There were seven windows, now showing0 00 00 00 . Beneath each was a button so small
that you’d need something like the end of a straightened paperclip to push it. “The size of a bug’s asshole,” as Eddie grumbled later on, while trying to program one. To the right of the
windows were another two buttons, these markedS andW .
Jake showed it to Roland. “This one’sSET and the other one’sWAIT . Do you think so? I
think so.”
Roland nodded. He’d never seen such a weapon before—not close up, at any rate—but,
coupled with the windows, he thought the use of the buttons was obvious. And he thought
the sneetches might be useful in a way the long-shooters with their atom-shells would not
be.SET andWAIT .
SET…andWAIT .
“Did Ted and his two pals leave all this stuff for us here?” Susannah asked.
Roland hardly thought it mattered who’d left it—it was here and that was enough—but he
nodded.
“How? And where’d they get it?”
Roland didn’t know. What he did know was that the cave was a ma’sun—a war-chest.
Below them, men were making war on the Tower which the line of Eld was sworn to
protect. He and his tet would fall upon them by surprise, and with these tools they would
smite and smite until their enemies lay with their boots pointed to the sky.
Or until theirs did.
“Maybe he explains on one of the tapes he left us,” Jake said. He had engaged the safety of
his new Cobra automatic and tucked it away in the shoulder-bag with the remaining Orizas.
Susannah had also helped herself to one of the Cobras, after twirling it around her finger a
time or two, like Annie Oakley.
“Maybe he does,” she said, and gave Jake a smile. It had been a long time since Susannah
had felt so physically well. Sonot-preg . Yet her mind was troubled. Or perhaps it was her
spirit.
Eddie was holding up a piece of cloth that had been rolled into a tube and tied with three
hanks of string. “That guy Ted said he was leaving us a map of the prison-camp. Bet this is
it. Anyone ’sides me want a look?”
They all did. Jake helped Eddie to unroll the map. Brautigan had warned them it was rough,
and it surely was: really no more than a series of circles and squares. Susannah saw the name of the little town—Pleasantville—and thought again of Ray Bradbury. Jake was
tickled by the crude compass, where the map-maker had added a question mark beside the
letterN .
While they were studying this hastily rendered example of cartography, a long and
wavering cry rose in the murk outside. Eddie, Susannah, and Jake looked around nervously.
Oy raised his head from his paws, gave a low, brief growl, then put his head back down
again and appeared to go to sleep:Hell wit’choo, bad boy, I’m wit’ my homies and I ain’t
ascairt.
“What is it?” Eddie asked. “A coyote? A jackal?”
“Some kind of desert dog,” Roland agreed absently. He was squatted on his hunkers
(which suggested his hip was better, at least temporarily) with his arms wrapped around his
shins. He never took his eyes from the crude circles and squares drawn on the cloth.
“Can-toi-tete.”
“Is that likeDan -Tete?” Jake asked.
Roland ignored him. He scooped up the map and left the cave with it, not looking back.
The others shared a glance and then followed him, once more wrapping their blankets
about them like shawls.
Three
Roland returned to where Sheemie (with a little help from his friends) had brought them
through. This time the gunslinger used the binoculars, looking down at Blue Heaven long
and long. Somewhere behind them, the desert dog howled again, a lonely sound in the
gloom.
And, Jake thought, the gloom was gloomier now. Your eyes adjusted as the day dialed
itself down, but that brilliant spotlight of sun seemed brighter than ever by contrast. He was pretty sure the deal with the sun-machine was that you got your full-on, your full-off, and
nothing in between. Maybe they even let it shine all night, but Jake doubted it. People’s
nervous systems were set up for an orderly progression of dark and day, he’d learned that
in science class. You could make do with long periods of low light—people did it every
year in the Arctic countries—but it could really mess with your head. Jake didn’t think the
guys in charge down there would want to goof up their Breakers if they could help it. Also,
they’d want to save their “sun” for as long as they could; everything here was old and prone
to breakdowns.
At last Roland gave the binoculars to Susannah. “Do look ya especially at the buildings on
either end of the grassy rectangle.” He unrolled the map like a character about to read a
scroll in a stage-play, glanced at it briefly, and then said, “They’re numbered 2 and 3 on the map.”
Susannah studied them carefully. The one marked 2, the Warden’s House, was a small Cape Cod painted electric blue with white trim. It was what her mother might have called a
fairy-tale house, because of the bright colors and the gingerbread scalloping around the
eaves.
Damli House was much bigger, and as she looked, she saw several people going in and out.
Some had the carefree look of civilians. Others seemed much more—oh, call it watchful.
And she saw two or three slumping along under loads of stuff. She handed the glasses to
Eddie and asked him if those were Children of Roderick.
“I think so,” he said, “but I can’t be completely—”
“Never mind the Rods,” Roland said, “not now. What do you think of those two buildings,
Susannah?”
“Well,” she said, proceeding carefully (she did not, in fact, have the slightest idea what it was he wanted from her), “they’re both beautifully maintained, especially compared to
some of the falling-down wrecks we’ve seen on our travels. The one they call Damli House
is especially handsome. It’s a style we call Queen Anne, and—”
“Are they of wood, do you think, or just made to look that way? I’m particularly interested
in the one called Damli.”
Susannah redirected the binoculars there, then handed them to Eddie. He looked, then
handed them to Jake. While Jake was looking, there was an audibleCLICK! sound that
rolled to them across the miles…and the Cecil B. DeMille sunbeam which had been
shining down on the Devar-Toi like a spotlight went out, leaving them in a thick purple
dusk which would soon be complete and utter dark.
In it, the desert-dog began to howl again, raising the skin on Jake’s arms into gooseflesh.
The sound rose…rose…and suddenly cut off with one final choked syllable. It sounded
like some final cry of surprise, and Jake had no doubt that the desert-dog was dead.
Something had crept up behind it, and when the big overhead light went out—
There were still lights on down there, he saw: a double white row that might have been
streetlights in “Pleasantville,” yellow circles that were probably arc-sodiums along the
various paths of what Susannah was calling Breaker U…and spotlights running random
patterns across the dark.
No,Jake thought,not spotlights. Searchlights .Like in a prison movie. “Let’s go back,” he
said. “There’s nothing to see anymore, and I don’t like it out here in the dark.”
Roland agreed. They followed him in single file, with Eddie carrying Susannah and Jake
walking behind them with Oy at his heel. He kept expecting a second desert-dog to take up
the cry of the first, but none did.
Four
“They were wood,” Jake said. He was sitting cross-legged beneath one of the gas lanterns,
letting its welcome white glow shine down on his face.
“Wood,” Eddie agreed.
Susannah hesitated a moment, sensing it was a question of real importance and reviewing
what she had seen. Then she also nodded. “Wood, I’m almost positive.Especially the one
they call Damli House. A Queen Anne built out of stone or brick and camouflaged to look
like wood? It makes no sense.”
“If it fools wandering folk who’d burn it down,” Roland said, “it does. It does make
sense.”
Susannah thought about it. He was right, of course, but—
“I still say wood.”
Roland nodded. “So do I.” He had found a large green bottle markedPERRIER . Now he
opened it and ascertained that Perrier was water. He took five cups and poured a measure
into each. He set them down in front of Jake, Susannah, Eddie, Oy, and himself.
“Do you call me dinh?” he asked Eddie.
“Yes, Roland, you know I do.”
“Will you share khef with me, and drink this water?”
“Yes, if you like.” Eddie had been smiling, but now he wasn’t. The feeling was back, and
it was strong. Ka-shume, a rueful word he did not yet know.
“Drink, bondsman.”
Eddie didn’t exactly like being called bondsman, but he drank his water. Roland knelt