The Regulators - Stephen King [97]
Any other kid seeing the MotoKops' Power Wagons doing tricks like that would be laughing clapping cheering, but not the Stalky Little Boy. He just sits there in the sand with his lip shoved out glares.
Seth watching the wagons and me watching him, feeling whatever is inside him coming out in waves, filling the air with a hum that's mostly in a person's head. I felt ready to come out of my skin, ready to flip out right there in front of the sink, then, all at once, the daydream came. It is the most wonderful thing, and although I call it a daydream, that isn't how it feels; it feels real. In it I am reliving a weekend afternoon I spent at Mohonk Mountain House with my friend Jan. Back in 1982, this was, before either of us was married. We sat and talked for I don't know how long — her mostly about this goofy, greasy guy she was so crazy about back then, me about how I'd love to take three months off after graduation and see some of the country.
It's so beautiful there at Mohonk, so peaceful. We have a picnic lunch. The air is warm. Jan looks as gorgeous as I feel. I know it's not real, that I've got all this mess to come back to, but for the time I'm there, none of that matters. Jan I talk, I feel the sun on my face, I smell the flowers. It's wonderful. I don't know what it is or why it happens, but as an antidote to the SLB's rages, it beats rubbing off in the bathroom eight ways to Sunday. Does Seth have anything to do with it, I wonder?
I wish Herbie had a place to go, but I don't think he does. His silly jokes are as close as he can come, poor man. I wish I could tell him about my place, maybe even take him there, but it wouldn't be wise. I think the SLB can find things out from Herb that he can't from me, Herb looks so tired. It's unfair to both of us that this should be happening, but it's horribly unfair to Herbie.
June 13, 1995
'Dweem Fwoatah' is back. Just now. I don't know whether to feel scared or relieved.
I mean of course I'm relieved, anyone would be, this place has been like a concentration camp since Saturday, but what happens next? How will the SLB react? Thank God he was napping when the doorbell rang, thank God Herb's at work, because the SLB eavesdrops on Herb's mind sometimes, I know he does. I don't think he can do it to me unless I let him in, or unless I'm unprepared.
Boy. I just read this over and it's absolutely crazed. Let me take a deep breath and start from the beginning. I should have time. Seth hasn't slept well since Friday night, and if I'm lucky he might nap until 4:30. That gives me at least an hour.
Around 3:00, while I was vacuuming, there was a knock on the kitchen door. I opened it there stood Mr Hobart from down the street, and his son, who is a pudgy red-haired boy with thick glasses and pasty skin. Sort of repulsive-looking, if you want to know the truth. The kid had a Dream Floater van in his arms. There was no question it was Seth's. I didn't have to see the broken tail-light and the scratch up the driver's side to know that, but as a matter of fact I could see both. You could have knocked me over with a broom-straw. I tried to say something couldn't, my throat was locked up. I don't know what would have come out if I had been able to talk!
It's hot today, mid 80s, but Wm. Hobart was dressed like a church deacon (which I'm sure he is) in a black suit shoes. His kid was wearing the junior version of the same getup, was snivelling. Had a pretty good bruise on one cheek, too. I'd bet my bank account his old man put it there.
It didn't matter that I couldn't talk, because Hobart had the whole thing scripted. 'My son has something to say to you, Mrs Wyler,' he said, then looked down at the boy as if to say you're on, don't fuck it up. 'Hugh?'
Snivelling harder than ever, Hugh said he'd given in to the Tempting Voice of Satan (I guess that's the TVS, just like the Stalky Little Boy is the SLB) stolen Seth's toy. He talked real fast, crying