The Drawing of the Three

So they ate … and then Eddie began his third and last trip along this cursed stretch of beach.

12

They rolled a good stretch that night, but Eddie was still dully disappointed when the gunslinger called a halt. He offered no disagreement because he was simply too weary to go on without rest, but he had hoped to get further. The weight. That was the big problem. Compared to Odetta, pushing Roland was like pushing a load of iron bars. Eddie slept four more hours before dawn, woke with the sun coming over the eroding hills which were all that remained of the mountains, and listened to the gunslinger coughing. It was a weak cough, full of rales, the cough of an old man who may be coming down with pneumonia.

Their eyes met. Roland's coughing spasm turned into a laugh.

'I'm not done yet, Eddie, no matter how I sound. Are you?'

Eddie thought of Odetta's eyes and shook his head.

'Not done, but I could use a cheeseburger and a Bud.'

'Bud?' the gunslinger said doubtfully, thinking of apple trees and the spring flowers in the Royal Court Gardens .

'Never mind. Hop in, my man. No four on the floor, no T-top, but we're going to roll some miles just the same.

And they did, but when sunset came on the second day following his leave-taking of Odetta, they were still only drawing near the place of the third door. Eddie lay down, meaning to crash for another four hours, but the screaming cry of one of those cats jerked him out of sleep after only two hours, his heart thumping. God, the thing sounded fucking huge.

He saw the gunslinger up on one elbow, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

'You ready?' Eddie asked. He got slowly to his feet, grinning with pain.

'Are you?' Roland asked again, very softly.

Eddie twisted his back, producing a series of pops like a string of tiny firecrackers. 'Yeah. But I could really get behind that cheeseburger.'

'I thought chicken was what you wanted.'

Eddie groaned. 'Cut me a break, man.'

The third door was in plain view by the time the sun cleared the hills. Two hours later, they reached it.

All together again, Eddie thought, ready to drop to the sand.

But that was apparently not so. There was no sign of Odetta Holmes. No sign at all.

13

'Odetta!' Eddie screamed, and now his voice was broken and hoarse as the voice of Odetta's other had been.

There wasn't even an echo in return, something he might at least have mistaken for Odetta's voice. These low, eroded hills would not bounce sound. There was only the crash of the waves, much louder in this tight arrowhead of land, the rhythmic, hollow boom of surf crashing to the end of some tunnel it had dug in the friable rock, and the steady keening of the wind.

'Odetta!'

This time he screamed so loudly his voice broke and for a moment something sharp, like a jag of fishbone, tore at his vocal cords. His eyes scanned the hills frantically, looking for the lighter patch of brown that would be her palm, looking for movement as she stood up … looking (God forgive him) for bright splashes of blood on roan- colored rock.

He found himself wondering what he would do if he saw that last, or found the revolver, now with deep toothmarks driven into the smooth sandalwood of the grips. The sight of something like that might drive him into hysteria, might even run him crazy, but he looked for it—or something—just the same.

His eyes saw nothing; his ears brought not the faintest returning cry.

The gunslinger, meanwhile, had been studying the third door. He had expected a single word, the word the man in black had used as he turned the sixth Tarot card at the dusty Golgotha where they had held palaver. Death, Walter had said, but not for you, gunslinger.

There was not one word writ upon this door but two … and neither of them was DEATH. He read it again, lips moving soundlessly:

THE PUSHER

Yet it means death, Roland thought, and knew it was so.

What made him look around was the sound of Eddie's voice, moving away. Eddie had begun to climb the first slope, still calling Odetta's name.

For a moment Roland considered just letting him go.

He might find her, might even find her alive, not too badly hurt, and still herself. He supposed the two of them might even make a life of sorts for themselves here, that Eddie's love for Odetta and hers for him might somehow smother the nightshade who called herself Detta Walker. Yes, between the two of them he supposed it was possible that Detta might simply be squeezed to death. He was a romantic in his own harsh way … yet he was also realist enough to know that sometimes love actually did conquer all. As for himself? Even if he was able to get the drugs from Eddie's world which had almost cured him before, would they be able to cure him this time, or even make a start? He was now very sick, and he found himself wondering if perhaps things hadn't gone too far. His arms and legs ached, his head thudded, his chest was heavy and full of snot. When he coughed there was a painful grating in his left side, as if ribs were broken there. His left ear flamed. Perhaps, he thought, the time had come to end it; to just cry off.

At this, everything in him rose up in protest.

'Eddie!' he cried, and there was no cough now. His voice was deep and powerful.

Eddie turned, one foot on raw dirt, the other braced on a jutting spar of rock.

'Go on,' he said, and made a curious little sweeping gesture with his hand, a gesture that said he wanted to be rid of the gunslinger so he could be about his real business, the important business, the business of finding Odetta and rescuing her if rescue were necessary. 'It's all right. Go on through and get the stuff you need. We'll both be here when you get back.'

'I doubt that.'

'I have to find her.' Eddie looked at Roland and his gaze was very young and completely naked. 'I mean, I really have to.'

'I understand your love and your need,' the gunslinger said, 'but I want you to come with me this time, Eddie.'

Eddie stared at him for a long time, as if trying to credit what he was hearing.

'Come with you,' he said at last, bemused. 'Come with you! Holy God, now I think I really have heard everything. Deedle-deedle-dumpkin everything. Last time you