convinced; their faces were squinched up as if someone had just touched a match to a
cherry bomb with a short fuse.
Ace slowly got control of himself. The muscles in his face tightened again, his
lips pressed together, and he looked at Chris the way you’d look at a man who has
made a serious business proposition–to merge with your company, or handle your
line of credit, or shoot your balls off. It was a waiting, almost curious expression, one that made you know that the terror was either gone or tightly lidded. Ace had
recomputed the odds on not getting shot and had decided that they weren’t as much in
his favour as he had thought. But he was still dangerous–maybe more than before.
Since then I’ve thought it was the rawest piece of brinkmanship I’ve ever seen. Neither of them was bluffing; they both meant business.
‘All right,’ Ace said softly, speaking to Chris. ‘But I know how you’re going to come out of this, motherfuck.’
‘No you don’t,’ Chris said.
‘You little prick!’ Eyeball said loudly. ‘You’re gonna wind up in traction for
this!’
‘Bite my bag,’ Chris told him.
With an inarticulate sound of rage Eyeball started forward and Chris put a
bullet into the water about ten feet in front of him. It kicked up a splash. Eyeball
jumped back, cursing.
‘Okay, now what?’ Ace asked.
‘Now you guys get into your cars and bomb on back to Castle Rock. After that
I don’t care. But you ain’t getting him.’ He touched Ray Brower lightly, almost
reverently, with the toe of one sopping sneaker. ‘You dig me?’
‘But we’ll get you,’ Ace said. He was starting to smile again. ‘Don’t you know
that?’
‘We’ll get you hard,’ Ace said, smiling. ‘We’ll hurt you. I can’t believe you
don’t know that. We’ll put you all in the fuckin’ hospital with fuckin’ ruptures.
Sincerely.’
‘Oh, why don’t you go home and fuck your mother some more? I hear she
loves the way you do it’
Ace’s smile froze. ‘I’ll kill you for that. Nobody ranks my mother.’
‘I heard your mother fucks for bucks,’ Chris informed him, and as Ace began
to pale, as his complexion began to approach Chris’s own ghastly whiteness, he added:
‘In fact, I heard she throws blowjobs for jukebox nickels. I heard -‘
Then the storm came back, viciously, all at once. Only this time it was hail
instead of rain. Instead of whispering or talking, the woods now seemed alive with
hokey B-movie jungle drums–it was the sound of big ice hailstones bonking off
treetrunks. Stinging pebbles began to hit my shoulders–it felt as if some sentient,
malevolent force was throwing them. Worse than that, they began to strike Ray
Brower’s upturned face with an awful splatting sound that reminded us of him again,
of his terrible and unending patience.
Vern caved in first, with a wailing scream. He fled up the embankment in huge,
gangling strides. Teddy held out a minute longer, then ran after Vern, his hands held
up over his head. On their side, Vince Desjardins floundered back under some nearby
trees and Fuzzy Brackowicz joined him. But the others stood pat, and Ace began to
grin again.
‘Stick with me, Gordie,” Chris said in a low, shaky voice. ‘Stick with me, man.’
‘I’m right here.’
‘Go on, now,’ Chris said to Ace, and he was able, by some magic, to get the
shakiness out of his voice. He sounded as if he was instructing a stupid infant.
‘Well get you,’ Ace said. ‘We’re not going to forget it, if that’s what you’re
thinking. This is big time, baby.’
“That’s fine. You just go on and do your getting another day.’
‘Well fuckin’ ambush you, Chambers. We’ll -‘
‘Get out!’ Chris screamed, and levelled the gun. Ace stepped back.
He looked at Chris a moment longer, nodded, then turned around. ‘Come on,’
he said to the others. He looked back over his shoulder at Chris and me once more.
‘Be seeing you.’
They went back into the screen of trees between the bog and the road. Chris
and I stood perfectly still in spite of the hail that was welting us, reddening our skins,