sk.cujo-第17节

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If　her　name　had　been　plucked　from　the　big　drum　in　the　twice…yearly　Super　Drawing；　if　she　had　won　ten　times　the　five　thousand　dollars　she　had　won；　she　might　have　entertained　…notions　of　pushing　aside　that　dull　muslin　curtain；　taking　her　son　by　the　hand；　and　leading　them　both　out　into　whatever　was　beyond　Town　Road　No。　3　and　Camber's　Garage；　Foreign　Cars　Our　Specialty；　and　Castle　Rock。　She　might　have　taken　Brett　to　Connecticut　with　the　express　purpose　of　asking　her　sister　how　much　a　small　apartment　in　Stratford　would　cost。
But　it　had　only　been　a　twitch　of　the　curtain。　That　was　all。　She　had　seen　Lady　Luck　for　a　bare；　brief　moment；　as　wonderful；　puzzling；　and　inexplicable　as　a　bright　fairy　dancing　under　mushrooms　in　the　dewy　light　of　dawn　。。。　seen　once；　never　again。　So　she　felt　a　pang　when　the　ticket　disappeared　from　her　view；　even　though　it　had　robbed　her　sleep。　She　understood　that　she　would　buy　a　lottery　ticket　a　week　for　the　rest　of　her　life　and　never　win　more　than　two　dollars　all　at　once。
Never　mind。　You　don't　count　teeth　in　a　gifthorse。　Not　if　you　were　smart。
They　went　out　to　Portland　Machine　and　she　had　written　the　check；　reminding　herself　to　stop　at　the　bank　on　their　way　home　and　transfer　enough　money　from　savings　to　checking　so　that　the　check　wouldn't　bounce。　She　and　Joe　had　a　little　over　four　thousand　dollars　in　their　savings　account　after　fifteen　years。　just　about　enough　to　cover　three　quarters　of　；their　outstanding　debts；　if　you　excluded　the　mortgage　on　the　farm。　She　had　no　right　to　exclude　that；　of　course；　but　she　always　did。　She　could　not　bring　herself　to　think　about　the　mortgage　except　payment　by　payment。　But　they　would　dent　the　savings　all　they　wanted　to　now；　and　then　deposit　the　Lottery　mission　check　in　that　account　when　it　came。　AU　they　would　be　losing　was　two　weeks'　interest。
The　man　from　Portland　Machine；　Lewis　Belasco；　said　he　would　have　the　chainfall　machine　delivered　that　very　afternoon；　and　he　was　as　good　as　his　word。
Joe　Magruder　and　Ronnie　DuBay　got　the　chainfall　on　the　truck's　pneumatic　Step…Loader；　and　it　whooshed　gently　down　to　the　dirt　driveway　on　a　sigh　of　air。
'Pretty　big　order　for　ole　Joe　Camber；'　Ronnie　said。
Magruder　nodded。　'Put　it　in　the　barn；　his　wife　said。　That's　his　garage。　Better　get　a　good　hold；　Ronnie。　This　is　a　heavy　whore。'
Joe　Magruder　got　his　hold；　Ronnie　got　his；　and；　puffing　and　grunting；　the　two　of　them　half　walked　it；　half　carried　it　into　the　barn。
'Let's　set　it　down　a　minute；'　Ronnie　managed。　'I　can't　see　where　the　hell　I'm　goin。　Let's　get　used　to　the　dark　before　we　go　ass　over　cowcatcher。'
They　set　the　chainfall　down　with　a　thump。　After　the　bright　afternoon　glare　outside；　Joe　was　mostly　blinded。　He　could　only　make　out　the　vague　shapes　of　things　…　a　car　up　on　jacks；　a　workbench；　a　sense　of　beams　going　up　to　a　loft。
'This　thing　ought　…'　Ronnie　began；　and　then　stopped　abruptly。
in　out　of　the　darkness　from　beyond　the　front　end　of　the　jacked…up　car　was　a　low；　guttural　growling。　Ronnie　felt　the　sweat　he　had　worked　up　suddenly　turn　clammy。
hairs　on　the　back　of　his　neck　stirred。
'Holy　crow；　you　hear　that？'　Magruder　whispered。　Ronnie　could　see　Joe　now。　Joe's　eyes　were　big　and　scared…looking。
'I　hear　it。'
It　was　a　sound　as　low　as　a　powerful　outboard　engine　idling。　Ronnie　knew　it　took　a　big　dog　to　make　a　sound　like　that。　And　when　a　big　dog　did；　it　more　often　than　not　meant　business。　He　hadn't　seen　a　BEWARE　OF　DOG　sign　when　they　drove　up；　but　sometimes　these　bumpkins　from　the　boonies　didn't　bother　with　one。　He　knew　one　thing。　He　hoped　to　God　that　the　dog　making　that　sound　was　chained　up。
'Joe？　You　ever　been　out　here　before？'
'Once。　It's　a　Saint　Bernard。　Big　as　a　fucking　house。　He　didn't　do　that　before。'　Joe　gulped。　Ronnie　heard　something　in　his　throat　click。　'Oh；　God。　Lookit　there；　Ronnie。'
Ronnie's　eyes　had　e　partway　to　adjusting；　and　his　half…sight　lent　what　he　was　seeing　a　spectral；　almost　supernatural　cast。　He　knew　you　never　showed　a　mean　dog　your　fear　…　they　could　smell　it　ing　off　you　…　but　he　began　to　shudder　helplessly　anyway。　He　couldn't　help　it。
The　dog　was　a　monster。　It　was　standing　deep　in　the　barn；　beyond　the　jacked…up　car。　It　was　a　Saint　Bernard　for　sure；　there　was　no　mistaking　the　heavy　coat；　tawny　even　in　the　shadows；　the　breadth　of　shoulder。　Its　head　was　down。　Its　eyes　glared　at　them　with　steady；　sunken　animosity。
It　wasn't　on　a　chain。
'Back　up　slow；'　Joe　said。　'Don't　run；　for　Christ's　sake。'
They　began　to　back　up；　and　as　they　did；　the　dog　began　to　walk　slowly　forward。　It　was　a　stiff　walk；　not　really　a　walk　at　all；　Ronnie　thought。　It　was　a　stalk。　That　dog　wasn't　fucking　around。　Its　engine　was　running　and　it　was　ready　to　go。　Its　head　remained　low。　That　growl　never　changed　pitch。　It　took　a　step　forward　for　every　step　they　took　back。
For　Joe　Magruder　the　worst　moment　came　when　they　backed　into　the　bright　sunlight　again。　It　dazzled　him；　blinded　him。　He　could　no　longer　see　the　dog。　If　it　came　for　him　now　
Reaching　behind　him；　he　felt　the　side　of　the　truck。　That　was　enough　to　break　his　nerve。　He　bolted　for　the　cab。
On　the　other　side；　Ronnie　DuBay　did　the　same。　He　reached　the　passenger　door　and　fumbled　at　the　latch　for　an　endless　moment。　He　clawed　at　it。　He　could　still　hear　that　low　growling；　so　much　like　an　idling　Evinrude　80　hp　motor。　The　door　wouldn't　open。　He　waited　for　the　dog　to　pull　a　chunk　of　his　ass　off。　At　last　his　thumb　found　the　button；　the　door　opened；　and　he　scrambled　into　the　cab；　panting。
He　looked　in　the　rearview　mirror　bolted　outside　his　window　and　saw　the　dog　standing　in　the　open　barn　door；　motionless。　He　looked　over　at　Joe；　who　was　sitting　behind　the　wheel　and　grinning　at　him　sheepishly。　Ronnie　offered　his　own　shaky　grin　in　return。
'Just　a　dog；'　Ronnie　said。
'Yeah。　Bark's　worse'n　his　bite。'
'Right。　Let's　go　back　in　there　and　screw　around　with　that　chainfall　some　more。'
'Fuck　you；'　Joe　said。
'And　the　horse　you　rode　in　on。'
They　laughed　together。　Ronnie　passed　him　a　smoke。
'What　do　you　say　we　get　going？'
'I'm　your　guy；'　Joe　said；　and　started　the　truck。
Halfway　back　to　Portland；　Ronnie　said；　almost　to　himself：　'That　dog's　going　bad。'
Joe　was　driving　with　his　elbow　cocked　out　the　window。　He　glanced　over　at　Ronnie。　'I　was　scared；　and　I　don't　mind　saying　so。　One　of　those　little　dogs　gives　me　shit　in　a　situation　like　that；　with　nobody　home；　I'd　just　as　soon　kick　it　in　the　balls；　you　know？　I　mean；　if　people　don't　chain　up　a　dog　that　bites；　they　deserve　what　they　get；　you　know？　That　thing　。。。　did　you　see　it？　I　bet　that　motherhumper　went　two　hundred　pounds。'
'Maybe　I　ought　to　give　Joe　Camber　a　call；'　Ronnie　said。　'Tell　him　what　happened。　Might　save　him　gettin　his　arm　chewed　off。　What　do　you　think？'
'What's　Joe　Camber　done　for　you　lately？'　Joe　Magruder　asked　with　a　grin。
Ronnie　nodded　thoughtfully。　'He　don't　blow　me　like　you　do；　that's　true。'
'Last　blowjob　I　had　was　from　your　wife。　Wasn't　half　bad；　either。'
'Get　bent；　you　fairy。'
They　laughed　together。　Nobody　called　Joe　Camber。　When　they　got　back　to　Portland　Machine；　it　was　near　knocking…off　time。　Screwing…around　time。　They　took　fifteen　minutes　writing　the　trip　up。　Belasco　came　out　back　and　asked　them　if　Camber　had　been　there　to　take　delivery。　Ronnie　DuBay　said　sure。　Belasco；　who　was　a　prick　of　the　highest　order；　went　away。　Joe　Magruder　told　Ronnie　to　have　a　nice　weekend　and　a　happy　fucking　Fourth。　Ronnie　said　he　planned　to　get　in　the　bag　and　stay　that　way　until　Sunday　night。　They　clocked　out。
Neither　of　them　thought　about　Cujo　again　until　they　read　about　him　in　the　paper。
Vic　spent　most　of　that　afternoon　before　the　long　weekend　going　over　the　details　of　the　trip　with　Roger。　Roger　was　so　careful　about　details　that　he　was　almost　paranoid。　He　had　made　the　plane　and　hotel　reservations　through　an　agency。　Their　flight　to　Boston　would　leave　Portland　jetport　at　7：　10　A。M。　Monday。　Vic　said　he　would　pick　Roger　up　in　the　jag　at　5：30。　He　thought　that　was　unnecessarily　early；　but　he　knew　Roger　and　Roger's　little　tics。　They　talked　generally　about　the　trip；　consciously　avoiding　specifics。　Vic　kept　his　coffeebreak　ideas　to　himself　and　the　napkin　stowed　safely　away　in　his　sport…jacket　pocket。　Roger　would　be　more　receptive　when　they　were　away。
Vic　thought　about　leaving　early　and　decided　to　go　back　and　check　the　afternoon　mail　first。　Lisa；　their　secretary；　had　already　left　for　the　day；　getting　a　jump　on　the　holiday　weekend。　Hell；　you　couldn't　get　a　secretary　to　stay　until　the　stroke　of　five　any　more；　holiday　weekend　or　not。　As　far　as　Vic　was　concerned；　it　was　just　another　sign　of　the　continuing　decay　of　Western　Civ。　Probably　at　this　very　moment　Lisa；　who　was　beautiful；　just　twenty…one；　and　almost　totally　breastless；　was　entering　the　Interstate　flow　of　traffic；　bound　south　to　Old　Orchard　or　the　Hamptons；　dressed　in　tight　jeans　and　a　nothing　halter。　Get　down；　disco　Lisa。　Vic　thought；　and　grinned　a　little。
There　was　a　single　unopened　letter　on　his　desk　blotter。
He　picked　it　up　curiously；　noting　first　the　word　PERSONAL　printed　below　the　address；　and　second　the　fact　that　his　address　had　been　printed　in　solid　caps。
He　held　it；　turning　it　over　in　his　hands；　feeling　a　vague　thread　of　disquiet　slip　into　what　was　a　general　mood　of　tired　well…being。　Far　back　in　his　mind；　hardly　even　acknowledged；　was　a　sudden　urge　to