sk.petsematary-第15章

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　　Louis　nodded。。　The　first　of　the　drug　salesmen　would　begin　arriving　at　ten。　As　Steve　liked　to　crack；　Wednesday　might　be　Prince　Spaghetti　Day；　but　at　UMO　every　Tuesday　was　D…day。　The　D　stood　for　Darvon；　the　all…time　favorite。
　　〃A　word　of　advice；　0　Great　Boss；〃　Steve　said。　〃I　don't　know　what　dese　guys　were　like　out　in　Chicago；　but　around　here　they'll　stoop　to　just　about　anything；　from　all…expenses…paid　hunting　junkets　into　the　Allagash　in　November　to　free　bowling　at　Family　Fun　Lanes　in　Bangor。　I　had　one　guy　try　to　give　me　one　of　those　inflatable　Judy　dolls。　Me！　And　I'm　only　a　P。A。！　If　they　can't　sell　you　drugs；　they'll　drive　you　to　them。〃
　　〃Should　have　taken　the　Judy　doll。〃
　　〃Nah；　she　was　a　redhead。　Not　my　type。〃
　　〃Well；　I　agree　with　Surrendra；〃　Louis　said。　〃Just　as　long　as　it's　not　like　yesterday。〃
　　　18
　　When　the　rep　from　Upjohn　didn't　turn　up　promptly　at　ten；　Louis　gave　in　and　called　the　registrar's　office。　He　spoke　with　a　Mrs。　Stapleton；　who　said　she　would　send　over　a　copy　of　Victor　Pascow's　records　immediately。　When　Louis　hung　up；　the　Upjohn　guy　was　there。　He　didn't　try　to　give　Louis　anything；　only　asked　him　if　he　had　any　interest　in　buying　a　season　ticket　to　the　New　England　Patriots'　games　at　a　discount。
　　〃Nope；〃　Louis　said。
　　〃I　didn't　think　you　would；〃　the　Upjohn　guy　said　glumly　and　left。
　　At　noon　Louis　walked　up　to　the　Bear's　Den　and　got　a　tuna　fish　sandwich　and　a　Coke。　He　brought　them　back　to　his　office　and　ate　lunch　while　going　over　Pascow's　records。　He　was　looking　for　some　connection　with　himself　or　with　North　Ludlow；　where　the　Pet　Sematary　was　。　。　。　a　vague　belief；　he　supposed；　that　there　must　be　some　sort　of　rational　explanation　even　for　such　a　weird　occurrence　as　this。　Maybe　the　guy　had　grown　up　in　Ludlow…　had；　maybe；　even　buried　a　dog　or　a　cat　up　there。
　　He　didn't　find　the　connection　he　was　looking　for。　Pascow　was　from　Bergenfield；　New　Jersey；　and　had　e　to　UMO　to　study　electrical　engineering。　In　those　few　typed　sheets；　Louis　could　see　no　possible　connection　between　himself　and　the　young　man　who　had　died　in　the　reception　room…other　than　the　mortal　one；　of　course。
　　He　sucked　the　last　Coke　out　of　his　cup；　listening　to　the　straw　crackle　in　the　bottom；　and　then　tossed　all　his　trash　into　the　wastebasket。　Lunch　had　been　light；　but　he　had　eaten　it　with　good　appetite。　Nothing　much　wrong　with　the　way　he　felt；　really。　Not　now。　There　had　been　no　recurrence　of　the　shakes；　and　now　even　that　morning's　horror　began　to　seem　more　like　a　nasty；　pointless　surprise；　dreamlike　itself；　of　no　consequence。
　　He　drummed　his　fingers　on　his　blotter；　shrugged；　and　picked　up　the　phone　again。　He　dialed　the　EMMC　and　asked　for　the　morgue。
　　After　he　was　connected　with　the　pathology　clerk；　he　identified　himself　and　said；　〃You　have　one　of　our　students　there；　a　Victor　Pascow…〃
　　〃Not　anymore；〃　the　voice　at　the　other　end　said。　〃He's　gone。〃
　　Louis's　throat　closed。　At　last　he　managed；　〃What？〃
　　〃His　body　was　flown　back　to　his　parents　late　last　night。　Guy　from　Brookings…Smith　Mortuary　came　and　took　custody。　They　put　him　on　Delta；　uh〃…papers　riffling…〃Delta　Flight　109。　Where　did　you　think　he　went？　Out　dancing　at　the　Show　Ring？〃
　　〃No；〃　Louis　said。　〃No；　of　course　not。　It's　just　。　。　。〃　It　was　just　what？　What　the　Christ　was　he　doing　pursuing　this；　anyway？　There　was　no　sane　way　to　deal　with　it。　It　had　to　be　let　go；　marked　off；　forgotten。　Anything　else　was　asking　for　a　lot　of　pointless　trouble。　〃It's　just　that　it　seemed　very　quick；〃　he　finished　lamely。
　　〃Well；　he　was　autopsied　yesterday　afternoon〃…that　faint　riffle　of　papers　again…〃at　around　three…twenty　by　Dr。　Rynzwyck。　By　then　his　father　had　made　all　the　arrangements。　I　imagine　the　body　got　to　Newark　by　two　in　the　morning。〃
　　〃Oh。　Well；　in　that　case…〃
　　〃Unless　one　of　the　carriers　screwed　up　and　sent　it　somewhere　else；〃　the　pathology　clerk　said　brightly。　〃We've　had　that　happen；　you　know；　although　never　with　Delta。　Delta's　actually　pretty　good。　We　had　a　guy　who　died　on　a　fishing　trip　way　up　in　Aroostook　County；　in　one　of　those　little　towns　that　just　have　a　couple　of　map　coordinates　for　a　name。　Asshole　strangled　on　a　pop…top　while　he　was　chugging　a　can　of　beer。　Took　his　buddies　two　days　to　buck　him　out　of　the　wilderness；　and　you　know　that　by　then　it's　a　toss…up　whether　or　not　the　Forever　Goop　will　take。　But　they　shoved　it　in　and　hoped　for　the　best。　Sent　him　home　to　Grand　Falls；　Minnesota；　in　the　cargo　partment　of　some　airliner。　But　there　was　a　screw…up。　They　shipped　him　first　to　Miami；　then　to　Des　Moines；　then　to　Fargo；　North　Dakota。　Finally　somebody　wised　up；　but　by　then　another　three　days　had　gone　by。　Nothing　took。　They　might　as　well　have　injected　him　with　Kool…Aid　instead　of　Jaundaflo。　The　guy　was　totally　black　and　smelled　like　a　spoiled　pork　roast。　That's　what　I　heard；　anyway。　Six　baggage　handlers　got　sick。〃
　　The　voice　on　the　other　end　of　the　line　laughed　heartily。
　　Louis　closed　his　eyes　and　said；　〃Well；　thank　you…〃
　　〃I　can　give　you　Dr。　Rynzwyck's　home　phone　if　you　want　it；　Doctor；　but　he　usually　plays　golf　up　in　Orono　in　the　morning。〃
　　〃That's　okay；〃　Louis　said。
　　He　hung　up　the　telephone。　Let　that　put　paid　to　it；　he　thought。　When　you　were　having　that　crazy　dream；　or　whatever　it　was；　Pascow's　body　was　almost　certainly　in　a　Bergenfield　funeral　home。　That　closes　it　off；　let　that　be　the　end　of　it。
　　Driving　home　that　afternoon；　a　simple　explanation　of　the　filth　at　the　foot　of　the　bed　finally　occurred　to　him；　flooding　him　with　relief。
　　He　had　experienced　an　isolated　incident　of　sleepwalking；　brought　on　by　the　unexpected　and　extremely　upsetting　happenstance　of　having　a　student　mortally　injured　and　then　dying　in　his　infirmary　during　his　first　real　day　on　the　job。
　　It　explained　everything。　The　dream　had　seemed　extremely　real　because　large　parts　of　it　were　real…the　feel　of　the　carpet；　the　cold　dew；　and；　of　course；　the　dead　branch　that　had　scratched　his　arm。　It　explained　why　Pascow　had　been　able　to　walk　through　the　door　and　he　had　not。
　　A　picture　rose　in　his　mind；　a　picture　of　Rachel　ing　downstairs　last　night　and　catching　him　bumping　against　the　back　door；　trying　in　his　sleep　to　walk　through　it。　The　thought　made　him　grin。　It　would　have　given　her　a　hell　of　a　turn；　all　right。
　　With　the　sleepwalking　hypothesis　in　mind；　he　was　able　to　analyze　the　causes　of　the　dream…and　he　did　so　with　a　certain　eagerness。　He　had　walked　to　the　Pet　Sematary　because　it　had　bee　associated　with　another　moment　of　recent　stress。　It　had　in　fact　been　the　cause　of　a　serious　argument　between　him　and　his　wife。　。　。　and　also；　he　thought　with　growing　excitement；　it　was　associated　in　his　mind　with　his　daughter's　first　encounter　with　the　idea　of　death…something　his　own　subconscious　must　have　been　grappling　with　last　night　when　he　went　to　bed。
　　Damn　lucky　I　got　back　to　the　house　okay…I　don't　even　remember　that　part。　Must　have　e　back　on　autopilot。
　　It　was　a　good　thing　he　had。　He　couldn't　imagine　what　it　would　have　been　like　to　have　awakened　this　morning　by　the　grave　of　Smucky　the　Cat；　disoriented；　covered　with　dew；　and　probably　scared　shitless…as　Rachel　also　would　have　been；　undoubtedly。
　　But　it　was　over　now。
　　Put　paid　to　it；　Louis　thought　with　immeasurable　relief。　Yes；　but　what　about　the　things　he　said　when　he　was　dying？；　his　mind　tried　to　ask；　and　Louis　shut　it　up　fast。
　　That　evening；　with　Rachel　ironing　and　Ellie　and　Gage　sitting　in　the　same　chair；　both　of　them　engrossed　with　〃The　Muppet　Show；〃　Louis　told　Rachel　casually　that　he　believed　he　might　go　for　a　short　walk…to　get　a　little　air。
　　〃Will　you　be　back　in　time　to　help　me　put　Gage　to　bed？〃　she　asked　without　looking　up　from　her　ironing。　〃You　know　he　goes　better　when　you're　there。〃
　　〃Sure；〃　he　said。
　　〃Where　you　going；　Daddy？〃　Ellie　asked；　not　looking　away　from　the　TV。　Kermit　was　about　to　be　punched　in　the　eye　by　Miss　Piggy。
　　〃Just　out　back；　hon。〃
　　Louis　went　out。
　　Fifteen　minutes　later　he　was　in　the　Pet　Sematary；　looking　around　curiously　and　coping　with　a　strong　feeling　of　déjà　vu。　That　he　had　been　here　was　beyond　doubt：　the　little　grave　marker　put　up　to　honor　the　memory　of　Smucky　the　Cat　was　knocked　over。　He　had　done　that　when　the　vision　of　Pascow　approached；　near　the　end　of　what　he　could　remember　of　the　dream。　Louis　righted　it　absently　and　walked　over　to　the　deadfall。
　　He　didn't　like　it。　The　memory　of　all　these　weather…whitened　branches　and　dead　trees　turning　into　a　pile　of　bones　still　had　the　power　to　chill。　He　forced　himself　to　reach　out　and　touch　one。　Balanced　precariously　on　the　jackstraw　pile；　it　rolled　and　fell；　bouncing　down　the　side　of　the　heap。　Louis　jumped　back　a　step　before　it　could　touch　his　shoe。
　　He　walked　along　the　deadfall；　first　to　the　left；　then　to　the　right。　On　both　sides　the　underbrush　closed　in　so　thickly　as　to　be　impenetrable。　Nor　was　it　the　kind　of　brush　you'd　try　to　push　your　way　through…not　if　you　were　smart；　Louis　thought。　There　were　lush　masses　of　poison　ivy　growing　close　to　the　ground　（all　his　life　Louis　had　heard　people　boast　that　they　were　immune　to　the　stuff；　but　he　knew　that　almost　no　one　really　was）；　and　farther　in　were　some　of　the　biggest；　most　wicked…looking　thorns　he　had　ever　seen。
　　Louis　strolled　back　to　the　rough　center　of　the　deadfall。　He　looked　at　it；　hands　stuck　in　the　back　pockets　of　his　jeans。
　　You're　not　going　to　try　to　climb　that；　are　you？
　　Not　me；　boss。　Why　would　I　want　to　do　a　stupid　thing　like　that？
　　Great。　Had　me　worried　for　just　a　minute　there；　Lou。　Looks　like　a　good　way　to　land　in　your　own　infirmary　with　a　broken　ankle；　doesn't　it？
　　Sure　does！　Also；　it's　getting　dark。
　　Sure　that　he　was　all　together　and　in　total　agreement　with　himself；　Louis　began　to　climb　the　deadfall。
　　He　was　halfway　up　when　he　felt　it　shift　under　his　feet　with　a　peculiar　creaking　sound。
　　Roll　dem　bones；　Doc。
　　When　the　pile　shifted　again；　Louis　began　to　clamber　back　down。　The　tail　of　his　shirt　had　pulled　out　of　his　pants。
　　He　reached　solid　ground　without　incident　and　dusted　crumbled　bits　of　bark　off　his　hands。　He　walked　back　to　the　head　of　the　path　which　would　return　him　to　his　house…to　his　children　who　would　want　a　story　before　bed；　to　Church；　who　was　enjoying　his　last　day　as　a　card…carrying　tomcat　and　lady…killer；　to　tea　in　the　kitchen　with　his　wife　after　the　kids　were　down。
　　He　surveyed　the　clearing　again　before　leaving；　struck　by　its　green　silence。　Tendrils　of　ground　fog　had　appeared　from　nowhere　and　were　beginning；　to　wind　around　the　markers。　Those　concentric　circles。　。　。　as　if；　all　unknowing；　the　childish　hands　of　North　Ludlow's　generations　had　built　a　kind　of　scale…model　Stonehenge。
　　But；　Louis；　is　this　all？
　　Although　he　had　gotten　only　the　barest　glimpse　over　the　top　of　the　deadfall　before　the　shifting　sensation　had　made　him　nervous；　he　could　have　sworn　there　was　a　path　beyond；　leading　deeper　into　the　woods。
　　No　business　of　yours；　Louis。　You've　got　to　let　this　go。
　　Okay；　boss。
　　Louis　turned　and　headed　home。
　　He　stayed　up　that　night　an　hour　after　Rachel　went　to　bed；　reading　a　stack　of　medical　journals　he　had　already　been　through；　refusing　to　admit　that　the　thought　of　going　to　bed…going　to　sleep
　　…made　him　nervous。　He　had　never　had　an　episode　of　somnambulism　be