The plant - By Stephen King Page 0,89

know... ostentatious."

To me, the idea of taking Detweiller to a Jersey landfill in a hurry-up wagon seemed not ostentatious but downright creepy. I kept my mouth shut on the subject, however.

"And this place in Paramus?" John asked. "It's safe? Relatively safe?"

"According to some of the talk I've heard at Ginelli's game, it's as safe as the grave." Bill saw our faces and grimaced. "To coin a phrase."

"All right," Roger said heavily. "Sandra's office looks more or less okay. Let's clean up Herb's and John's and then get the hell out of here."

We did it, then adjourned to the cafeteria a block over to get something to eat. None of us had much in the way of appetite, and Bill left early to conclude negotiations with the fellow downstairs.

Outside the cafeteria, on the curb, John took my arm. He looked tired but composed. In better shape than before I left for home, actually. "Riddley, are you okay with this?"

"Fine with it," I said.

"Want me to ride along?"

I thought it over, then shook my head. "Three's a crowd. I'll call you when it's taken care of. But it may be late."

He nodded, started away, then turned back and grinned. There was something heartbreakingly sweet about it. "Welcome to the Green Thumb Editorial Society," he said.

I sketched him a little salute. "Good to be here."

As it was. And when I got to Bill's place shortly thereafter, the old panel truck was already parked at the curb. Bill was standing next to it, smoking a cigarette and looking entirely at peace.
Chapter CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Let's pick up some cargo and take it to Jersey," he said.

I clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm your man," I said.

We arrived back at 490 around quarter to five. At that hour on a Saturday afternoon, the building was as quiet as it ever gets. Absolutely dead, to coin another phrase. John's nemesis lay where we had left him, neatly tied into his bundle of rug.

"Look at the plant, Riddley," Bill said, but I already had. Runners had worked their way to the end of the corridor. There they clustered, barely held back by the garlic John and Roger had rubbed on the sides of the door. The tips were raised, and I could see them quivering. I thought of hungry diners looking in a restaurant window, and shivered a little. If not for the garlic, those advance feelers would already have worked their way into the carpet and around the corpse's feet. Zenith is on our side, I feel quite sure of that, but neither a stiff dick nor a hungry belly has much in the way of conscience, I'm afraid.

"Let's get him out of here," I said.

Bill agreed. "And make a note to refresh the garlic on that door. Tomorrow, maybe."

"I don't think garlic will hold it forever," I said.

"What do you mean?"

Because we were back under Zenith's telepathic umbrella, I thought my response at him rather than saying it out loud: It's got to grow. If it can't grow, it'll die. But before it dies, it might -

Get mean? Bill finished for me.

I nodded. Yes, it might get mean. I'm sure that Detweiller and General Hecksler would say it had gotten fairly mean already.

We carried the rolled-up length of rug down the hall to the elevator, which opened at the touch of a button. There was no one else in the building to divert it to another location, of that I was positive. We would have heard their thoughts.

"We're not going to have any problems at all, are we?" I asked Bill as we rode down. Mr. Detweiller lay between us, a troublesome fellow soon to take up permanent residence in New Jersey. "No little unexpected Hitchcock touches."

Bill smiled. "I don't think so, Riddley. We're going to roll all sevens. Because the force is with us."

And so it has been.

By the time the truck's headlights picked out the sign on the edge of Route 27 - PETERBOROUGH DISPOSAL CO. LANDFILL ABSOLUTELY NO TRESPASSING - it was full dark and the moon was riding high in the sky. High and dreamy. It crossed my mind that the same moon was looking down on my Mama's fresh grave in Blackwater.

There was a chain across the dirt road leading to the landfill, but it appeared to be looped over the posts to either side, not locked. I got out, slipped one of the loops free, and then motioned Bill to drive through. Once he was on the other side, I re-fixed