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file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20Stephen%20King%20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htmLouis thought wearily. And TRIXIE, KILT ON THE HIGHWAY. The wind still blew strongly, and hecould hear the faint ting-ting-ting of a piece of metal—perhaps it had once been a Del Monte can, cutlaboriously by a grieving pet owner with his father’s tinsnips and then flattened out with a hammer andnailed to a stick—and that brought the fear back again. He was too tired now to feel it as more than asomehow sickening pulsebeat. He had done it. That steady ting-ting-ting sound coming out of thedarkness brought it home to him more than anything else.He walked through the Pet Sematary, past the grave of MARTA OUR PET RABIT who had DYEDMARCH 1 1965, and near the barrow of GEN. PATTON; he stepped over the ragged chunk of boardthat marked the final resting place of POLYNESIA. The tick of metal was louder now, and he paused,looking down. Here atop a slightly leaning board that had been driven into the ground, was a tinrectangle, and by starlight Louis read, RINGO OUR HAMSTER, 1964—1965. It was this piece of tinthat was ticking repeatedly off the boards of the Pet Sematary’s entry arch. Louis reached down to bendthe piece of tin back . . . and then froze, scalp crawling.Something was moving back there. Something was moving on the other side of the deadfall.What he heard was a stealthy kind of sound—the furtive crackle of pine needles, the dry pop of a twig,the rattle of underbrush. They were almost lost under the sough of the wind through the pines.“Gage?” Louis called hoarsely.The very realization of what he was doing—standing here in the dark and calling his dead son—pulledhis scalp stiff and brought his hair up on end. He began to shudder helplessly and steadily, as if with asick and killing fever.“Gage?”The sounds had died away.Not yet; it’s too early. Don’t ask me how I know, but I do. That isn’t Gage over there. That’s. . .something else.He suddenly thought of Ellie telling him, He called “Lazarus,come forth” . . . because if He hadn’t called for Lazarus by name, everyone in that graveyard would haverisen.On the other side of the deadfall, those sounds had begun again. On the other side of the barrier. Almost—but not quite— hidden under the wind. As if something blind were stalking him with ancient instincts.His dreadfully overstimulated brain conjured horrible, sickening pictures: a giant mole, a great bat thatflopped through the underbrush rather than flying.file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (300 of 333)7/28/2005 9:21:50 PM