates Road outside Lisburn.他的兄弟姐妹们都没有怎么超出，或者甚至低于了小镇居民对他们的期望。只有安迪·梅森和他最小的弟弟——马迪，艰苦地念完了高中。 有一阵看上去罗布塔也能念完，可是她在高三那年的一场舞会之后，就让自己的心飞得比风筝还高。她离开学校，嫁给了一个男孩，那男孩直到二十九岁了脸上还长满了青春痘，他只知道直接从大缸里喝纳拉干赛特烈性酒，然后把罗布塔和孩子们全揍趴下。 马迪在得赫海姆的9号公路上的一次车祸中命丧黄泉。当时他和他一些喝得醉醺醺的朋友正以每小时七十英里的速度开着车，试图爬上西吉伊斯山的陡坡。他们驾驶的伽马罗车翻了两个筋斗之后起火燃毁了。 安迪是家里的希望之星，但是他的妈妈从来就不喜欢他甚至有点怕他，和朋友们谈起他时，她会说：“我的安迪是一条冷冰冰的鱼，”但是他不只是一条冷冰冰的鱼。他总是把自己的情绪控制得非常好，管得死死的。从五年级开始，他就知道他一定会读完大学，然后会做一个律师。律师们能赚到很多钱，他们用逻辑来工作。而逻辑，则正是安迪的上帝。 他把每一件事都看作一个点，每一个点又辐射出有限数量的几种可能性，而每一条可能性线段的尽头又是另一个事件点，以此类推。 他上初级中学和中学时，各科成绩全部是优秀，他还获得了一项德才兼备奖学金，几乎可以上任何一所大学。他最后还是决定去缅因州立大学。他扔掉上哈佛大学的机会，是因为他已经做出决定要在奥古斯塔市开始他的事业。而且他也不想让一些脚穿胶皮长简靴，身着伐木工人皮夹克的松木伐木工在他的面前扔出哈佛的字样儿来攻击他的不贴近群众。 在这个赤日炎炎的七月的早上，所有的事情都在按部就班、有条不紊中进行着。 他放下了维克·特伦顿家的电话。 他打给坎伯家的电话没人接。班那曼和州警察署的那个侦探都在他身边，像训练有素的警犬那样等地下达命令。 他以前就和汤森德一起工作过，场森德就是那个从外；警察署来的家伙，他是那种让安迪·梅森感到很舒服，乐于共事的人。你说去拿，那么场森德就会去拿。梅森是第一次和班那曼合作，他不怎么喜欢他。 班那曼的眼睛似乎有点太过明亮了，还有他突然想到坎普有可能利用那个男孩来胁迫那个女人时的样子……噢，这样的想法，如果有谁想到，也应该是由安迪·梅森第一个想到才对。这三个人坐在组合沙发上，谁也没说话，只是在喝咖啡。他们在等待那个联邦调查局的人带着回询在门口出现。 安迪在仔细考虑整个案件。 这可能只是场茶壶里的暴风雨，但也可能是一个重大案件。 这让丈夫确信这是一个绑架案，没把那辆消失的小汽车放在心上，他毫不怀疑地认定是斯蒂夫·坎普绑架了他的妻子和孩子。 但安迪·梅森在怀疑。 坎怕不在家，那儿没有一个人在家。也许他们都外出度假了，这相当有可能；七月是典型的出门度假的月份，他们确也应该碰上一些正方不在家的人了。要是他准备出门度假的话，他还会不会留下她的车来修理呢？unlikely.而且那辆车在他那儿都实在不大可能。但是必须要查看一下，而且有一种可能性地没有向维克提起。 会不会她确实把车开到炊伯的车库了？会不会真的有人提出愿意把她送回家？不是一个朋友，不是一个熟人，不是坎伯或他的妻子，而是一个完完全全陌生的人？安迪在脑子里几乎已经听到维克在说，“噢，不可能，我妻子是永远也不会同意搭乘一个陌生人的车回家的。”但实际上，她就搭过几次斯蒂夫·坎普的便车，坎普那时几乎就是个陌生人。如果这个假设中的人表现得很友好，而她又急着要带儿子回家，那么她也许就同意了，而也许这个友好、笑容满面的人正是某种变态狂！罗克堡过去就出过这么一个变态狂，弗兰克·杜德。也许这个友好、笑容满面的人割断了他们的喉咙，把他们的尸体扔进灌木丛中，然后又继续高高兴兴地赶他的路了。如果是这种情况的话，那么那辆品托轿车一定还在坎伯家的车库里。 安迪不认为这条推理线索有多大可能，但也不是完全没有可能。他本来早就该派个人到坎伯家去查看一下——这是常规——但是他喜欢在做一件事之前考虑清楚为什么要这样做。他觉得，出于任何实际的考虑，在他正在建造的逻辑和顺序的结构体里，坎伯家的车库都可以不予考虑。在他的设想中，她可能到过那儿，发现坎伯一家都出去了，而接下来，如果她的车也真就突然抛锚了，但罗克堡3号镇道远不是南极洲，她和那个小孩只要走着就可以在附近找到一家居民家，他们可以借用一下电话，问题就解决了。 但他们没有那么做。 “汤森德先生。”他用他的轻柔的声音说道，“你和这儿的班那曼长官应该开车到这个乔·坎伯家的车库去。核实三件事：蓝色的品托车不在那儿，它的车牌号码是218－864，多娜和泰德·特伦顿不在那儿，坎伯一家也都不在。听明白了吗？” “明白。”汤森德回答道，“您是否需要——” “我只想知道这三件事，”安迪和颜悦色地说。他不喜欢班那曼看他的样子，班那曼的脸上带着一种不耐烦的蔑视，让他很不痛快，“如果三者之一在那儿，立即给我打电话，就向这里打，如果我离开了，我也会留下一个电话号码的。清楚了吗？” The phone rang. 班那曼拿起了话筒，听了一下，把它递给安迪·梅森：“你的电话，大人物。” 他们的眼睛都在盯着电话机。 梅森想班那曼会把话筒放下，但是他没有。过了一小会儿，梅森接过了话筒。电话是从斯加尔区的州警察署监狱打来的，斯蒂夫·坎普已经被抓住了。他的货车在马萨诸塞州一个叫得克海姆的镇上的一家小汽车旅馆里被人发现了。那个女人和孩子没有跟他在一起。接到逮捕令之后，坎普说了他的名字，然后就一直使用着他的保持沉默的权力。 安迪·梅森觉得这条消息有着十分不祥的预兆。 “汤森德，你跟我一起去。”他说道，“班那曼长官，你一个人能去坎伯家那儿，是不是？” “这是我司法的城镇。”班那曼说道。 安迪·梅森点燃一支香烟，透过冉冉上升的烟圈看着班那曼：“长官先生，你有什么问题要向我提出吗？” 班那曼笑了：“没有我处理不了的事。” 老天爷，我恨这些自命不凡的家伙，梅森想，他看着班那曼离开。不管怎么说，他现在已经退出舞台了。Thank God.这点小恩惠我还是得到了。 班那曼坐在了他巡逻车的方向盘后面，点火起动，退出了特伦顿家的车道。这时是七点二十分。他对梅森这样干净利索地把他推到了一边几乎要笑出声来。他们正向着案件的核心奔去，而他呢，哪儿也达不到。但是老汉克·汤森德又要听一上午的梅森的扯淡了，所以也许他走开也不错。 乔治·班那曼的巡逻车慢慢开出117直，开上了枫糖路，警笛和警灯都没有打开。天气真不错，他没有必要太匆忙。 多娜和泰德都在睡觉。 他们的姿势非常相似：就像那些不得不在州际公共汽车上度过好几个小时的人们一样，他们的姿势很不得劲。他们的脑袋无精打采地情靠在他们的肩膀窝里，多娜的头朝左，泰德的头朝右。泰德的两只手放在腿上，就像两条搁浅的鱼，时不时还会抽动起来。他的呼吸声刺耳，有时会夹杂有几声呼喀声。他的嘴唇上面布满了水泡，限度泛起了淡紫色。一行唾液从他的嘴角流到他下巴下的弧线处，已经开始干了。 多娜睡得不是很熟。尽管她已经精疲力竭了，可是她蜷缩着的体位，她的大腿和肚子上的疼痛，现在又有了她的手指（泰德抽风的时候咬她的手指，咬到骨头那么深），都让她无法深入梦乡。她的头发被汗水债成一圈一圈的，紧贴在她的头上。她左腿上的薄纱布再一次被血水渗透了，她肚皮上受过外伤的地方已经变成一种难看的红色。她的呼吸声也很刺耳，不过倒不像泰德那样不均匀。 泰德·特伦顿已经快到了他能忍受的尽头了。 他已经过度脱水，他大汗淋漓，大量的电解质、氯化物和销透过他的汗水渗出体外，而一直没有任何新的东西补充进来。他身体内部的防御系统一步步后退，现在他已经到了最后的生死关头了。他的生命已经变轻，不再紧紧地沉浸在他的血肉之躯里，生命已经开始颤抖，一阵轻风吹来，它就会脱离这副皮囊向天堂飞去。 他发着高烧，做着乱梦，他梦见他的爸爸在推他荡秋千，越荡越高，越荡越高，他已经看不见他家的后院了，他看见的只是那个鸭塘，凉嗖嗖的微风拂过他被太阳晒黑的额头，他疼痛难忍的双眼和他那长满了水泡的嘴唇。 eighty three 库乔也在睡。 它躺在门廊旁边一边草地的边缘，它破烂的鼻吻捂在它的两只前爪里。它的梦里都是一些迷惑难解的、疯狂奇怪的东西。它梦见又到了黄昏，天空中布满了翻腾旋转地飞翔着，长着鲜红眼睛的蝙蝠，它们成群结队，使得天空都暗了下来。 它一次又一次地向这些蝙蝠扑去，而每一次攻击它都能扑下一只来，它的牙撕咬着它膜质的、扭了劲的翅膀。 但是这些该死的蝙蝠不停地用它们那尖利的小小的牙齿咬它的滑嫩的脸。那些地方非常疼，所有的疼痛都是那么来的，它要把它们都杀死，它要—— 它突好惊醒了，它的头从前爪子里抬了起来，高昂起来。 一辆汽车正向这儿开过来。 对于它极度紧张的耳朵来说，一辆开近的汽车的声音是十分可怕的，可怕得让它难以忍受，这声音就像一只会叮咬的巨大的昆虫，正飞来要向它身上注满毒液。 它摇晃地站了起来，感觉身上的所有关节好像都扎满了碎玻璃碴子。它盯着那辆惨死了一样一动不动的轿车。它可以看到里面那个女人的头的轮廓，那个头也一动不动。以前，库乔能清楚地透过玻璃看见她，但这个女人不知对玻璃做了什么手脚，它现在再也看不清楚了。 不过这不重要，她跑不出去，那个男孩也一样，他们都别想跑出去。 轰隆轰隆的声音现在越来越近了。一辆汽车正向山上开来，但是……那是一辆汽车吗？它会不会是一只巨大的蜜蜂或黄蜂，要来蛰它，让它的痛楚加剧呢？ 最好等等看。 库乔在门廊底下鬼鬼祟祟地溜过来溜过去，它以前经常是在这儿度过漫长的炎炎夏日。 在那些年里，门廊四周落满了深秋的黄叶，这些黄叶会散发出一种令它难以置信的甜香，会让它非常快乐。可如今这气味好像太多太重，让它窒息，让它难以忍受。它对着这气息咆哮起来，嘴里又开始冒出白沫来。要是一条狗能够杀死某种气味的话，那它就一定会杀死这种怪味。 轰隆声现在已经非常近了，接着一辆汽车开进了车道。那辆车的侧面是蓝色的，车顶是白色，上面还安着灯。 乔治·班那曼实在没想到他拐进乔·坎伯家的汽车道时，会看到那个失踪的女人的品托车。 他并不是一个傻子，当他对安迪·梅森的点对点分析感到不耐烦（他处理过弗兰克·杜德的恐怖事件，从那些案件中，他明白了一个道理：有些事毫无逻辑可言）的时候，他自己也在下意识中非常确信地得出了相似的结论。他同意梅森的看法，即特伦顿家的那个女人和她的儿子在这儿的可能几乎没有。但无论如何，那辆车确实在这儿。 班那曼把他挂在仪表板下面的话筒一把抓过来，可是紧接着他又决定先检查一下那辆轿车。从他那个角度，即从那辆品托汽车的正后方，他不可能看清楚车里是否有人。车座的后靠背有点太高了，并且泰德和多娜两个人都在他们的睡梦中缩了下去。 班那曼从他的巡逻车里出来，从身后砰地一声关上车门。他没有走上两步远，就看到品托汽车整个侧面的车窗都成了一大片碎成一块一块的烂玻璃团。他的心跳开始加速，他的手摸向了他那只点38警枪的把手。