Christine - Stephen King [214]
We went back in time, 1 have said, but did we? The present-day streets of Libertyville were still there, but they were like a thin overlay of film - it was as if the Libertyville of the late 1970s had been drawn on Saran Wrap and laid over a time that was somehow more real, and I could feel that time reaching its dead hands out toward us, trying to catch us and draw us in for ever. Arnie stopped at intersections where we should have had the right-of-way; at others, where traffic lights glowed red, he cruised Christine mildly through without even slowing. On Main Street I saw Shipstad's Jewellery Store and the Strand Theatre, both of them torn down in 1972 to make way for the new Pennsylvania Merchants Bank. The cars parked along the street gathered here and there in clumps where New Year's Eve parties were going on - all seemed to be pre-60s or pre-1958. Long portholed Buicks. A DeSoto Firelite station wagon with a body-long blue inset that looked like a check-mark. A '57 Dodge Lancer four-door hardtop. Ford Fairlanes with their distinctive tail-lights, each like a big colon lying on its side. Pontiacs in which the grille had not yet been split. Ramblers, Packards, a few bullet-nosed Studebakers, and once, fantastical and new, an Edsel.
'Yeah, this year is going to be better,' Arnie said. I glanced over at him. He raised his beercan to his lips, and before it got there, his face had turned to LeBay's a rotting figure from a horror comic. The fingers that held the beer were only bones. I swear to you, they were only bones, and the pants lay nearly flat against the seat, as if there was nothing inside them except broomsticks.
Is it?' I said, breathing the car's foul and choking miasma as shallowly as possible and trying not to choke.
'It is,' LeBay said, only now he was Arnie again, and as we paused at a stop sign, I saw a '77 Camaro go ripping past. 'All I ask is that you stand by me a little, Dennis. Don't let my mother drag you into this shit. Things are going to turn out.' He was LeBay again, grinning fleshlessly and eternally at the idea of things turning out. I felt my brains beginning to totter. Surely I would scream soon.
I dropped my eyes from that terrible half-face and saw what Leigh had seen: dashboard instruments that weren't instruments at all, but luminescent green eyes bulging out at me.
At some point the nightmare ended. We pulled up at the kerb in an area of town I didn't even recognize, an area I would have sworn I had never seen before. Tract houses stood dark everywhere, some of them three-quarters finished, some no more than frames. Halfway down the block, lit by Christine's hi-beams, was a sign which read:
MAPLEWAY ESTATES
LIBERTYVILLE REALTORS
SOLE SELLING AGENTS
A Good Place to Raise YOUR Family
Think about it!
'Well, here you go,' Arnie said. 'Can you make it up the walk yourself, man?'
I looked doubtfully around at this deserted, snow- covered development and then nodded. Better here, on crutches, alone, than in that terrible car. I felt a large plastic smile on my face. 'Sure. Thanks.'
'Negative perspiration,' Arnie said. He finished his beer, and LeBay tossed it into the back seat. 'Another dead soldier.'
'Yeah,' I said. 'Happy New Year, Arnie.' I fumbled for the doorhandle and opened it. I wondered if I could get out, if my trembling arms would support the crutches.
LeBay was looking at me, grinning. 'Just stay on my side, Dennis,' he said. 'You know what happens to shitters who don't.'
'Yes,' I whispered. I knew, all right.
I got my crutches out and heaved myself up onto them, careless of any ice that might be underneath. They held me. And once out, the world underwent a swimming,