Pet Sematary - Stephen King [127]
Gages small white coffin, its latch presumably repaired, sat on a pair of chromed runners over the grave liner. The verges of the grave had been carpeted with Astroturf so violently green it hurt Louiss eyes. Several baskets of flowers had been set on top of this artificial and strangely gay surface. Louiss eyes looked over the funeral directors shoulder. Here was a low hill, covered with graves, family plots, one Romanesque monument with the name PHIPPS engraved on it. Just above the sloping roof of PHIPPS, he could see a sliver of yellow. Louis looked at this, pondering it. He continued to look at it even after the funeral director said, Let us bow our heads for a moment of silent prayer. It took Louis a few minutes, but he got it. It was a payloader. A payloader parked over the hill where the mourners wouldnt have to look at it. And, when the funeral was over, Oz would crush his cigarette on the heel of his tewwible workboot, put it in whatever container he carried around with him (in a cemetery, sextons caught depositing their butts on the ground were almost always summarily fired-it looked bad; too many of the clientele had died of lung cancer), jump in the payloader, fire that sucker up, and cut his son off from the sun forever or at least until the day of the Resurrection.
Resurrection ah, theres a word
(that you should put right the fuck out of your mind and you know it).
When the funeral director said Amen, Louis took Rachels arm and guided her away. Rachel murmured some protest-she wanted to stay a bit longer, please, Louis-but Louis was firm. They approached the cars. He saw the funeral director taking umbrellas with the homes name discreetly printed on the handles from the mourners who passed and handing them to an assistant. The assistant put them in an umbrella stand which looked surreal, standing there on the dewy turf. He held Rachels arm
with his right hand and Ellies white-gloved hand with his left. Ellie was wearing the same dress she had worn to Norma Crandalls funeral.
Jud came over as Louis handed his ladies into the car. Jud also looked as if hed had a hard night.
You okay, Louis?
Louis nodded.
Jud bent to look into the car. How are you, Rachel? he asked.
Im all right, Jud, she whispered.
Jud touched her shoulder gently and then looked at Ellie. How about you, dear one?"
Im fine, Ellie said and produced a hideous smile of sharklike proportions to show him how fine she was.
Whats that picture you got there?
For a moment Louis thought she would hold it, refuse to show him, and then with a painful shyness she passed it to Jud. He held it in his big fingers, fingers that were so splayed and somehow clumsy-looking, fingers that looked fit mostly for grappling with the transmissions of big road machines or making couplings on the B & M Line-but they were also the fingers that had pulled a bee stinger from Gages neck with all the offhand skill of a magician or a surgeon.
Why, thats real nice, Jud said. You pullin him on a sled. Bet he liked that, didnt he, Ellie?
Beginning to weep, Ellie nodded.
Rachel began to say something, but Louis squeezed her arm- be still awhile.
I used to pull im a lot, Ellie said, weeping, and hed laugh and laugh. Then wed go in and Mommy would fix us cocoa and say, Put your boots away, and Gage would grab them all up and scream Boots! Boots! so loud it hurt your ears. Remember that, Mom?
Rachel nodded.
Yeah, I bet that was a good time, all right, Jud said, handing the picture back. And he may be dead now, Ellie, but you can keep your memories of him.
Im going to, she said, wiping at her face. I loved Gage, Mr. Crandall.
I know you did, dear. He leaned in and kissed her, and when
he withdrew, his eyes swept Louis and Rachel stonily. Rachel met his gaze, puzzled and a little hurt, not understanding. But Louis understood well enough: What are you doing for her? Juds eyes asked. Your son is dead, but your daughter is not. What are you doing for her?
Louis looked away. There was nothing he could do for her, not yet. She would have to swim in her grief as best