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d herself … in some vauge way she had the idea that it must be the dog。 She ground the starter； grimacing horribly； ；wearing at it； oblivious of Tad； using words she had hardly known she knew。 And A the time Cujo stood there； trailing his shadow from his heels like some surreal funeral drape； watching。
At last he lay down in the driveway； as if deciding there was no chance for them to escape。 She hated it more than she had when it had tried to force its way in through Tad's window。
'Mommy 。。。 Mommy 。。。 Mommy！'
From far away。 Unimportant。 What was important now was this goddamned sonofabitching little car。 It was going to start。 She was going to make it start by pure 。。。 force。。。 of will！
She had no idea how long； in real time； she sat hunched over the wheel with her hair hanging in her eyes； futilely grinding the starter。 What at last broke through to her was not Tad's cries … they had trailed off to whimpers … but the sound of the engine。 It would crank briskly for five seconds； then lag off； then crank briskly for another five； then lag off again。 A longer lag each time； it seemed。
She was killing the battery。
She stopped。
She came out of it a little at a time； like a woman ing out of a faint。 She remembered a bout of gastroenteritis she'd had in college … everything inside her had either e up by the elevator or dropped down the chute … and near the end of it she had grayed out in one of the dorm toilet stalls。 ing back had been like this； as if you were the same but some invisible painter was adding color to the world； bringing it first up to full and then to overfull。 Colors shrieked at you。 Everything looked plastic and phony； like a display in a department store window …SWING INTO SPRING； perhaps； or READY FOR THE FIRST KICKOFF。
Tad was cringing away from her； his eyes squeezed shut； the thumb of one hand in his mouth。 The other hand was pressed against his hip pocket； where the Monster Words were。 His respiration was shallow and rapid。
'Tad；' she said。 'Honey； don't worry。'
'Mommy； are you all right？' His voice was little more than a husky whisper。
'Yeah。 So are you。 At least we're safe。 This old car will go。 just wait and see。'
'I thought you were mad at me。'
She took him in her arms and hugged him tight。 She could smell sweat in his hair and the lingering undertone of Johnson's No More Tears shampoo。 She thought of that bottle sitting safely and sanely on the second shelf of the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom。 If only she could touch it！ But all that was here was that faint； dying perfume。
'No； honey； not at you；' she said。 'Never at you。'
Tad hugged her back。 'He can't get us in here； can he？'
'No。'
'He can't 。。。 he can't eat his way in； can he？'
'No。'
'I hate him；' Tad said reflectively。 'I wish he'd die。'
'Yes。 Me too。'
She looked out the window and saw that the sun was getting ready to go down。 A superstitious dread settled into her at the thought。 She remembered the childhood games of hide…and…seek that had always ended when the shadows joined each other and grew into purple lagoons； that mystic call drifting through the suburban streets of her childhood； talismanic and distant； the high voice of a child announcing suppers that were ready； doors ready to be shut against the night：
'Alleee…alleee…infree！ Alleee…alleee…infree！'
The dog was watching her。 It was crazy； but she could no longer doubt it。 Its mad； senseless eyes were fixed unhesitatingly on hers。
No； you're imagining it。 It's only a dog； and a sick dog at that。 Things are bad enough without you seeing something in that dog's eyes that can't be there。
She told herself that。 A few minutes later she told herself that Cujo's eyes were like the eyes of some portraits which seem to follow you wherever you move in the room where they are hung。
But the dog was looking at her。 And 。。。 and there was something familiar about it。
No； she told herself； and tried to dismiss the thought； but it was too late
You've seen him before； haven't you？ The morning after Tad bad the first of his bad dreams； the morning that the blankets and sheets were back on the chair； his Teddy on top of them； and for a moment when you opened the closet door YOU only saw a slumped shape with red eyes； something in Tad's closet ready to spring； it was him； it was Cujo； Tad was right all along； only the monster wasn't in his closet。。。 it was out here。 It was
（stop it）
out here just waiting to
（！ YOU STOP IT DONNA！）
She stared at the dog and imagined she could bear its thoughts。 Simple thoughts。 The same simple pattern； repeated over and over in spite of the whirling boil of its sickness and delirium。
Kill THE WOMAN Kill THE BOYWOMAN。 Kill THE WOMAN Kill …Stop it； she manded herself roughly。 It doesn't think and it's not some goddamned bogeyman out of a child's closet。 It's a sick dog and that's all it is。 Next you'll believe the dog is God's punishment for mitting
Cujo suddenly got up …almost as if she had called him … and disappeared into the barn again。
（almost as if I called it）
She uttered a shaky； semi…hysterical laugh。
Tad looked up。 'Mommy？'
'Nothing； hon。'
She looked at the dark maw of the garage…barn； then at the back door of the house。 Locked？ Unlocked？ Locked？ Unlocked？ She thought of a coin rising in the air； flipping over and over。 She thought of whirling the chamber drum of a pistol； five holes empty； one full。 Locked？ Unlocked
The sun went down； and what was left of the day was a white line painted on the western horizon。 It looked no thicker than the white stripe painted down the center of the highway。 That would be gone soon enough。 Crickets sang in the high grass to the right of the driveway； making a mindlessly cheerful rickety…rickety sound。
Cujo was still in the barn。 Sleeping？ she wondered。 Eating？
That made her remember that she had packed them some food。 She crawled between the two front buckets and got the Snoopy lunchbox and her own brown bag。 Her Thermos had rolled all the way to the back； probably when the car had started to buck and jerk ing up the road。 She had to stretch； her blouse ing untucked； before she could hook it with her fingers。 Tad； who had been in a half doze； stirred awake。 His voice was immediately filled with a sharp fright that made her hate the damned dog even more。
'Mommy？ Mommy？ What are you …'
'… Just getting the food；' she soothed him。 'And my Thermos …see？'
'Okay。' He settled back into his seat and put his thumb in his mouth again。
She shook the big Thermos gently beside her ear； listening for the grating sound of broken glass。 She only heard milk swishing around inside。 That was something； anyhow。
：Tad？ You want to cat？'
I want to take a nap；' he said around his thumb； not opening his eyes。
'You gotta feed the machine； chum；' she said。
He didn't even smile。 'Not hungry。 Sleepy。'
She looked at him； troubled； and decided it would be wrong to force the issue any further。 Sleep was Tad's natural weapon …maybe his only one … and it was already half an hour past his regular bedtime。 Of course； if they had been home； he would have had a glass of milk and a couple of cookies before brushing his teeth 。。。 and a story； one of his Mercer Mayer books； maybe 。。。 and 。。。
She felt the hot sting of tears and tried to push all those thoughts away。 She opened her Thermos with shaky hands and poured herself half a cup of milk。 She set it on the dashboard and took one of the figbars。 After one bite she realized she was absolutely ravenous。 She ate three more figbars； drank some milk； popped four or five of the green olives； then drained her cup。 She burped gently。。。 and then looked more sharply at the barn。
There was a darker shadow in front of it now。 Except it wasn't just a shadow。 It was the dog。 It was Cujo。
He's standing watch over us。
No； she didn't believe that。 Nor did she believe she had seen a vision of Cujo in a pile of blankets stacked in her son's closet。 She didn't 。。。 except 。。。 except part of her did。 But that part wasn't in her mind。
She glanced up into the rearview mirror at where the road was。 It was too dark now to see it； but she knew it was there； just as she knew that nobody was going to go by。 When they had e out that other time with Vic's Jag； all three of them （the dog was nice then； her brain muttered； the Tadder patted him and laughed； remember？）； laughing it up and having a great old time； Vic had told her that until five years ago the Castle Rock Dump had been out at the end of Town Road No。 3。 Then the new waste treatment plant had gone into operation on the other side of town； and now； a quarter of a mile beyond the Camber place； the road simply ended at a place where a heavy chain was strung across it。 The sign which hung from the chain read NO TRESPASSING DUMP CLOSED。 Beyond Cambers'； there was just no place to go。
Donna wondered if maybe some people in search of a really private place to go parking might not ride by； but she couldn't imagine that even the horniest of local kids would want to neck at the old town dump。 At any rate； no one had passed yet。
The white line on the western horizon had faded to a bare afterglow now 。 。 。 and she was afraid that even that was mostly wishful thinking。 There was no moon。
Incredibly； she felt drowsy herself。 Maybe sleep was her n