Jake was seized by an awful, throat-closing panic. His body suddenly seemed too heavy, as if it were being tugged by the gravity of a giant planet like Jupiter or Saturn. He couldn’t breathe; his chest lay perfecdy flat.
This is what Goldilocks would have felt like, he thought in a faint and distant way, if she had awakened in the little bed that was just right to hear the Three Bears coming back in downstairs. He hadn’t eaten the porridge, he hadn’t broken Baby Bear’s chair, but he now knew too many secrets. They boiled down to one secret. One monstrous secret.
Now they were coming down the road. Coming to the Dogan.
Oy was looking up at him anxiously, his long neck stretched to the max, but Jake could barely see him. Black flowers were blooming in front of his eyes. Soon he would faint. They would find him stretched out here on the floor. Oy might try to protect him, but if Andy didn’t take care of the bumbler, Ben Slightman would.
There were four dead rock-cats out there and Benny’s Da’ had dispatched at least one of them with his trusty bah. One small barking billy-bumbler would be no problem for him. Would you be so cowardly, then ?
Roland asked inside his head. But why would they kill such a coward as you ? Why would they not just send you west with the broken ones who have forgotten the faces of their fathers?
That brought him back. Most of the way, at least. He took a huge breath, yanking in air until the bottoms of his lungs hurt. He let it out in an explosive whoosh. Then he slapped himself across the face, good and hard.
” Ake! ” Oy cried in a reproving—almost shocked—voice.
“S’okay,” Jake said. He looked at the monitors showing the galley and the bunkroom and decided on the latter. There was nothing to hide behind or under in the galley. There might be a closet, but what if there wasn’t? He’d be screwed.
“Oy, to me,” he said, and crossed the humming room beneath the bright white lights.
TEN
The bunkroom held the ghostly aroma of ancient spices: cinnamon and clove. Jake wondered—in a distracted, back-of-the-mind way—if the tombs beneath the Pyramids had smelled this way when the first explorers had broken into them. From the upper bunk in the corner, the reclining skeleton grinned at him, as if in welcome. Feel like a nap, little trailhand? I’m taking a long one! It’s ribcage shimmered with silky overlays of spiderweb, and Jake wondered in that same distracted way how many generations of spider-babies had been born in that empty cavity. On another pillow lay a jawbone, prodding a ghostly, ghastly memory from the back of the boy’s mind. Once, in a world where he had died, the gunslinger had found a bone like that. And used it
The forefront of his mind pounded with two cold questions and one even colder resolve. The questions were how long it would take them to get here and whether or not they would discover his pony. If Slightman had been riding a horse of his own, Jake was sure the amiable little pony would have whinnied a greeting already.
Luckily, Slightman was on foot, as he had been last time. Jake would have come on foot himself, had he known his goal was less than a mile east of the river. Of course, when he’d snuck away from the Rocking B, he hadn’t even been sure that he had a goal.
The resolve was to kill both the tin-man and the flesh-and-blood man if he was discovered. If he could, that was. Andy might be tough, but those bulging blue-glass eyes looked like a weak point. If he could blind him
—
There’ll be water if God wills it, said the gunslinger who now always lived in his head, for good and ill. Your job now is to hide if you can. Where?
Not in the bunks. All of them were visible in the monitor covering this room and there was no way he could impersonate a skeleton. Under one of the two bunk-stacks at the rear? Risky, but it would serve… unless…
Jake spied another door. He sprang forward, depressed the lever-handle, and pulled the door open. It was a closet, and closets made fine hiding places, but this one was filled with jumbles of dusty electronic equipment, top to bottom. Some of it fell out.
“Beans!” he whispered in a low, urgent voice. He picked up what had fallen, tossed it high and low, then shut the closet door again. Okay, it would have to be under one of the beds—
“WELCOME TO ARC QUADRANT OUTPOST 16,” boomed the recorded voice. Jake flinched, and saw another door, this one to his left and standing partway open. Try the door or squeeze under one of the two tiers of bunks at the rear of the room? He had time to try one bolthole or the other, but not both. “THIS IS A MEDIUM SECURITY OUTPOST.”
Jake went for the door, and it was just as well he went when he did, because Slightman didn’t let the recording finish its spiel. “Ninety-nine,” came his voice from the loudspeakers, and the recording thanked him.
It was another closet, this one empty except for two or three moldering shirts in one corner and a dust-caked poncho slumped on a hook. The air was almost as dusty as the poncho, and Oy uttered three fast, delicate sneezes as he padded in.
Jake dropped to one knee and put an arm around Oy’s slender neck. “No more of that unless you want to get us both killed,” he said. “You be quiet, Oy.”
“Kiyit Oy,” the bumbler whispered back, and winked. Jake reached up and pulled the door back to within two inches of shut, as it had been before. He hoped.
ELEVEN
He could hear them quite clearly— too clearly. Jake realized there were mikes and speakers all over this place. The idea did nothing for his peace of mind. Because if he and Oy could hear them…
It was the cactuses they were talking about, or rather that Slightman was talking about. He called them boom-flurry, and wanted to know what had gotten them all fashed.
“Almost certainly more rock-cats, sai,” Andy said in his complacent, slightly prissy voice. Eddie said Andy reminded him of a robot named C3PO in Star Wars, a movie to which Jake had been looking forward. He had missed it by less than a month. “It’s their mating season, you know.”
“Piss on that,” Slightman said. “Are you telling me boom-flurry don’t know rock-cats from something they can actually catch and eat? Someone’s been out here, I tell you. And not long since.”
A cold thought slipped into Jake’s mind: had the floor of the Dogan been dusty? He’d been too busy gawking at the control panels and TV monitors to notice. If he and Oy had left tracks, those two might have noticed already. They might only be pretending to have a conversation about the cactuses while they actually crept toward the bunkroom door.
Jake took the Ruger out of the docker’s clutch and held it in his right hand with his thumb on the safety.
“A guilty conscience doth make cowards of us all,” Andy said in his complacent, just-thought-you’d-like-to-know voice. “That’s my free adaptation of a—”
“Shut up, you bag of bolts and wires,” Slightman snarled. “I—” Then he screamed. Jake felt Oy stiffen against him, felt his fur begin to rise. The bumbler started to growl. Jake slipped a hand around his snout.
“Let go!” Slightman cried out. “Let go of me!”
“Of course, sai Slightman,” Andy said, now sounding solicitous. “I only pressed a small nerve in your elbow, you know. There would be no lasting damage unless I applied at least twenty foot-pounds of pressure.”
“Why in the hell would you do that?” Slightman sounded injured, almost whiny. “En’t I doing all you could want, and more? En’t I risking my life for my boy?”
“Not to mention a few little extras,” Andy said silkily. “Your spectacles… the music machine you keep deep down in your saddlebag… and, of course—”
“You know why I’m doing it and what’d happen to me if I was found out,” Slightman said. The whine had gone out of his voice. Now he sounded dignified and a little weary. Jake listened to that tone with growing dismay. If he got out of this and had to squeal on Benny’s Da’, he wanted to squeal on a villain. “Yar, I’ve taken a few little extras, you say true, I say thankya. Glasses, so I can see better to betray the people I’ve known all my life. A music machine so I won’t have to hear the conscience you prate about so easy and can get to sleep at night. Then you pinch something in my arm that makes me feel like my by-Riza eyes are going to fall right out of my by-Riza head.'”