The Road Virus Heads North Read Online Free PDF Page A

fireplace.
    "Jesus," he whispered. "Jesus, no."
    The picture beneath the splintered glass no longer showed oncoming headlights. Now it showed the Grand Am on a sharply curving
    piece of road that could only be an exit ramp. Moonlight shone like liquid satin on the car's dark flank. In the background was a water
    tower, and the words on it were easily readable in the moonlight. KEEP MAINE GREEN, they said. BRING MONEY.
    Kinnell didn't hit the picture with the first squeeze of lighter fluid; his hands were shaking badly and the aromatic liquid simply ran
    down the unbroken part of the glass, blurring the Road Virus's back deck. He took a deep breath, aimed, then squeezed again. This
    time the lighter fluid squirted in through the jagged hole made by one of the firedogs and ran down the picture, cutting through the
    paint, making it run, turning a Goodyear Wide Oval into a sooty teardrop.
    Kinnell took one of the ornamental matches from the jar on the mantel, struck it on the hearth, and poked it in through the hole in the
    glass. The painting caught at once, fire billowing up and down across the Grand Am and the water tower. The remaining glass in the
    frame turned black, then broke outward in a shower of flaming pieces. Kinnell crunched them under his sneakers, putting them out
    before they could set the rug on fire.
    He went to the phone and punched in Aunt Trudy's number, unaware that he was crying. On the third ring, his aunt's answering
    machine picked up. "Hello," Aunt Trudy said, "I know it encourages the burglars to say things like this, but I've gone up to Kennebunk
    to watch the new Harrison Ford movie. If you intend to break in, please don't take my china pigs. If you want to leave a message, do
    so at the beep."
    Kinnell waited, then, keeping his voice as steady as possible, he said:
    "It's Richie, Aunt Trudy. Call me when you get back, okay? No matter how late."
    He hung up, looked at the TV, then dialed Newswire again, this time punching in the Maine area code. While the computers on the
    other end processed his order, he went back and used a poker to jab at the blackened, twisted thing in the fireplace. The stench was
    ghastly - it made the spilled vinegar smell like a flowerpatch in comparison-but Kinnell found he didn't mind. The picture was entirely
    gone, reduced to ash, and that made it worthwhile.
    Mat if it comes back again?
    file://C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\DOUGIE\Stephen King\Stephen King - ... 7/22/2006
    The Road Virus Heads North
    Page 10 of 12
    "It won't," he said, putting the poker back and returning to the TV. "I'm sure it won't."
    But every time the news scroll started to recycle, he got up to check. The picture was just ashes on the hearth ... and there was no word
    of elderly women being murdered in the Wells-Saco-Kennebunk area of the state. Kinnell kept watching, almost expecting to see A
    GRAND AM MOVING AT HIGH SPEED CRASHED INTO A KENNEBUNK MOVIE THEATER TONIGHT, KILLING AT
    LEAST TEN, but nothing of the sort showed up.
    At a quarter of eleven the telephone rang. Kinnell snatched it up. "Hello?"
    "It's Trudy, dear. Are you all right?"
    "Yes, fine."
    "You don't sound fine," she said. "Your voice sounds trembly and funny. What's wrong? What is it?" And then, chilling him but not
    really surprising him: "It's that picture you were so pleased with, isn't it? That goddamned picture!"
    It calmed him somehow, that she should guess so much ... and, of course, there was the relief of knowing she was safe.
    "Well, maybe," he said. "I had the heebie-jeebies all the way back here, so I burned it. In the fireplace."
    She's going to find out about Judy Diment, you know, a voice inside warned. She doesn't have a twenty-thousand-dollar satellite
    hookup, but she does subscribe to the Union-Leader and this'll be on the front page. She'll put two and two together. She's far from
    stupid.
    Yes, that was undoubtedly true, but further explanations could wait until the morning, when he might be