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file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20Stephen%20King%20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htmthe car door out of his hand. He had to push hard to shut it. The wind rippled at his jacket as he openedthe Honda’s hatch and took out the piece of tarpaulin he had cut and wrapped around his tools.He was in a wing of darkness between two streetlights, standing on the curb with the canvas-wrappedbundle cradled in his arms, looking carefully for traffic before crossing to the wrought-iron fence whichmarked the boundary of the graveyard. He did not want to be seen at all, if he could help it, not even bysomeone who would notice him and forget him the next second. Beside him, the branches of an old elmgroaned 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, castingspotlights on the sidewalk where, during the days after Fairmount Grammar School let out, boys wouldride bikes and girls would jump rope and play hopscotch, never noticing the nearby graveyard, exceptperhaps at Halloween, when it would acquire a certain spooky charm. Perhaps they would dare to crosstheir suburban street and hang a paper skeleton on the wrought-iron bars of the high fence, giggling atthe old jokes: it’s the most popular place in town; people are dying to get in. Why is it wrong to laugh inthe 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 ablanket of dark earth, and that was no joke. Gonna break you out, Gage, he thought. Gonna break youout, big guy, or die trying.Louis crossed the street with his heavy bundle in his arms, stepped up on the other curb, glanced bothways again, and tossed the canvas roll over the fence. It clinked softly as it struck the ground on the farside. Dusting his hands, Louis walked away. He had marked the place in his mind. Even if he forgot, allhe really had to do was follow the fence on the inside until he was standing opposite his Civic, and hewould 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. Movingshadows danced and twined on the roadway.He turned the corner onto Pleasant Street, still following thefence. Car headlights splashed up the street, and Louis stepped casually behind an elm tree. It wasn’t acop car, he saw, only a van moving toward Hammond Street and, probably, the turnpike. When it waswell 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 movingfile:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (265 of 333)7/28/2005 9:21:50 PM