sk.petsematary-第57章

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ard。　He　did　not　want　to　be　seen　at　all；　if　he　could　help　it；　not　even　by　someone　who　would　notice　him　and　forget　him　the　next　second。　Beside　him；　the　branches　of　an　old　elm　groaned　restlessly　in　the　wind；　making　Louis　think　of　jackleg　necktie　parties。　God；　he　was　so　scared。　This　wasn't　wild　work；　it　was　mad　work。
　　No　traffic。　On　the　Mason　Street　side；　the　streetlamps　marched　away　in　perfect　white　circles；　casting　spotlights　on　the　sidewalk　where；　during　the　days　after　Fairmount　Grammar　School　let　out；　boys　would　ride　bikes　and　girls　would　jump　rope　and　play　hopscotch；　never　noticing　the　nearby　graveyard；　except　perhaps　at　Halloween；　when　it　would　acquire　a　certain　spooky　charm。　Perhaps　they　would　dare　to　cross　their　suburban　street　and　hang　a　paper　skeleton　on　the　wrought…iron　bars　of　the　high　fence；　giggling　at　the　old　jokes：　it's　the　most　popular　place　in　town；　people　are　dying　to　get　in。　Why　is　it　wrong　to　laugh　in　the　grave　yard？　Because　everyone　who　lives　there　is　always　in　a　grave　mood。
　　〃Gage；〃　he　muttered。　Gage　was　in　there；　behind　that　wrought…iron　fence；　unjustly　imprisoned　under　a　blanket　of　dark　earth；　and　that　was　no　joke。　Gonna　break　you　out；　Gage；　he　thought。　Gonna　break　you　out；　big　guy；　or　die　trying。
　　Louis　crossed　the　street　with　his　heavy　bundle　in　his　arms；　stepped　up　on　the　other　curb；　glanced　both　ways　again；　and　tossed　the　canvas　roll　over　the　fence。　It　clinked　softly　as　it　struck　the　ground　on　the　far　side。　Dusting　his　hands；　Louis　walked　away。　He　had　marked　the　place　in　his　mind。　Even　if　he　forgot；　all　he　really　had　to　do　was　follow　the　fence　on　the　inside　until　he　was　standing　opposite　his　Civic；　and　he　would　fall　over　it。
　　But　would　the　gate　be　open　this　late？
　　He　walked　down　Mason　Street　to　the　stop　sign；　the　wind　chasing　him　and　worrying　his　heels。　Moving　shadows　danced　and　twined　on　the　roadway。
　　He　turned　the　corner　onto　Pleasant　Street；　still　following　the　fence。　Car　headlights　splashed　up　the　street；　and　Louis　stepped　casually　behind　an　elm　tree。　It　wasn't　a　cop　car；　he　saw；　only　a　van　moving　toward　Hammond　Street　and；　probably；　the　turnpike。　When　it　was　well　past　him；　Louis　walked　on。
　　Of　course　it　will　be　unlocked。　It's　got　to　be。
　　He　reached　the　gate；　which　formed　a　cathedral　shape　in　wrought　iron；　slim　and　graceful　in　the　moving　wind　shadows　thrown　by　the　streetlights。　He　reached　out　and　tried　it。
　　Locked。
　　You　stupid　fool；　of　course　it's　locked…did　you　really　think　anyone　would　leave　a　cemetery　inside　the　municipal　city　limits　of　any　American　city　unlocked　after　eleven　o'clock？　No　one　is　that　trusting；　dear　man；　not　anymore。　So　what　do　you　do　now？
　　Now　he　would　have　to　climb　and　just　hope　no　one　happened　to　glance　away　from　the　Carson　Show　long　enough　to　see　him　monkeying　up　the　wrought　iron　like　the　world's　oldest；　slowest　kid。
　　Hey；　police？　I　just　saw　the　world's　oldest；　slowest　kid　climbing　into　Pleasantview　Cemetery。　Looked　like　he　was　dying　to　get　in。　Yeah；　looked　like　a　grave　matter　to　me。　Kidding？　Oh　no；　I'm　in　dead　earnest。　Maybe　you　ought　to　dig　into　it。
　　Louis　continued　up　Pleasant　Street　and　turned　right　at　the　next　intersection。　The　high　iron　fence　marched　along　beside　him　relentlessly。　The　wind　cooled　and　evaporated　the　drops　of　sweat　on　his　forehead　and　in　the　hollows　of　his　temples。　His　shadow　waxed　and　waned　in　the　streetlights。　Every　now　and　then　he　glanced　at　the　fence；　and　then　he　stopped　and　forced　himself　to　really　look　at　it。
　　You're　going　to　climb　that　baby？　Don't　make　me　laugh。
　　Louis　Creed　was　a　fairly　tall　man；　standing　a　bit　over　six…two；　but　the　fence　was　easily　nine　feet　high；　each　wrought…iron　stave　ending　in　a　decorative；　arrowlike　point。　Decorative；　that　is；　until　you　happened　to　slip　while　swinging　your　leg　over　and　the　force　of　your　suddenly　dropping　two　hundred　pounds　drove　one　of　those　arrow　points　into　your　groin；　exploding　your　testicles。　And　there　you　would　be；　skewered　like　a　pig　at　a　barbecue；　hollering　until　someone　called　for　the　police　and　they　came　and　pulled　you　off　and　took　you　to　the　hospital。
　　The　sweat　continued　to　flow；　sticking　his　shirt　to　his　back。　All　was　silent　except　for　the　faint　hum　of　late　traffic　on　Hammond　Street。
　　There　had　to　be　a　way　to　get　in　there。
　　Had　to　be。
　　e　on；　Louis；　face　the　facts。　You　may　be　crazy；　hut　you're　not　that　crazy。　Maybe　you　could　shinny　up　to　the　top　of　that　fence；　but　it　would　take　a　trained　gymnast　to　swing　over　those　points　without　sticking　himself　on　them。　And　even　supposing　you　can　get　in；　how　are　you　going　to　get　yourself　and　Gage's　body　out？
　　He　went　on　walking；　vaguely　aware　that　he　was　circling　the　cemetery　but　not　doing　anything　constructive。
　　All　right；　here's　the　answer。　I'll　just　go　on　home　to　Ludlow　tonight　and　e　back　tomorrow；　in　the　late　afternoon。。　I'll　go　in　through　the　gate　around　four　o'clock　and　find　a　place　to　hole　up　until　it's　midnight　or　a　little　later。　I　will；　in　other　words；　put　off　until　tomorrow　what　I　should　have　been　smart　enough　to　think　of　today。
　　Good　idea；　0　Great　Swami　Louis。　。　。　and　in　the　meantime；　what　do　I　do　about　that　great　big　bundle　of　stuff　1　threw　over　the　wall？　Pick；　shovel；　flashlight　。　。　。　you　might　as　well　stamp　GRAVE…ROBBING　EQUIPMENT　on　every　damn　piece　of　it。
　　It　landed　in　the　bushes。　Who's　going　to　find　it；　for　Chrissake？
　　On　measure　that　made　sense。　But　this　was　no　sensible　errand　he　was　on；　and　his　heart　told　him　quietly　and　absolutely　that　he　couldn't　e　back　tomorrow。　If　he　didn't　do　it　tonight；　he　would　never　do　it。　He　would　never　be　able　to　screw　himself　up　to　this　crazy　pitch　again。　This　was　the　moment；　the　only　time　for　it　he　was　ever　going　to　have。
　　There　were　fewer　houses　up　this　way…an　occasional　square　of　yellow　light　gleamed　on　the　other　side　of　the　street；　and　once　he　saw　the　gray…blue　flicker　of　a　black…and…white　TV…and　looking　through　the　fence　he　saw　that　the　graves　were　older　here；　more　rounded；　sometimes　leaning　forward　or　backward　with　the　freezes　and　thaws　of　many　seasons。　There　was　another　stop　sign　up　ahead；　and　another　right　turn　would　put　him　on　a　street　roughly　parallel　to　Mason　Street；　where　he　had　begun。　And　when　he　got　back　to　the　beginning；　what　did　he　do？　Collect　two　hundred　dollars　and　go　around　again？　Admit　defeat？
　　Car　headlights　turned　down　the　street。　Louis　stepped　behind　another　tree；　waiting　for　it　to　pass。　This　car　was　moving　very　slowly；　and　after　a　moment　a　white　spotlight　stabbed　out　from　the　passenger　side　and　ran　flickering　along　the　wrought…iron　fence。　His　heart　squeezed　painfully　in　his　chest。　It　was　a　police　car；　checking　the　cemetery。
　　He　pressed　himself　tight　against　the　tree；　the　rough　bark　against　his　cheek；　hoping　madly　that　it　was　big　enough　to　shield　him。　The　spotlight　ran　toward　him。　Louis　put　his　head　down；　trying　to　shield　the　white　blur　of　his　face。　The　spotlight　reached　the　tree；　disappeared　for　a　moment；　and　then　reappeared　on　Louis's　right。　He　slipped　around　the　tree　a　little。　He　had　a　momentary　glimpse　of　the　dark　bubbles　on　the　cruiser's　roof。　He　waited　for　the　taillights　to　flare　a　brighter　red；　for　the　doors　to　open；　for　the　spotlight　to　suddenly　turn　back　on　its　ball　joint；　hunting　for　him　like　a　big　white　finger。　Hey；　you！　You　behind　that　tree！　e　on　out　where　we　can　see　you；　and　we　want　to　see　both　hands　empty！　e　out　NOW！
　　The　police　car　kept　on　going。　It　reached　the　corner；　signaled　with　sedate　propriety；　and　turned　left。　Louis　collapsed　back　against　the　tree；　breathing　fast；　his　mouth　sour　and　dry。　He　supposed　they　would　cruise　past　his　parked　Honda；　but　that　didn't　really　matter。　Parking　from　6　P。M。　to　7　A。M。　was　legal　on　Mason　Street。　There　were　plenty　of　other　cars　parked　along　it。　Their　owners　would　belong　to　the　scattering　of　apartment　buildings　on　the　other　side　of　the　street。
　　Louis　found　himself　glancing　up　at　the　tree　he　had　hidden　behind。
　　Just　above　his　head；　the　tree　forked。　He　supposed　he　could…　Without　allowing　himself　to　think　about　it　further；　he　reached　into　the　fork　and　pulled　himself　up；　scrambling　with　his　tennis　shoes　for　purchase；　sending　a　little　shower　of　bark　down　to　the　sidewalk。　He　got　a　knee　up　and　a　moment　later　he　had　one　foot　planted　solidly　in　the　crotch　of　the　elm。　If　the　police　car　should　happen　to　e　back；　their　spotlight　would　find　an　extremely　peculiar　bird　in　this　tree。　He　ought　to　move　quickly。
　　He　pulled　himself　up　onto　a　higher　branch；　one　which　overhung　the　very　top　of　the　fence。　He　felt　absurdly　like　the　twelve…year…old　he　supposed　he　had　once　been。　The　tree　was　not　still；　it　rocked　easily；　almost　soothingly；　in　the　steady　wind。　Its　leaves　rustled　and　murmured。　Louis　assessed　the　situation　and　then；　before　he　could　get　cold　feet；　he　dropped　off　into　space；　holding　on　to　the　branch　with　his　hands　laced　together　over　it。　The　branch　was　perhaps　a　little　thicker　than　a　brawny　man's　forearm。　With　his　sneakers　dangling　about　eight　feet　over　the　sidewalk；　he　pulled　himself　hand　for　hand　toward　the　fence。　The　branch　dipped　but　showed　no　sign　of　breaking。　He　was　faintly　aware　of　his　shadow　following　along　on　the　cement　sidewalk　below　him；　an　amorphous　black　ape…shape。　The　wind　chilled　his　hot　armpits；　and　he　found　himself　shivering　in　spite　of　the　sweat　running　down　his　face　and　neck。　The　branch　dipped　and　swayed　with　his　movements。　The　farther　out　he　moved；　the　more　pronounced　the　dip　became。　His　hands　and　wrists　were　getting　tired　now；　and　he　was　afraid　that　his　sweat…greasy　palms　might　slip。
　　He　reached　the　fence。　His　tennis　shoes　dangled　perhaps　a　foot　below　the　arrow　tips。　The　tips　did　not　look　blunt　at　all　from　this　angle。　They　looked　very　sharp。　Sharp　or　not；　he　suddenly　realized　it　was　not　just　his　balls　that　were　at　risk　here。　If　he　fell　and　hit　one　of　those　things　dead　on；　his　weight　would　be　enough　to　drive　it　all　the　way　up　into　his　lungs。　The　returning　cops　would　find　an　early　and　extremely　grisly　Halloween　decoration　on　the　Pleasant…view　fence。
　　Breathing　fast；　not　quite　gasping；　he　groped　for　the　fence　points　with　his　feet；　needing　a　moment's　rest。　For　a　moment　he　hung　there；　his　feet　moving　in　an　air　dance；　searching　but　not　finding。
　　Light　touched　him　and　grew。
　　Oh　Christ；　that's　a　car；　there's　a　car　ing…！
　　He　tried　to　shuffle　his　hands　forward；　but　his　palms　slipped。　His　interlaced　fingers　were　ing　apart。
　　Still　groping　for　purchase；　he　turned　his　head　to　the　left；　looking　under　his　straining　arm。　It　was　a　car；　but　it　shot　through　the　intersection　up　the　street　without　slowing。　Lucky。　If　it　had…　His　hands　slipped　again。　He　felt　bark　sift　down　onto　his　hair。　One　foot　found　purchase；　but　now　his　other　pants　leg　had　caught　on　one　of　the　arrow　points。　And　Christ；　he　wasn't　going　to　be　able　to　hang　on　much　longer。　Desperately；　Louis　jerked　his　leg。　The　branch　dipped。　His　hands　slipped　again。　There　was　a　mutter　of　tearing　cloth；　and　then　he　was　standing　on　two　of　the　arrow　points。　They　dug　into　the　soles　of　his　tennis　shoes；　and　the　pressure　quickly　became　painful；　but　Louis　stood　on　them　anyway。　The　relief　in　his　hands　and　arms　was　greater　than　the　pain　in　his　feet。
　　What　a　figure　I　must　cut；　Louis　thought　with　dim　and　dismal　amusement。　Holding　the　branch　with　his　left　hand；　he　wiped　his　right　hand　across　his