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file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20Stephen%20King%20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htmagain. He felt bark sift down onto his hair. One foot found purchase, but now his other pants leg hadcaught 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 oftearing cloth, and then he was standing on two of the arrow points. They dug into the soles of his tennisshoes, 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 hisleft hand, he wiped his right hand across his jacket. Then he wiped off the left while he held with theright.He stood on the points for a moment longer and then slipped his hands forward along the branch. It wasslim enough for him to be able to lace his fingers together comfortably now. He swung forward likeTarzan, feet leaving the arrow points. The branch dipped alarmingly, and he heard an ominous crackingsound. He let go, dropping on faith.He landed badly. One knee thudded against a gravestone, sending a lance of pain up his thigh. He rolledover on the grass, holding the knee, lips skinned back in something like a grin, hoping that he hadn’tshattered his kneecap. At last the pain began to fade a little, and he found that he could flex the joint. Itwould be all right if he kept moving and didn’t allow it to stiffen up on him. Maybe.He got to his feet and started to walk along the fence back toward Mason Street and his equipment. Hisknee was bad at first, and he limped, but the pain smoothed out to a dull ache as he went. There wasaspirin in the Honda’s first-aid kit. He should have remembered to bring that with him. Too late now. Hekept an eye out for cars and faded back deeper into the cemetery when one came.On the Mason Street side, which was apt to be better traveled, he kept well back from the fence until hewas opposite the Civic. He was about to trot down to the fence and pull his bundle out of the busheswhen he heard footfalls on the sidewalk and a woman’s low laughter. He sat down behind a large gravemarker—it hurt his knee too much to squat—and watched a couple walk up the far side of Mason Street. Theywere walking with their arms about each other’s waists, and something about their movement from onewhite pool of light to the next made Louis think of some old TV show. In a moment he had it: “TheJimmy Durante Hour.” What would they do if he rose up now, a wavering shadow in this silent city ofthe dead, and cried hollowly across to them: “Goodnight, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are!”They stopped in the pool of light just beyond his car and embraced. Watching them, Louis felt a kind ofsick wonder and self-loathing. Here he was, crouched behind a tombstone like a subhuman character insome cheap comic-book story, watching lovers, is the line so thin, then? he wondered, and that thoughtalso had a ring of familiarity. So thin you can simply step over it with this little fuss, muss, and bother?file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (269 of 333)7/28/2005 9:21:50 PM