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file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20Stephen%20King%20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htmLouis’s hands were trembling so badly he had to hold the flashlight with both hands, gripping it the waya policeman is taught to grip his service revolver on the target range. Still the beam jittered back andforth and it was a moment before he could train the pencil-thin beam back into the grave.it’s impossible, he told himself, just remember that what you thought you saw is impossible.He slowly moved the narrow beam up Gage’s three-foot length, from the new shoes to the suit pants, thelittle coat (ah, Christ, no two-year-old was ever meant to wear a suit), to the open collar, to— His breathcaught in a harsh sound that was too outraged to be a gasp, and all his fury at Gage’s death came back ina rush, drowning fears of the supernatural, the paranatural, his growing certainty that he had crossedover into’ the country of the mad.Louis scrabbled in his back pocket for his handkerchief and pulled it out. Holding the light in one hand,he leaned into the grave again, almost past the point of balance. If one of the segments of grave liner hadfallen now, it would have surely broken his neck. Gently he used his handkerchief to wipe away thedamp moss that was growing on Gage’s skin—moss so dark that he had been momentarily fooled intothinking Gage’s whole head was gone.The moss was damp but no more than a scum. He should have expected it; there had been rain, and agrave liner was not watertight. Flashing his light to either side, Louis saw that the coffin was lying in athin puddle. Beneath the light slime of growth, he saw his son. The mortician, aware that the coffincould not be opened after such a terrible accident, had nonetheless done the best he could—morticiansalmost always did. Looking at his son was like looking at a badly made doll. Gage’s head bulged instrange directions. His eyes had sunken deep behind closed lids. Something white protruded from hismouth like an albino tongue, and Louis thought at first that they had, perhaps, used too much embalmingfluid. It was tricky stuff at best, and with a child it was next to impossible to tell how much was enoughor too much.Then he realized it was only cotton. He reached in and plucked it out of the boy’s mouth. Gage’s lips,oddly lax and seeming somehow too dark and too wide, closed with a faint but audible plip! He threwthe cotton into the grave where it floated in the shallow puddle and gleamed a loathsome white. Nowone of Gage’s cheeks had a hollow old-man’s look.“Gage,” he whispered, “going to take you out now, okay?”He prayed no one would come along now, a caretaker making a 12:30 swing through the cemetery,something like that. But it was no longer a matter of not being caught; if someone else’s flashlight beamspeared him as he stood here in the grave going about his grim work, he would seize the bent, scarredspade and put it through the intruder’s skull.He worked his arms under Gage. The body lolled bonelessly from side to side, and a sudden, awfulfile:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (277 of 333)7/28/2005 9:21:50 PM