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'Fieldmice has all gone outta the root cellars！ Tommy Neadeau seen deer out by Moosuntic Pond rubbin velvet off'n their antlers ere the first robin showed up！ Grass under the snow when she melted！ Green grass； Meara！'
'That so； Evvie？' George replied； since some reply seemed necessary。 He was getting a headache。
'What？'
'THAT SO； AUNT EVVIE？' George Mear screamed。 Saliva flew from his lips。
'Oh； ayuh！' Aunt Evvie howled back contentedly。 'And I seen beat lightnin last night late！ Bad sign； Meara！ Early beat's a bad sign！ Be people。 die of the heat this summer！ It's gonna be a bad un！'
'I got to go； Aunt Evvie！' George yelled。 'Got a Special Delivery for Stringer Beaulieu！'
Aunt Evvie Chalmers threw her head back and cackled at the spring sky。 She cackled until she was fit to choke and more cigarette ashes rolled down the front of her housedress。 She spat the last quarter inch of cigarette out of her mouth； and it lay smoldering in the driveway by one of her old…lady shoes … a shoe as black as a stove and as tight as a corset； a shoe for the ages。
'You got a Special Delivery for Frenchy Beaulieu？ Why； he couldn't read the name on his own tombstone！'
'I got to go； Aunt Evvie！' George said hastily； and threw his car in gear。
'Frenchy Beaulieu is a stark natural…born fool if God ever made one！' Aunt Evvie hollered； but by then she was hollering into George Meara's dust； he had made good his escape。
She stood there by her mailbox for a minute； watching him go。 There was no personal mad for her； these days there rarely was。 Most of the people she knew who had been able to write were now dead。 She would follow soon enough； she suspected。 The oning summer gave her a bad feeling； a scary feeling。 She could speak of the mice leaving the root cellars early； or of heat lightning in a spring sky； but she could not speak of the heat she sensed somewhere just over the horizon； crouched like a scrawny yet powerful beast with mangy fur and red； smoldering eyes； she could not speak of her dreams； which were hot and shadowless and thirsty； she could not speak of the morning when tears had e for no reason； tears that did not relieve but stung the eyes like August…mad sweat instead。 She smelled lunacy in a wind that had not arrived。
'George Meara； you're an old fart；' Aunt Evvie said； giving the word a juicy Maine resonance which built it into something that was both cataclysmic and ludicrous： faaaaaat
She began working her way back to the house； leaning on her Boston Post cane； which had been given her at a Town Hall ceremony for no more than the stupid acplishment of growing old successfully。 No wonder； she thought； the goddamned paper had gone broke。
She paused on her stoop； looking at a sky which was still spring…pure and pastel soft。 Oh； but she sensed it ing。 something hot。 Something foul。
A year before that summer； when Vic Trenton's old jaguar developed a distressing clunking sound somewhere inside the rear left wheel； it had been George Meara who remended that he take it up to Joe Camber's Garage on the outskirts of Castle Rock。 'He's got a funny way of doing things for around here；' George told Vic that day as Vic stood by his mailbox。 'Tells you what the job's gonna cost； then he does the job； and then he charges you what he said it was gonna cost。 Funny way to do business； huh？' And he drove away； leaving Vic to wonder if the mailman had been serious or if he （Vic） had just been on the receiving end of some obscure Yankee joke。
But he had called Camber； and one day in July （a much cooler July than the one which would follow a year later）； he and Donna and Tad had driven out to Camber's place together。 It really was far out； twice Vic had to stop and ask directions； and it was then that he began to call those farthest reaches of the township East Galoshes Corners。
He pulled into the Camber dooryard； the back wheel clunking louder than ever。 Tad； then three； was sitting on Donna Trenton's lap； laughing up at her； a ride in Daddy's 'no…top' always put him in a fine mood； and Donna was feeling pretty fine herself。
A boy of eight or nine was standing in the yard； hitting an old baseball with an even older baseball bat。 The ball would travel through the air； strike the side of the barn； which VIC assumed was also Mr。 Camber's garage； and then roll most of the way back。
'Hi；' the boy said。 'Are you Mr。 Trenton？'
'That's right；' Vic said。
'I'll get my dad；' the boy said； and went into the barn。
The three Trentons got out； and Vic walked around to the back of his jag and squatted by the bad wheel； not feeling very confident。 Perhaps he should have tried to nurse the car into Portland after all。 The situation out here didn't look very promising； Camber didn't even have a sign hung out。
His meditations were broken by Donna； calling his name nervously。 And then： 'Oh my God； Vic …'
He got up quickly and saw a huge dog emerging from the barn。 For one absurd moment he wondered if it really was a dog； or maybe some strange and ugly species of pony。 Then； as the dog padded out of the shadows of the barn's mouth； he saw its sad eyes and realized it was a Saint Bernard。
Donna had impulsively snatched up Tad and retreated toward the hood of the jag； but Tad was struggling impatiently in her arms； trying to get down。
'Want to see the doggy； Mom 。。。 want to see the doggy！'
Donna cast a nervous glance at Vic； who shrugged； also uneasy。 Then the boy came back and ruffled the dog's head as he approached Vic。 The dog wagged a tail that was absolutely huge； and Tad redoubled his struggles。
'You can let him down； ma'am；' the boy said politely。 'Cujo likes kids。 He won't hurt him。' And then； to Vic： 'My dad's ing right out。 He's washing his hands。'
'All right；' Vic said。 'That's one hell of a big dog； son。 Are you sure he's safe？'
'He's safe；' the boy agreed； but Vic found himself moving up beside his wife as his son； incredibly small； toddled toward the dog。 Cujo stood with his head cocked； that great brush of a tail waving slowly back and forth。
'Vic …' Donna began。
'It's all right；' Vic said； thinking； I hope。 The dog looked big enough to swallow the Tadder in a single bite。
Tad stopped for a moment； apparently doubtful。 He and the dog looked at each other。
'Doggy？' Tad said。
'Cujo；' Camber's boy said； walking over to Tad。 'His name's Cujo。'
'Cujo；' Tad said； and the dog came to him and began to lick his face in great； goodnatured； slobbery swipes that had Tad giggling and trying to fend him off。 He turned back to his mother and father； laughing the way he did when one of them was tickling him。 He took a step toward them and his feet tangled in each other。 He fell down； and suddenly the dog was moving toward him； over him； and Vic； who had his arm around Donna's waist； felt his wife's gasp as well as he heard it。 He started to move forward 。。。 and then stopped。
Cujo's teeth had clamped on the back of Tad's SpiderMan T…shirt。 He pulled the boy up … for a moment Tad looked like a kitten in its mother's mouth … and set the boy on his feet。
Tad ran back to his mother and father。 'Like the doggy！ Mom！ Dad！ I like the doggy！'
Camber's boy was watching this with mild amusement； his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans。
'Sure； it's a great dog；' Vic said。 He was amused； but his heart was still beating fast。 For just one moment there he had really believed that the dog was going to bite off Tad's head like a lollipop。 'It's a Saint Bernard； Tad；' he said。
'Saint。。。 Berinart ！' Tad cried； and ran back toward Cujo； who was now sitting outside the mouth of the barn like a small mountain。 'Cujo！ Coooojo！'
Donna tensed beside Vic again。 'Oh； Vic； do you think
But now Tad was with Cujo again； first hugging him extravagantly and then looking closely at his face。 With Cujo sitting down （his tail thumping on the gravel； his tongue lolling out pinkly）； Tad could almost look into the dog's eyes by standing on tiptoe。
'I think they're fine；' Vic said。
Tad had now put one of his small hands into Cujo's mouth and was peering in like the world's smallest dentist。 That gave Vic another uneasy moment； but then Tad was running back to them again。 'Doggy's got teeth；' he told Vic。
'Yes；' Vic said。 'Lots of teeth。；
He turned to the boy； meaning to ask him where he had e up with that name。 but then Joe Camber was ing out of the barn； wiping his hands On 3 Piece of waste so he could shake without getting Vic greasy。
Vic was pleasantly surprised to find that Camber knew exactly what he was doing。 He listened carefully to the clunking sound as he and Vic drove down to the house at the bottom of the hill and then back up to Camber's place。
'Wheel bearing's going；' Camber said briefly。 'You're lucky it ain't froze up on you already。'
'Can you fix it？' Vic asked。
'Oh； ayuh。 Fix it right now if you don't mind hanging around for a couple of hours。'
'That'd be all right； I guess；' Vic said。 He looked toward Tad and the dog。 Tad had gotten the baseball Camber's son had been hitting。 He would throw it as far as he could （which wasn't very far）； and the Cambers' Saint Bernard would obediently get it and bring it back to Tad。 The ball was looking decidedly slobbery。 'Your dog is keeping my son amused。'
'Cujo likes kids；' Camber agreed。 'You want to drive yo