hand went out, lightning-quick but oddly delicate, and stole the ball. He easily ducked
under Henry’s outstretched, flailing arm and went for the basket. Henry dogged him,
frowning thunderously, but he might as well have been taking a nap. Eddie went up, knees
bent, feet neatly cocked, and laid the ball in. Henry grabbed it and dribbled out to the stripe.
Shouldn’t have done that, Eddie, Jake thought. He was standing just beyond the place
where the fence ended, watching the two boys. This seemed safe enough, at least for the
moment. He was wearing his dad’s sunglasses, and the two boys were so involved in what
they were doing that they wouldn’t have noticed if President Carter had strolled up to watch.
Jake doubted if Henry knew who President Carter was, anyway.
He expected Henry to foul his brother, perhaps heavily, as a payback for the steal, but he
had underestimated Eddie’s guile. Henry offered a head-fake that wouldn’t have fooled
Jake’s mother, but Eddie appeared to fall for it. Henry broke past him and drove for the
basket, gaily travel- ling the ball most of the way. Jake was quite sure Eddie could have
caught him easily and stolen the ball again, but instead of doing so, the lad hung back.
Henry laid it up—clumsily—and the ball bounced off the rim again. Eddie grabbed it …
and then let it squirt through his fingers. Henry snatched it, turned, and put it through the
netless hoop.
“One-up,” Henry panted. “Play to twelve?”
“Sure.”
Jake had seen enough. It would be close, but in the end Henry would win. Eddie would see
to it. It would do more than save him from getting lumped up; it would put Henry in a good
mood, making him more agreeable to whatever it was Eddie wanted to do.
Hey Moose—I think your little brother has been playing you like a violin for a long time
now, and you don’t have the slightest idea, do you?
He drew back until the apartment building which stood at the north end of the court cut off
his view of the Dean brothers, and their view of him. He leaned against the wall and
listened to the thump of the ball on the court. Soon Henry was puffing like Charlie the
Choo-Choo going up a steep hill. He would be a smoker, of course; guys like Henry were
always smokers.
The game took almost ten minutes, and by the time Henry claimed victory, the street was
filled up with other home-going kids. A few gave Jake curious glances as they passed by.
“Good game, Henry,” Eddie said.
“Not bad,” Henry panted. “You’re still falling for the old head-fake.”
Sure he is, Jake thought. I think he’ll go on falling for it until he’s gained about eighty
pounds. Then you might get a surprise.
“I guess I am. Hey, Henry, can’t we please go look at the place?”
“Yeah, why not? Let’s do it.”
“All right\” Eddie yelled. There was the smacking sound of flesh on flesh; probably Eddie giving his brother a high-five. “Boss!”
“You go on up to the apartment. Tell Mom we’ll be in by four-thirty, quarter of five. But
don’t say anything about The Mansion. She’d have a shit-fit. She thinks it’s haunted, too.”
“You want me to tell her we’re going over Dewey’s?”
Silence as Henry considered this. “Naw. She might call Mrs. Bunkowski. Tell her . . . tell
her we’re goin down to Dahlie’s to get Hoodsie Rockets. She’ll believe that. Ask her for a
coupla bucks, too.”
“She won’t give me any money. Not two days before payday.”
“Bullshit. You can get it out of her. Go on, now.”
“Okay.” But Jake didn’t hear Eddie moving. “Henry?”
“What?” Impatiently.
“Is The Mansion haunted, do you think?”
Jake sidled a little closer to the playground. He didn’t want to be noticed, but he strongly
felt that he needed to hear this.
“Naw. There ain’t no real haunted houses—just in the fuckin movies.”
“Oh.” There was unmistakable relief in Eddie’s voice.
“But if there ever was one,” Henry resumed (perhaps he didn’t want his little brother
feeling too relieved, Jake thought), “it’d be The Mansion. I heard that a couple of years ago, two kids from Norwood Street went in there to bump uglies and the cops found em with
their throats cut and all the blood drained out of their bodies. But there wasn’t any blood on
em or around em. Get it? The blood was all gone.”
“You shittin me?” Eddie breathed.
“Nope. But that wasn’t the worst thing.”
“What was?”
“Their hair was dead white,” Henry said. The voice that drifted to Jake was solemn. He had an idea that Henry wasn’t teasing this time, that this time he believed every word he
was saying. (He also doubted that Henry had brains enough to make such a story up.) “Both
of em. And their eyes were wide open and staring, like they saw the most gross-awful thing
in the world.”
“Aw, gimme a break,” Eddie said, but his voice was soft, awed.
“You still wanna go?”
“Sure. As long as we don’t . . . you know, hafta get too close.”
“Then go see Mom. And try to get a couple of bucks out of her. I need cigarettes. Take the
fuckin ball up, too.”
Jake drifted backward and stepped into the nearest apartment build- ing entryway just as
Eddie came out through the playground gate.
To his horror, the boy in the yellow T-shirt turned in Jake’s direc- tion. Holy crow! he
thought, dismayed. What if this is his building?
It was. Jake just had time to turn around and began to scan the names beside the rank of
buzzers before Eddie Dean brushed past him, so close that Jake could smell the sweat he
had worked up on the basket- ball court. He half-sensed, half-saw the curious glance the
boy tossed in his direction. Then Eddie was in the lobby and headed for the elevators with
his school-pants bundled under one arm and the scuffed basketball under the other.
Jake’s heart was thudding heavily in his chest. Shadowing people was a lot harder in real
life than it was in the detective novels he some- times read. He crossed the street and stood
between two apartment buildings half a block up. From here he could see both the entrance
to the Dean brothers’ building and the playground. The playground was filling up now,
mostly with little kids. Henry leaned against the chainlink, smoking a cigarette and trying
to look full of teenage angst. Every now and then he would stick out a foot as one of the
little kids bolted toward him at an all-out run, and before Eddie returned, he had succeeded
in tripping three of them. The last of these went sprawling full-length, smacking his face on
the concrete, and ran wailing up the street with a bloody forehead. Henry flicked his
cigarette butt after him and laughed cheerfully.
Just an all-around fun guy, Jake thought.
After that, the little lads wised up and began giving him a wide berth. Henry strolled out of
the playground and down the street to the apartment building Eddie had entered five minutes before. As he reached it, the door opened and Eddie came out. He had changed
into a pair of jeans and a fresh T-shirt; he had also tied a green bandanna, the same one he
had been wearing in Jake’s dream, around his forehead. He was waving a couple of dollar
bills triumphantly. Henry snatched them, then asked Eddie something. Eddie nodded, and
the two boys set off.
Keeping half a block between himself and them, Jake followed.
23
THEY STOOD IN THE high grass at the edge of the Great Road, looking at the speaking
ring.
Stonehenge, Susannah thought, and shuddered. That’s what it looks like. Stonehenge.
Although the thick grass which covered the plain grew around the bases of the tall gray
monoliths, the circle they enclosed was bare earth, littered here and there with white things.
“What are those?” she asked in a low voice. “Chips of stone?”
“Look again,” Roland said.
She did, and saw that they were bones. The bones of small animals, maybe. She hoped.
Eddie switched the sharpened stick to his left hand, dried the palm of his right against his
shirt, and then switched it back again. He opened his mouth, but no sound came from his
dry throat. He cleared it and tried again. “I think I’m supposed to go in and draw something in the dirt.”
Roland nodded. “Now?”
“Soon.” He looked into Roland’s face. “There’s something here, isn’t there? Something we can’t see.”
“It’s not here right now,” Roland said. “At least, I don’t think it is. But it will come. Our khef—our life-force—will draw it. And, of course, it will be jealous of its place. Give me
my gun back, Eddie.”
Eddie unbuckled the belt and handed it over. Then he turned back to the circle of