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Castle Rock
Howlongcouldyougowithoutsleep?Heyearnedforabedandsheets—buttheonlywhitenessherewastheslowspiltmilk,luminousroundtherockfortyfeetbelow,wherePiggyhadfallen.Piggywaseverywhere,wasonthisneck,wasbecometerribleindarknessanddeath.IfPiggyweretocomebacknowoutofthewater,withhisemptyhead—Ralphwhimperedandyawnedlikealittlun.Thestickinhishandbecameacrutchonwhichhereeled.
Thenhetensedagain.TherewerevoicesraisedonthetopoftheCastleRock.Samnericwerearguingwithsomeone.Butthefernsandthegrasswerenear.Thatwastheplacetobein,hidden,andnexttothethicketthatwouldservefortomorrow’shideout.Here—andhishandstouchedgrass—wasaplacetobeinforthenight,notfarfromthetribe,sothatifthehorrorsofthesupernaturalemergedonecouldatleastmixwithhumansforthetimebeing,evenifitmeant...
Whatdiditmean?Asticksharpenedatbothends.Whatwasthereinthat?Theyhadthrownspearsandmissed;allbutone.Perhapstheywouldmissnexttime,too.
Hesquatteddowninthetallgrass,rememberedthemeatthatSamhadgivenhim,andbegantotearatitravenously.Whilehewaseating,heheardfreshnoises—criesofpainfromSamneric,criesofpanic,angryvoices.Whatdiditmean?Someonebesideshimselfwasintrouble,foratleastoneofthetwinswascatchingit.Thenthevoicespassedawaydowntherockandheceasedtothinkofthem.Hefeltwithhishandsandfoundcool,delicatefrondsbackedagainstthethicket.Herethenwasthenight’slair.Atfirstlighthewouldcreepintothethicket,squeezebetweenthetwistedstems,ensconcehimselfsodeepthatonlyacrawlerlikehimselfcouldcomethrough,andthatcrawlerwouldbejabbed.
