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file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20Stephen%20King%20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htmBlood had splashed the wallpaper in idiot shapes. She had been stabbed a dozen times, two dozen, whoknew? His scalpel had done this work.Suddenly he saw her, really saw her, and Louis Creed began to scream.His screams echoed and racketed shrilly through this house where now only death lived and walked.Eyes bulging, face livid, hair standing on end, he screamed; the sounds came from his swollen throatlike the bells of hell, terrible shrieks that signaled the end not of love but of sanity; in his mind all thehideous images were suddenly unloosed at once. Victor Pascow dying on the infirmary carpet, Churchcoming back with bits of green plastic in his whiskers, Gage’s baseball cap lying in the road, full ofblood, but most of all that thing he had seen near Little Cod Swamp, the thing that had pushed the treeover, the thing with the yellow eyes, the Wendigo, creature of the north country, the dead thing whosetouch awakens unspeakable appetites.Rachel had not just been killed.Something had been. . . something had been at her.(! CLICK !)That click was in his head. It was the sound of some relay fusing and burning out forever, the sound oflightning stroking down in a direct hit, the sound of a door opening.He looked up numbly, the scream still shivering in his throat and here was Cage at last, his mouthsmeared with blood, his chin dripping, his lips pulled back in a hellish grin. In one hand he held Louis’sscalpel.As he brought it down, Louis pulled back with no real thought at all. The scalpel whickered past hisface, and Gage overbalanced. He is as clumsy as Church, Louis thought. Louis kicked his feet fromunder him. Gage fell awkwardly, and Louis was on him before he could get up, straddling him, one kneepinning the hand which held the scalpel.“No,” the thing under him panted. Its face twisted and writhed. Its eyes were baleful, insectile in theirstupid hate. “No, no, no-”Louis clawed for one of the hypos, got it out. He would have to be quick. The thing under him was like agreased fish and it would not let go of the scalpel no matter how hard he bore down on its wrist. And itsface seemed to ripple and change even as he looked at it. It was Jud’s face, dead and staring; it was thedented, ruined face of Victor Pascow, eyes rolling mindlessly; it was, mirrorlike, Louis’s own, sodreadfully pale and lunatic. Then it changed again and became the face of that creature in the woods—the low brow, the dead yellow eyes, the tongue long and pointed and bifurcated, grinning and hissing.file:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (324 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.htm“No, no, no-no-no—”It bucked beneath him. The hypo flew out of Louis’s hand and rolled a short way down the hail. Hegroped for another, brought it out, and jammed it straight down into the small of Gage’s back.It screamed beneath him, body straining and sunfishing, nearly throwing him off. Grunting, Louis gotthe third syringe and jammed this one home in Gage’s arm, depressing the plunger all the way. He gotoff then and began to back slowly down the hallway. Cage got slowly to his feet and began to staggertoward him. Five steps and the scalpel fell from its hand. It struck the floor blade first and stuck itself inthe wood, quivering. Ten steps and that strange yellow light in its eyes began to fade. A dozen and it fellto its knees.Now Cage looked up at him and for a moment Louis saw his son—his real son—his face unhappy andfilled with pain.“Daddy!” he cried, and then fell forward on his face.Louis stood there for a moment, then went to Gage, moving carefully, expecting some trick. But therewas no trick, no sudden leap with clawed hands. He slid his fingers expertly down Gage’s throat, foundthe pulse, and held it. He was then a doctor for the last time in his life, monitoring the pulse, monitoringuntil there was nothing, nothing inside, nothing outside.When it was gone at last, Louis got up and sauntered down the hail to a far corner. He crouched there,pulling himself into a ball, cramming himself into the corner, tighter and tighter. He found he couldmake himself smaller if he put a thumb in his mouth and so he did that.He remained that way for better than two hours. . . and then, little by little, a dark and oh-so-plausibleidea came to him. He pulled his thumb from his mouth. It made a small pop. Louis got himself(hey-ho let’s go)going again.In the room where Gage had hidden, he stripped the sheet from the bed and took it out into the hail. Hewrapped his wife’s body in it, gently, with love. He was humming but did not realizeit.He found gasoline in Jud’s garage. Five gallons of it in a red can next to the Lawnboy. More thanenough. He began in the kitchen where Jud still lay under the Thanksgiving tablecloth. He drenched that,then moved into the living room with the can still upended, spraying amber gas over the rug, the sofa,the magazine rack, the chairs, and so out into the downstairs hail and toward the back bedroom. Thefile:///E|/Funny%20&%20Weird%20Shit/75%20-%20St...20Books/Stephen%20King%20-%20Pet%20Sematary.htm (325 of 333)7/28/2005 9:21:50 PM
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