3. Then, instead of returning the jacket to wherever Ralph had left it, Old Dor had hung it neatly on the coat-tree. With that accomplished (done-bun-can'the-undone) he had returned to the porch to wait.
Last night Ralph had given McGovern a scolding for leaving the front door unlocked again, and McGovern had borne it as patiently as Ralph himself had borne Carolyn's scoldings about tossing his jacket onto the nearest chair when he came in instead of hanging it up, but now Ralph found himself wondering if he hadn't accused Bill unjustly.
Perhaps Old Dor had picked the lock... or witched it. Under the circumstances, witchery seemed the more likely choice. Because...
"Because look," Ralph said in a low voice, mechanically scooping his pocket-litter up from the top of the TV and dumping it back into his pockets. "It isn't just like he knew I'd need the Stuff; he knew where to find it, and he knew where to put it."
A chill zigzagged up his back at that, and his mind tried to gavel the whole idea down-to label it mad, illogical, just the sort of thing a man with a grade-a case of insomnia would think up. Maybe so.
But that didn't explain the scrap of paper, did it?
He looked at the scrawled words on the blue-lined sheet again-Each thing I do I rush through so I can do something else. That wasn't his handwriting any more than Cemetery Nights was his book.
"Except it is now; Dor gave it to me," Ralph said, and the chill raced up his back again, jagged as a crack in a windshield.
And what other explanation comes to mind? That can didn't just fly into your pocket. The sheet of notepaper, either.
That sense of being pushed by invisible hands toward the maw of some dark tunnel had returned. Feeling like a man in a dream, Ralph walked back toward the kitchen. On the way he slipped out of the gray jacket and tossed it over the arm of the couch without even thinking about it.
He stood in the doorway for some time, looking fixedly at the calendar with its picture of two laughing boys carving a jack-o'-lantern. Looking at tomorrow's date, which was circled.
Cancel the appointment with the pin-sticker man, Dorrance had said; that was the message, and today the knife-sticker man had more or less underlined it. Hell, lit it in neon.
Ralph hunted out a number in the Yellow Pages and dialed it.
"You have reached the office of Dr. James Roy Hong," a pleasant female voice informed him. "There is no one available to take your call right now, so please leave a message at the sound of the tone.
We will get back to you just as soon as possible."
The answering machine beeped. In a voice which surprised him with its steadiness, Ralph said: "This is Ralph Roberts. I'm scheduled to come in tomorrow at ten o'clock. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it. Something has come up. Thank you." He paused, then added: "I'll pay for the appointment, of course."
He shut his eyes and groped the phone back into the cradle. Then he leaned his forehead against the wall.
What are you doing, Ralph? What in God's name do you think you're doing?
"It's a long walk back to Eden, sweetheart."
You can't seriously think whatever you're thinking... can you?
"... a long walk, so don't sweat the small stuff What exactly are you thinking, Ralph?
He didn't know; he didn't have the slightest idea. Something about fate, he supposed, and appointments in Samarra. He only knew for sure that rings of pain were spreading out from the little hole in his left side, the hole the knife-sticker man had made. The E.M.T had given him half a dozen pain-pills and he supposed he should take one, but just now he felt too tired to go to the sink and draw a glass of water... and if he was too tired to cross one shitty little room, how the hell would he ever make the long walk back to Eden?
Ralph didn't know, and for the time being he didn't care. He only wanted to stand where he was, with his forehead against the wall and his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to look at anything.
Part I LITTLE BALD DOCTORS CHAPTER 8
The beach was a long white edging, like a flirt Of silk slip at the hem of the bright blue sea, and it was totally empty except for a round object about seventy yards away. This round