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file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20Stephen%20King%20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htmwind 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 themunicipal city limits of any American city unlocked after eleven o’clock? No one is that trusting, dearman, 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 longenough 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. Lookedlike 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 marchedalong beside him relentlessly. The wind cooled and evaporated the drops of sweat on his forehead and inthe hollows of his temples. His shadow waxed and waned in the streetlights. Every now and then heglanced 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 happenedto slip while swinging your leg over and the force of your suddenly dropping two hundred pounds droveone of those arrow points into your groin, exploding your testicles. And there you would be, skeweredlike a pig at a barbecue, hollering until someone called for the police and they came and pulled you offand took you to the hospital.The sweat continued to flow, sticking his shirt to his back. Allwas 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.Come on, Louis, face the facts. You may be crazy, hut you’re not that crazy. Maybe you could shinny upto the top of that fence, but it would take a trained gymnast to swing over those points without stickinghimself on them. And even supposing you can get in, how are you going to get yourself and Gage’sbody out?file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (266 of 333)7/28/2005 9:21:50 PM
file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20Stephen%20King%20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htmHe went on walking, vaguely aware that he was circling the cemetery but not doing anythingconstructive.All right, here’s the answer. I’ll just go on home to Ludlow tonight and come back tomorrow, in the lateafternoon.. I’ll go in through the gate around four o’clock and find a place to hole up until it’s midnightor a little later. I will, in other words, put off until tomorrow what I should have been smart enough tothink of today.Good idea, 0 Great Swami Louis. . . and in the meantime, what do I do about that great big bundle ofstuff 1 threw over the wall? Pick, shovel, flashlight . . . you might as well stamp GRAVE-ROBBINGEQUIPMENT 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 quietlyand absolutely that he couldn’t come back tomorrow. If he didn’t do it tonight, he would never do it. Hewould never be able to screw himself up to this crazy pitch again. This was the moment, the only timefor 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 ofthe street, and once he saw the gray-blue flicker of a black-and-white TV—and looking through thefence he saw that the graves were older here, more rounded, sometimes leaning forward or backwardwith the freezes and thaws of many seasons. There was another stop sign up ahead, and another rightturn would put him on a street roughly parallel to Mason Street, where he had begun. And when he gotback 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 behindanother tree, waiting for it to pass. This car was moving very slowly, and after a moment a whitespotlight stabbed out from the passenger side and ran flickering along the wrought-iron fence. His heartsqueezed 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 bigenough to shield him. The spotlight ran toward him. Louis put his head down, trying to shield the whiteblur of his face. The spotlight reached the tree, disappeared for a moment, and then reappeared onLouis’s right. He slipped around the tree a little. He had a momentary glimpse of the dark bubbles on thecruiser’s roof. He waited for the taillights to flare a brighter red, for the doors to open, for the spotlightto suddenly turn back on its ball joint, hunting for him like a big white finger. Hey, you! You behind thattree! Come on out where we can see you, and we want to see both hands empty! Come out NOW!The police car kept on going. It reached the corner, signaled with sedate propriety, and turned left. Louiscollapsed back against the tree, breathing fast, his mouth sour and dry. He supposed they would cruisefile:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (267 of 333)7/28/2005 9:21:50 PM
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