“Echoing back,” Eddie murmured. “That’swhat it is.”
“Beg pardon, partner?” Dinky asked. Theywere once again standing on the path, looking down at the blue-roofed buildingsin the distance, and the tangle of stalled traincars, and the perfect littlevillage. Perfect, that was, until you remembered it was behind a triple run ofwire, one of those runs carrying an electrical charge strong enough to kill aman on contact.
“Nothing,” Eddie said. “What’s that smell?Any idea?”
Dinky shook his head, but pointed beyondthe prison compound in a direction that might or might not be south or east.“Something poison out there is all I know,” he said. “Once I asked Finli and hesaid there used to be factories in that direction. Positronics business. Youknow that name?”
“Yes. But who’s Finli?”
“Finli o’ Tego. The top security guy,Prentiss’s number one boy, also known as The Weasel. A taheen. Whatever yourplans are, you’ll have to go through him to make them work. And he won’t makeit easy for you. Seeing him stretched out dead on the ground would make me feellike it was a national holiday. By the way, my real name’s Richard Earnshaw.Pleased as hell to meetcha.” He put out his hand. Eddie shook it.
“I’m Eddie Dean. Known as Eddie of New Yorkout here west of the Pecos. The woman’s Susannah. My wife.”
Dinky nodded. “Uh-huh. And the boy’s Jake.Also of New York.”
“Jake Chambers, right. Listen, Rich—”
“I salute the effort,” he said, smiling,“but I’ve been Dinky too long to change now, I guess. And it could be worse. Iworked for awhile at the Supr Savr Supermarket with a twentysomething guy knownas JJ the Fuckin Blue Jay. People will still be calling him that when he’seighty and wearing a pee-bag.”
“Unless we’re brave, lucky, and good,”Eddie said, “nobody’s gonna see eighty. Not in this world or any of theothers.”
Dinky looked startled, then glum. “You gota point.”
“That guy Roland used to know looks bad,”Eddie said. “Did you see his eyes?”
Dinky nodded, glummer than ever. “I thinkthose little spots of blood in the whites are called petechiae. Something likethat.” Then, in a tone of apology Eddie found rather bizarre, under thecircumstances: “I don’t know if I’m saying that right.”
“I don’t care what you call them, it’s notgood. And him pitching a fit like that—”
“Not a very nice way to put it,” Dinkysaid.
Eddie didn’t give a shit if it was orwasn’t. “Has it ever happened to him before?”
Dinky’s eyes broke contact with Eddie’s andlooked down at his own shuffling feet, instead. Eddie thought that was answerenough.
“How many times?” Eddie hoped he didn’tsound as appalled as he felt. There were enough pinprick-sized blood-spots inthe whites of Sheemie’s eyes to make them look as if someone had flung paprikainto them. Not to mention the bigger ones in the corners.
Still without looking at him, Dinky raisedfour fingers.
“Four times?”
“Yuh,” Dinky said. He was still studyinghis makeshift mocs. “Starting with the time he sent Ted to Connecticut in 1960.It was like doing that ruptured something inside him.” He looked up, trying tosmile. “But he didn’t faint yesterday, when the three of us went back to theDevar.”
“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. Inthe prison down there, you guys have all sorts of venial sins, but only onemortal one: teleportation.”
Dinky considered this. The rules certainlyweren’t that liberal for the taheen and the can-toi; they could be exiled orlobotomized for all sorts of reasons, including such wrongs as negligence,teasing the Breakers, or the occasional act of outright cruelty. Once—sohe had been told—a Breaker had been raped by a low man, who was said tohave explained earnestly to the camp’s last Master that it was part of his becoming—theCrimson King himself had appeared to this fellow in a dream and told him to doit. For this the can-toi had been sentenced to death. The Breakers had beeninvited to attend his execution (accomplished by a single pistol-shot to thehead), which had taken place in the middle of Pleasantville’s Main Street.
Dinky told Eddie about this, then admittedthat yes, for the inmates, at least, teleportation was the only mortal sin.That he knew of, anyway.
“And Sheemie’s your teleport,” Eddie said.“You guys help him—facilitate for him, to use the Tedster’sword—and you cover up for him by fudging the records, somehow—”
“They have no idea how easy it is to cooktheir telemetry,” Dinky said, almost laughing. “Partner, they’d be shocked.The hard part is making sure we don’t tip over the whole works.”
Eddie didn’t care about that, either. Itworked. That was the only thing that mattered. Sheemie also worked… but for howlong?
“—but he’s the one who doesit,” Eddie finished. “Sheemie.”
“Yuh.”
“The only one who can do it.”
“Yuh.”
Eddie thought about their two tasks:freeing the Breakers (or killing them, if there was no other way to make themstop) and keeping the writer from being struck and killed by a minivan whiletaking a walk. Roland thought they might be able to accomplish both things, butthey’d need Sheemie’s teleportation ability at least twice. Plus, theirvisitors would have to get back inside the triple run of wire after today’spalaver was done, and presumably that meant he’d have to do it a third time.
“He says it doesn’t hurt,” Dinky said. “Ifthat’s what you’re worried about.”
Inside the cave the others laughed atsomething, Sheemie back to consciousness and taking nourishment, everyone thebest of friends.
“It’s not,” Eddie said. “What does Tedthink is happening to Sheemie when he teleports?”
“That he’s having brain hemorrhages,” Dinkysaid promptly. “Little tiny strokes on the surface of his brain.” He tapped afinger at different points on his own skull in demonstration. “Boink, boink,boink.”
“Is it getting worse? It is, isn’t it?”
“Look, if you think him jaunting us aroundis my idea, you better think again.”
Eddie raised one hand like a traffic cop.“No, no. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.” And what ourchances are.
“I hate using him that way!” Dinky burstout. He kept his voice pitched low, so those in the cave wouldn’t hear, butEddie never for a moment considered that he was exaggerating. Dinky was badlyupset. “He doesn’t mind—he wants to do it—and that makes itworse, not better. The way he looks at Ted…” He shrugged. “It’s the way a dog’dlook at the best master in the universe. He looks at your dinh the same way, asI’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“He’s doing it for my dinh,” Eddiesaid, “and that makes it okay. You may not believe that, Dink, but—”
“But you do.”
“Totally. Now here’s the really importantquestion: does Ted have any idea how long Sheemie can last? Keeping in mindthat now he’s got a little more help at this end?”
Who you tryin to cheer up, bro?Henry spoke up suddenly inside his head. Cynical as always. Him or yourself?
Dinky was looking at Eddie as if he werecrazy, or soft in the head, at least. “Ted was an accountant. Sometimes atutor. A day-laborer when he couldn’t get anything better. He’s no doctor.”
But Eddie kept pushing. “What does hethink?”
Dinky paused. The wind blew. The musicwafted. Farther away, thunder mumbled out of the murk. At last he said: “Threeor four times, maybe… but the effects are getting worse. Maybe only twice. Butthere are no guarantees, okay? He could drop dead of a massive stroke the nexttime he bears down to make that hole we go through.”
Eddie tried to think of another questionand couldn’t. That last answer pretty well covered the waterfront, and whenSusannah called them back inside, he was more than glad to go.
Four
Sheemie Ruiz had rediscovered his appetite,which all of them took as a good sign, and was tucking in happily. Thebloodspots in his eyes had faded somewhat, but were still clearly visible.Eddie wondered what the guards back in Blue Heaven would make of those if theynoticed them, and also wondered if Sheemie could wear a pair of sunglasseswithout exciting comment.