The Regulators - Stephen King [103]
By the time I got back to the front, people were standing out on their sidewalks all up and down the street, looking at the Hobart place. Dave and Jim Reed were in their driveway, and I asked them if they had seen Seth.
'There he is, Mrs Wyler,' Dave says, and points down to the store. Seth was standing by the bike rack, looking across the street, just like the rest of us. 'He must have gone for a candybar.'
'Yes,' I reply, knowing that a) Seth has no money; b) Seth can hardly talk to Herb and me, let alone to store-clerks he doesn't know; c) Seth never leaves the back yard.
Seth doesn't, but sometimes the Stalky Little Boy does, it seems. To get into operating range, I think.
About five minutes later, the EMTs helped Irene Hobart out the door. Hugh, the son, was holding her hand crying. I hated that kid, absolutely did, but I don't anymore. Now I only pity him fear for him. There was blood all down the front of her dress. She was holding a compress on her nose, one of the EMTs was pressing the top of her neck in the back. They got her into the ambulance — Hugh got in right behind her — drove away.
She was back less than two hours later (by then Seth was safely tucked away in the den, watching old Westerns on cable). Kim Getter dropped by for coffee told me she went down to see if she could do anything for Irene. She's the only one on the block who is what you could call friendly with the Hobarts. She said everything is under control, but that Irene had a scare. She has bad hypertension. Takes medication for it, but it's still barely controlled. She's had nosebleeds before, but never one as bad as this. She told Kim it went all at once, blood just spraying out of her nostrils, and it wouldn't stop even when she cold-packed it. Hugh got scared called 911. The EMTs insisted on taking her to the hospital to see if she needed to have the inside of her nose cauterized, even tho the bleeding had mostly stopped by the time the ambulance got to the house.
I got Seth inside and started shaking him. Told him he had to stop. He only looked at me, his mouth trembling. I was the one who stopped, angry ashamed of myself. I was shaking the wrong one.
I could see the other one, though. I swear I could. Hiding behind Seth's eyes and laughing at me. I think the most terrible thing of all is how the SLB knows to leave Hugh Hobart alone. To let him just watch.
June 29, 1995
Woke up this morning around 3 a.m. and the other half of the bed was empty. The bathroom, too. I went downstairs, scared. No one in the living room, den, or kitchen. I went out to the garage found Herb sitting at his workbench, wearing nothing but the Jockeys he sleeps in, crying. He put in hi-intensity lighting out there two years ago — metal-hooded lamps that look like the kinds you see in pool-parlors — in their glow I could see how much weight he's lost. He looks horrible. Like he has anorexia nervosa. I took him in my arms he wept like a baby. Kept saying he was tired, so tired all the time. I said something about taking him to see Dr Evers first thing in the morning. He just laughed, said I knew what was wrong with him.
I do, of course.
July 1, 1995
Another ambulance at the Hobart house late this afternoon. As soon as I saw it I raced upstairs to check on Seth, who was supposedly napping. No Seth. Window open — second-floor window — no Seth. When I went outside, I saw him across the street, holding old Tom Billingsley's hand. I ran across grabbed him.
'No fear, he's all right, Aud,' Tom said.