Pet Sematary - Stephen King [52]
Something gonna happen here, Bubba. Something pretty weird, I think.
He tilted his head back and saw cold winter stars in a blackening sky.
How long he stood like that he did not know, although it could not have been long in terms of seconds and minutes. Then a light flickered on Juds porch, bobbed, approached the porch door, and descended the steps. It was Jud behind a big four-cell flashlight. In his other hand he held what Louis at first thought was a large X and then he saw that it was a pick and shovel.
He handed the shovel to Louis, who took it in his free hand.
Jud, what the hell are you up to? We cant bury him tonight.
Yeah, we can. And were gonna. Juds face was lost behind the glaring circle of the flashlight.
Jud, its dark. Its late. And cold-
Come on, Jud said. Lets get it done.
Louis shook his head and tried to begin again, but the words came hard-the words of explanation and reason. They seemed so meaningless against the low shriek of the wind, the seedling bed of stars in the black.
It can wait till tomorrow when we can see-
Does she love the cat?
Yes, but-
juds voice, soft and somehow logical: And do you love her?
Of course I love her, she s my dau- Then come on.
Louis went.
Twice-maybe three times-on the walk up to the Pet Sematary that night Louis tried to talk to Jud, but Jud didnt answer. Louis gave up. That feeling of contentment, odd under the circumstances but a pure fact, persisted. It seemed to come from everywhere. The steady ache in his muscles from carrying Church in one hand and the shovel in the other was a part of it. The wind,
deadly cold, numbing exposed skin, was a part of it; it wound steadily in the trees. Once they got into the woods, there was no snow to speak of. The bobbing light of Juds flash was a part of it. He felt the pervasive, undeniable, magnetic presence of some secret. Some dark secret.
The shadows fell away and there was a feeling of space. Snow shone pallidly.
Rest here, Jud said, and Louis set the bag down. He wiped sweat off his forehead with his arm. Rest here? But they were here. He could see the markers in the moving, aimless sweep of Juds light as Jud sat down in the thin snow and put his face between his arms.
Jud? Are you all right?
Fine. Need to catch my breath a bit, thats all.
Louis sat down next to him and deep-breathed half a dozen times.
You know, he said, I feel better than I have in maybe six years. I know thats a crazy thing to say when youre burying your daughters cat, but its the flat truth, Jud. I feel good.
Jud breathed deeply once or twice himself. Yeah, I know, he said. It is that way once in a while. You dont pick your times for feeling good, any more than you do for the other. And the place has something to do with it too, but you dont want to trust that. Heroin makes dope addicts feel good when theyre putting it in their arms, but all the time its poisoning them. Poisoning their bodies and poisoning their way of thinking. This place can be like that, Louis, and dont you ever forget it. I hope to God Im doing right. I think I am, but I cant be sure. Sometimes my head gets muddled. Its senility coming, I think.
I dont know what youre talking about.
This place has power, Louis. Not so much here, but the place were going.
Jud-
Come on, Jud said and was on his feet again. The flashlights beam illuminated the deadfall. Jud was walking toward it. Louis suddenly remembered his episode of somnambulism. What was it Pascow had said in the dream that had accompanied it?
Dont go beyond, no matter how much you feel you need to, Doctor. The barrier was not made to be broken.
But now, tonight, that dream or warning or whatever it had
been seemed years rather than months distant. Louis felt fine and fey and alive, ready to cope with anything, and yet full of wonder. It occurred to him that this was very much like a dream.
Then Jud turned toward him, the hood seeming to surround a blankness, and for one moment Louis imagined that it was Pascow