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file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20Stephen%20King%20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm—spilled a bottle of catsup or maybe dropped a dish of cranberry jelly, maybe, because her dress wassplattered with red stains.And then, rising behind the deadfall to a titanic height, its skin a cracked reptilian yellow, its eyes greathooded foglamps, its ‘ears not ears at all but massive curling horns, was the Wendigo, a beast thatlooked like a lizard born of a woman. It pointed its horny, nailed finger at all of them as they cranedtheir necks up and up to watch it.“Stop,” he whispered and shuddered at the sound of his own voice. He would go out into the kitchen, hedecided, and make himself breakfast just as if it were any ordinary day. A bachelor breakfast, full ofcomforting cholesterol. A couple of fried-egg sandwiches with mayo and a slice of Bermuda onion oneach one. He smelled sweaty and dirty and cruddy, but he would save the shower for later; right nowgetting undressed seemed like too much work, and he was afraid he might have to get the scalpel out ofhis bag and actually cut the leg of the pants open in order to allow his bloated knee to escape. A hell of away to treat good instruments, but none of the knives in the house would cut the heavy jeans fabric, andRachel’s sewing scissors certainly would not do the trick.But first, breakfast.So he crossed the living room and then detoured into the front entry and looked out at the small blue carin Jud’s driveway. It was covered with dewfall, which meant it had been there for some time. Churchwas still on the roof but not sleeping. He appeared to be staring right at Louis with his ugly yellow-greeneyes.Louis stepped back hurriedly, as if someone had caught him peeking.He went into the kitchen, rattled out a frying pan, put it on the stove, got eggs from the fridge. Thekitchen was bright and crisp and clear. He tried to whistle—a whistle would bring the morning into itsproper focus—but he could not. Things looked right, but they weren’t right. The house seemeddreadfully empty, and last night’s work weighed on him. Things were wrong, awry; he felt a shadowhovering, and he was afraid.He limped into the bathroom and took a couple of aspirin with a glass of orange juice. He was workinghis way back to the stove when the telephone rang.He did not answer it immediately but turned and looked at it, feeling slow and stupid, a sucker in somegame which he was only now realizing he did not understand in the least.Don’t answer that, you don’t want to answer that because that’s the bad news, that’s the end of the leashthat leads around the corner and into the darkness, and I don’t think you want tofile:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (315 of 333)7/28/2005 9:21:50 PM