She grunted and adjusted the belt, settling the gunbutt so it was easily accessible to her right hand. “I’m slowing you boys down and I know that . . . but if we ever make it to some good old two-lane blacktop, I’ll leave the both of you kneelin in the blocks.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Roland said . . . and then cocked his head. The woods had fallen silent.
“Br’er Bear has finally given up,” Susannah said. “Praise God.”
“I thought it still had seven minutes to go,” Eddie said.
Roland adjusted the straps of the harness. “Its clock must have started running a little slow during the last five or six hundred years.”
“You really think it was that old, Roland?”
Roland nodded. “At least. And now it’s passed . . . the last of the Twelve Guardians, for all we know.”
“Yeah, ask me if I give a shit,” Eddie replied, and Susannah laughed.
“Are you comfortable?” Roland asked her.
“No. My butt hurts already, but go on. Just try not to drop me.”
Roland nodded and started down the slope. Eddie followed, pushing the empty chair and trying not to bang it too badly on the rocks which had begun to jut out of the ground like big white knuckles. Now that the bear had finally shut up, he thought the forest seemed much too quiet—it almost made him feel like a character in one of those hokey old jungle movies about cannibals and giant apes.
23
THE BEAR’S BACKTRAIL WAS easy to find but tougher to follow. Five miles or so out of the clearing, it led them through a low, boggy area that was not quite a swamp. By the time the ground began to rise and firm up a little again, Roland’s faded jeans were soaked to the knees and he was breathing in long, steady rasps. Still, he was in slightly better shape than Eddie, who had found wrestling Susannah’s wheelchair through the muck and standing water hard going.
“Time to rest and eat something,” Roland said.
“Oh boy, gimme eats,” Eddie puffed. He helped Susannah out of the harness and set her down on the bole of a fallen tree with claw-marks slashed into its trunk in long diagonal grooves. Then he half-sat, half-collapsed next to her.
“You got my wheelchair pretty muddy, white boy,” Susannah said. “It’s all goan be in my repote.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Next carwash we come to, I’ll push you through myself. I’ll even Turtle-wax the goddamn thing. Okay?”
She smiled. “You got a date, handsome.”
Eddie had one of Roland’s waterskins cinched around his waist. He tapped it. “Okay?”
“Yes,” Roland said. “Not too much now; a little more for all of us before we set out again. That way no one takes a cramp.”
“Roland, Eagle Scout of Oz,” Eddie said, and giggled as he unslung the waterskin.
“What is this Oz?”
“A make-believe place in a movie,” Susannah said.
“Oz was a lot more than that. My brother Henry used to read me the stories once in a while. I’ll tell you one some night, Roland.”
“That would be fine,” the gunslinger replied seriously. “I am hungry to know more of your world.”
“Oz isn’t our world, though. Like Susannah said, it’s a make-believe place—”
Roland handed them chunks of meat which had been wrapped in broad leaves of some sort. “The quickest way to learn about a new place is to know what it dreams of. I would hear of this Oz.”
“Okay, that’s a date, too. Suze can tell you the one about Dorothy and Toto and the Tin Woodman, and I’ll tell you all the rest.” He bit into his piece of meat and rolled his eyes approvingly. It had taken the flavor of the leaves in which it had been rolled, and was delicious. Eddie wolfed his ration, stomach gurgling busily all the while. Now that he was getting his breath back, he felt good—great, in fact. His body was growing a solid sheath of muscle, and every part of it felt at peace with every other part.
Don’t worry, he thought. Everything will be arguing again by tonight. I think he’s gonna push on until I’m ready to drop in my tracks.
Susannah ate more delicately, chasing every second or third bite with a little sip of water, turning the meat in her hands, eating from the outside in. “Finish what you started last night,” she invited Roland. “You said you thought you understood these conflicting memories of yours.”
Roland nodded. “Yes. I think both memories are true. One is a little truer