Pet Sematary(59)

He thought suddenly of his dream that other night-Pascow simply passing through the door between the kitchen and the garage.

Maybe there was no bolthole. Maybe it had just passed through the door, like a ghost.

"Bag that," he whispered aloud, and his voice was slightly hoarse.

Louis became suddenly sure that the cat would begin to struggle in his arms, that it would scratch him. But Church lay totally still, radiating that stupid heat and that dirty stink, looking at Louis's face as if it could read the thoughts going on behind Louis's eyes.

He opened the door and tossed the cat out into the garage, maybe a little too hard. "Go on," he said. "Kill another mouse or something."

Church landed awkwardly, its hindquarters bunching beneath it and momentarily collapsing. It seemed to shoot Louis a look of green, ugly hate. Then it strolled drunkenly off and was gone.

Christ, Jud, he thought, but I wish you'd kept your mouth shut. He went to the sink and washed his hands and forearms vigorously, as if scrubbing for an operation. You do it because it gets hold of you... you make up reasons...

they seem like good reasons... but mostly you do it because once you've been up there, it's your place, and you belong to it... and you make up the sweetest-smelling reasons in the world.

No, he couldn't blame Jud. He had gone of his own free will and he couldn't blame Jud.

He turned off the water and began to dry his hands and arms. Suddenly the towel stopped moving and he stared straight ahead, looking out into the little piece of night framed in the window over the sink.

Does that mean it's my place now? That it's mine too?

No. Not if I don't want it to be.

He slung the towel over the rack and went upstairs.

Rachel was in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, and Gage was tucked in neatly beside her. She looked at Louis apologetically. "Would you mind, hon?

Just for tonight? I'd feel better having him with me. He's so hot."

"No," Louis said. "That's fine. I'll pull out the hide-a-bed downstairs."

"You really don't mind?"

"No. It won't hurt Cage, and it'll make you feel better." He paused, then smiled. "You're going to pick up his virus, though. That comes almost guaranteed. I don't suppose that changes your mind, does it?"

She smiled back and shook her head. "What was Ellie fussing about?"

"Church. She wanted me to take Church away."

"Ellie wanted Church taken away? That's a switch."

"Yeah, it is," Louis agreed and then added, "She said he smelled bad, and I did think he was a little fragrant. Maybe he rolled in a pile of someone's mulch, or something."

"That's too bad," Rachel said, rolling over on her side. "I really think Ellie missed Church as much as she missed you."

"Uh-huh," Louis said. He bent and kissed her mouth softly. 'Go to sleep, Rachel."

"I love you, Lou. I'm glad to be home. And I'm sorry about the couch."

"It's okay," Louis said, and turned out the light.

Downstairs, he stacked the couch cushions, pulled out the hide-a-bed, and tried to prepare himself mentally for a night of having the rod under the thin mattress dig into the small of his back. The bed was sheeted, at least; he wouldn't have to make it up from scratch. Louis got two blankets from the top shelf in the front hail closet and spread them on the bed. He began to undress, then paused.

You think Church is in again? Fine. Take a walk around and have a look. As you told Rachel, it won't hurt. May even help. And checking to make sure all the doors are on the latch won't even catch you a virus.

He took a deliberate tour of the entire downstairs, checking the locks on doors and windows. He had done everything right the first time, and Church was nowhere to be seen.

"There," he said. "Let's see you get in tonight, you dumb cat." He followed this with a mental wish that Church would freeze its balls off. Except that Church of course no longer had any.

He switched off the lights and got into bed. The rod started to press into his back almost immediately, and Louis was thinking he would be awake half the night when he fell asleep. He fell asleep resting uncomfortably on his side in the hide-a-bed, but when he woke up he was.

in the burying ground beyond the Pet Sematary again. This time he was alone. He had killed Church himself this time and then had decided for some reason to bring him back to life a second time. God knew why; Louis didn't. He had buried Church deeper this time, though, and Church couldn't dig his way out. Louis could hear the cat crying somewhere under the earth, making a sound like a weeping child. The sound came up through the pores of the ground, through its stony flesh-the sound and the smell, that awful sickish-sweet smell of rot and decay. Just breathing it in made his chest feel heavy, as if a weight was on it.

The crying... the crying.

the crying was still going on...

and the weight was still on his chest.

"Louis!" It was Rachel, and she sounded alarmed. "Louis, can you corner She sounded more than alarmed; she sounded scared, and the crying had a choked, desperate quality to it. It was Cage.

He opened his eyes and stared into Church's greenish-yellow eyes. They were less than four inches from his own. The cat was on his chest, neatly curled up there like something from an old wives' tale of breath-stealing. The stink came off it in slow, noxious waves. It was purring.