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it with a jerk that nearly tore off the cover。 He could have dialed 0； or 555…1212； but in his shock he never thought of it。
The sound of his rapid； shallow breathing； his racing heart； and the riffle of the thin phonebook pages masked a faint noise from behind him： the low creak of the cellar door as Cujo nosed it open。
He had gone down cellar after killing Gary Pervier。 The light in the kitchen had been too bright； too dazzling。 It sent white…hot shards of agony into his deposing brain。 The cellar door had been ajar and he had padded jerkily down the stairs into the blessedly cool dark。 He had fallen asleep next to Gary's old Army footlocker； and the breze from the open windows had swung the cellar door most of the way closed。 The breeze had not been quite strong enough to latch the door。
The moans； the sound of Joe retching； the thumpings and slammings as Joe ran down the hall to close the front door …these things had awakened him to his pain again。 His pain and his dull； ceaseless fury。 Now he stood behind Joe in the dark doorway。 His head was lowered。 His eyes were nearly scarlet。 His thick； tawny fur was matted with gore and drying mud。 Foam drizzled from his mouth in a lather； and his teeth showed constantly because his tongue was beginning to swell。
Joe had found the Castle Rock section of the book。 He got the C's and ran a shaking finger down to CASTLE ROCK MUNICIPAL SERVICES in a boxed…off section halfway down one column。 There was the number for the sheriffs office。 He reached up a finger to begin dialing； and that was when Cujo began to growl deep in his chest。
All the nerves seemed to run out of Joe Camber's body。 The telephone book slithered from his fingers and thudded against the wall again。 He turned slowly toward that growling sound。 He saw Cujo standing in the cellar doorway。
'Nice doggy；' he whispered huskily； and spit ran down his chin。
He made helpless water in his pants； and the sharp； ammoniac reek of it struck Cujo's nose like a keen slap。 He sprang。 Joe lurched to one side on legs that felt like stilts and the dog struck the wall hard enough to punch through the wallpaper and knock out plaster dust in a white； gritty puff。 Now the dog wasn't growling； a series of heavy； grinding sounds escaped him； sounds more savage than any barks。
Joe backed toward the rear door。 His feet tangled in one of the kitchen chairs。 He pinwheeled his arms madly for balance； and might have gotten it back； but before that could happen Cujo bore down on him； a bloodstreaked killing machine with strings of foam flying backward from his jaws。 There was a green； swampy stench about him。
'ob m' God lay off'n me！' Joe Camber shrieked。
He remembered Gary。 He covered his throat with one hand and tried to grapple with Cujo with the other。 Cujo backed off momentarily； snapping； his muzzle wrinkled back in a great humorless grin that showed teeth like a row of slightly yellowed fence spikes。 Then he came again。
And this time he came for Joe Camber's balls。
'Hey kiddo； you want to e grocery shopping with me？ And have lunch at Mario's？'
Tad got up。 'Yeah I Good！'
'e on； then。'
She had her bag over her shoulder and she was wearing jeans and a faded blue shirt。 Tad thought she was looking very pretty。 He was relieved to see there were no sign of her tears； because when she cried； he cried。 He knew it was a baby thing to do； but he couldn't help it。
He was halfway to the car and she was slipping behind the wheel when he remembered that her Pinto was all screwed UP。
'Mommy？'
'What？ Get in。'
But he hung back a little； afraid。 'What if the car goes kerflooey？'
'Ker …？'She was looking at him； puzzled； and then he saw by her exasperated expression that she had forgotten all about the car being screwed up。 He had reminded her； and now she was unhappy again。 Was it the Pinto's fault； or was it his？ He didn't know； but the guilty feeling inside said it was his。 Then her face smoothed out and she gave him a crooked little smile that he knew well enough to feel it was his special smile； the one she saved just for him。 He felt better。
'We're just going into town； Tadder。 If Mom's ole blue Pinto packs it in； we'll just have to blow two bucks on Castle Rock's one and only taxi getting back home。 Right？'
'Oh； Okay。' He got in and managed to pull the door shut。
She watched him closely； ready to move at an instant； and Tad supposed she was thinking about last Christmas； when he had shut the door on his foot and had to wear an Ace bandage for about a month。 But he had been just a baby then； and now he was four years old。 Now he was a big boy。 He knew that was true because his dad had told him。 He smiled at his mother to show her the door had been no problem； and she smiled back。
'Did it latch tight？'
'Tight；' Tad agreed； so she opened it and slammed it again； because moms didn't beheve you unless you told them something bad； like you spilled the bag of sugar reaching for the peanut butter or broke a window while trying to throw a rock all the way over the garage roof。
'Hook your belt；' she said； getting in herself again。 'When that needle valve or whatever it is messes up； the car jerks a lot。'
A little apprehensively； Tad buckled his seat belt and harness。 He sure hoped they weren't going to have an accident； like in Ten…Truck Wipe Out。 Even more than that； he hoped Mom wouldn't cry。
'Flaps down？' she asked； adjusting invisible goggles。
'Flaps down；' he agreed； grinning。 It was just a game they played。
'Runway clear？'
'Clear。'
'Then here we go。' She keyed the ignition and backed down the driveway。 A moment later they were headed for town。
After about a mile they both relaxed。 Up to that point Donna had been sitting bolt upright behind the wheel and Tad had been doing the same in the passenger bucket。 But the Pinto ran so smoothly that it might have popped off the assembly line only yesterday。
They went to the Agway Market and Donna bought forty dollars' worth of groceries； enough to keep them the ten days that Vic would be gone。 Tad insisted on a fresh box of Twinkles； and would have added Cocoa Bears if Donna had let him。 They got。 shipments of the Sharp cereals regularly； but they were currently out h was a busy trip； but she still had time for bitter reflection as she waited in the checkout lane （Tad sat in the cart's child seat； swinging his legs nonchalantly） on how much three lousy bags of groceries went for these days。 It wasn't just depressing； it was scary。 That thought led her to the frightening possibility probability； her mind whispered … that Vic and Roger might actually lose the Sharp account and； as a result of that； the agency itself。 What price groceries then？
She watched a fat woman with a lumpy behind packed into avocado…colored slacks pull a food…stamp booklet out of her purse； saw the checkout girl roll her eyes at the girl running the next register； and felt sharp rat…teeth of panic gnawing at her belly。 It couldn't e to that； could it？ Could it？ No； of course not。 Of course not。 They would go back to New York first； they would
She didn't like the way her thoughts were speeding up； and she pushed the whole mess resolutely away before it could grow to avalanche size and bury her in another deep depression。 Nex time she wouldn't have to buy coffee； and that would knock three bucks off the bill。
She trundled Tad and the groceries out to the Pinto and put the bags into the hatchback and Tad into the passenger bucket； standing there and listening to make sure the door latched； wanting to close the door herself but understanding it was something he felt he had to do。 It was a big…boy thing。 She had almost had a heart attack last December when Tad shut his foot in the door。 How he had screamed！ She had nearly fainted。。。 and then Vic had been there； charging out of the house in his bathrobe； splashing out fans of driveway slush with his bare feet。 And she had let him take over and be petent； which she hardly ever was in emergencies； she usually just turned to mush。 He had checked to make sure the foot wasn't broken； then had changed quickly and driven them to the emergency room at the Bridgton hospital。
Groceries stowed； likewise Tad； she got behind the wheel and started the Pinto。 Now it'll fuck up； she thought； but the Pinto took them docilely up the street to Mario's； which purveyed delicious pizza stuffed with enough calories to put a spare tire on a lumberjack。 She did a passable job of parallel parking； ending up only eighteen inches or so from the curb； and took Tad in； feeling better than she had all day。 Maybe Vic had been wrong； maybe it had been bad gas or dirt in the fuel line and it had finally worked its way out of the car's system。 She hadn't looked forward to going out to Joe Camber's Garage。 It was too far out in the boonies （what Vic always referred to with high good humor as East Galoshes Corners …but of course he could afford high good humor； he was a man）； and she had been a little scared of Camber the one time she had met him。 He was the quintessential back…country Yankee； grunting instead of talking； sullen…faced。 And the dog 。。。 what was his name？ Something that sounded Spanish。 Cujo； that was it。 The same name William Wolfe of the SLA had taken； although Donna found it impossible to believe that Joe Camber had named his Saint Bernard after a radical robber of banks and kidnapper of rich young heiresses。 She doubted if Joe Camber had ever heard of the Symbionese Liberation Army。 The dog had seemed friendly enough； but it had made her nervous to see Tad patting that monster … the way it made her nervous to stand and watch him close the car door himself。 Cujo looked big enough to swallow the likes of Tad in two bites。
She ordered Tad a hot pastrami sandwich because he didn't care much for pizza … kid sure didn't get that from my side of the family； she thought … and a pepperoni and onion pizza with double cheese for herself。 They ate at one of the tables overlooking the road。 My breath will be fit to knock over a horse； she thought。 and then realised it didn't matter。 She had managed to alienate both her husband and the guy who came to visit in the course of the last six weeks or so。
That brought depression cruising her way again； and once again she forced it back 。。。 but her arms were getting a little tired。
They were almost home and Springsteen was on the radio when the Pinto started doing it again。
At first there was a small jerk。 That was followed by a bigger one。 She began to pump the accelerator gently； sometimes that helped。
Mommy？' Tad asked； alarmed。
It's all right； Tad；' she said； but it wasn't。 The Pinto began to jerk hard； throwing them both against their seatbelts with enough force to lock the harness clasps。 The engine chopped and roared。 A bag fell over in the hatchback partment； spilling cans and bottles。 She heard something break。
'You goddamned shitting thing！' she cried in an exasperated fury。 She could see their house just below the brow of the hill； mockingly close； but she didn't think the Pinto was going to get them there。
Frightened as much by her shout as by the car's spasms； Tad began to cry； adding to her confusion and upset and anger。
'Shut up！' she yelled at him。 'Oh Christ； just shut up； Tad！'
He began to cry harder； and his hand went to the bulge in his back pocket； where the Monster Words； folded up to packet size； were stowed away。 Touching them made him feel a little bit better。 Not much； but a little。
Donna decided she was going to have to pull over and stop； there was nothing else for it。 She began to steer toward the shoulder； using the last of her forward motion to get there。 They could use Tad's wagon to pull the groceries up to the house and then decide what to do about the Pinto。 Maybe
just as the Pinto's offside wheels crunched over the sandy gravel at the edge of the road； the engine backfired twice and then the jerks smoothed out as they had done on previous occasions。 A moment later she was scooting up to the driveway of the house and turning in。 She drove uphill； shifted to park； pulled the emergency brake； turned off the motor； leaned over the wheel； and cried。
'Mommy？' Tad said miserably。 Don't cry no more； he tried to add； but he had no voice and he could only mouth the words soundlessly； as if struck dumb by laryngitis。 He looked at her only；