sk.petsematary-第50部分

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he　way　to　Boston；　and　there　was　weeping　and　wailing　relatives　at　every　stop　except　Ludlow　。　。　。　and　at　Ludlow　he　was　treated　to　the　sight　of　Bill　Baterman；　who；　he　said；　looked　like　he　was　dead　inside　and　just　waiting　for　his　soul　to　stink。　When　he　got　off　that　train；　he　said　he　woke　up　that　army　fella；　and　they　hit　some　spots…fifteen　or　twenty…and　Huey　got　drunker　than　he　had　ever　been　and　went　to　a　whore；　which　he'd　never　done　in　his　whole　life；　and　woke　up　with　a　set　of　crabs　so　big　and　mean　they　gave　him　the　shivers；　and　he　said　that　if　that　was　what　they　called　a　mystery　train；　he　never　wanted　to　drive　no　mystery　train　again。
　　〃Timmy's　body　was　taken　up　to　the　Greenspan　Funeral　Home　on　Fern　Street…it　used　to　be　across　from　where　the　New　Franklin　Laundry　stands　now…and　two　days　later　he　was　buried　in　Pleasantview　Cemetery　with　full　military　honors。
　　〃Well；　I　tell　you；　Louis：　Missus　Baterman　was　dead　ten　years　then；　along　with　the　second　child　she　tried　to　bring　into　the　world；　and　that　had　a　lot　to　do　with　what　happened。　A　second　child　might　have　helped　to　ease　the　pain；　don't　you　think？　A　second　child　might　have　reminded　old　Bill　that　there's　others　that　feel　the　pain　and　have　to　be　helped　through。　I　guess　in　that　way；　you're　luckier…having　another　child　and　all；　I　mean。　A　child　and　a　wife　who　are　both　alive　and　well。
　　〃According　to　the　letter　Bill　got　from　the　lieutenant　in　charge　of　his　boy's　platoon；　Timmy　was　shot　down　on　the　road　to　Rome　on　July　15；　1943。　His　body　was　shipped　home　two　days　later；　and　it　got　to　Limestone　on　the　nineteenth。　It　was　put　aboard　Huey　Garber's　mystery　train　the　very　next　day。　Most　of　the　GIs　who　got　killed　in　Europe　were　buried　in　Europe；　but　all　of　the　boys　who　went　home　on　that　train　were　special…Timmy　had　died　charging　a　machine…gun　nest；　and　he　had　won　the　Silver　Star　posthumously。
　　〃Timmy　was　buried…don't　hold　me　to　this；　but　I　think　it　was　on　July　22。　It　was　four　or　five　days　later　that　Marjorie　Washburn；　who　was　the　mailwoman　in　those　days；　saw　Timmy　walking　up　the　road　toward　York's　Livery　Stable。　Well；　Margie　damn　near　drove　right　off　the　road；　and　you　can　understand　why。　She　went　back　to　the　post　office；　tossed　her　leather　bag　with　all　her　undelivered　mail　still　in　it　on　George　Anderson's　desk；　and　told　him　she　was　going　home　and　to　bed　right　then。
　　〃Margie；　are　you　sick？'　George　asks。　'You　are　just　as　white　as　a　gull's　wing。'
　　〃I've　had　the　fright　of　my　life；　and　I　don't　want　to　talk　to　you　about　it；'　Margie　Washburn　says。　'I　ain't　going　to　talk　to　Brian　about　it；　or　my　mom；　or　anybody。　When　I　get　up　to　heaven；　if　Jesus　asks　me　to　talk　to　Him　about　it；　maybe　I　will。　But　I　don't　believe　it。'　And　out　she　goes。
　　〃Everybody　knew　Timmy　was　dead；　there　was　his　bituary　in　the　Bangor　Daily　News　and　the　Ellsworth　American　just　the　week　before；　picture　and　all；　and　half　the　town　turned　out　for　his　funeral　up　to　the　city。　And　here　Margie　seen　him；　walking　up　the　road…lurching　up　the　road；　she　finally　told　old　George　Anderson
　　…only　this　was　twenty　years　later；　and　she　was　dying；　and　George　told　me　it　seemed　to　him　like　she　wanted　to　tell　somebody　what　she'd　seen。　George　said　it　seemed　to　him　like　it　preyed　on　her　mind；　you　know。
　　〃Pale　he　was；　she　said；　and　dressed　in　an　old　pair　of　chino　pants　and　a　faded　flannel　hunting　shirt；　although　it　must　have　been　ninety　degrees　in　the　shade　that　day。　Margie　said　all　his　hair　was　sticking　up　in　the　back。　'His　eyes　were　like　raisins　stuck　in　bread　dough。　I　saw　a　ghost　that　day；　George。　That's　what　scared　me　so。　I　never　thought　I'd　see　such　a　thing；　but　there　it　was。'
　　〃Well；　word　got　around。　Pretty　soon　some　other　people　saw　Timmy；　too。　Missus　Stratton…well；　we　called　her　'missus；'　but　so　far　as　anyone　knew　she　could　have　been　single　or　divorced　or　grass…widowed；　she　had　a　little　two…room　house　down　where　the　Pedersen　Road　joins　the　Hancock　Road；　and　she　had　a　lot　of　jazz　records；　and　sometimes　she'd　be　willing　to　throw　you　a　little　party　if　you　had　a　ten…dollar　bill　that　wasn't　working　too　hard。　Well；　she　saw　him　from　her　porch；　and　she　said　he　walked　right　up　to　the　edge　of　the　road　and　stopped　there。
　　〃He　just　stood　there；　she　said；　his　hands　dangling　at　his　sides　and　his　head　pushed　forward；　lookin　like　a　boxer　who's　ready　to　eat　him　some　canvas。　She　said　she　stood　there　on　her　porch；　heart　goin　like　sixty；　too　scared　to　move。　Then　she　said　he　turned　around；　and　it　was　like　watching　a　drunk　man　try　to　do　an　about…face。　One　leg　went　way　out　and　the　other　foot　turned；　and　he　just　about　fell　over。　She　said　he　looked　right　at　her　and　all　the　strength　just　run　out　of　her　hands　and　she　dropped　the　basket　of　washing　she　had；　and　the　clothes　fell　out　and　got　smutty　all　over　again。
　　〃She　said　his　eyes　。　。　。　she　said　they　looked　as　dead　and　dusty　as　marbles；　Louis。　But　he　saw　her。　。　。　and　he　grinned　。　。　。　and　she　said　he　talked　to　her。　Asked　her　if　she　still　had　those　records　because　he　wouldn't　mind　cutting　a　rug　with　her。　Maybe　that　very　night。　And　Missus　Stratton　went　back　inside；　and　she　wouldn't　e　out　for　most　of　a　week；　and　by　then　it　was　over　anyway。
　　〃Lot　of　people　saw　Timmy　Baterman。　Many　of　them　are　dead　now…Missus　Stratton　is；　for　one；　and　others　have　moved　on；　but　there　are　a　few　old　crocks　like　me　left　around　who'll　tell　you。　if　you　ask　em　right。
　　〃We　saw　him；　I　tell　you；　walking　back　and　forth　along　the　Pedersen　Road；　a　mile　east　of　his　daddy's　house　and　a　mile　west。　Back　and　forth　he　went；　back　and　forth　all　day；　and　for　all　anyone　knew；　all　night。　Shirt　untucked；　pale　face；　hair　all　stuck　up　in　spikes；　fly　unzipped　sometimes；　and　this　look　on　his　face。　。　。　this　look。　。　。〃
　　Jud　paused　to　light　a　cigarette；　then　shook　the　match　out；　and　looked　at　Louis　through　the　haze　of　drifting　blue　smoke。　And　although　the　story　was；　of　course；　utterly　mad；　there　was　no　lie　in　Jud's　eyes。
　　〃You　know；　they　have　these　stories　and　these　movies…I　don't　know　if　they're　true…about　zombies　down　in　Haiti。　In　the　movies　they　just　sort　of　shamble　along；　with　their　dead　eyes　starin　straight　ahead；　real　slow　and　sort　of　clumsy。　Timmy　Baterman　was　like　that；　Louis；　like　a　zombie　in　a　movie；　but　he　wasn't。　There　was　somethin　more。　There　was　somethin　goin　on　behind　his　eyes；　and　sometimes　you　could　see　it　and　sometimes　you　couldn't　see　it。　Somethin　behind　his　eyes；　Louis。　I　don't　think　that　thinkin　is　what　I　want　to　call　it。　I　don't　know　what　in　the　hell　I　want　to　call　it。
　　〃It　was　sly；　that　was　one　thing。　Like　him　tellin　Missus　Stratton　he　wanted　to　cut　a　rug　with　her。　There　was　somethin　goin　on　in　there；　Louis；　but　I　don't　think　it　was　thinkin　and　I　don't　think　it　had　much…maybe　nothing　at　all…to　do　with　Timmy　Baterman。　It　was　more　like　a　。　。　。　a　radio　signal　that　was　in　from　somewhere　else。　You　looked　at　him　and　you　thought；　'If　he　touches　me；　I'm　gonna　scream。'　Like　that。
　　〃Back　and　forth　he　went；　up　and　down　the　road；　and　one　day　after　I　got　home　from　work…this　must　have　been；　oh；　I'm　going　to　say　it　was　July　30　or　so…here　is　George　Anderson；　the　postmaster；　don't　you　know；　sitting　on　my　back　porch；　drinking　iced　tea　with　Hannibal　Benson；　who　was　then　our　second　selectman；　and　Alan　Purinton；　who　was　fire　chief。　Norma　sat　there　too　but　never　said　a　thing。
　　〃George　kept　rubbing　the　stump　at　the　top　of　his　right　leg。　Lost　most　of　that　leg　working　on　the　railroad；　he　did；　and　the　stump　used　to　bother　him　something　fierce　on　those　hot　and　muggy　days。　But　here　he　was；　misery　or　not。
　　〃This　has　gone　far　enough；'　George　says　to　me。　'I　got　a　mail…woman　who　won't　deliver　out　on　the　Pedersen　Road…that's　one　thing。　It's　starting　to　raise　Cain　with　the　government；　and　that's　something　else。'
　　〃What　do　you　mean；　it's　raising　Cain　with　the　government？'　I　asked
　　〃Hannibal　said　he'd　had　a　call　from　the　War　Department。　Some　lieutenant　named　Kinsman　whose　job　it　was　to　sort　out　malicious　mischief　from　plain　old　tomfoolery。　'Four　or　five　people　have　written　anonymous　letters　to　the　War　Department；'　Hannibal　says；　'and　this　Lieutenant　Kinsman　is　starting　to　get　a　little　bit　concerned。　If　it　was　just　one　fellow　who　had　written　one　letter；　they'd　laugh　it　off。　If　it　was　just　one　fellow　writing　a　whole　bunch　of　letters；　Kinsman　says　he'd　call　the　state　police　up　in　Derry　Barracks　and　tell　em　they　might　have　a　psychopath　with　a　hate　on　against　the　Baterman　family　in　Ludlow。　But　these　letters　all　came　from　different　people。　He　said　you　could　tell　that　by　the　handwriting；　name　or　no　name；　and　they　all　say　the　same　crazy　thing…that　if　Timothy　Baterman　is　dead；　he　makes　one　hell　of　a　lively　corpse　walking　up　and　down　Pedersen　Road　with　his　bare　face　hanging　out。
　　〃This　Kinsman　is　going　to　send　a　fellow　out　or　e　himself　if　this　don't　settle　down；'　Hannibal　finishes　up。　'They　want　to　know　if　Timmy's　dead；　or　AWOL；　or　what　because　they　don't　like　to　think　their　records　are　all　at　sixes　and　sevens。　Also　they're　gonna　want　to　know　who　was　buried　in　Timmy　Baterman's　box；　if　he　wasn't。'
　　〃Well；　you　can　see　what　kind　of　a　mess　it　was；　Louis。　We　sat　there　most　of　an　hour；　drinking　iced　tea　and　talking　it　over。　Norma　asked　us　if　we　wanted　sandwidges；　but　no　one　did。
　　〃We　talked　it　around　and　talked　it　around；　and　finally　we　decided　we　had　to　go　out　there　to　the　Baterman　place。　I'll　never　forget　that　night；　not　if　I　live　to　be　twice　as　old's　I　am　now。　It　was　hot；　hotter　than　the　hinges　of　hell；　with　the　sun　going　down　like　a　bucket　of　guts　behind　the　clouds。　There　was　none　of　us　wanted　to　go；　but　we　had　to。　Norma　knew　it　before　any　of　us。　She　got　me　inside　on　some　pretext　or　other　and　said；　'Don't　you　let　them　dither　around　and　put　this　off；　Judson。　You　got　to　get　this　taken　care　of。　It's　an　abomination。〃
　　Jud　measured　Louis　evenly　with　his　eyes。
　　〃That　was　what　she　called　it；　Louis。　It　was　her　word。　Abomination。　And　she　kind　of　whispers　in　my　ear；　'If　anything　happens；　Jud；　you　just　run。　Never　mind　these　others；　they'll　have　to　look　out　for　themselves。　You　remember　me　and　bust　your　hump　right　out　of　there　if　anything　happens。'
　　〃We　drove　over　in　Hannibal　Benson's　car…that　son　of　a　bitch　got　all　the　A…coupons　he　wanted；　I　don't　know　how。　Nobody　said　much；　but　all　four　of　us　was　smokin　like　chimblies。　We　was　sca