Read Online The Dead Zone by Stephen King - Free Book Online

was one of the teenagers—about fifteen years old. He smiled shyly at them. “I hope you feel better,” he said to Sarah. “It’s those hot dogs, I bet. You can get a bad one pretty easy.”
    â€œAg, don’t talk about it,” Sarah said.
    â€œYou need a hand getting her to the car?” he asked Johnny.
    â€œNo, thanks. We’re fine.”
    â€œOkay. I gotta cut out anyway.” But he paused a moment longer, his shy smile widening into a grin “I love to see that guy take a beatin.”
    He trotted off into the dark.
    Sarah’s small, white station wagon was the only car left in the dark parking lot; it crouched under a sodium light like a forlorn, forgotten pup. Johnny opened the passenger door for Sarah and she folded herself carefully in. He slipped in behind the wheel and started it up.
    â€œIt’ll take a few minutes for the heater,” he said.
    â€œNever mind. I’m hot now.”
    He looked at her and saw the sweat breaking on her face. “Maybe we ought to trundle you up to the emergency room at Eastern Maine Medical,” he said. “If it’s salmonella, it could be serious.”
    â€œNo, I’m okay. I just want to go home and go to sleep, I’m going to get up just long enough tomorrow morning to call in sick at school and then go back to sleep again.”
    â€œDon’t even bother to get up that long. I’ll call you in, Sarah.”
    She looked at him gratefully.
    â€œWould you?”
    â€œSure.”
    They were headed back to the main highway now. “I’m sorry I can’t come back to your place with you,” Sarah said. “Really and truly.”
    â€œNot your fault.”
    â€œSure it is. I ate the bad hot dog. Unlucky Sarah.”
    â€œI love you, Sarah,” Johnny said. So it was out, it couldn’t be called back, it hung between them in the moving car waiting for someone to do something about it.
    She did what she could. “Thank you, Johnny.”
    They drove on in a comfortable silence.

Chapter 2
♦ 1 ♦
    It was nearly midnight when Johnny turned the wagon into her driveway. Sarah was dozing.
    â€œHey,” he said, cutting the motor and shaking her gently. “We’re here.”
    â€œOh . . . okay.” She sat up and drew her coat more tightly about her.
    â€œHow do you feel?”
    â€œBetter. My stomach’s sore and my back hurts, but better. Johnny, you take the car back to Cleaves with you.”
    â€œNo, I better not,” he said. “Someone would see it parked in front of the apartment house all night. That kind of talk we don’t need.”
    â€œBut I was going to come back with you . . .”
    Johnny smiled. “And that would have made it worth the risk, even if we had to walk three blocks. Besides, I want you to have the car in case you change your mind about the emergency room.”
    â€œI won’t.”
    â€œYou might. Can I come in and call a cab?”
    â€œYou sure can.”
    They went in and Sarah turned on the lights before being attacked by a fresh bout of the shivers.
    â€œThe phone’s in the living room. I’m going to lie down and cover up with a quilt.”
    The living room was small and functional, saved from a barracks flavor only by the splashy curtains—flowers in a psychedelic pattern and color—and a series of posters along one wall: Dylan at Forest Hills, Baez at Carnegie Hall, Jefferson Airplane at Berkeley, the Byrds in Cleveland.
    Sarah lay down on the couch and pulled a quilt up to her chin. Johnny looked at her with real concern. Her face was paper-white except for the dark circles under her eyes. She looked about as sick as a person can get.
    â€œMaybe I ought to spend the night here,” he said. “Just in case something happens, like . . .”
    â€œLike a hairline fracture at the top of my spine?” She looked at him with rueful