in the time of Christ. Only now it's the murder of the unborn. Not just here, but all over the world. They've been slaughtering them by their thousands, Ralph, by their Millions, and do you know why? Do you know why we'vere-entered the Court of the Crimson King in this new age of darkness?"
Ralph knew. It wasn't that hard to Put together, if you had enough pieces to work with. If you had seen Ed with his arm buried in a barrel of chemical fertilizer, fishing around for the dead babies he had been sure he would find.
"King Herod got a little advance word this time around," Ralph said. "That's what you're telling me, isn't it? It's the old Messiah thing, right?"
He sat up, half-expecting Ed to shove him down again, almost hoping he would. His anger was coming back. It was surely wrong to critique a madman's delusional fantasies the way you might a play or a movie-maybe even blasphemous-but Ralph found the idea that Helen had been beaten because of such hackneyed old shit as this infuriating.
Ed didn't touch him, merely got to his feet and dusted his hands,all in businesslike fashion. He seemed to be cooling down again.
Radio calls crackled louder as the Police cruiser which had backed out of the Red Apple's lot now glided up to the curb. Ed looked at the cruiser, then back at Ralph, why was getting up himself.
"You can mock, but it's true," he said quietly. "It's not King Herod, though-it's the Crimson King. Herod was merely one of his incarnations. The Crimson King jumps from body to body and generation to generation like a kid using stepping-stones to cross a brook, Ralph, always looking for the Messiah. He's always missed him, but this time it could be different. Because Derry's different.
All lines of force have begun to converge here. I know how difficult that is to believe, but it's true."
The Crimson King, Ralph thought. Oh Helen, I'm so sorry. What a sad thing this is.
Two men-one in uniform, one in streetclothes, both presumably cops-got out of the Police car and approached McGovern. Behind them, down at the store, Ralph spotted two more men, these dressed in white pants and white short-sleeved shirts, coming out of the Red Apple. One had his arm around Helen, who was walking with the fragile care of a post-op patient. The other was holding Natalie.
The paramedics helped Helen into the back of the ambulance.
The one with the baby cot in after her while the other moved toward the driver's seat. What Ralph sensed in their movements was competency rather than urgency, and he thought that was good news for Helen. Maybe Ed hadn't hurt her too badly... this time, at least.
The plain-clothes cop-burly, broad-shouldered, and wearing his blond mustache and sideburns in a style Ralph thought of as Early American Singles Bar-had approached McGovern, whom he seemed to recognize. There was a big grin on the plain-clothes cop's face.
Ed put an arm over Ralph's shoulders and pulled him a few steps away from the men on the sidewalk. He also dropped his voice to a bare murmur. "Don't want them to hear us," he said.
"I'm sure you don't."
"These creatures... Centurions... servants of the Crimson King... will stop at nothing. They are relentless."
"I'll bet." Ralph glanced over his shoulder in time to see McGovern point at Ed. The burly man nodded calmly. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his chinos. He was still wearing a small, benign smile.
I don't get that idea! Not anymore.
"This isn't just about abortion, They're taking the unborn from all kinds of mothers, not just the junkies and the whores-eight days, eight weeks, eight months, it's all the same to the Centurions. The harvest goes on day and night.
The slaughter. I've seen the corpses of infants on roofs, Ralph.
"... under hedges... they're in the sewers... floating in the sewers and in the Kenduskeag down in the Barrens..."
His eyes, huge and green, as bright as trumpery emeralds, stared off into the distance.
"Ralph," he whispered, "sometimes the world is full of colors. I've seen them since he came and told me. But now all the colors are turning black."
"Since who came and told you, Ed?"
"We'll talk about it later," Ed. replied, speaking out of the corner of his mouth like a con in a prison movie. Under other circumstances it would have been funny.
A big game-show host grin dawned on his face, banishing the madness as convincingly as sunrise banishes night. The