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Pet Samatary, Part One: The Pet Sematary - Chapter 16

Part One: The Pet Sematary - Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

Something woke him much later, a crash loud enough to cause him to sit up in bed, wondering if Ellie had fallen on to the floor or if maybe Gage's crib had collapsed. Then the moon sailed out from behind a cloud, flooding the room with cold white light, and he saw Victor Pascow standing in the doorway. The crash had been Victor Pascow throwing open the door.

He stood there with his head grotesquely bashed in behind the left temple. The blood had dried on his face in maroon stripes like Indian war-paint. His collarbone jutted whitely. He was grinning.

‘Come on, doctor,' Pascow said. ‘We got places to go.'

Louis looked around. His wife was a vague bump under her yellow comforter, sleeping deeply. He looked back at Pascow, who was dead but somehow not dead. Yet Louis felt no fear. He realized why almost at once.

It's a dream, he thought, and it was only in his relief that he realized he had been frightened after all. The dead do not return; it is physiologically impossible. This young man is in an autopsy drawer in Bangor with the pathologist's tattoo – a Y-cut stitched back up – on him. The pathologist probably tossed his brain into his chest-cavity after taking a tissue sample and filled up the skull cavity with brown paper to prevent leaking – simpler than trying to fit the brain back into the skull like a jigsaw piece into a puzzle. Uncle Carl, father of the unfortunate Ruthie, had told him that pathologists did that, and all sorts of other random information that he supposed would give Rachel, with her deathphobia, the screaming horrors. But Pascow was not here; no way, baby. Pascow was in a refrigerated locker with a tag around his toe. And he is most certainly not wearing those red jogging shorts in there.

Yet the compulsion to get up was strong. Pascow's eyes were upon him.

He threw back the covers and swung his feet on to the floor. The hooked rug – a wedding present from Rachel's grandmother long ago – pressed cold nubbles into the balls of his feet. The dream had a remarkable reality. It was so real that he would not follow Pascow until Pascow had turned and begun to go back down the stairs. The compulsion to follow was strong, but he did not want to be touched, even in a dream, by a walking corpse.

But he did follow. Pascow's jogging shorts glimmered.

They crossed the living room, dining room, kitchen. Louis expected Pascow to turn the lock and then lift the latch on the door which connected the kitchen to the shed where he garaged the station wagon and the Civic, but Pascow did no such thing. Instead of opening the door, he simply passed through it. And Louis, watching, thought with mild amazement: Is that how it's done? Remarkable! Anyone could do that!

He tried it himself – and was a little amused to meet only unyielding wood. Apparently he was a hard-headed realist, even in his dreams. Louis twisted the knob on the Yale lock, lifted the latch, and let himself into the shed-garage. Pascow was not there. Louis wondered briefly if Pascow had just ceased to exist. Figures in dreams often did just that. So did locations – first you were standing nude by a swimming pool with a raging hard-on, discussing the possibilities of wife-swapping with, say, Roger and Missy Dandridge, then you blinked and you were climbing the side of a Hawaiian volcano. Maybe he had lost Pascow because this was the beginning of Act II.

But when Louis emerged from the garage he saw him again, standing in the faint moonlight at the back of the lawn – at the head of the path.

Now fear came, entering softly, sifting through the hollow places of his body and filling them up with dirty smoke. He didn't want to go up there. He halted.

Pascow glanced back over his shoulder, and in the moon-light his eyes were silver. Louis felt a hopeless crawl of horror in his belly. That jutting bone, those dried clots of blood. But it was hopeless to resist those eyes. This was apparently a dream about being hypnotized, being dominated … being unable to change things, perhaps, the way he had been unable to change the fact of Pascow's death. You could go to school for twenty years and you still couldn't do a thing when they brought a guy in who had been rammed into a tree hard enough to open a window in his skull. They might as well have called a plumber, a rainmaker, or the Man from Glad.

And even as these thoughts passed through his mind, he was drawn forward on to the path. He followed the jogging shorts, as maroon in this light as the dried blood on Pascow's face.

He didn't like this dream. Oh God, not at all. It was too real. The cold nubbles in the rug, the way he had not been able to pass through the shed door when a person could (or should) be able to walk through doors and walls in any self-respecting dream … and now the cool brush of dew on his bare feet, and the feel of the night wind, just a breath of it, on his body, which was naked except for his Jockey shorts. Once under the trees, fir needles stuck to the soles of his feet … another little detail that was just a bit more real than it needed to be.

Never mind. Never mind. I am home in my own bed. It's just a dream, no matter how vivid, and like all other dreams, it will seem ridiculous in the morning. My waking mind will discover its inconsistencies.

The small branch of a dead tree poked his bicep rudely and he winced. Up ahead, Pascow was only a moving shadow, and now Louis's terror seemed to have crystallized into a bright sculpture in his mind: I am following a dead man into the woods, I am following a dead man up to the Pet Sematary, and this is no dream. God help me, this is no dream. This is happening.

They walked down the far side of the wooded hill. The path curved in lazy S-shapes between the trees, and then plunged into the underbrush. No boots now. The ground dissolved into cold jelly under his feet, grabbing and holding, letting go only reluctantly. There were ugly sucking noises. He could feel the mud oozing between his toes, trying to separate them.

He tried desperately to hold on to the dream idea.

It wouldn't wash.

They reached the clearing and the moon sailed free of its reef of clouds again, bathing the graveyard with ghastly effulgence. The leaning markers – bits of board and tin cans that had been cut with a father's tinsnips and then hammered into rude squares, chipped chunks of shale and slate – stood out with three-dimensional clarity, casting shadows perfectly black and defined.

Pascow stopped near SMUCKY THE CAT HE WAS OBEDIANT and turned back toward Louis. The horror, the terror; he felt these things would grow in him until his body blew apart under their soft yet implacable pressure. Pascow was grinning. His bloody lips were wrinkled back from his teeth and his healthy road-crew tan in the moon's bony light had become overlaid with the white of a corpse about to be sewn into its winding shroud.

He lifted one arm and pointed. Louis looked in that direction and moaned. His eyes grew wide, and he crammed his knuckles against his mouth. There was coolness on his cheeks and he realized that, in the extremity of his terror, he had begun to weep.

The deadfall from which Jud Crandall had called Ellie in alarm had become a heap of bones. The bones were moving. They writhed and clicked together, mandibles and femurs and ulnas and molars and incisors; he saw the grinning skulls of humans and animals. Fingerbones clittered. Here the remains of a foot flexed its pallid joints.

Ah, it was moving; it was creeping—

Pascow was walking toward him now, his bloody face grim in the moonlight, and the last of Louis's coherent mind began to slip away in a yammering, cyclic thought: You got to scream yourself awake doesn't matter if you scare Rachel Ellie Gage wake the whole household the whole neighborhood got to scream yourself awake screamscreamscreamyourselfawakeawakeawake—

But only a thin whisper of air would come. It was the sound of a little kid sitting on a stoop somewhere and trying to teach himself to whistle.

Pascow came closer and then spoke.

‘The door must not be opened,' Pascow said. He was looking down at Louis, because Louis had fallen to his knees. He was no longer grinning. A look was on his face which Louis at first mistook for compassion. It wasn't really compassion at all; only a dreadful kind of patience. Still he pointed at the moving pile of bones. ‘Don't go beyond, no matter how much you feel you need to, Doctor. The barrier was not made to be broken. Remember this: there is more power here than you know. It is old, and always restless. Remember.'

Louis tried again to scream. He could not.

‘I come as a friend,' Pascow said, but was friend actually the word Pascow had used? Louis thought not. It was as if Pascow had spoken in a foreign language which Louis could understand through some dream-magic … and friend was as close to whatever word Pascow had actually used that Louis's struggling mind could come. ‘Your destruction and the destruction of all you love is very near, Doctor.' He was close enough for Louis to be able to smell death on him.

Pascow, reaching for him.

The soft, maddening click of the bones.

Louis began to overbalance in his effort to get away from that hand. His own hand struck a monument and tilted it into the earth. Pascow's face, leaning down, filled the sky.

‘Doctor – remember.'

Louis tried to scream, and the world whirled away – but still he heard the click of moving bones in the moonlit crypt of the night.

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Part One: The Pet Sematary - Chapter 16 Primera parte: The Pet Sematary - Capítulo 16 Część pierwsza: Pet Sematary - Rozdział 16

SIXTEEN

Something woke him much later, a crash loud enough to cause him to sit up in bed, wondering if Ellie had fallen on to the floor or if maybe Gage's crib had collapsed. Algo lo despertó mucho más tarde, un estruendo lo suficientemente fuerte como para que se sentara en la cama, preguntándose si Ellie se había caído al suelo o si tal vez la cuna de Gage se había derrumbado. Then the moon sailed out from behind a cloud, flooding the room with cold white light, and he saw Victor Pascow standing in the doorway. Entonces la luna salió de detrás de una nube, inundando la habitación con una luz blanca y fría, y vio a Victor Pascow de pie en la puerta. The crash had been Victor Pascow throwing open the door. El choque había sido Victor Pascow abriendo la puerta.

He stood there with his head grotesquely bashed in behind the left temple. Se quedó allí con la cabeza grotescamente golpeada detrás de la sien izquierda. The blood had dried on his face in maroon stripes like Indian war-paint. La sangre se le había secado en la cara en rayas granate como pintura de guerra india. His collarbone jutted whitely. Su clavícula sobresalía blanca. He was grinning. Él estaba sonriendo.

‘Come on, doctor,' Pascow said. —Vamos, doctor —dijo Pascow. ‘We got places to go.' Tenemos lugares adonde ir.

Louis looked around. Luis miró a su alrededor. His wife was a vague bump under her yellow comforter, sleeping deeply. Su esposa era un bulto vago debajo de su edredón amarillo, durmiendo profundamente. He looked back at Pascow, who was dead but somehow not dead. Volvió a mirar a Pascow, que estaba muerto pero de alguna manera no muerto. Yet Louis felt no fear. Sin embargo, Louis no sintió miedo. He realized why almost at once. Se dio cuenta de por qué casi de inmediato.

It's a dream, he thought, and it was only in his relief that he realized he had been frightened after all. Es un sueño, pensó, y fue solo para su alivio que se dio cuenta de que, después de todo, había estado asustado. The dead do not return; it is physiologically impossible. Los muertos no vuelven; es fisiológicamente imposible. This young man is in an autopsy drawer in Bangor with the pathologist's tattoo – a Y-cut stitched back up – on him. Este joven está en un cajón de autopsias en Bangor con el tatuaje del patólogo, un corte en Y cosido de nuevo, en él. The pathologist probably tossed his brain into his chest-cavity after taking a tissue sample and filled up the skull cavity with brown paper to prevent leaking – simpler than trying to fit the brain back into the skull like a jigsaw piece into a puzzle. El patólogo probablemente arrojó su cerebro en la cavidad torácica después de tomar una muestra de tejido y llenó la cavidad del cráneo con papel marrón para evitar fugas, más simple que tratar de encajar el cerebro nuevamente en el cráneo como una pieza de rompecabezas en un rompecabezas. Uncle Carl, father of the unfortunate Ruthie, had told him that pathologists did that, and all sorts of other random information that he supposed would give Rachel, with her deathphobia, the screaming horrors. El tío Carl, padre de la desafortunada Ruthie, le había dicho que los patólogos hacían eso, y todo tipo de información al azar que él suponía le daría a Rachel, con su fobia a la muerte, los gritos de horror. But Pascow was not here; no way, baby. Pero Pascow no estaba aquí; De ninguna manera bebe. Pascow was in a refrigerated locker with a tag around his toe. Pascow estaba en un casillero refrigerado con una etiqueta alrededor del dedo del pie. And he is most certainly not wearing those red jogging shorts in there. Y ciertamente no está usando esos pantalones cortos rojos para correr allí.

Yet the compulsion to get up was strong. Sin embargo, la compulsión de levantarse era fuerte. Pascow's eyes were upon him. Los ojos de Pascow estaban sobre él.

He threw back the covers and swung his feet on to the floor. Apartó las sábanas y apoyó los pies en el suelo. The hooked rug – a wedding present from Rachel's grandmother long ago – pressed cold nubbles into the balls of his feet. La alfombra con ganchos, un regalo de bodas de la abuela de Rachel hace mucho tiempo, presionó las puntas de sus pies con fríos bultos. The dream had a remarkable reality. El sueño tuvo una realidad notable. It was so real that he would not follow Pascow until Pascow had turned and begun to go back down the stairs. Era tan real que no siguió a Pascow hasta que Pascow se dio la vuelta y comenzó a bajar las escaleras. The compulsion to follow was strong, but he did not want to be touched, even in a dream, by a walking corpse. La compulsión de seguir era fuerte, pero no quería ser tocado, ni siquiera en un sueño, por un cadáver ambulante.

But he did follow. Pero lo siguió. Pascow's jogging shorts glimmered. Los pantalones cortos de jogging de Pascow brillaron.

They crossed the living room, dining room, kitchen. Atravesaron la sala, el comedor, la cocina. Louis expected Pascow to turn the lock and then lift the latch on the door which connected the kitchen to the shed where he garaged the station wagon and the Civic, but Pascow did no such thing. Louis esperaba que Pascow girara la cerradura y luego levantara el pestillo de la puerta que conectaba la cocina con el cobertizo donde guardaba la camioneta y el Civic, pero Pascow no hizo tal cosa. Instead of opening the door, he simply passed through it. En lugar de abrir la puerta, simplemente la atravesó. And Louis, watching, thought with mild amazement: Is that how it's done? Y Louis, mirando, pensó con leve asombro: ¿Es así como se hace? Remarkable! ¡Notable! Anyone could do that! ¡Cualquiera podría hacer eso!

He tried it himself – and was a little amused to meet only unyielding wood. Lo probó él mismo, y se divirtió un poco al encontrar solo madera inflexible. Apparently he was a hard-headed realist, even in his dreams. Al parecer, era un realista testarudo, incluso en sus sueños. Louis twisted the knob on the Yale lock, lifted the latch, and let himself into the shed-garage. Louis hizo girar el pomo de la cerradura de Yale, levantó el pestillo y entró en el cobertizo-garaje. Pascow was not there. Pascow no estaba allí. Louis wondered briefly if Pascow had just ceased to exist. Louis se preguntó brevemente si Pascow acababa de dejar de existir. Figures in dreams often did just that. Las figuras en los sueños a menudo hacían precisamente eso. So did locations – first you were standing nude by a swimming pool with a raging hard-on, discussing the possibilities of wife-swapping with, say, Roger and Missy Dandridge, then you blinked and you were climbing the side of a Hawaiian volcano. También lo hicieron las locaciones: primero estabas de pie desnudo junto a una piscina con una erección furiosa, discutiendo las posibilidades de intercambiar esposas con, digamos, Roger y Missy Dandridge, luego parpadeaste y estabas escalando la ladera de un volcán hawaiano. Maybe he had lost Pascow because this was the beginning of Act II. Tal vez había perdido a Pascow porque este era el comienzo del Acto II.

But when Louis emerged from the garage he saw him again, standing in the faint moonlight at the back of the lawn – at the head of the path. Pero cuando Louis salió del garaje, lo volvió a ver, de pie bajo la tenue luz de la luna al fondo del césped, al principio del camino.

Now fear came, entering softly, sifting through the hollow places of his body and filling them up with dirty smoke. Ahora llegó el miedo, entrando suavemente, filtrándose por los huecos de su cuerpo y llenándolos de humo sucio. He didn't want to go up there. Él no quería subir allí. He halted. Se detuvo.

Pascow glanced back over his shoulder, and in the moon-light his eyes were silver. Pascow miró hacia atrás por encima del hombro y, a la luz de la luna, sus ojos eran plateados. Louis felt a hopeless crawl of horror in his belly. Louis sintió un desesperado hormigueo en el estómago. That jutting bone, those dried clots of blood. Ese hueso que sobresale, esos coágulos secos de sangre. But it was hopeless to resist those eyes. Pero era inútil resistirse a esos ojos. This was apparently a dream about being hypnotized, being dominated … being unable to change things, perhaps, the way he had been unable to change the fact of Pascow's death. Aparentemente, esto era un sueño sobre ser hipnotizado, ser dominado... ser incapaz de cambiar las cosas, tal vez, de la forma en que no había sido capaz de cambiar el hecho de la muerte de Pascow. You could go to school for twenty years and you still couldn't do a thing when they brought a guy in who had been rammed into a tree hard enough to open a window in his skull. Podrías ir a la escuela durante veinte años y aún así no podrías hacer nada cuando trajeron a un tipo que había sido estrellado contra un árbol lo suficientemente fuerte como para abrir una ventana en su cráneo. They might as well have called a plumber, a rainmaker, or the Man from Glad. Bien podrían haber llamado a un plomero, a un hacedor de lluvia o al Hombre de Glad.

And even as these thoughts passed through his mind, he was drawn forward on to the path. E incluso mientras estos pensamientos pasaban por su mente, fue atraído hacia el camino. He followed the jogging shorts, as maroon in this light as the dried blood on Pascow's face. Siguió los pantalones cortos para correr, tan marrones en esta luz como la sangre seca en la cara de Pascow.

He didn't like this dream. No le gustó este sueño. Oh God, not at all. Oh Dios, en absoluto. It was too real. Era demasiado real. The cold nubbles in the rug, the way he had not been able to pass through the shed door when a person could (or should) be able to walk through doors and walls in any self-respecting dream … and now the cool brush of dew on his bare feet, and the feel of the night wind, just a breath of it, on his body, which was naked except for his Jockey shorts. Los nudos fríos en la alfombra, la forma en que no había podido atravesar la puerta del cobertizo cuando una persona podría (o debería) poder atravesar puertas y paredes en cualquier sueño que se precie… y ahora el fresco roce del rocío. en sus pies descalzos, y la sensación del viento de la noche, solo un soplo, en su cuerpo, que estaba desnudo excepto por sus calzoncillos Jockey. Once under the trees, fir needles stuck to the soles of his feet … another little detail that was just a bit more real than it needed to be. Una vez debajo de los árboles, agujas de abeto se le clavaron en las plantas de los pies... otro pequeño detalle que era un poco más real de lo necesario.

Never mind. No importa. Never mind. No importa. I am home in my own bed. Estoy en casa en mi propia cama. It's just a dream, no matter how vivid, and like all other dreams, it will seem ridiculous in the morning. Es solo un sueño, no importa cuán vívido sea, y como todos los demás sueños, parecerá ridículo por la mañana. My waking mind will discover its inconsistencies. Mi mente despierta descubrirá sus inconsistencias.

The small branch of a dead tree poked his bicep rudely and he winced. La pequeña rama de un árbol muerto golpeó bruscamente su bíceps y él hizo una mueca. Up ahead, Pascow was only a moving shadow, and now Louis's terror seemed to have crystallized into a bright sculpture in his mind: I am following a dead man into the woods, I am following a dead man up to the Pet Sematary, and this is no dream. Más adelante, Pascow no era más que una sombra en movimiento, y ahora el terror de Louis parecía haberse cristalizado en una brillante escultura en su mente: Sigo a un hombre muerto hacia el bosque, sigo a un hombre muerto hasta el Pet Sematary, y esto no es un sueño God help me, this is no dream. Dios me ayude, esto no es un sueño. This is happening. Esto está ocurriendo.

They walked down the far side of the wooded hill. Caminaron por el otro lado de la colina boscosa. The path curved in lazy S-shapes between the trees, and then plunged into the underbrush. El camino se curvaba en perezosas formas de S entre los árboles y luego se sumergía en la maleza. No boots now. Sin botas ahora. The ground dissolved into cold jelly under his feet, grabbing and holding, letting go only reluctantly. El suelo se disolvió en gelatina fría bajo sus pies, agarrándolo y reteniéndolo, soltándolo solo a regañadientes. There were ugly sucking noises. Hubo feos ruidos de succión. He could feel the mud oozing between his toes, trying to separate them. Podía sentir el barro rezumando entre los dedos de sus pies, tratando de separarlos.

He tried desperately to hold on to the dream idea. Intentó desesperadamente aferrarse a la idea del sueño.

It wouldn't wash. No se lavaría.

They reached the clearing and the moon sailed free of its reef of clouds again, bathing the graveyard with ghastly effulgence. Llegaron al claro y la luna se liberó de nuevo de su arrecife de nubes, bañando el cementerio con un espantoso resplandor. The leaning markers – bits of board and tin cans that had been cut with a father's tinsnips and then hammered into rude squares, chipped chunks of shale and slate – stood out with three-dimensional clarity, casting shadows perfectly black and defined. Los marcadores inclinados (pedazos de cartón y latas que habían sido cortados con las tijeras de hojalatero de un padre y luego martillados en toscos cuadrados, trozos astillados de esquisto y pizarra) se destacaban con claridad tridimensional, proyectando sombras perfectamente negras y definidas.

Pascow stopped near SMUCKY THE CAT HE WAS OBEDIANT and turned back toward Louis. Pascow se detuvo cerca de SMUCKY EL GATO ERA OBEDIENTE y se volvió hacia Louis. The horror, the terror; he felt these things would grow in him until his body blew apart under their soft yet implacable pressure. El horror, el terror; sintió que estas cosas crecerían en él hasta que su cuerpo explotara bajo su presión suave pero implacable. Pascow was grinning. Pascow estaba sonriendo. His bloody lips were wrinkled back from his teeth and his healthy road-crew tan in the moon's bony light had become overlaid with the white of a corpse about to be sewn into its winding shroud. Sus labios ensangrentados estaban arrugados por los dientes y su saludable bronceado de camionero a la luz huesuda de la luna se había cubierto con el blanco de un cadáver a punto de ser cosido en su mortaja.

He lifted one arm and pointed. Levantó un brazo y señaló. Louis looked in that direction and moaned. Louis miró en esa dirección y gimió. His eyes grew wide, and he crammed his knuckles against his mouth. Sus ojos se abrieron como platos y apretó los nudillos contra su boca. There was coolness on his cheeks and he realized that, in the extremity of his terror, he had begun to weep. Había frialdad en sus mejillas y se dio cuenta de que, en el extremo de su terror, había comenzado a llorar.

The deadfall from which Jud Crandall had called Ellie in alarm had become a heap of bones. El callejón sin salida desde el que Jud Crandall había llamado alarmado a Ellie se había convertido en un montón de huesos. The bones were moving. Los huesos se movían. They writhed and clicked together, mandibles and femurs and ulnas and molars and incisors; he saw the grinning skulls of humans and animals. Se retorcieron y chocaron juntos, mandíbulas y fémures y cúbitos y molares e incisivos; vio los cráneos sonrientes de humanos y animales. Fingerbones clittered. Los huesos de los dedos rechinaron. Here the remains of a foot flexed its pallid joints. Aquí los restos de un pie flexionaban sus pálidas articulaciones.

Ah, it was moving; it was creeping— Ah, se estaba moviendo; se arrastraba—

Pascow was walking toward him now, his bloody face grim in the moonlight, and the last of Louis's coherent mind began to slip away in a yammering, cyclic thought: You got to scream yourself awake doesn't matter if you scare Rachel Ellie Gage wake the whole household the whole neighborhood got to scream yourself awake screamscreamscreamyourselfawakeawakeawake— Pascow caminaba hacia él ahora, su rostro ensangrentado sombrío a la luz de la luna, y lo último de la mente coherente de Louis comenzó a desvanecerse en un pensamiento cíclico y ladrador: Tienes que gritar para despertarte, no importa si asustas a Rachel Ellie Gage. toda la casa todo el vecindario tiene que gritar tú mismo despierto gritosgritosgrito tú mismodespiertodespiertodespierta—

But only a thin whisper of air would come. Pero solo llegaría un leve susurro de aire. It was the sound of a little kid sitting on a stoop somewhere and trying to teach himself to whistle. Era el sonido de un niño pequeño sentado en un escalón en algún lugar y tratando de aprender a silbar por sí mismo.

Pascow came closer and then spoke. Pascow se acercó y luego habló.

‘The door must not be opened,' Pascow said. "La puerta no debe abrirse", dijo Pascow. He was looking down at Louis, because Louis had fallen to his knees. Estaba mirando a Louis, porque Louis había caído de rodillas. He was no longer grinning. Ya no estaba sonriendo. A look was on his face which Louis at first mistook for compassion. Había una expresión en su rostro que Louis al principio confundió con compasión. It wasn't really compassion at all; only a dreadful kind of patience. No era realmente compasión en absoluto; sólo un tipo terrible de paciencia. Still he pointed at the moving pile of bones. Sin embargo, señaló la pila de huesos en movimiento. ‘Don't go beyond, no matter how much you feel you need to, Doctor. No vaya más allá, por mucho que sienta que lo necesita, doctor. The barrier was not made to be broken. La barrera no fue hecha para ser rota. Remember this: there is more power here than you know. Recuerda esto: aquí hay más poder del que crees. It is old, and always restless. Es viejo, y siempre inquieto. Remember.' Recuerda.'

Louis tried again to scream. Louis volvió a intentar gritar. He could not. Él no podría.

‘I come as a friend,' Pascow said, but was friend actually the word Pascow had used? —Vengo como amigo —dijo Pascow, pero ¿era realmente amigo la palabra que había usado Pascow? Louis thought not. Luis pensó que no. It was as if Pascow had spoken in a foreign language which Louis could understand through some dream-magic … and friend was as close to whatever word Pascow had actually used that Louis's struggling mind could come. Era como si Pascow hubiera hablado en un idioma extranjero que Louis pudiera entender a través de la magia de un sueño... y amigo era lo más parecido a cualquier palabra que Pascow hubiera usado que la mente en apuros de Louis podía encontrar. ‘Your destruction and the destruction of all you love is very near, Doctor.' He was close enough for Louis to be able to smell death on him. 'Su destrucción y la destrucción de todo lo que ama está muy cerca, Doctor.' Estaba lo suficientemente cerca para que Louis pudiera oler la muerte en él.

Pascow, reaching for him. Pascow, acercándose a él.

The soft, maddening click of the bones. El suave y enloquecedor chasquido de los huesos.

Louis began to overbalance in his effort to get away from that hand. Louis comenzó a perder el equilibrio en su esfuerzo por alejarse de esa mano. His own hand struck a monument and tilted it into the earth. Su propia mano golpeó un monumento y lo inclinó hacia la tierra. Pascow's face, leaning down, filled the sky. El rostro de Pascow, inclinado hacia abajo, llenó el cielo.

‘Doctor – remember.' Doctor, recuerde.

Louis tried to scream, and the world whirled away – but still he heard the click of moving bones in the moonlit crypt of the night. Louis trató de gritar y el mundo se alejó, pero aun así escuchó el chasquido de los huesos en movimiento en la cripta de la noche iluminada por la luna.