Pet Sematary

“I’ve come to send your rotten, stinking old soul straight to hell. You fucked with me once. Did you think I wouldn’t come back sooner or later and fuck with you?”
Jud raised the cleaver. “Come on and get your pecker out then, whatever you are.
We’ll see who fucks with who.”
“Norma’s dead, and there’ll be no one to mourn you,” Gage said. “What a cheap slut she was. She fucked every one of your friends, Jud. She let them put it up her ass. That’s how she liked it best. She’s burning down in hell, arthritis and all. I saw her there, Jud. I saw her there.”
It lurched two steps toward him, shoes leaving muddy tracks on the worn linoleum. It held one hand out in front of it as if to shake with him; the other hand was curled behind its back.
“Listen, Jud,” it whispered-and then its mouth hung open, baring small milk teeth, and although the lips did not move, Norma’s voice issued forth.
“I laughed at you! We all laughed at you! How we laaaaaauuughed-”
“Stop it!” The cleaver jittered in his hand.
“We did it in our bed, Herk and I did it, I did it with George, I did it with all of them, I knew about your whores but you never knew you married a whore and how we laughed, Jud! We rutted together and we laaaaaaaaaughed at-”
“STOP IT!” Jud screamed. He sprang at the tiny, swaying figure in its dirty burial suit, and that was when the cat arrowed out of the darkness under the butcher block where it had been crouched. It was hissing, its ears laid back along the bullet of its skull, and it tripped Jud up just as neat as you please.
The cleaver flew out of his hand. It skittered across the humped and faded linoleum, blade and handle swiftly changing places as it whirled. It struck the baseboard with a thin clang and slid under the refrigerator.
Jud realized that he had been fooled again, and the only consolation was that it was for the final time. The cat was on his legs, mouth open, eyes blazing, hissing like a teakettle. And then Gage was on him, grinning a happy black grin, eyes moon-shaped, rimmed with red, and his right hand came out from behind his back, and Jud saw that what he had been holding when he came in was a scalpel from Louis’s black bag.
“Oh m’ dear Jesus,” Jud managed and put his right hand up to block the blow. And here was an optical illusion; surely his mind had snapped because it appeared that the scalpel was on both sides of his palm at the same time. Then something warm began to drizzle down on his face, and he understood.
“I’m gonna fuck with you, old man!” the Gage-thing chortled, blowing its poisoned breath in his face. “I’m gonna fuck with you/I’m gonna fuck with you all want!”
Jud flailed and got hold of Gage’s ‘wrist. Skin peeled off like parchment in his hand.
The scalpel was yanked out of his hand, leaving a vertical mouth.
“All… I… WANT!”
The scalpel came down again.
And again.
And again.

“Try it now, ma’am,” the truck driver said. He was looking into the engine cavity of Rachel’s rented car.
She turned the key. The Chevette’s engine roared into life. The truck driver slammed the hood down and came around to her window, wiping his hands on a big blue handkerchief. He had a pleasant, ruddy face. A Dysart’s Truck-Stop cap was tilted back on his head.
“Thank you so much,” Rachel said, on the verge of tears. “I just didn’t know what I was going to do.”
“Aw, a kid could have fixed that,” the trucker said. “But it was funny. Never seen something like that go wrong on such a new car, anyway.”
“Why? What was it?”
“One of your battery cables come right off. Wasn’t nobody frigging with it, was there?”
“No,” Rachel said, and she thought again of that feeling she’d had, that feeling of running into the rubber band of the world’s biggest slingshot.
“Must have jogged her loose just ridin along, I guess. But you won’t have no more trouble with your cables anyway. I tightened em up real good.”
“Could I give you some money?” Rachel asked timidly.
The trucker roared with laughter. “Not me, lady,” he said. “Us guys are the knights of the road, remember?”
She smiled. “Well… thank you.”
“More’n welcome.” He gave her a good grin, incongruously full of sunshine at this hour of the morning.
Rachel smiled back and drove carefully across the parking lot to the feeder road. She glanced both ways for traffic and five minutes later was back on the turnpike again, headed north. The coffee had helped more than she would have believed. She felt totally awake now, not the slightest bit dozy, her eyes as big as doorknobs, That feather of unease touched her again, that absurd feeling that she was