if perhaps he should kill himself and spare the world a problem.
Roland opened four cans of peaches, smelled them, and nodded. "Okay, I think," he said. "Sweet."
They were just finishing this repast when the air in front of the cave shimmered. A moment later, Ted Brautigan, Dinky Earnshaw, and Sheemie Ruiz appeared. With them, cringing and very frightened, dressed in fading and tattered biballs, was the Rod Roland had asked them to bring.
"Come in and have something to eat," Roland said amiably, as if a quartet of teleports showing up was a common occurrence.
"There's plenty."
"Maybe we'll skip breakfast," Dinky said. "We don't have much t-"
Before he could finish, Sheemie's knees buckled and he collapsed at the mouth of the cave, his eyes rolling up to whites and a thin froth of spit oozing out between his cracked lips. He began to shiver and buck, his legs kicking aimlessly, his rubber moccasins scratching lines in the talus.
Part Two BLUE HEAVEN Chapter X:THE LAST PALAVER (SHEEMIE’S DREAM)
ONE
Susannah supposed you couldn't classify what came next as pandemonium; surely it took at least a dozen people to induce such a state, and they were but seven. Eight counting the Rod, and you certainly had to count him, because he was creating a large part of the uproar. When he saw Roland he dropped to his knees, raised his hands over his head like a ref signaling a successful extra-point kick, and began salaaming rapidly. Each downstroke was extreme enough to thump his forehead on the ground. He was at the same time babbling at the top of his lungs in his odd, vowelly language. He never took his eyes off Roland while he performed these gymnastics. Susannah had little doubt the gunslinger was being saluted as some kind of god.
Ted also dropped on his knees, but it was Sheemie with whom he was concerned. The old man put his hands on the sides of Sheemie's head to stop it whipping back and forth; already Roland's old acquaintance from his Mejis days had cut one cheek on a sharp bit of stone, a cut that was dangerously close to his left eye. And now blood began to pour from the corners of Sheemie's mouth and run up his modestly stubbled cheeks.
"Give me something to put in his mouth!" Ted cried. "Come on, somebody! Wake up! He's biting the shit out of himself!"
The wooden lid was still leaning against the open crate of sneetches. Roland brought it smartly down on his raised knee-no sign of dry twist in that hip now, she noted-and smashed it to bits. Susannah grabbed a piece of board on the fly, then turned to Sheemie. No need to get on her knees; she was always on them, anyway. One end of the wooden piece was jagged with splinters. She wrapped a protective hand around this and then put die piece of wood in Sheemie's mouth. He bit down on it so hard she could hear the crunch.
The Rod, meanwhile, continued his high, almost falsetto chant. The only words she could pick out of the gibberish were Hile, Roland, Gilead, and Eld.
"Somebody shut him up!" Dinky cried, and Oy began barking.
"Never mind die Rod, get Sheemie's feet!" Ted snapped.
"Hold him still!"
Dinky dropped to his knees and grabbed Sheemie's feet, one now bare, the other still wearing its absurd rubber moc.
"Oy, hush!" Jake said, and Oy did. But he was standing with his short legs spread and his belly low to the ground, his fur bushed out so he seemed nearly double his normal size.
Roland crouched by Sheemie's head, forearms on the dirt floor of the cave, mouth by one of Sheemie's ears. He began to murmur. Susannah could make out very little of it because of the Rod's falsetto babbling, but she did hear Will Dearborn that was and All's well and-she thought-rest.
Whatever it was, it seemed to get through. Litde by litde Sheemie relaxed. She could see Dinky easing his hold on the former tavern-boy's ankles, ready to grab hard again if Sheemie renewed his kicking. The muscles around Sheemie's mouth also relaxed, and his teeth unlocked. The piece of wood, still nailed lightly to his mouth by his upper incisors, seemed to levitate.
Susannah pulled it gently free, looking with amazement at the blood-rimmed holes, some almost half an inch deep, diat had been driven into the soft wood. Sheemie's tongue lolled from the side of his moudi, reminding her of how Oy looked at siesta time, sleeping on his back