Tommyknockers, The by King Stephen

Author:King, Stephen [King, Stephen]
Language: spa
Format: epub
Tags: Alien, Fiction, Horror, Fantasy, Novel
ISBN: 9780451156600
Google: UywTAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0451156609
Barnesnoble: 0451156609
Goodreads: 17660
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 1987-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

6

That resolution lasted exactly fifty-six hours—until he got a look at the headlines on Monday’s papers. Looking at them, he found himself wanting to go and see the man in charge of investigating the disappearance of the two state cops. The News said his name was Dugan, and mentioned that he had also known Ruth McCausland well—would, in fact, take time off from an extremely hot case to speak briefly at the lady’s funeral. Must have known her pretty damned well, it seemed to Ev.

But when he searched for any of the previous night’s fire and excitement, he found only sour dread and hopelessness. The two stories on the front page had taken most of the guts he had left. Haven’s turning into a nest of snakes and now they are starting to bite. I have to convince someone of that, and how am I going to do it? How am I going to convince anyone that there’s telepathy going on in that town, and Christ knows what else? How, when I can barely remember how I knew things were going on? How, when I never really saw nothing myself? How? Most of all, how’m I supposed to do it when the whole goddam thing is staring them in the face and they don’t even see it? There’s a whole town going loony just down the road and no one has got the slightest idea it’s happening.

He turned to the obituary page again. Ruth’s clear eyes looked up at him from one of those strange newsprint pictures that are nothing but densely packed dots. Her eyes, so clear and straightforward and beautiful, looked calmly back at him. Ev guessed that there had been at least five and maybe as many as a dozen men in Haven who had been in love with her, and she had never even known it. Her eyes seemed to deny the very idea of death, to declare it ridiculous. But dead she was.

He remembered taking Hilly out while the search party gathered.

You could come with us, Ruthie.

Ev, I can’t . . . Get in touch with me.

He had tried just once, thinking that if Ruth joined him in Derry, she would be out of danger . . . and she could backstop his story. In his state of confusion and misery and, yes, even homesickness, Ev wasn’t even sure which was more important to him. In the end it didn’t matter. He had tried three times to dial Haven direct, the last one after speaking to Bright, and none of the calls took. He tried once with operator assistance, and she told him there must be lines down. Would he try later? Ev said he would, but hadn’t. He had lain down in the dark instead, and listened to the drains chuckle.

Now, less than three days later, Ruth had gotten in touch with him. Via the obituary page.

He looked up at Hilly. Hilly was sleeping. The doctors refused to call it a coma—his brain patterns

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