There was no way to stop this one.
Roland looked at her from his haunted feverish eyes. "A lot of people have thought that, Detta." He looked at Eddie. "You ready?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Are you?"
"Yes."
"Can you?"
"Yes."
They went on.
Around ten o'clock Detta began rubbing her temples with her fingers.
"Stop," she said. "I feel sick. Feel like I goan throw up."
"Probably that big meal you ate last night," Eddie said, and went on pushing. "You should have skipped dessert. I told you that chocolate layer cake was heavy."
"I goan throw up! I—"
"Stop, Eddie!" the gunslinger said.
Eddie stopped.
The woman in the chair suddenly twisted galvanically, as if an electric shock had run through her. Her eyes popped wide open, glaring at nothing.
"IBROKE YO PLATE YOU STINKIN OLE BLUE LADY!" she screamed. "IBROKE IT AND I'M FUCKIN GLAD ID―"
She suddenly slumped forward in her chair. If not for the ropes, she would have fallen out of it.
Christ, she's dead, she's had a stroke and she's dead, Eddie thought. He started around the chair, remembered how sly and tricksy she could be, and stopped as suddenly as he had started. He looked at Roland. Roland looked back at him evenly, his eyes giving away not a thing.
Then she moaned. Her eyes opened.
Her eyes.
Odetta's eyes.
"Dear God, I've fainted again, haven't I?" she said. "I'm sorry you had to tie me in. My stupid legs! I think I could sit up a little if you—"
That was when Roland's own legs slowly came unhinged and he swooned some thirty miles south of the place where the Western Sea 's beach came to an end.
RE-SHUFFLE
1
To Eddie Dean, he and the Lady no longer seemed to be trudging or even walking up what remained of the beach. They seemed to be flying.
Odetta Holmes still neither liked nor trusted Roland; that was clear. But she recognized how desperate his condition had become, and responded to that. Now, instead of pushing a dead clump of steel and rubber to which a human body just happened to be attached, Eddie felt almost as if he were pushing a glider.
Go with her. Before, I was watching out for you and that was important. Now I'll only slow you down.
He came to realize how right the gunslinger was almost at once. Eddie pushed the chair; Odetta pumped it.
One of the gunslinger's revolvers was stuck in the waistband of Eddie's pants.
Do you remember when I told you to be on your guard and you weren't?
Yes.
I'm telling you again: Be on your guard. Every moment. If her other comes back, don't wait even a second. Brain her.
What if I kill her?
Then it's the end. But if she kills you, that's the end, too. And if she comes back she'll try. She'll try.
Eddie hadn't wanted to leave him. It wasn't just that cat-scream in the night (although he kept thinking about it); it was simply that Roland had become his only touchstone in this world. He and Odetta didn't belong here.
Still, he realized that the gunslinger had been right.
"Do you want to rest?" he asked Odetta. "There's more food. A little."
"Not yet," she answered, although her voice sounded tired. "Soon."
"All right, but at least stop pumping. You're weak. Your … your stomach, you know."
"All right." She turned, her face gleaming with sweat, and favored him with a smile that both weakened and strengthened him. He could have died for such a smile … and thought he would, if circumstances demanded.
He hoped to Christ circumstances wouldn't, but it surely wasn't out of the question. Time had become something so crucial it screamed.
She put her hands in her lap and he went on pushing. The tracks the chair left behind were now dimmer; the beach had become steadily firmer, but it was also littered with rubble that could cause an accident. You wouldn't have to help one happen at the speed they were going. A really bad accident might hurt Odetta and that would be bad; such an accident could also wreck the chair, and that would be bad for them and probably worse for the gunslinger, who would almost surely die alone. And if Roland died, they would be trapped in this world forever.
With Roland too sick and weak to walk, Eddie had been forced to face one simple fact: there were three people here, and two of them were cripples.
So what hope, what chance was there?
The chair.
The chair was the hope, the whole hope, and nothing but the hope.
So help them God.
2
The gunslinger had regained consciousness shortly after Eddie dragged him into the shade of a rock outcropping. His face, where it was not ashy, was a hectic red. His chest rose and fell rapidly. His right arm was a network of twisting red lines.
"Feed her," he croaked at Eddie.
"You—"
"Never mind me. I'll be all right. Feed her. She'll eat now, I think. And you'll need her strength."
"Roland, what if she's just pretending to be—"
The gunslinger gestured impatiently.
"She's not pretending to be anything, except alone in her body. I know it and you do, too. It's in her face. Feed her, for the sake of your father, and while she eats, come back to me. Every minute counts now. Every second."
Eddie got up, and the gunslinger pulled him back with his left hand. Sick or not, his strength was still there.
"And say nothing about the other. Whatever she tells you, however she explains, don't contradict her."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I just know it's wrong. Now do as I say and don't waste any more time!"
Odetta had been sitting in her chair, looking out at the sea with an expression of mild and bemused amazement. When Eddie offered her the chunks of lobster left over from the previous night, she smiled ruefully. "I would if I could," she said, "but you know what happens."
Eddie, who had no idea what she was talking about, could only shrug and say, "It wouldn't hurt to try again, Odetta. You need to eat, you know. We've got to go as fast as we can."
She laughed a little and touched his hand. He felt something like an electric charge jump from her to him. And it was her; Odetta. He knew it as well as Roland did.
"I love you, Eddie. You have tried so hard. Been so patient. So has he—" She nodded toward the place where the gunslinger lay propped against the rocks, watching. "—but he is a hard man to love."
"Yeah. Don't I know it."
"I'll try one more time.
"For you."
She smiled and he felt all the world move for her, because of her, and he thought Please God, I have never had much, so please don't take her away from me again. Please.
She took the chunks of lobster-meat, wrinkled her nose in a rueful comic expression, and looked up at him.
"Must I?"
"Just give it a shot," he said.
"I never ate scallops again," she said.
"Pardon?"
"I thought I told you."
"You might have," he said, and gave a little nervous laugh. What the gunslinger had said about not letting her know about the other loomed very large inside his mind just then.