Pet Sematary - Stephen King [2]
All right, Ellie, he said. Thats enough. Those people over there will think someones being murdered.
But it hurrrrts!
Louis struggled with his temper and went silently back to the wagon. The keys were gone, but the first-aid kit was still in the glove compartment. He got it and came back. When Ellie saw it, she began to scream louder than ever.
No! Not the stingy stuff I dont want the stingy stuff Daddy! No-
Eileen, its just Mercurochrome, and it doesnt sting-
Be a big girl, Rachel said. Its just-
No-no-no-no-no-
You want to stop that or your ass will sting, Louis said.
Shes tired, Lou, Rachel said quietly.
Yeah, I know the feeling. Hold her leg out.
Rachel put Gage down and held Eileens leg, which Louis painted with Mercurochrome in spite of her increasingly hysterical wails.
Someone just came out on the porch of that house across the street, Rachel said. She picked Gage up. He had started to crawl away through the grass.
Wonderful, Louis muttered.
Lou, shes-
Tired, I know. He capped the Mercurochrome and looked grimly at his daughter. There. And it really didnt hurt a bit. Fess up, Ellie.
it does! It does hurt! It hurrrr-
His hand itched to slap her and he grabbed his leg hard.
Did you find the keys? Rachel asked.
Not yet, Louis said, snapping the first-aid kit closed and getting up. Ill-
Gage began to scream. He was not fussing or crying but really screaming, writhing in Rachels arms.
Whats wrong with him? Rachel cried, thrusting him almost blindly at Louis. It was, he supposed, one of the advantages of having married a doctor-you could shove the kid at your husband whenever the kid seemed to be dying. Louis! Whats-
The baby was grabbing frantically at his neck, screaming wildly. Louis flipped him over and saw an angry white knob rising on the side of Gages neck. And there was also something on the. strap of his jumper, something fuzzy, squirming weakly.
Eileen, who had become quieter, began to scream again,
Bee! Bee! BEEEEEE! She jumped back, tripped over the same protruding rock on which she had already come a cropper, sat down hard, and began to cry again in mingled pain, surprise, and fear.
Im going crazy, Louis thought wonderingly. Wheeeeee! Do something, Louis! Cant you do something?
Got to get the stinger out, a voice behind them drawled. Thats the ticket. Get the stinger out and put some baking
Soda on it. Bumpll go down. But the voice was so thick With Down East accent that for a moment Louiss tired,
confused mind refused to translate the dialect: Got tget the stinga out n put some bakin soda ont. TI! go daown.
He turned and saw an old man of perhaps seventy-a hale and healthy seventy-standing there on the grass. He wore a biballs over a blue chambray shirt that showed his thickly folded and wrinkled neck. His face was sunburned, and he was smoking an unfiltered cigarette. As Louis looked at him, the old man pinched the cigarette out between his thumb and forefinger and pocketed it neatly. He held out his hands and smiled crookedly a smile Louis liked at once-and he was not a man who took to people.
Not to tell you ybusiness, Doc, he said. And that was how Louis met Judson Crandall, the man who should have been his father.
3
He had watched them arrive from across the street and had come across to see if he could help when it seemed they were in a bit of a tight, as he put it.
While Louis held the baby on his shoulder, Crandall stepped near, looked at the swelling on Gages neck, and reached out with one blocky, twisted hand. Rachel opened her mouth to protest-his hand looked terribly clumsy and almost as big as Gages head-but before she could say a word, the old mans fingers had made a single decisive movement, as apt and deft as the fingers of a man walking cards across his knuckles or sending coins into conjurers limbo. And the stinger