Free Pet Sematary by Stephen King Page B

course in college to study death, hot-spice, or whatever they call it. In those days it came into the house and said howdy and sometimes it took supper with you and sometimes you could feel it bite your ass.”
    This time Norma didn’t correct him; instead she nodded silently.
    Louis stood up, stretched. “I have to go,” he said. “Big day tomorrow.”
    â€œYes, the merry-go-round starts for you tomorrow, don’t it?” Jud said, also standing. Jud saw Norma was also trying to get up and gave her a hand. She rose with a grimace.
    â€œBad tonight, is it?” Louis asked.
    â€œNot so bad,” she said.
    â€œPutsome heat on it when you go to bed.”
    â€œI will,” Norma said. “I always do. And Louis . . . don’t fret about Ellie. She’ll be too busy getting to know her new friends this fall to worry much about that old place. Maybe someday all of em’ll go up and repaint some of the signs, or pull weeds, or plant flowers. Sometimes they do, when the notion takes them. And she’ll feel better about it. She’ll start to get that nodding acquaintance.”
    Not if my wife has anything to say about it.
    â€œCome on over tomorrow night and tell me how it went up at the college, if you get the chance,” Jud said. “I’ll whup you at cribbage.”
    â€œWell, maybe I’ll get you drunk first,” Louis said. “Double-skunk you.”
    â€œDoc,” Jud said with great sincerity, “the day I get double-skunked at cribbage would be the day I’d let a quack like you treat me.”
    He left on their laughter and crossed the road to his own house in the late-summer dark.
    *  *  *
    Rachel was sleeping with the baby, curled up on her side of the bed in a fetal, protective position. He supposed she would get over it—there had been other arguments and times of coldness in their marriage, but this one was surely the worst of the lot. He felt sad and angry and unhappy all at the same time, wanting to make it up but not sure how, not even sure that the first move should come from him. It was all so pointless—only a capful of wind somehow blown up to hurricane proportions by a trick of the mind. Other fightsand arguments, yes, sure, but only a few as bitter as the one over Ellie’s tears and questions. He supposed it didn’t take a great many blows like that before the marriage sustained structural damage . . . and then one day, instead of reading about it in a note from a friend (“Well, I suppose I ought to tell you before you hear it from someone else, Lou; Maggie and I are splitting . . .”) or in the newspaper, it was you.
    He undressed to his shorts quietly and set the alarm for 6 A.M . Then he showered, washed his hair, shaved, and crunched up a Rolaid before brushing his teeth—Norma’s iced tea had given him acid indigestion. Or maybe it was coming home and seeing Rachel all the way over on her side of the bed. Territory is that which defines all else, hadn’t he read that in some college history course?
    Everything done, the evening put neatly away, he went to bed . . . but couldn’t sleep. There was something else, something that nagged at him. The last two days went around and around in his head as he listened to Rachel and Gage breathing nearly in tandem. GEN . PATTON  . . . HANNAH THE BEST DOG THAT EVER LIVED  . . . MARTA OUR PET RABIT  . . . Ellie, furious. I don’t want Church to ever be dead! . . . He’s not God’s cat! Let God have His own cat! Rachel, equally furious. You as a doctor should know  . . . Norma Crandall saying It just seems like people want to forget it  . . . And Jud, his voice terribly sure, terribly certain, a voice from another age: Sometimes it took supper with you and sometimes you could feel it bite your ass.
    And that voice merged with