Chapter 15 13

Cujo's eyes were fixed on the man coming out of the blue car, his chest filled with rising hatred. It was this man who caused it pain, and it was sure that he was the source of all its pain. It was the man who made every joint of it so painful, the man who caused the screeching noise in its head that made it restless and putrid.It was the man's fault that the dead leaves under the porch gave off a stench of rotting; and every time he saw water, he could not help groaning and turning his head away, though his parched thirst was unbearable. It was also this man's fault to escape far away from places with water.

There was a low growl from the depths of its tight, heavy chest as its legs buckled under its body.It could smell the man, the oily sweat of his sweat and excitement, the hard muscle of his bones.The roar became lower and deeper, and then it became a loud hoarse cry of rage. It jumped up from under the porch and swooped down on the man who had caused all its pain. Bannerman didn't even hear Cujo's low, growing snarl for the first critical moment.He was already close to the Pinto and could see a clump of hair resting against the window near the driver's seat.The first thing he thought was that the woman must have been shot, but where was the bullet hole?The glass window looked as if it had been hit by something rather than shot through.

Then he saw the head move inside.It didn't move much—just slightly—but it did.This woman is still alive.He stepped forward...and that's when he heard Cujo's growl, followed by a series of snarls.His first thought was— (Lesetti?) Lesetti was the hound of his Irish Setter, but his Lesetti had been killed four years ago, shortly after the Frank Dodd case.What's more, Lesetti has never uttered a cry like this. At the next critical moment, Bannaman was stunned. A kind of primitive terror enveloped his whole body, making him freeze as if he could not move at all. up. He turned sharply, drew his pistol, and saw only the vague glimpse of a dog—an unbelievably large dog, indeed—that leapt down at him in mid-air.It hit his chest and slammed him against the rear door of the Pinto, and with a throaty growl, his right arm came up and the wrist hit the chrome of the rear door hard. alloy compartment.

His pistol flew too. The gun spun over the hood of the car, did somersaults, and fell into the tall weeds on the other side of the driveway. The dog was tearing at the ground, and when Bannerman saw the large pool of bright red blood on the chest of his light blue shirt, he suddenly understood what had happened.They got here, their car broke down...the dog is waiting here. The dog wasn't included in Mason's calculus of cool, tidy point-to-point analysis. Bannerman wrestled with it, trying desperately to get his hand under the dog's mouth, choke it, and throw it over its belly.He suddenly felt a deep, defeating, numbing pain in his stomach.The shirtcloth there had become strips, and blood flowed down his trousers like a river.He jumped up, but the dog pushed him back so terribly hard that it slammed him back onto the Pinto with such force that the car wobbled.

He found himself trying to remember if he had made love to his wife the night before. It's crazy to think about it. it's crazy - one The dog charged up again. Bannerman tried to dodge it, but the dog, anticipating that, was grinning at him, and suddenly he felt a pain he had never felt in his entire life. The pain aroused him all of a sudden.Screaming, he put his hand under the dog's mouth again and jerked it up.For a moment, as he stared into the dog's dark, mad eyes, a swirling terror came over him and ran through him, and he thought: Hello, Frank, it's you, isn't it?Do you think hell is too hot to run out?

Then Cujo snapped at his fingers, tearing them apart, turning the bright red flesh out. Bannerman forgot about Frank Dodd, he forgot about everything.The only thought in his mind was how to save his own life.He tried to bring his knee up between him and the dog, but found he couldn't.As he tried to lift his knees, the pain in his lower abdomen burned like a fire into a heart-wrenching agony. What did it do to my lower abdomen?What did it do to me?oh!God, what the hell did he do?wiki... wiki... At this time, the side door next to the driver's seat on Pintuo's car was opened. It's that woman.

He'd seen that family photo that Steve Kemp used to step on and see a beautiful, clean lady with neatly coiled hair, the kind of woman you meet on the street A lady who takes two glances, and the second glance usually brings a little soft ornamental taste. When you see this kind of woman, you think how lucky your husband is to have such a beautiful woman in his bed. But the woman was a mess, and the dog attacked her too. ＼ Her stomach was covered with strips of dried blood. One leg of her jeans had been torn off, and a blood-soaked bandage was tied just above her knee. Her face was the worst, disfigured, like a horrible boiled apple.Her forehead was blistered with blood, and the skin had been peeled off in many places.Her lips were oddly shaped and festered.Her eyes were set deep in two dark purple flesh pockets.

The dog threw Bannerman like lightning and rushed towards the woman, its legs stiff and straight, and it roared.She stepped back into the car immediately and slammed the door shut. (Must call the patrol car, must call!) He turned around and ran to his patrol car. The dog was chasing him, but he was one step ahead of it. He can close the car door, grab the microphone and call for help, area 3, the police officer needs help urgently, the ambulance comes, the dog is shot and killed, they are all saved. All this happened in three seconds, and only in George Bannerman's head. Just as he turned to run toward his patrol car, his legs gave up and he fell flat into the driveway.

(Oh wiki, what did it do to my bottom?) The whole world is dazzling.Dizzying sunlight.It's hard to see things clearly.Bannerman crawled, grabbing the gravel with his hands, and was finally able to run and get up.He looked down at his own body, and he saw a thick, rope-like piece of dark gray intestines dangling from his ripped shirt. His trouser legs were soaked with blood all the way to the knees. enough.What the dog did to his underbelly was bad enough. Get your guts in there and keep your guts, Bannerman, if you can't make it, you can't.But you gotta keep climbing up to that damn microphone and keep calling help.Stuff your guts in and stand on your big flat feet——

(The child, God! Is her child here, too?) It reminded him again of his own daughter, Katrina, who will be entering seventh grade this year.Her breasts had begun to swell, and she had grown into a big young girl.To learn to play the piano, she also wants a horse.There was almost a day when, instead of Mary-Kate Henderson, Dodd would have raped her if she had walked across the school to the library by herself.then-- (move your ass!) Bannerman was finally able to stand up. Everything around him was so bright and sunny, and his insides looked like they were about to fall out of the hole the dog had made.The car, the police radio was right behind him, and the dog had taken his attention away; it was slamming into the side door of the Pinto with all its might, over and over, barking, Roaring non-stop.

Bannerman staggered toward his patrol car. His face was like a white cake, without any color, and his lips were ashen.This is the biggest dog he's ever seen and it ripped out his guts and it's killing me, lord, why is everything around me so hot and so bright? His large and small intestines slipped out from between his fingers. As he approached the patrol car's door, he could already hear the radio beeper under the dash, sending a message. Should have called for contact from the start.This is the prescribed procedure.You can never challenge the established procedure, but if I had followed the procedure at all, I would not have been able to call Smith in the Dude case.Vicky, Katerina, I'm sorry- That little boy, he must try to find someone to save that little boy. He almost fell, but he managed to hold on to the edge of the door. Just then he heard the dog rushing towards him, and he screamed again.He tried to speed up.If only he could close the door... oh my god, if only he could close the door before the dog jumped on him... oh my god... (oh my god!) Tad screamed again and started scratching his face with his nails as Cujo slammed on the door again and again, shaking the car and Tad jerking his head from left to right. "Ted, don't do this! Don't do this... My little baby, please don't!" "I want Dad... I want Baba... I want Dad..." Suddenly the dog stopped attacking, Donna held Ted tightly to her chest and turned her head just in time to see Cujo attacking the man who was trying to get into his car when the dog's force knocked his hand The team door was released. ; After that she couldn't watch it anymore. She wished she could plug her ears, and she didn't want to hear the sound of Cujo ending the man's life anymore. It hid, she thought hysterically, it heard a car approaching, and it hid. That porch door.Now was the time to run for that door, because now Cujo... was missing them. She put her hand on the doorknob, pulled it up, and gave it a hard push.Nothing happened.The door couldn't be opened no matter what.Cujo slammed the door frame hard again and again until the door seemed to be sealed and could no longer be opened. "Ted," she said in a husky, feverish voice, "Ted, switch places with me. Come on. Ted? Ted'?" Ted was shaking all over.His eyeballs rolled again. "Ducks." He gnawed, "Look at the ducks. The devil's words. Dad. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—" He twitched again, his arms flapping like bones.She started shaking him, yelling his name over and over again, trying to open his mouth, trying to keep a hole for air.There was a deafening buzzing in her head, and she was beginning to fear that she was going to pass out. This is hell.They are all in hell.The morning sun cascaded down on the car, creating a greenhouse effect that was dry and brutal. Finally Ted calmed down. He closed his eyes again.His breathing was quick and shallow.When she put her fingers on his wrist, she felt his pulse faint, feeble, like a thread, without rhythm. She looks out. Cujo was already biting one of the man's arms, shaking them like a puppy dog ​​shaking a rag toy.Every few moments it pounces on the frozen body.Blood...there's so much, so much crimson blood there. As if realizing that he was being watched, Cujo looked up, and blood trickled from its mouth.It looked at her with an expression on its face (can a dog have an expression? She wondered wildly), an expression that seemed to convey seriousness and regret... Once again Donna felt a The feeling that she and the dog had known each other intimately, and that neither of them would want to end or stop for a moment, and that they would continue to explore this terrible relationship until they came to some final conclusion. conclusion. Again the dog lunged at the man in the blood-spattered blue shirt and yellow Kutch army trousers.The dead body's head rested on his neck. She looked away, her empty stomach aching from the hot acid, and her bitten leg was prickling again.She had opened the wound again. Ted... how is he doing now? His situation is scary, her mind grimly replies.So what are you going to do?You are his mother, what are you going to do? What else could she do?How would it help Ted if she got out of the car and let herself be killed? That's a cop.Somebody sent a policeman here.And if he didn't go back— "Please," said her hoarse voice, "come on, please." It's eight o'clock in the morning, and it's relatively cool outside—77 degrees Fahrenheit.By noon, Portland airport would have recorded a temperature of 102 degrees Fahrenheit, a new record for that day. Jangsunder and Andy Mason arrived at the State Police Prison in the Sgal area at eight-thirty in the morning.Mason had asked Sandsend to go through official handover procedures with the civil servants there. This was his administrative jurisdiction, not Mason's, and Andy didn't think there was anything wrong with that. The officer on duty told them that Steve Kemp had been caught on his way back to Maine.This is already certain, but Kemp has never opened his mouth.His van has been thoroughly inspected by Massachusetts laboratory technicians and forensic experts. They can't find any clues that a woman and a boy were imprisoned behind the van. A nice little medicine kit was found in the wheel well - marijuana, some cocaine in aspirin bottles, three poppies soaked in alkyl nitric acid, and two quick-mix types, The nickname for this drug is Black Beauty.These things allow them to detain Mr. Kemp very conveniently, like a hook that can hook the fish Kemp for a period of time. "That Pinto," Andy said to Junsunder, getting them both a cup of coffee. "Where the hell is her Pinto?" Townsend shook his head. "Bannerman found something unusual, did you contact him through paging?" "not yet." "Give him a call, then. Tell him that when they bring Kemp in, I want him here too. This is his jurisdiction, and I think he's supposed to be the interrogating officer, at least by rule. " Five minutes later, Townsend returned, looking rather bewildered: "I couldn't get in touch with him, Mr. Mason. Their radio man over there called him and said he must not be in his car." inside." "God, he's probably drinking coffee in some cozy corner. Well, to hell with him, he's out of the case." Andy Mason lit a new Happy Horse cigarette, coughing After a few times, he grinned at Changsende, "Think about whether we can deal with Kemp without him?" Townsend smiled at him too: "Oh, I think we can handle it." Mason nodded: "This matter looks very tricky now, Mr. Townsend, very tricky." "It's not that easy." "Now I'm starting to think about whether this Mr. Kemp will bury the woman and child in a gutter on the side of a country road between Castle Rock and Derckheim." Mason smiled again, "But we I'll force him to say it, Mr Fieldsend, I've cracked harder walnuts than his before." "Yes, sir." Townsend said, his tone full of admiration, he believed that Mason could do it. "If we had to make him sit in this office for two days and two nights, sweating profusely for two days and two nights, maybe he'd talk."' Jangsunder slipped out every fifteen minutes or so, trying to get in touch with George Banerman.He only knows a thing or two about Bannermans, but he thinks about them much better than Mason does, and he thinks Bannermans deserve to be reminded that Andy Mason is looking for he. By ten o'clock, before he had gotten in touch with Bannerman, he was starting to feel worried.He began to think about whether he should mention Chief Bannerman to Mason, and he hadn't heard back until now, or should he not tell Mason? Roger Brixton arrived in New York at 8:49 in the morning.He was flying with Eastern Airlines, hailed a taxi at the airport, went into town, and checked in at the Biltmore Hotel just before nine-thirty. "Is it for two people?" asked the front desk clerk. "My companion was called home in a hurry." "What a pity." The front desk clerk said indifferently, and gave Roger a card to fill out.While Roger was filling out the card, the desk clerk chatted with the cashier about the tickets he had bought for next weekend's Yankees football game. Roger was lying in his room, trying to take a nap, but even though he hadn't slept well last night, he couldn't sleep now. Donna hooked up with some other guy or something, and Vic was still trying to keep his family together—at least trying to keep his family together anyway—and all that was going on in his mind The red, sugar-laden kids' cereal that spills all over the place and stinks. Now Donna and Ted are gone without a trace, and Vic is gone too.Everything in the last week has been like a puff of smoke, curling up into the air and disappearing into nothingness.It's the best magic trick you'll ever see, and the magician says, "Change!" and everything turns into a big pile of shit.His head ached from the thought.The pain hit him in fits and starts, like big, greasy waves crashing against the rocks one after another. Finally he sat up, he didn't want to be alone anymore with the pain in his head and the ramblings of his thoughts.He thought he might go to the summer market research firm on Forty-seventh Street in the park to kill off his worries—after all, Woolkers paid them and got them What are you doing? He stopped in the hall, asked for some aspirin, and walked out again.Walking around didn't ease the pain in his head one bit, but it did rekindle his hatred for New York City. Don't come back, he thought, I'd rather be a porter and dump boxes of Pepsi on the truck than bring Orthea and those two girls back. Xia Tian market research company is located in a huge skyscraper, that building looks silly, but in fact the work efficiency inside is very high, Xia Tian company is on the fourteenth floor.After Rogge explained his identity, the receptionist nodded at him with a smile and said, "Mr. He Weiwei has just been out for a few minutes. Mr. Trenton intends to come with you?" "No, he was called home." "Well, I have one of yours here. Just arrived this morning." She handed Roger a telegram in a yellow envelope.Envelope read: To Vic Ten Renton & Roger, Brixton Wilkes Agency/Cursed by Mirror Eye Studio.Rob sent this telegram to Summer Company late yesterday. Roger tore open the letter, and immediately saw that the telegram was written by Mr. Sharp, and it was quite long. "Guard of papers, here we come," he thought, reading the contents of the telegram. If Vic hadn't been woken up by the ringing of the phone at a few minutes to twelve, he might have slept through the rest of the afternoon.He slept deeply, and his whole body was drenched with sweat. When he woke up, he had a terrible feeling that he couldn't tell the difference between east, west, north and south, and he had no sense of time. He recalled the dream he had had again.Donna and Tad are in a rock-strewn alcove near a ferocious, terrifying, mysterious beast that just barely reaches them.When Vic reached for the phone receiver, he felt the whole room whirl around him. Donna and Ted, he thought, were still alive. "Hello?" "Vic, this is Roger." "Rogge?" He sat up.His shirt stuck to him like rubber.Half of his mind was still asleep, struggling to hold on to the dream.The light was too strong, it was so hot... It was relatively cool when he first slept, but now the bedroom was like a steamer.how late is itHow much time did they let him sleep?The whole house is so peaceful. "Rogge, what time is it?" "What time is it?" Monk Luo Gezhang couldn't figure it out, he paused and said, "What's the matter? It's just twelve o'clock. What's the matter—" "It's twelve o'clock? Oh, my God . . . Roger, I just fell asleep." "What happened, Vic? Are they back?" "They didn't come back when I went to bed. That bastard Mason promised--" "Who is Mason?" "He is in charge of this investigation. Roger, I have to go, I have to find "Wait a minute, hang up, man. I called you from Summer's. I gotta tell you. I got a j cable here, from Cleveland. We've got the bill." "What? What?" Everything was moving too fast for Vic.Donna...Bill...Roger, it all sounds a little ridiculous. "When I came to the company. There was a telegram from me. It was from the old gentleman and the 'kid' to Mirror Eye Studio, and Rob forwarded it here. Would you like me to read it to you? " "Tell me about it." "Although they used different logical reasoning, Old Man Sharp and 'Kid' apparently came to the same conclusion. The old man felt that the Vigor Valley incident was a replay of the Alamo incident-we stood firm on the battlefield. Boys, we can fight together and fight off those hard-pressed partners. We all have to stick together, the big guys are one, and the one together is for us big guys." "I know it's in his old bones," Vic said, rubbing the back of his neck with his fingers. "He's a good old dog. That's what he'll be with us when we leave The reason for coming together." "'The Kid' still wants to kick us out, but he doesn't think this is the time. He feels that would be seen as a sign of his weakness and could be condemned for it. Can you believe it?"' "I believe that paranoid, stupid little thing can do anything." "They want us both to fly to Cleveland and sign a new two-year deal with them. It's not a five-year deal, and by the time the contract ends, that little idea will almost certainly be in the running. We The two of you, I didn't say anything by then, you'd have to get off the table and walk with your bedrolls in your hands, but two years... that's enough time, Vic! We'll be at the top in two years! You can tell them..." "Roger, I have to—" "Got to grab their pound cake mess and grease their asses! And they'll have to talk to us about that new ad campaign and I'm sure they'll agree with Professor Sharp's Cereals song. " "That's great, Roger, but I have to find out what happened to Donna and Ted." "Yeah, yeah, I think I've got a bad call, but I can't keep the news to myself, old man, I can't hold it in, I'm going to blow it up, like Like a balloon." "It's never inappropriate to say good news," Vic said.In any case, he still felt a biting jealousy, and his whole body hurt like being split. He only felt a burst of sadness and disappointment when he heard the relief and unconcealable excitement in Rogge's tone, because he couldn't Share this joy with Roger.But maybe that's a good sign. "Vic, call me as soon as you have news, will you?" "I will, Roger. Thanks for calling me." He hung up the phone, hurriedly put on his flats, and went downstairs.The kitchen was still a mess—just looking at it made him dizzy and his stomach churn.On the dining table was a note from Mason, pressed in a shaker of salt. Mr Trench: Steve Kemp has been caught, De.The point is the western Massachusetts town of Deckheim.Your wife and son were not with him, I repeat, not with him.I didn't wake you up when I got this message because Kemp is keeping silent, which he has the right to do.Either way, he would have been taken directly to the State Police Prison in Sgard District on charges of unlawful destruction of property and unlawful possession of drugs.We expected him to be brought in at 11.30am.If there is any new news, I will inform you as soon as possible. andy mason "Fucking right to silence," Vic growled.He ran into the living room, found the phone number for the state police prison in Sgard, and dialed. "Mr. Kemp is already here," the officer on duty told him. "He was here about fifteen minutes ago. Mr. Mason is with him now. Kemp has hired a lawyer. I don't think Mr. Mason can inferred--" "Never mind what he can do," Vic said. "You tell him I'm Donna Trenton's husband and ask him to wag his ass and talk to me on the phone." A few minutes later, Mason answered the phone. "Mr. Trenton, I know you are concerned, and I fully understand that, but I would like to remind you that the short time before Kemp's lawyer arrives is very precious to us." "What did he tell you?" Mason hesitated, then said, "He's admitted that he broke your house. I think he's finally realized it's a lot more serious than the little drug he found in the wheel well of his car. He confessed to the Massachusetts police officer who brought him here that he was guilty of vandalism, but claimed that no one was home when he did it, and that no one noticed until he left. " "You don't believe the shit he said, do you?" Mason said cautiously, "He seems to have a lot to say, and I can't say I believe anything just yet. If only I could ask him a few more questions—" "What's going on over there in the Campbell's garage?" "No, I've sent Chief Bannerman over there and ordered him to report immediately if Mrs. Trenton was there or her car was there, but since he hasn't reported—" "Not so sure, is it?" Vic asked sharply. "Mr. Trenton, I really must go. If we hear any news Vic hangs up the phone, standing out of breath in the hot, silent living room.He walked slowly to the stairs and went up step by step.He stood for a moment in the upstairs hall, then went into his son's room. Ted's toy trucks were all neatly lined up against the wall, all slanted toward the parking direction.Looking at the toys made Vic sad.Ted's yellow underpants hung on a brass clothes hook beside his bed, and his coloring book was neatly stacked on the desk.His closet door was open, Vic closed it unconsciously, barely aware of what he was doing, and put Tad's chair in front of the closet door. He sat on Tad's bed, his hands hanging limply between his legs, and he looked out the window, at the hot, sunny summer day. Dead alleys, nothing but dead ends, but where are they? (dead end.) If ever there was a word full of foreboding, it was this one: dead end.His mother once told him that when he was Ted's age, he used to be fascinated by dead ends.He wondered if such a thing was hereditary, if Tad was interested in dead ends, too.He wondered if Ted was still alive. He suddenly remembered Town Road No. 3, which became a dead end in front of Joe Campbell's house. Suddenly he turned his head and looked around.He saw that the wall above Tad's bed was empty, and the "Devil's Words" were gone.Why did he take it away?Could it be that Kemp took it for some strange reason of his own?But if Kemp had been here, why hadn't he smashed Tad's room to pieces, like he had done downstairs? (Dead Ends and "Devil's Words.") Did she drive the Pinto over to Camber's?He was vaguely reminded of the conversation the two of them had had about the needle valve that didn't work.She was a little scared of Joe Campbell, didn't she say that? No, not Camber. Camber just wanted to take her clothes off in his head.No, she was a little afraid of the dog.What's its name? They have joked about it in the past.Ted, Ted called the dog. And then again he heard Tad's ethereal, ghostly voice echoing through the empty, suddenly eerie room: Cujo... come-come-a Cujo ……come over-- Then something happened that Vic told no one for the rest of his life. He didn't hear Tad's voice in his mind, but actually heard it, the voice was shrill, lonely, terrible, a flickering voice was coming from the inside of the wardrobe. A scream escaped Vic's throat as he straightened up on Ted's bed, eyes wide. The door of the farm cabinet gradually swung open, pushing the chair in front of it, and his son was calling "Ku—" That's when he realized it wasn't Tad's voice but his own overtired, overwhelmed mind, the thin creak of his chair legs scraping against the painted plank floor. It was Ted's voice.That's all, and— ——And there are a pair of eyes in the closet, he saw a pair of eyes, blood red and deeply sunken eyes—— A short scream escaped from his throat.The chair flipped over for no earthly reason.Then he saw Tad's teddy bear in the closet, sitting high on top of a pile of sheets and blankets.All he sees are the glass eyes of the toy.Nothing else. With his heart pounding in his throat, Vic got up and went over to the farm cupboard.He could smell a smell, which was very heavy and very unpleasant.Maybe it was just the smell of health balls—part of that smell was of course health balls—but it smelled... bloody. Don't be too ridiculous.This is nothing more than a wardrobe.Not a cave.Not a beast's nest. He looked at Ted's teddy bear.Ted's teddy bear looked at him too, without blinking.Behind the teddy bears, behind the hanging clothes, it was just dark.Anything could be behind that.anything.But, of course, nothing. You scare me, teddy bear, he said. Devil, stay out of this room, said Teddy Bear.There was a twinkle in its eye.They're all dead glass, but they're idle for a while. The door wasn't installed properly, but that's all, Vic said. He was sweating, huge, salty beads of sweat trickling down his face like tears. It's none of your business here, replied the teddy bear. what's wrong with me?Vic asked the teddy bear.Am I crazy?Is that what madness is all about? Ted's teddy bear replies: "Demon, let go of Ted." 他关上衣橱的门，看着，眼睛睁大得像个孩子，他看到门闩抬了起来，从槽口里弹了出来。然后门又开始荡开了。 我没有看见，我不相信我看见了。 他重重地摔上门，又搬起椅子顶住它。 然后他抱起一大螺泰德的图画书，把它们堆在椅子座上增加重量。这一回门没有再开。维克站在那儿，看着那扇关着的门，想着有死胡同的路。在有死胡同的路上没有多少车辆，所有的恶魔都应该住在桥底下或衣橱里或有死胡同的路的尽头，这就像国法一样。 他现在感到非常不安。 他离开泰德的房间，下楼去，坐在后台阶上。他点起一支香烟，他点烟的那只手微微颤抖。他看着那铁灰色的天空，感觉着那种不安在不断增长。泰德的房间里发生了什么事。他不敢肯定是什么事，但一定发生了什么事，是的，一定发生了。 恶魔狗衣橱车库有死胡同的路。 要把它们加起来吗，老师？还是它们减掉？除去？分开？ 他把香烟扔到了一边。 他确实相信是坎普干的，不是吗？ 坎普要对这一切负全部的责任。坎普把这座房子搞得一，片狼藉。坎普他妈的几乎毁了他的婚姻。坎普跑到楼上去，在维克和他的妻子同床共枕了过去整整三年的床上射精。坎普把维克·特伦领的生活里最舒适的织物给扯了一个巨大的难以弥补的洞。 坎普。坎普。所有这一切都是坎普的错。让我们把冷战也归罪于坎普，把伊朗的人质问题也归罪于坎普，地球臭氧层的漏洞也都归罪于坎普吧。 愚蠢。 因为不是每件事都是坎普的错，难道不是吗？比如说，活力谷那件事，坎普跟那件事没有一点关系；你也很难责备坎普说他和多娜品托车上的坏针阀有任何关系。 他看着那辆老“美洲豹”。他打算开着它到某个地方去。他不能再这么呆在这儿。要是他再这么呆下去的话，他会发疯的。他要钻进他的赛车，把油门踩到底，一直开到斯加尔区。然后一把抓住坎普，用尽浑身力量猛烈地摇他撞他直到他说出来为止，直到他说出他把多娜和泰德怎么了，他把他们藏到什么地方去了。除非坎普的律师已经赶到了，可尽管这听起来令人难以置信，但这个律师现在让他如此激动，如此像个弹簧那样跳起来。 spring.是一银弹簧把针阀固定住的。 要是这根弹簧坏了，阀门就会凝住不动，堵塞入口，让汽油无法流进化油器。 维克从台阶上下来，走到“美洲豹”赛车那儿，打开车门，钻了进去，皮座椅那么烫，让他不由自主地缩了一下。快点开起来吧，那就会凉快了。 开起来，到哪儿去呢？ 坎伯家的车库，他的脑子立刻回答道。 但是，那是愚蠢的，不是吗？梅森已经派班那曼长官去那儿了，还命令他如果有什么情况立即报告，而那个警察什么也没有报告就回来，这就意味着———－ （恶魔抓住了他。） 好了，到那儿去一趟也没什么坏处，不是吗？至少还算是有点事儿可做。 他发动了“美洲豹”赛车，开下山丘，开上了117道。到现在他还是拿不准是该向左拐，开上95号州际公路去斯加尔区，还是应该向右拐，开上3号镇道。 他在岔路口停车标志处停了下来，直到他后面车上的人向他按喇叭，催他快开。他猛地右转，开了出去。到坎伯家的车库里很快地瞧一眼不会有什么坏处，他十五分钟就能到那儿。 他看了一下表，表上显示十二点二十分。 多娜知道，最后的时刻到了。 这一刻也会逝去，但是她必须在这一刻活下来——或者就随着这一刻的逝去而逝去。不会有人来，不会有雪马银盔的骑士飞驶而来救她——特拉乌斯·马克基骑上显然正忙着别的事呢！ 泰德就要死了。 她用沙哑、带着哭腔的声音一遍遍地喊出声：“泰德就要死了。” 今天早上她在车里怎么也弄不出一丝微风采。她这边的窗户怎么也摇不下去，而能从泰德旁的那扇车窗里透进来的只是酷热。有一次她把那扇窗摇开了一个超过四分之一的缝，库乔马上就从车库前的阴影里冲出来，飞速绕到泰德这一边来，热切地咆哮起来。 汗珠不再从泰德的脸上和脖颈上滚下来了，他已经没有汗了。他的皮肤干燥烫手，舌头肿大，像死人的一样从他的下嘴唇上伸出来。他的呼吸变得那样微弱，微弱得她几乎都听不到了。有两次她不得不把头贴在他的胸口上，这样她才能确定他究竟是不是还在呼吸。 她的境况十分糟糕。这辆车是个随时会爆炸的大火炉。所有金属都烫得让人不敢碰，塑料方向盘也是一样烫得要命。 她腿上有一种持续不断的针扎似的疼痛，她也不再怀疑那条狗咬出的伤口已经让她感染上了什么东西。也许发狂犬病还没那么快——她祈祷上帝千万别让她这么快就发狂犬病——但那伤口血红，而且发了炎。 库乔现在的状态也好不到哪里去。 这条大狗看上去脱水严重，那蓬乱的满是血纹的毛皮下的身体已经开始剧烈地收缩了。它的眼睛一片迷朦，看上去几乎空空荡荡，脖子也扩散了，就像是一个患了严重白内障的老头的眼睛。它像某种古老的毁灭机器，正在不断的重击中把自己折腾过死亡的深渊，而直到现在它仍然那么可怕，那么危险。它守望着，它已经不再从嘴里泛白沫了；它的鼻吻干燥，撕裂，现出无限的恐怖。它看上去就像从一座古老火山的火山口喷出的一块翻滚燃烧的溶岩。 这只老恶魔，她想，还在看守着。 这场可怕的守望与警戒是只有若干几个小时，还是在她整个一生中都持续着？过去的一切难道不都是一场梦，不都只是在舞台两侧的短暂的等待？她那被周围所有人厌恶。反感的母亲，她那用心良苦，却毫无结果的父亲，还有学校，朋友，约会，舞会——所有这一切现在在她看来都不过是一场梦，犹如老人眼中的青春。一切都已经不重要，只有这个阳光照耀的静悄悄的院子，死亡之牌已经发出过，而更多的死亡之牌还在手中，她看得那样真切，就像A或8。 那个老恶魔还在守望着，而她儿子的生命正在悄悄地滑去，滑走，滑走。 那只棒球棒。这是她所剩下的一切了。 那只棒球律，也许，如果她能够到那儿的活、那个死去的男人的警车里还可能有什么东西，比如说，一支手枪。 她开始把泰德往后面推，她喃喃着，喘息着，同一浪一浪袭来的眩晕斗争着，这眩晕让她眼前一片昏花，灰蒙蒙得什么也看不真切了。最后他的身体被推到汽车后舱里，一动不动地静卧在那儿，就像一袋谷子。 她从他那边的车窗里往外看去，看到躺在高草丛中的那根球棒。她打开了车门。 库乔从车库黑洞洞的门口站起来，开始慢慢地向品犯移动，它的脑袋低低地伸着，脚下踩着碎砾石向她靠近。 这时是十二点三十分，多娜·特伦顿最后一次走出她的品托汽车。 多娜到杂草丛中去捡布莱特·坎伯的旧黑——布牌棒球棒的时候，维克正离开枫糖路，把赛车开上了3号镇道。 赛车在路上风驰电掣般疾驶着，他想着早点赶到坎伯家看一眼，然后马上掉头去斯加尔区，斯加尔区离这儿还有五十多英里路。 一反常情的是，他刚决定先到这里来的时候，他的思想就忧伤地告诉他，他不会有任何结果，他一辈子中从来没有像现在这样觉得自己如此地软弱无力。 他以每小时六十英里的速度开着“美洲豹”，他开得那样专心，以至于车开过了加利·佩尔维尔家之后，他才开始意识到乔·坎伯的旅行车停在那儿。他猛踩“美洲豹”的刹车器，地上立即醒目地出现一道二十英尺长的橡胶印，“美洲豹”的鼻子几乎要插进了路面。那个警察可能去了坎伯家，却发现没人在家，因为坎伯在这儿呢。 他瞥了一眼后视镜，后面没有车。他迅速掉转车头，把“美洲豹”开进佩尔维尔家的汽车道。 他从车里钻了出来。 两天前，乔在这里的地上发现了斑斑的血迹（现在血已经干了，变成了紫酱色）和纱门被撞碎了的底嵌板，现在维克感到的和乔·坎伯当时的感觉惊人地相似。一种腐臭的、金属般的味道潮水一般涌进维克的嘴里。这一定是某件事的一个部分，一定和泰德和多娜的失踪事件一样，是某件事的一个部分。 他走了进去，那种气味立即钻进他的鼻子——一种浮肿。新鲜而又腐败的气味。 这两天都非常炎热。厅的中央堆着某样东西，像一个掀翻了的茶几，只是维克死死地认定那绝不是一个茶几……因为那种气味。 他走近厅里的那样东西，那确实不是一个茶几。那是一个人，那人看上去被用一种极其钩的刀片割断了喉咙。 维克跳了回去。他的喉咙里发出干涩的嘎嘎声，好像要呕吐。电话。他必须叫人来。 他跑向厨房，又停了下来。突然所有的事情一齐出现在他的脑海里，电光石火之间，所有的真相轰地一声大白了；宛若两张半页的图画，拼到了一块，一个三维的世界真切地出现了。 “噢！天哪，多娜——” 维克转身向门口冲去，冲向他的赛车。 多娜几乎是在爬，她的伤腿已经很难挪动步子了。 她稳定住自己，拼命去够那根棒球棒，在她最后终于把那球棒紧紧地抓在手里之前，她始终不敢回头去看库乔，她心里充满了恐惧，生怕自己再一次失去平衡。如果她能有时间再向前看一眼——再向前一点点——她就能看见乔治·班那曼的那把手枪，那把警用手枪正躺在前面的杂草里。但是她没有看到。 她摇摇晃晃地转过身，库乔正向她冲了过来。 她把球棒重的那一头向这条圣·伯奈特狗狠狠地砸了下去。球律在她的手中摇晃着，她的心摇晃地沉了下去——球棒的手柄已经裂得不成样子了。那条圣佑奈特狗闪向一边，咆哮起来。她的乳房在白胸罩里急速地一起一伏，它们的前部满是血痕，她把泰德的舌头拔出来之后在那上面擦了一擦手。 他们站着，面对着面，一动不动地盯着对方，打量着，估摸着对方的力量。 在这寂静无声的夏天的上午，阳光灿烂地笼罩着他们，他们在这片阳光中对峙着。她低低地急促地喘着气，它在胸膛中咆哮着，声音也是低低的．此外仅有的声音就是附近某处一只麻雀快乐的瞅鸣。他们俩的影子短小，奇形怪状地踩在他们的脚下。 库乔向左移了一步，多娜向右移了一治，他们在绕着圈。她的手抓在她相信木头裂得最深的地方。她的手掌紧紧握进了手柄上“黑猫”磨擦带粗糙的纹理里。 库乔浑身缩紧了。 “上来吧，狗东西！”她冲着它发出尖叫，库乔一跃而起。 她猛地挥动球律，就像米克尔·曼托正击向一个快球。她没有打中库乔的脑袋，但是球棒打在了它的肋骨上面。随着这重重的沉闷的一击，库乔身肝的某个地方发出了很沉闷的一声更响，紧接着就有一种清脆的啪略声，那条狗发出一声尖叫，掉到沙砾石上，滚了两圈。 她感到球律在磨擦胶布的下面也给劈开了——但到目前为止它还能连在一起。 多娜大叫一声，调门又尖又高，撕心裂肺。她把球棒狠狠地向库乔的后半部分击去。 她听见又有什么东西碎了。 那条狗低低地哀嚎着，试图爬到一边儿去，可是她的樟子又砸了下去。她嗖嗖地挥动着棒子，抽着，砸着，一声一声地尖叫着。她感到自己的脑袋里注满了酒，灌满了铅，整个世界好像都在跳舞，她就是那弹着竖琴的命运三姐妹，她就是复仇女神，她浑身上下燃着熊熊的复仇烈火——不是为了她自己，而是为了她的孩子所受的苦，所遭的罪。那根包着磨擦带里的球律手柄弯成了弧状，就像一颗怦怦猛跳的心脏在她的手心里一上一下地跳着。 球捧上已经鲜血淋漓了，库乔仍在竭力躲避，但是它的行动已经极其迟缓。它躲过了一击，球棒的头在沙砾石之间滑了过去——但是这一下正打在它的后背上，把它打得用后腿坐下了。 她想它已经完蛋了，她甚至向后退了一两步，她的呼吸从她的肺部挤进挤出，带着呼啸之声，就像是某种滚烫滚烫的液体一样。这时那条狗深深地吼叫了一声，猛地又向她扑了过来。她拼命抽动球棒，又一次听到了那沉重的。摧枯拉朽的声音……可库乔被打得在沙砾石上在滚时，她的那只旧棒球棒断成了两段。粗的那一半儿飞了出去，砸在品托布前方的车盖上，奏乐般地发出一声清脆的“梆”。她的手里只剩下一根裂开了的十八英寸长的光秃秃的棒子了。 库乔又爬了起来……它几乎是把自己拽了起来。鲜血从它的身体两侧淌了下来。 它的双眼就像是一架不完善的弹球机，反射出耀眼的光。闪烁不定的光。 可是在她看来，它仍旧在狞笑着。 “来吧！那么你来吧！”她声嘶力竭地喊道。 这个曾经是布莱特·坎伯的好狗的垂死的东西最后一次跳起来，向造成它所有不幸的那个女人扑去。 多娜手里紧紧地抓着残留的球律，向前猛地突刺进去，那根劈开了的、锐利的山核桃木棒球律深深地插进了库乔的一只眼睛里，一直插进它的脑子。她听到一声很微弱的无足轻重的“扑”，就像用两个手指尖把一个葡萄猛地捏碎了。库乔向前的冲力带着它扑到她身上，撞得她四脚朝天。它的牙在离她的脖颈只有几英寸的地方撕扯着。狂咬着。库乔要爬到了她身上，她伸出胳膊把它挡住。它的那眼球从它的一侧脸颊上滚了下来，它的呼吸阴险恐怖。她竭尽全力要把它的鼻吻推开，它的前爪在紧紧夹着她的上臂。 “停下来！”她尖叫着，“噢，停下来，你就永远停不下来了吗？求求你！求求你！求求你了！” 浓浓的鲜血像一条粘粘的小河一样淌到她的脸上，那是她的血和它的血。 她胳膊上的剧痛燃成了一片，好像要烧掉整个世界……然后它一点一点地压了下来。 那只断裂的球棒晃动着，发出怪异的叮当声，好像正从它原先长眼睛的那个部分不断长出来。 它咬向她的脖子。 多娜的脖子感到了它的牙，随着最后一声颤悠悠的尖叫，她两只胳膊像活塞一样冲出去，把它推开了。库乔砰地一声重重地摔在了地上。 它的后腿在沙砾石上划拉着，慢了下来……又慢了下来……停了” 它残留的那只眼睛死死地瞪着上面酷热的夏天的天空。 它的尾巴落在她的两条小腿之间，沉重得像一张土耳其长地毯。 它吸了一口气，把它呼出来，又吸了一口气。 它发出浊浊的呼喀声，突然间一股鲜血从它的嘴里流了出来。然后它就死了。 多娜·特伦顿发出了胜利的爆叫。 她挣扎着站起来，摔倒了，最后还是尽力爬了起来。 她拽着自己的脚走了两步，绊倒在那条狗的尸体上面，膝盖上又划出了好几道口子。 她爬到棒球棒粗的一段落下的地方，球律的尽头是大块大块的凝血。她把它捡起来，又扶着品拓汽车的发动机罩站起身来。 她跌跌撞撞地走回库乔躺着的地方，开始用棒球棒狠狠地揍它。球棒每抽到肉上一次，都会发出一声沉沉的重响。 黑磨擦带跳着舞，在炎热的空中上下翻腾。劈开的木尖插进她松软的手掌心里，鲜血淌下来，染红了她的手腕和上臂。 她仍然在尖叫，但在那声胜利的曝叫之后，她的声音完全嘶哑了，现在她所能发出的只不过是一连串嘎嘎的咆哮，那声音听上去就像库乔自己临死前时发出的。 球律升起又落下，她只是猛接着那条死狗。 在她身后，维克的“美洲豹”拐进了坎伯家的汽车道。 他不知道他所期待的是什么，但绝不会是眼前的一幕。他曾经很害怕，可是当他看见他的妻子——那真的会是多娜吗——站在车道里那一堆扭曲稀烂的东西上面，用某种洞穴野人用的棍棒一类的东西东一律西一棒地揍它……这场景把他的恐惧变成了一股鲜明制亮的恐慌，让他无法思考。 有那么无限长的一瞬，他后半辈子始终也没有向谁吐露过，他感到了一种冲动，要把“美洲豹”猛地掉过车头开走……永远地开下去。在这个寂静无声阳光灿烂的院子里所发生的一切就像恶魔一样可怕。 然而，他没有那样做，他关掉发动机，跳了出来，“多娜！多娜！” 她看上去好像没有听见他的声音，甚至根本没有意识到他在那儿。 她的两顿和前额在太阳残忍的暴晒下，已经晒剥了皮。她穿的牛仔裤的左边裤腿被撕成一条一条，已经被血浸透了。而她的肚子看上去……看上去是一大块凝固的血。 那只棒球棒升起又落下，升起又落下。她发出了刺耳的外派的乌鸦一样的叫声。鲜血从那条狗僵直的尸体上向空中溅去。 “多娜！” 他一把抓住那只扬在空中的棒球棒，用力把它从她的手中夺了下来。 他把它扔到一边，一下子扒住她的赤裸的肩膀头。她扭过头来面向着他，她的双眼中只有一片空白，一团迷雾，她的头发蓬乱，就像一个女巫。她瞪着他……摇了一摇头……然后就走开了。 “多娜，亲爱的，天哪！”他柔声道。