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But
he
would
not
stay
out
of
it
.
His
responsibility
went
back
too
far
.
He
saw
that
Louis
's
Honda
Civic
was
gone
from
the
garage
.
There
was
only
the
big
Ford
wagon
,
looking
dusty
and
unused
.
He
tried
the
back
door
of
the
house
and
found
it
open
.
"
Louis
?
"
he
called
,
knowing
that
Louis
was
not
going
to
answer
,
but
needing
to
cut
across
the
heavy
silence
of
this
house
somehow
.
Oh
,
getting
old
was
starting
to
be
a
pain
in
the
ass
--
his
limbs
felt
heavy
and
clumsy
most
of
the
time
,
his
back
was
a
misery
to
him
after
a
mere
two
hours
in
the
garden
,
and
it
felt
as
if
there
was
a
screw
auger
planted
in
his
left
hip
.
He
began
to
go
through
the
house
methodically
,
looking
for
signs
he
had
to
look
for
--
world
's
oldest
housebreaker
,
he
thought
without
much
humor
and
went
right
on
looking
.
He
found
none
of
the
things
that
would
have
seriously
upset
him
:
boxes
of
toys
held
back
from
the
Salvation
Army
,
clothes
for
a
small
boy
put
aside
behind
a
door
or
in
the
closet
or
under
a
bed
...
perhaps
worst
of
all
,
the
crib
carefully
set
up
in
Gage
's
room
again
.
There
were
absolutely
none
of
the
signs
,
but
the
house
still
had
an
unpleasant
blank
feel
,
as
if
it
were
waiting
to
be
filled
with
...
well
,
something
.
P'raps
I
ought
to
take
a
little
run
out
to
Pleasantview
Cemetery
.
See
if
anything
's
doing
out
there
.
Might
even
run
into
Louis
Creed
.
I
could
buy
him
a
dinner
,
or
somethin
.
But
it
was
n't
at
Pleasantview
Cemetery
in
Bangor
that
there
was
danger
;
the
danger
was
here
,
in
this
house
,
and
beyond
it
.
Jud
left
again
and
crossed
the
road
to
his
own
house
.
He
pulled
a
six-pack
of
beer
out
of
the
kitchen
fridge
and
took
it
into
the
living
room
.
He
sat
down
in
front
of
the
bay
window
that
looked
out
on
the
Creed
house
,
cracked
a
beer
,
and
lit
a
cigarette
.
The
afternoon
drew
down
around
him
,
and
as
it
did
so
often
these
last
few
years
,
he
would
find
his
mind
turning
back
and
back
in
a
widening
gyre
.
If
he
had
known
the
run
of
Rachel
Creed
's
earlier
thoughts
he
could
have
told
her
that
what
her
psych
teacher
had
told
her
was
maybe
the
truth
,
but
when
you
got
older
that
dimming
function
of
the
memory
broke
down
little
by
little
,
the
same
way
that
everything
else
in
your
body
broke
down
,
and
you
found
yourself
recalling
places
and
faces
and
events
with
an
eerie
surety
Sepia-toned
memories
grew
bright
again
,
the
colors
trueing
up
,
the
voices
losing
that
tinny
echo
of
time
and
regaining
their
original
resonance
.
It
was
n't
informational
breakdowns
at
all
,
Jud
could
have
told
him
.
The
name
for
it
was
senility
.
In
his
mind
Jud
again
saw
Lester
Morgan
's
bull
Hanratty
,
his
eyes
rimmed
with
red
,
charging
at
everything
in
sight
,
everything
that
moved
.
Charging
at
trees
when
the
wind
jigged
the
leaves
.
Before
Lester
gave
up
and
called
it
off
,
every
tree
in
Hanratty
's
fenced
meadow
was
gored
with
his
brainless
fury
and
his
horns
were
splintered
and
his
head
was
bleeding
.
When
Lester
put
Hanratty
down
,
Lester
had
been
sick
with
dread
--
the
way
Jud
himself
was
right
now
.
