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ride from a stranger。' But； in the vernacular； she had accepted several rides from Steven Kemp； who was almost a stranger。 If the hypothetical man was friendly； and if she was anxious to get her son home； she might have accepted。 And maybe the nice； smiling man was some kind of a freak。 They had had just such a freak here in Castle Rock before； Frank Dodd。 Maybe the nice； smiling man had left them in the brush with their throats cut and had hied on his merry way。 If that was the case； the Pinto would be at Camber's。
Andy did not think this fine of reasoning likely； but it was possible。 He would have sent a man up to the Cambers' anyway … it was routine … but he liked to understand why he was doing each thing he was doing。 He thought that； for all practical purposes； he could dismiss Camber's Garage from the structure of logic and order he was building。 He supposed she could have gone up there； discovered the Cambers were gone； and then had her car conk out on her； but Castle Rock's Town Road No。 3 was hardly Antartica。 She and the kid had only to walk to the nearest house and ask to use the phone in that case； but they hadn't done it。
'Mr。 Townsend；' he said in his soft voice。 'You and Sheriff Bannerman here ought to take a ride out to this Joe Camber's Garage。 Verify three things： no blue Pinto there； license。 number 218 …8 64； no Donna and Theodore Trenton there； no Cambers there。 Got that？'
'Fine；' Townsend said。 'Do you want
'I want only those three things；' Andy said softly。 He didn't like the way Bannerman was looking at him； and with a kind of weary contempt。 It upset him。 'If any of those three are there； call me here。 And if I'm not here； I'll leave a number。 Understood？'
The telephone rang。 Bannerman picked it up； listened； and offered it to Andy Masen。 'For you； hotshot。'
Their eyes locked over the telephone。 Masen thought that Bannerman would drop his； but he didn't。 After a moment Andy took the phone。 The call was from the State Police barracks in Scarborough。 Steve Kemp had been picked up。 His van had been spotted in the courtyard of a small motel in the Massachusetts town of Twickenham。 The woman and the boy were not with him。 After receiving the Miranda；
Kemp had given his name and had since been standing on his right to remain silent。
Andy Masen found that extremely ominious news。
'Townsend； you e with me；' he said。 'You can handle the Camber place by yourself； can't you； Sheriff Bannerman？'
'It's my town；' Bannerman said。
Andy Masen lit a cigarette and looked at Bannerman through the shifting smoke。 'Have you got a problem with me； Sheriff？'
Bannerman smiled。 'Nothing I can't handle。'
Christ； I hate these hicks； Masen thought； watching Bannerman leave。 But he's out of the play now； anyway。 Thank God for small favors。
Bannerman got behind the wheel of his cruiser； fired it up； and backed out of the Trenton driveway。 It was twenty minutes after seven。 He was almost amused at how neatly Masen had shunted him off onto a siding。 They were headed toward the heart of the matter； he was headed nowhere。 But ole Hank Townsend was going to have to listen to a whole morning's worth of Masen's bullshit； so maybe he had gotten off well at that。
George Bannerman loafed out Route 117 toward the Maple Sugar Road； siren and flashers off。 It surely was a pretty day。 And he saw no need to hurry。
Donna and Tad Trenton were sleeping。
Their positions were very similar： the awkward sleeping positions of those forced to spend long hours on interstate buses。 Their heads lolled against the sockets of their shoulders； Donna's turned to the left； Tad's to the right。 Tad's hands lay in his lap like a beached fish。 Now and again they would twitch。 His breathing was harsh and stertorous。 His lips were blistered； his eyelids a purplish color。 A line of spittle running from the corner of his mouth to the soft line of his jaw had begun to dry。
Donna was in middle sleep。 As exhausted as she was； her cramped position and the pain in her leg and belly and now her fingers （in his seizure Tad had bitten them to the bone） would let her sink no deeper。 Her hair clung to her head in sweaty strings。 The gauze pads on her left leg had soaked through again； and the flesh around the superficial wounds on her belly had gone an ugly red。 Her breathing was also harsh； but not as uneven as Tad's。
Tad Trenton was very close to the end of his endurance。 Dehydration was well advanced。 He had lost electrolytes； chlorides； and sodium through his perspiration。 Nothing had replaced them。 His inner defenses were being steadily rolled back； and now he had entered the final critical stage。 His life had grown light； not sunken firmly into his flesh and …bones but trembling； ready to depart on any puff of wind。
In his feverish dreams his father pushed him on the swing； higher and higher； and he did not see their back yard but the duckpond； and the breeze was cool on his sunburned forehead； his aching eyes； his blistered lips。
Cujo also slept。
He lay on the verge of grass by the porch； his mangled snout on his forepaws。 His dreams were confused； lunatic things。 It was dusk； and the sky was dark with wheeling； red…eyed bats。 He leaped at them again and again； and each time he leaped he brought one down； teeth clamped on a leathery； twitching wing。 But the bats kept biting his tender face with their sharp little rat…teeth。 That was where the pain came from。 That was where all the hurt came from。 But he would kill them A。 He would
He woke suddenly； his head lifting from his paws； his head cocking。
A car was ing。
To his hellishly alert cars； the sound of the approaching car was dreadful； insupportable； it was the sound of some great stinging insect ing to fill him with poison。
He lurched to his feet； whining。 All his joints seemed filled with crushed glass。 He looked at the dead car。 Inside； he could see the unmoving outline of THE WOMAN'S head。 Before； Cujo had been able to look right through the glass and see her； but THE WOMAN had done something to the glass that made it hard to see。 It didn't matter what she did to the windows。 She couldn't get out。 Nor THE Boy； either。
The drone was closer now。 The car was ing up the hill； but 。。。 was it a car？ Or a giant bee or wasp e to batten on him； to sting him； to make his pain even worse？
Better wait and see。
Cujo slunk under the porch； where he had often spent hot summer days in the past。 It was drifted sleep with the decaying autumn leaves of other years； leaves which released a smell he had thought incredibly sweet and pleasant in those same other years。 Now the smell seemed immense and cloying； suffocating and well…nigh unbearable。 He growled at the smell and began to slobber foam again。 If a dog could kill a scent； Cujo would have killed this one。
The drone was very close now。 And then a car was turning into the driveway。 A car with blue sides and a white roof and lights on the top。
'Me one thing George Bannerman had been least prepared to me when he turned into Joe Camber's dooryard was the Pinto belonging to the missing woman。 He was not a stupid man； and while he would have been impatient with Andy Masen's point…to…point kind of logic （he had dealt with the horror of Frank Dodd and understood that sometimes there was no logic）；he arrived at his own mostly solid conclusions in much the same way； if on a more subconscious level。 And he agreed with Masen's belief that it was highly unlikely the Trenton woman and her son would be here。 But the car was here； anyway。
Bannerman grabbed for the mike hung under his dashboard and then decided to check the car first。 From this angle； directly behind the Pinto； it was impossible to see if anyone was in there or not。 The backs of the bucket seats were a bit too high； and both Tad and Donna had slumped down in their sleep。
Bannerman got out of the cruiser and slammed the door behind him。 Before he had gotten two steps； he saw the entire driver's side window was a buckled mass of shatter…shot cracks。 His heart began to beat harder； and his hand went to the butt of his 。38 Police Special。
Cujo stared out at THE MAN from the blue car with rising hate。 It was this MAN who had caused all his pain； he felt sure of it。 THE MAN had caused the pain in his joints and the high； rotten singing in his head； it was THE MAN's fault that the drift of old leaves here beneath the porch now smelled putrescent； it was THE MAN's fault that he could not look at water without whining and shrinking away and wanting to kill it in spite of his great thirst。
A growl began somewhere deep in his heavy chest as his legs coded beneath him。 He could smell THE MAN his oil of sweat and excitement； the heavy meat set against his bones。 The growl deepened； then rose to a great and shattering cry of fury。 He sprang out from beneath the porch and charged at this awful MAN who had caused his pain。
During that first crucial moment； Bannerman didn't even hear Cujo's low； rising growl。 He had approached the Pinto closely enough to see a mass of hair lying against the driver's side window。 His first thought was that the woman must have been shot to death； but where was the bullet hole？ The glass looked as if it had been bludgeoned； not shot。
Then he saw the head move。 Not much … only slightly … but it had moved。 The woman was alive。 He stepped forward 。 。 and that was when Cujo's roar； followed by a volley of snarling barks came。 His first thought。
（Rusty？） was of his Irish setter； but he'd had Rusty put down four years ago； not long after the Frank Dodd thing。 And Rusty had never sounded like this； and for a second crucial moment； Bannerman was frozen in his tracks with a terribly； atavistic horror
He turned then； pulling his gun； and caught just a blurred glimpse of a dog … an incredibly big dog … launching itself into the air at him。 It struck him chest…high； driving him against the Pinto's hatchback。 He grunted。 His right hand was driven up and his wrist struck the chrome guttering of the hatchback hard。 His gun went flying。 It whirled over the top of the car； butt…for…barrel and butt…for…barrel； to land in the high weeds on the other side of the driveway。
The dog was biting him； and as Bannerman saw the first flowers of blood open on the front of his light blue shirt； he suddenly understood everything。 They'd e here； their car had seized up 。。。 and the dog had been here。 The dog hadn't been in Masen's neat little point…to…point analysis。
Bannerman grappled with it； trying to get his hands under the dog's muzzle and bring it up and out of his belly。 There was a sudden deep and numbing pain down there。 His shirt was in tatters down there。 Blood was pouring over his pants in a freshet。 He lurched forward and the dog drove him back with frightening force； drove him back against the Pinto with a thud that rocked the little car on its springs。
He found himself trying to remember if he and his wife had made love last night。
Crazy thing to be thinking。 Crazy
The dog bored in again。 Bannerman tried to dodge away but the dog anticipated him； it was grinning at him； and suddenly there was more pain that he had ever felt in his life。 It galvanized him。 Screaming； he got both hands under the dog's muzzle again and yanked it up。 For a moment； staring into those dark； crazed eyes； a swoony kind of horror came over him and he thought： Hello； Frank。 It's you； isn't it？ Was bell too hot for you？
Then Cujo was snapping at his fingers； tearing them； laying them open。 Bannerman forgot about Frank Dodd。 He forgot about everything but trying to save his life。 He tried to get his knee up； between him and the dog； and found he couldn't。 When he tried to raise his knee； the pain in his lower belly flared to a sheeting agony。
What's he done to me down there？ Oh my God； what's he done？ Vicky； Vicky
Then the driver's side door of the Pinto opened。 It was the woman。 He had looked at the family portrait Steve Kemp had stepped on and had seen a pretty； neatly coiffed woman； the sort you look at twice on the street； the second look being mildly speculative。 You saw a woman like that and you thought that her husband was lucky to have her in the kip。
This woman was a ruin。 The dog had been at her as well。 Her belly was streaked with dried blood。 One leg of her jeans had been chewed away； and there was a sopping bandage just over h