Part 44 (1/2)

When Roland stepped out of Katz's Drugs, the big bottle of Keflex had joined the cartons of ammo in Jack Mort's coat pockets. He had Carl Delevan's service.38 in his right hand. It felt so d.a.m.ned good to hold a gun in a whole right hand.

He heard the siren and saw the car roaring down the street. Them, Them, he thought. He began to raise the gun and then remembered: they were gunslingers. Gunslingers doing their duty. He turned and went back into the alchemist's shop. he thought. He began to raise the gun and then remembered: they were gunslingers. Gunslingers doing their duty. He turned and went back into the alchemist's shop.

”Hold it, motherf.u.c.ker!” Delevan screamed. Roland's eyes flew to the convex mirror in time to see one of the gunslingers-the one whose ear had bled-leaning out of the window with a scatter-rifle. As his partner pulled their carriage to a screaming halt that made its rubber wheels smoke on the pavement he jacked a sh.e.l.l into its chamber. Delevan screamed. Roland's eyes flew to the convex mirror in time to see one of the gunslingers-the one whose ear had bled-leaning out of the window with a scatter-rifle. As his partner pulled their carriage to a screaming halt that made its rubber wheels smoke on the pavement he jacked a sh.e.l.l into its chamber.

Roland hit the floor.

4.

Katz didn't need any mirror to see what was about to happen. First the crazy man, now the crazy cops. Oy vay. Oy vay.

”Drop!” he screamed to his a.s.sistant and to Ralph, the security guard, and then fell to his knees behind the counter without waiting to see if they were doing the same or not. he screamed to his a.s.sistant and to Ralph, the security guard, and then fell to his knees behind the counter without waiting to see if they were doing the same or not.

Then, a split-second before Delevan triggered the shotgun, his a.s.sistant dropped on top of him like an eager tackle sacking the quarterback in a football game, driving Katz's head against the floor and breaking his jaw in two places.

Through the sudden pain which went roaring through his head, he heard the shotgun's blast, heard the remaining gla.s.s in the windows shatter-along with bottles of aftershave, cologne, perfume, mouthwash, cough syrup, G.o.d knew what else. A thousand conflicting smells rose, creating one h.e.l.l-stench, and before he pa.s.sed out, Katz again called upon G.o.d to rot his father for chaining this curse of a drug store to his ankle in the first place.

5.

Roland saw bottles and boxes fly back in a hurricane of shot. A gla.s.s case containing time-pieces disintegrated. Most of the watches inside also disintegrated. The pieces flew backwards in a sparkling cloud.

They can't know if there are still innocent people in here or not, he thought. he thought. They can't know and yet they used a scatter-rifle just the same! They can't know and yet they used a scatter-rifle just the same!

It was unforgivable. He felt anger and suppressed it. They were gunslingers. Better to believe their brains had been addled by the head-knocking they'd taken than to believe they'd done such a thing knowingly, without a care for whom they might hurt or kill.

They would expect him to either run or shoot.

Instead, he crept forward, keeping low. He lacerated both hands and knees on shards of broken gla.s.s. The pain brought Jack Mort back to consciousness. He was glad Mort was back. He would need him. As for Mort's hands and knees, he didn't care. He could stand the pain easily, and the wounds were being inflicted on the body of a monster who deserved no better.

He reached the area just under what remained of the plate-gla.s.s window. He was to the right of the door. He crouched there, body coiled. He holstered the gun which had been in his right hand.

He would not need it.

6.

”What are you doing, Carl?” O'Mearah screamed. In his head he suddenly saw a Daily O'Mearah screamed. In his head he suddenly saw a Daily News News headline: headline: COP KILLS COP KILLS 4 4 IN WEST SIDE DRUG STORE SNAFU IN WEST SIDE DRUG STORE SNAFU.

Delevan ignored him and pumped a fresh sh.e.l.l into the shotgun. ”Let's go get this s.h.i.+t.”

7.

It happened exactly as the gunslinger had hoped it would.

Furious at being effortlessly fooled and disarmed by a man who probably looked to them no more dangerous than any of the other lambs on the streets of this seemingly endless city, still groggy from the head-knocking, they rushed in with the idiot who had fired the scatter-rifle in the lead. They ran slightly bent-over, like soldiers charging an enemy position, but that was the only concession they made to the idea that their adversary might still be inside. In their minds, he was already out the back and fleeing down an alley.

So they came crunching over the sidewalk gla.s.s, and when the gunslinger with the scatter-rifle pulled open the gla.s.sless door and charged in, the gunslinger rose, his hands laced together in a single fist, and brought it down on the nape of Officer Carl Delevan's neck.

While testifying before the investigating committee, Delevan would claim he remembered nothing at all after kneeling down in Clements' and seeing the perp's wallet under the counter. The committee members thought such amnesia was, under the circ.u.mstances, pretty d.a.m.ned convenient, and Delevan was lucky to get off with a sixty-day suspension without pay. Roland, however, would have believed, and, under different circ.u.mstances (if the fool hadn't discharged a scatter-rifle into a store which might have been full of innocent people, for instance), even sympathized. When you got your skull busted twice in half an hour, a few scrambled brains were to be expected.

As Delevan went down, suddenly as boneless as a sack of oats, Roland took the scatter-rifle from his relaxing hands.

”Hold it!” O'Mearah screamed, his voice a mixture of anger and dismay. He was starting to raise Fat Johnny's Magnum, but it was as Roland had suspected: the gunslingers of this world were pitifully slow. He could have shot O'Mearah three times, but there was no need. He simply swung the scatter-gun in a strong, climbing arc. There was a flat smack as the stock connected with O'Mearah's left cheek, the sound of a baseball bat connecting with a real steamer of a pitch. All at once O'Mearah's entire face from the cheek on down moved two inches to the right. It would take three operations and four steel pegs to put him together again. He stood there for a moment, unbelieving, and then his eyes rolled up the whites. His knees unhinged and he collapsed. O'Mearah screamed, his voice a mixture of anger and dismay. He was starting to raise Fat Johnny's Magnum, but it was as Roland had suspected: the gunslingers of this world were pitifully slow. He could have shot O'Mearah three times, but there was no need. He simply swung the scatter-gun in a strong, climbing arc. There was a flat smack as the stock connected with O'Mearah's left cheek, the sound of a baseball bat connecting with a real steamer of a pitch. All at once O'Mearah's entire face from the cheek on down moved two inches to the right. It would take three operations and four steel pegs to put him together again. He stood there for a moment, unbelieving, and then his eyes rolled up the whites. His knees unhinged and he collapsed.

Roland stood in the doorway, oblivious to the approaching sirens. He broke the scatter-rifle, then worked the pump action, ejecting all the fat red cartridges onto Delevan's body. That done, he dropped the gun itself onto Delevan.

”You're a dangerous fool who should be sent west,” he told the unconscious man. ”You have forgotten the face of your father.”

He stepped over the body and walked to the gunslingers' carriage, which was still idling. He climbed in the door on the far side and slid behind the driving wheel.

8.

Can you drive this carriage? he asked the screaming, gibbering thing that was Jack Mort. he asked the screaming, gibbering thing that was Jack Mort.

He got no coherent answer; Mort just went on screaming. The gunslinger recognized this as hysteria, but one which was not entirely genuine. Jack Mort was having hysterics on purpose, as a way of avoiding any conversation with this weird kidnapper.

Listen, the gunslinger told him. the gunslinger told him. I only have time to say this-and everything else-once. My time has grown very short. If you don't answer my question, I am going to put your right thumb into your right eye. I'll jam it in as far as it will go, and then I'll pull your eyeball right out of your head and wipe it on the seat of this carriage like a booger. I can get along with one eye just fine. And, after all, it isn't as if it were mine. I only have time to say this-and everything else-once. My time has grown very short. If you don't answer my question, I am going to put your right thumb into your right eye. I'll jam it in as far as it will go, and then I'll pull your eyeball right out of your head and wipe it on the seat of this carriage like a booger. I can get along with one eye just fine. And, after all, it isn't as if it were mine.

He could no more have lied to Mort than Mort could have lied to him; the nature of their relations.h.i.+p was cold and reluctant on both their parts, yet it was much more intimate than the most pa.s.sionate act of s.e.xual intercourse would have been. This was, after all, not a joining of bodies but the ultimate meeting of minds.

He meant exactly what he said.

And Mort knew it.

The hysterics stopped abruptly. I can drive it, I can drive it, Mort said. It was the first sensible communication Roland had gotten from Mort since he had arrived inside the man's head. Mort said. It was the first sensible communication Roland had gotten from Mort since he had arrived inside the man's head.

Then do it.

Where do you want me to go?