Gerald's Game (1992) by King Stephen

Author:King, Stephen [Stephen, King,]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-12-19T00:42:20.640000+00:00

You gotta grease your feet

With a little mutton suet.

You just slide out of the devil's hand

And ooze on over to the Promised Land,,

Take it easy,

Go greasy.

She slipped her fingers around the jar, ignoring the rusty pull of her shoulder muscles, moving with a slow, caressing care, and hooked the jar gently toward her. Now she knew how safecrackers felt when they were using nitro. Take it easy, she thought, go greasy. Had truer words ever been spoken in the whole history of the world?

'I don't theeenk so, my deah,' she said in her snottiest Elizabeth Taylor Cat on a Hot Tin Roof voice. She did not hear herself do this, did not even realize she had spoken.

Already she could feel the blessed balm of relief stealing over her; it was as sweet as that first drink of fresh, cool water was going to be when she poured it over the rusty razorwire embedded in her throat. She was going to slide out of the devil's hand and ooze on over to the Promised Land; absolutely no doubt about it. As long as she oozed carefully, that was. She had been tested; she had been tempered in the fire; now she would reap her reward. She had been a fool to ever doubt.

I think you better stop thinking that way, the Goodwife said in a worried tone. It will make you careless, and I have an idea that very few careless people ever manage to slide out of the devil's hand.

Probably true, but she hadn't the slightest intention of being careless. She had spent the last twenty-one hours in hell, and no one knew any better than she did how much was riding on this one. No one could know, not ever.

'I'll be careful,' Jessie crooned. 'I'll think out every step. I promise I will. And then I . . . I'll . . . '

She would what?

Why, she would go greasy, of course. Not just until she got out of the handcuffs, but from now on. Jessie suddenly heard herself talking to God again, and this time she did it with an easy fluency.

I want to make You a promise, she told God. I promise to go right on oozing. I'm going to start by having a big spring cleaning inside my head and throwing out all the broken stuff and the toys I outgrew a long time ago -- all the stuff that isn't doing anything hut taking up space and contributing to the fire-hazard, in other words. I might call Nora Callighan and ask her if she wants to help. I think I might call Carol Symonds, too . . . Carol Rittenhouse these days, of course. If there's anyone in our old bunch who still knows where Ruth Neary is, it'll be Carol. Listen to me, Lord -- I don't know if anyone ever gets to the Promised Land or not, but I promise to stay greasy and keep trying. Okay?

And she saw (almost as though it were an approving answer to her prayer) exactly how it was supposed to go.

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