There was no one on either side of the archway, and really no room for anyone. More boxes were stacked on either side. Ralph read the printing on them with a kind of bemused wonder Jack Daniels, Gilbeys, Smirnoff, JB. Atropos, it seemed, was as fond of liquor cartons as anyone else who couldnt bear to throw anything away. [Ralph? Is it safe?] The word was a joke, but he nodded his head and held out his hand. She hurried toward him, giving her slip another sharp upward yank as she came and looking about herself in growing amazement. Standing on the other side of the arch, in Atroposs grim little apartment, this storage area had looked large. Now that they were actually in it, Ralph saw it went well beyond that; rooms this big were usually called warehouses. Aisles wandered among great, tottery piles of junk. Only the stuff by the door had actually been boxed; the rest had been piled any whichway, creating something which was two parts maze and three parts boobytrap. Ralph decided that even warehouse was too small a word  this was an underground suburb, and Atropos might be lurking anywhere within it . . . and if he was here, he was probably watching them. Lois didnt ask what they were looking at; he saw by her face that she already knew. When she did speak, it was in a dreamy tone that sent a chill scampering up Ralphs back. [He must be so very old, Ralph.] Yes. So very old. Twenty yards into the room, which was lit with the same sunken, sourceless red glow as the stairway, Ralph could see a large spoked wheel lying atop a canebacked chair which was, in turn, standing on top of a splintery old clothes press. Looking at that wheel brought a deeper chill; it was as if the metaphor his mind had seized to help grasp the concept of ka had become real. Then he noted the rusty iron strip which circled the wheels outer circumference and realized it had probably come from one of those Gay Nineties bikes that looked like overgrown tricycles. Its a bicycle wheel, all right, and its a hundred years old if its a day, he thought. That led him to wonder how many people  how many thousands or tens of thousands  had died in and around Derry since Atropos had somehow transported this wheel down here. And of those thousands, how many had been Random deaths? And how far back does he go? How many hundreds of years? No way of telling, of course; maybe all the way to the beginning, whenever or however that had been. And during that time, he had taken a little something from everyone he had fucked with . . . and here it all was. Here it all was. [Ralph!] He looked around and saw that Lois was holding out both hands. In one was a Panama hat with a crescent bitten from the brim. In the other was a black nylon pocketcomb, the kind you could buy in any convenience store for a buck twentynine. A ghostly glimmer of orangeyellow still clung to it, which didnt surprise Ralph much. Each time the combs owner had used it, it must have picked up a little of that glow from both his aura and his balloonstring, like dandruff. It also didnt surprise him that the comb should have been with McGoverns hat; the last time hed seen those two things, theyd been together. He remembered Atroposs sarcastic grin as he swept the Panama from his head and pretended to use the comb on his own bald dome. And then he jumped up and clicked his heels together. Lois was pointing at an old rocking chair with a broken runner. [The hat was right there, on the seat. The comb was underneath. Its Mr Wyzers, isnt it?] [Yes.] She held it out to him immediately. [You take it. Im not as ditzy as Bill always thought, but sometimes I lose things. And if I lost this, Id never forgive myself.] He took the comb, started to put it into his back pocket, then thought how easily Atropos had plucked it from that same location. Easy as falling off a log, it had been. He put it into his front pants pocket instead, then looked back at Lois, who was gazing at McGoverns bitten hat with the sad wonder of Hamlet looking at the skull of his old pal Yorick. When she looked up, Ralph saw tears in her eyes. [He loved this hat. He thought he looked very dashing and debonair when he had it on. He didnt  he just looked like Bill  but he thought he looked good, and thats the important part. Wouldnt you say so, Ralph?] [Yes.] She tossed the hat back into the seat of the old rocker and turned to examine a box of what looked like rummagesale clothes. As soon as her back was to him, Ralph squatted down, peering beneath the chair, hoping to see a splintered double gleam in the darkness. If Bills hat and Joes comb were both here, then maybe Loiss earrings  There was nothing beneath the rocker but dust and a pink knitted baby bootee. Should have known thatd be too easy, Ralph thought, getting to his feet again. He suddenly felt exhausted. They had found Joes comb with no trouble at all, and that was good, absolutely great, but Ralph was afraid it had also been a spectacular case of beginners luck. They still had Loiss earrings to worry about . . . and doing whatever else it was they had been sent here to do, of course. And what was that? He didnt know, and if someone from upstairs was sending instructions, he wasnt receiving them. [Lois, do you have any idea what] [Shhhh!] [What is it? Lois, is it him?] [No! Be quiet, Ralph! Be quiet and listen!] He listened. At first he heard nothing, and then the clenching sensation  the blink  came inside his head again. This time it was very slow, very cautious. He slipped upward a little further, as lightly as a feather lifted in a draft of warm air. He became aware of a long, low groaning sound, like an endlessly creaking door. There was something familiar about it  not in the sound itself, but in its associations. It was like  a burglar alarm, or maybe a smokedetector. Its telling us where it is. Its calling us. Lois seized his hand with fingers that were as cold as ice. [Thats it, Ralph  thats what were looking for. Do you hear it?] Yes, of course he did. But whatever that sound was, it had nothing to do with Loiss earrings . . . and without Loiss earrings, he wasnt leaving this place. [Come on, Ralph! Come on! We have to find it!] He let her lead him deeper into the room. Atroposs souvenirs were piled at least three feet higher than their heads in most places. How a shrimp like him had managed this trick Ralph didnt know  levitation, maybe  but the result was that he quickly lost all sense of direction as they twisted, turned, and occasionally seemed to double back. All he knew for sure was that low groaning sound kept getting louder in his ears; as they began to draw near its source, it became an insectile buzzing which Ralph found increasingly unpleasant. He kept expecting to round a corner and find a giant locust staring at him with dull brownishblack eyes as big as grapefruits. Although the separate auras of the objects which filled the storage vault had faded like the scent of flowerpetals pressed between the pages of a book, they were still there beneath Atroposs stench  and at this level of perception, with all their senses exquisitely awake and attuned, it was impossible not to sense those auras and be affected by them. These mute reminders of the Random dead were both terrible and pathetic. The place was more than a museum or a packrats lair, Ralph realized; it was a profane church where Atropos took his own version of Communion  grief for bread, tears for wine. Their stumbling course through the narrow zigzag rows was a gruesome, almost shattering experience. Each notquiteaimless turn presented a hundred more objects Ralph wished he had never seen and would not have to remember; each voiced its own small cry of pain and bewilderment. He did not have to wonder if Lois shared his feelings  she was sobbing steadily and quietly beside him. Here was a childs battered Flexible Flyer sled with the knotted towrope still draped over the steering bar. The boy to whom it had belonged had died of convulsions on a crisp January day in 1953. Here was a majorettes baton with its shaft wrapped in purple and white spirals of crepe  the colors of Grant Academy. She had been raped and bludgeoned to death with a rock in the fall of 1967. Her killer, who had never been caught, had stuffed her body into a small cave where her bones  along with the bones of two other unlucky victims  still lay. Here was the cameo brooch of a woman who had been struck by a falling brick while walking down Main Street to buy the new issue of Vogue; if she had left her home thirty seconds earlier or later, she would have been fine. Here was the buck knife of a man who had been killed in a hunting accident in 1937. Here was the compass of a Boy Scout who had fallen and broken his neck while hiking on Mount Katahdin. The sneaker of a little boy named Gage Creed, run down by a speeding tankertruck on Route 15 in Ludlow. Rings and magazines; keychains and umbrellas; hats and glasses; rattles and radios. They looked like different things, but Ralph thought they were really all the same thing the faint, sorrowing voices of people who had found themselves written out of the script in the middle of the second act while they were still learning their lines for the third, people who had been unceremoniously hauled off before their work was done or their obligations fulfilled, people whose only crime had been to be born in the Random . . . and to have caught the eye of the madman with the rusty scalpel. Lois, sobbing [I hate him! I hate him so much!] He knew what she meant. It was one thing to hear Clotho and Lachesis say that Atropos was also part of the big picture, that he might even serve some higher purpose himself, and quite another to see the faded Boston Bruins cap of a little boy who had fallen into an overgrown cellarhole and died in the dark, died in agony, died with no voice left after six hours spent screaming for his mother. Ralph reached out and briefly touched the cap. Its owners name had been Billy Weatherbee. His final thought had been of icecream. Ralphs hand tightened over Loiss. [Ralph, what is it? I can hear you thinking  Im sure I can  but its like listening to someone whisper under his breath.] [I was thinking that I want to bust that little bastards chops for him, Lois. Maybe we could teach him what its like to lie awake at night. What do you think?] Her grip on his hand tightened. She nodded. 5 They reached a place where the narrow corridor theyd been following branched into diverging paths. That low, steady buzz was coming from the lefthand one, and not very far up it, either, by the sound. It was now impossible for them to walk side by side, and as they worked their way toward the end, the passage grew narrower still. Ralph was finally obliged to begin sidling along. The reddish exudate Atropos left behind was very thick here, dripping down the jumbled stacks of souvenirs and making little puddles on the dirt floor. Lois was holding his hand with painful tightness now, but Ralph didnt complain. [Its like the Civic Center, Ralph  he spends a lot of time here.] Ralph nodded. The question was, what did Mr A come down this aisle to commune with? They were coming to the end now  it was blocked by a solid wall of junk  and he still couldnt see what was making that buzzing sound. It was now starting to drive him crazy; it was like having a horsefly trapped in the middle of your head. As they approached the end of the passage, he became more and more sure that what they were looking for was on the other side of the wall of junk which blocked it  they would either have to retrace their steps and try to find a way around, or break through. Either choice might consume more time than they could afford. Ralph felt nibbles of desperation at the back of his mind. But the corridor did not deadend; on the left there was a crawlspace beneath a dining room table piled high with dishes and stacks of green paper and . . . Green paper? No, not quite. Stacks of bills. Tens, twenties, and fifties were piled up in random profusion on the dishes. There was a choke of hundreds in a cracked gravyboat, and a rolledup five hundred dollar bill poking drunkenly out of a dusty wineglass. [Ralph! My God, its a fortune!] She wasnt looking at the table but at the other wall of the passageway. The last five feet had been constructed of banded graygreen bricks of currency. They were in an alleyway which was literally made of money, and Ralph realized he could now answer another of the questions that had been troubling him where Ed had been getting his dough. Atropos was rolling in it . . . but Ralph had an idea that the little baldheaded sonofabitch still had trouble getting dates. He bent down a little to get a better look into the crawlspace underneath the table. There appeared to be yet another chamber on the other side, this one very small. A slow red glow waxed and waned in there like the beating of a heart. It cast uneasy pulses of light on their shoes. Ralph pointed, then looked at Lois. She nodded. He dropped to his knees and crawled beneath the moneyladen table, and into the shrine Atropos had created around the thing which lay in the middle of the floor. It was what they had been sent to find, he hadnt a single doubt about it, but he still had no idea what it was. The object, not much bigger than the sort of marbles children call croakers, was wrapped in a deathbag as impenetrable as the center of a black hole. Oh, great  lovely. Now what? [Ralph! Do you hear singing? Its very faint.] He looked at her dubiously, then glanced around. He had already come to hate this cramped space, and although he was not claustrophobic by nature, he now felt a panicky desire to get away squeezing into his thoughts. A very distinct voice spoke up in his head. Its not just what I want, Ralph; its what I need. Ill do my best to hang in with you, but if you dont finish whatever the hell it is youre supposed to be doing in here soon, it wont make any difference what either of us want  Im just going to take over and run like hell. The controlled terror in that voice didnt surprise him, because this really was a horrible place  not a room at all but the bottom of a deep shaft whose circular walls were constructed of rickrack and stolen goods toasters, footstools, clockradios, cameras, books, crates, shoes, rakes. Dangling almost right in front of Ralphs eyes was a battered saxophone on a frayed strap with the word JAKE printed on it in dustdulled rhinestones. Ralph reached out to grab it, wanting to get the damned thing out of his face. Then he imagined the removal of this one object starting a landslide that would bring the walls down on them, burying them alive. He pulled his hand back. At the same time he opened his mind and senses as fully as he could. For a moment he thought he did hear something  a faint sigh, like the whisper of the ocean in a seashell  but then it was gone. [If there are voices in here, I cant hear them, Lois  that damned thing is drowning them out.] He pointed at the object in the middle of the circle  black beyond any previously held conception of black, a deathbag which was the apotheosis of all deathbags. But Lois was shaking her head. [No, not drowning them out. Sucking them dry.] She looked at the screaming black thing with horror and loathing. [That thing is sucking the life out of all this stuff piled up around it . . . and its trying to suck the life out of us, too.] Yes, of course it was. Now that Lois had actually said it out loud, Ralph could feel the deathbag  or the object inside it  pulling at something far down in his head, yanking at it, twisting at it, shoving at it . . . trying to pull it out like a tooth from its pink socket of gum. Trying to suck the life out of them? Close, but no cigar. Ralph didnt think it was their lives the thing inside the deathbag wanted, nor their souls . . . at least, not exactly. It was their lifeforce it wanted. Their ka. Loiss eyes widened as she picked up this thought . . . and then they shifted to a place just beyond his right shoulder. She leaned forward on her knees and reached out. [Lois, I wouldnt do that  you could bring the whole place down around our] Too late. She yanked something free, looked at it with horrified understanding, and then held it out to him. [Its still alive  everything thats in here is still alive. I dont know how that can be, but it is . . . somehow it is. But theyre faint. Why are they so faint?] What she was holding out to him was a small white sneaker that belonged to a woman or a child. As Ralph took it, he heard it singing softly in a distant voice. The sound was as lonely as November wind on an overcast afternoon, but incredibly sweet, as well  an antidote to the endless bray of the black thing on the floor. And it was a voice he knew. He was sure it was. There was a maroon splatter on the sneakers toe. Ralph at first thought it was chocolate milk, then recognized it for what it really was dried blood. In that instant he was outside the Red Apple again, grabbing Nat before Helen could drop her. He remembered how Helens feet had tangled together; how she had stumbled backward, leaning against the Red Apples door like a drunk against a lamppost, holding out her hands to him. Gih me my bayee . . . Gih me Nahlie. He knew the voice because it was Helens voice. This sneaker had been on her foot that day, and the drops of blood on the toe had come either from Helens smashed nose or from Helens lacerated cheek. It sang and sang, its voice not quite buried beneath the buzz of the thing in the deathbag, and now that Ralphs ears  or whatever passed for ears in the world of auras  were all the way open, he could hear all the other voices of all the other objects. They sang like a lost choir. Alive. Singing. They could sing, all the things lining these walls could sing, because their owners could still sing. Their owners were still alive. Ralph looked up again, this time noting that while some of the objects he saw were old  the battered alto sax, for instance  a great many of them were new; there were no wheels from Gay Nineties bicycles in this little alcove. He saw three clockradios, all of them digital. A shaving kit that looked as if it had hardly been used. A lipstick that still had a Rite Aid pricetag on it. [Lois, Atropos has taken this stuff from the people wholl be at the Civic Center tonight. Hasnt he?] [Yes. Im sure thats right.] He pointed at the black cocoon shrieking on the floor, almost drowning out the songs all around it . . . drowning them out as it fed on them. [And whatevers inside that deathbag has something to do with what Clotho and Lachesis called the mastercord. Its the thing that ties all these different objects  all these different lives  together.] [That makes them katet. Yes.] Ralph handed the sneaker back to Lois. [This goes with us when we go. Its Helens.] [I know.] Lois looked at it for a moment, then did something Ralph thought extremely clever pulled out two eyelets worth of lacing and tied the sneaker to her left wrist like a bracelet. He crawled closer to the small deathbag and then bent over it. Getting close was hard, and staying close was harder  it was like placing your ear next to the motorhousing of a power drill shrieking at full volume or looking into a bright light without squinting. This time there seemed to be actual words buried within that buzzing, the same ones theyd heard as they approached the edge of the deathbag around the Civic Center Geddout. Fucoff. Beedit. Ralph placed his hands over his ears for a moment, but of course that did no good. The sounds werent coming from the outside, not really. He let his hands drop again and looked at Lois. [What do you think? Any ideas on what we should do next?] He didnt know exactly what he had expected of her, but it wasnt the quick, positive response he got. [Cut it open and take out whats inside  and do it right away. That things dangerous. Also, it might be calling Atropos, have you thought of that? Tattling just like the hen tattled on Jack in the story about the magic beanstalk.] Ralph actually had considered this possibility, although not in such vivid terms. All right, he thought. Cut open the bag and take the prize. Except just how are we supposed to do that? He remembered the bolt of lightning hed sent at Atropos when the little bald creep had been trying to lure Rosalie across the street. A good trick, but something like that might do more harm than good here; what if he vaporized the thing they were supposed to take? I dont think you can do that. All right, fair enough, as a matter of fact he didnt think he could do it, either . . . but when you were surrounded by the possessions of people who could all be dead when the sun came up tomorrow, taking chances seemed like a very bad idea. An insane idea. What I need isnt lightning but a nice sharp pair of scissors, like the ones Clotho and Lachesis use to He stared at Lois, startled by the clarity of the image. [I dont know what you just thought of, but hurry up and do it, whatever it is.] 6 Ralph looked down at his right hand  a hand from which the wrinkles and the first twists of arthritis had now disappeared, a hand which lay inside a bright blue corona of light. Feeling a little foolish, he folded his last two fingers against his palm and extended the first two, thinking of a game theyd played as kids  rock breaks scissors, scissors cut paper, paper covers rock. Be scissors, he thought. I need a pair of scissors. Help me out. Nothing. He glanced at Lois and saw her looking at him with a serene calm which was somehow terrifying. Oh Lois, if you only knew, he thought, and then swept that out of his mind. Because he had felt something, hadnt he? Yes. Something. This time he didnt make words in his mind but a picture not the scissors Clotho had used to send on Jimmy V but the stainlesssteel shears from his mothers sewing basket  long, slim blades tapering to a point almost as sharp as the tip of a knife. As he deepened his concentration, he could even see the two tiny words engraved on the metal just south of the pivotpoint SHEFFIELD STEEL. And now he could feel that thing in his mind again, not a blink this time but a muscle  an immensely powerful one  slowly flexing. He looked fixedly down at his fingers and made the shears in his mind open and close. As they did, he slowly opened and closed his fingers, creating a V that widened and narrowed. Now he could feel the energy he had taken from Nirvana Boy and the bum out at the trainyards, first gathering in his head and then moving down his right arm to his fingers like a cramp. The aura surrounding the extended first and second fingers of his right hand began to thicken . . . and to lengthen. To take on the slim shape of blades. Ralph waited until they had extended themselves about five inches out from his nails and then worked his fingers back and forth again. The blades opened and closed. [Go, Ralph! Do it!] Yes  he couldnt afford to wait around and run experiments. He felt like a car battery that had been called on to crank a motor much too big for it. He could feel all his energy  the stuff hed taken as well as his own  running down his right arm and into those blades. It wouldnt last long. He leaned forward, fingers pressed together in a pointing gesture, and sank the tip of the scissors into the deathbag. He had been concentrating so hard on first creating and then maintaining the scissors that he had stopped hearing that steady, hoarse buzz  at least with his conscious mind  but when the scissorspoint sank into its black skin, the deathbag suddenly cycled up to a new, shrieking pitch of mingled pain and alarm. Ralph saw dribbles of thick, dark goo running out of the bag and across the floor. It looked like diseased snot. At the same time he felt the powerdrain inside him roughly double. He could see it, he realized his own aura running down his right arm and across the back of his hand in slow, peristaltic waves. And he could sense it dimming around the rest of his body as its essential protection of him thinned out. [Hurry, Ralph! Hurry!] He made a tremendous effort and tore his fingers open. The shimmering blue blades also opened, making a small slit in the black egg. It screamed, and two bright, jagged flashes of red light raced across its surface. Ralph brought his fingers together and watched the shears growing from their tips snap shut, cutting through dense black stuff that was part shell and part flesh. He cried out. It was not pain he felt, exactly, but a sense of awful weariness. This is what bleeding to death must feel like, he thought. Something inside the bag gleamed bright gold. Ralph gathered all his strength and attempted to open his fingers for another cut. At first he didnt think he was going to be able to do it  they felt as if they had been stuck together with Krazy Glue  and then they drew apart, widening the slit. Now he could almost see the object inside, something small and round and shiny. Really only one thing it can be, he thought, and then his heart suddenly fluttered in his chest. The blue blades flickered. [Lois! Help me!] She seized his wrist. Ralph felt strength roar into him in big fresh volts. He watched, bemused, as the shears solidified again. Now only one of the blades was blue. The other was a pearly gray. Lois, screaming inside his head [Cut it! Cut it now!] He brought his fingers together again, and this time the blades cut the deathbag wide open. It uttered one last wavering shriek, turned entirely red, and disappeared. The shears growing from the tips of Ralphs fingers flickered out of existence. He closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly aware that big warm drops of sweat were running down his cheeks like tears. In the dark field behind his eyelids he could see crazy afterimages that looked like dancing scissorsblades. [Lois? Are you okay?] [Yes . . . but drained. I dont have the slightest idea how Im supposed to get back to those stairs under the tree, let alone climb them. Im not sure I can even stand up.] Ralph opened his eyes, put his hands on his thighs above the knees, and leaned forward again. Lying on the floor where the deathbag had been was a mans wedding ring. He could easily read what had been engraved on the wide inner curve HD  ED 5887. Helen Deepneau and Edward Deepneau. Married on August 5th, 1987. It was what they had come for. It was Eds token. All that remained now was to pick it up . . . slip it into the watchpocket of his pants . . . find Loiss earrings . . . and get the hell out of here. 7 As he reached for the ring, a flicker of verse slipped through his mind  not Stephen Dobyns this time but J. R. R. Tolkien, who had invented the hobbits Ralph had last thought of in Loiss cozy, picturefilled living room. It had been almost thirty years since he had read Tolkiens story of Frodo and Gandalf and Sauron, the Dark Lord  a story which contained a token very similar to this one, now that he thought about it  but the lines were momentarily as clear as the scissorsblades had been only moments before One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. I wont be able to pick it up, he thought. It will be as tightly bound to the wheel of ka as Lois and I are, and I wont be able to pick it up. Either that, or it will be like grasping a live hightension wire, and Ill be dead before I know its happening. Except he didnt really believe either of those things were going to happen. If the ring was not his for the taking, why had it been protected by the deathbag? If the ring was not his for the taking, why had the forces which stood behind Clotho and Lachesis  and Dorrance, he couldnt forget Dorrance  set him and Lois upon this journey in the first place? One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, Ralph thought, and closed his fingers around Eds wedding ring. For a moment he felt a deep, glassy pain in his hand and wrist and forearm; at the same moment, the softly singing voices of the objects which Atropos had hoarded here rose in a great, harmonic shout. Ralph made a sound  perhaps a scream, perhaps only a moan  and lifted the ring up, clenched tightly in his right hand. A sense of victory sang in his veins like wine, or like [Ralph.] He looked at her, but Lois was looking down at where Eds ring had been, her eyes dark with a mixture of fear and confusion. Where Eds ring had been; where Eds ring still was. It lay exactly as it had lain, a glimmering gold circlet with HD  ED 5887 inscribed around the inner arc. Ralph felt an instant of dizzy disorientation and controlled it with an effort. He opened his hand, half expecting the ring to be gone in spite of what his senses told him, but it still lay in the center of his palm, neatly enclosed within the fork where his loveline and his lifeline diverged, glimmering in the baleful red light of this nasty place. HD  ED 5887. The two rings were identical. 8 One in his hand; one on the floor; absolutely no difference. At least none that Ralph could see. Lois reached for the ring which had replaced the one Ralph had picked up, hesitated, then grasped it. As they watched, ghostgold glowed just above the chambers floor, then solidified into a third wedding band. Like the other two, HD  ED 5887 was inscribed on the inner curve. Ralph found himself thinking of yet another story  not Tolkiens long tale of the Ring, but a story by Dr Seuss which he had read one of Carolyns sisters kids back in the fifties. That was a long time ago, but he had never completely forgotten the story, which had been richer and darker than Dr Seusss usual jinglejangle nonsense about rats and bats and troublesome cats. It was called The Five Hundred Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, and Ralph supposed it really wasnt any wonder that the story had come to mind now. Poor Bartholomew was a country hayseed who had the bad luck to be in the big city when the King happened by. You were supposed to take your hat off in the presence of that august personage, and Bartholomew had certainly tried, but without any luck; each time he took his hat off, another one, identical to the last, appeared beneath it. [Ralph, whats happening? What does it mean?] He shook his head without answering, eyes moving from the ring on his palm to the one in Loiss hand to the one on the floor, around and around and around. Three rings, all of them identical, just like the hats Bartholomew Cubbins had kept trying to take off. The poor kid had gone on trying to make his manners to the King, Ralph remembered, even as the executioner had led him up a curving flight of stairs to the place where he would be beheaded for the crime of disrespect . . . Except that wasnt right, because after awhile the hats on poor Bartholomews head did begin to change, to grow ever more fabulous and rococo. And are the rings the same, Ralph? Are you sure? No, he guessed he wasnt. When hed picked up the first one, he had felt a deep, momentary ache spread up his arm like rheumatism, but Lois had shown no signs of pain when she picked up the second one. And the voices  I didnt hear them shout when she picked up the one she has. Ralph leaned forward and grasped the third ring. There was no jolt of pain and no shout from the objects which formed the walls of the room  they just kept singing softly. Meanwhile, a fourth ring materialized where the other three had been, materialized exactly like another hat on the head of hapless Bartholomew Cubbins, but Ralph barely glanced at it. He looked at the first ring, lying between the fork of his lifeline and loveline on the palm of his right hand. One Ring to rule them all, he thought. One Ring to bind them. And I think thats you, beautiful. I think the others are just clever counterfeits. And maybe there was a way to check that.


Ralph held the two rings to his ears. The one in his left hand was silent; the one in his right, the one that had been inside the deathbag when he cut it open, gave off a faint, chilling echo of the deathbags final scream. The one in his right hand was alive. [Ralph?] Her hand on his arm, cold and urgent. Ralph looked at her, then tossed the ring in his left hand away. He held the other up and gazed at Loiss strained, strangely young face through it, as if through a telescope. [This is the one. The others are just placeholders, I think  like zeros in a big, complicated math problem.] [You mean they dont matter?] He hesitated, unsure of how to reply . . . because they did matter, that was the thing. He just didnt know how to put his intuitive understanding of this into words. As long as the false rings kept appearing in this nasty little room, like hats on the head of Bartholomew Cubbins, the future represented by the deathbag around the Civic Center remained the one true future. But the first ring, the one which Atropos had actually stolen off Eds finger (perhaps as he lay sleeping next to Helen in the little Cape Cod house which was now standing empty), could change all that. The replicas were tokens which preserved the shape of ka just as spokes radiating out from a hub preserved the shape of a wheel. The original, however . . . Ralph thought the original was the hub One Ring to bind them. He gripped the gold band tightly, feeling its hard curve bite into his palm and fingers. Then he slipped it into his watchpocket. There was one thing about ka they didnt tell us, he thought. Its slippery. Slippery as some nasty old fish that wont come off the hook but just keeps flopping around in your hand. And it was like climbing a sand dune, too  you slid one step back for every two you managed to lunge forward. They had gone out to High Ridge and accomplished something  just what Ralph didnt know, but Dorrance had assured them it was true; according to him, they had fulfilled their task there. Now they had come here and taken Eds token, but it still wasnt enough, and why? Because ka was like a fish, ka was like a sand dune, ka was like a wheel that didnt want to stop but only to roll on and on, crushing whatever might happen to be in its path. A wheel of many spokes. But most of all, perhaps, ka was like a ring. Like a wedding ring. He suddenly understood what all the talk on the hospital roof and all of Dorrances efforts to explain hadnt been able to convey Eds undesignated status, coupled with Atroposs discovery of the poor, confused man, had conveyed a tremendous power upon him. A door had opened, and a demon called the Crimson King had strolled through, one that was stronger than Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos, any of them. And it didnt intend to be stopped by a Derry Old Crock like Ralph Roberts. [Ralph?] [One Ring to rule them all, Lois  One Ring to bind them.] [What are you talking about? What do you mean?] He patted his watchpocket, feeling the small yet momentous bulge that was Eds ring. Then he reached out and grasped her shoulders. [The replacements  the false rings  are spokes, but this one is the hub. Take away the hub, and a wheel cant turn.] [Are you sure?] He was sure, all right. He just didnt know how to do it. [Yes. Now come on  lets get out of here while we still can.] Ralph sent her beneath the overloaded dining room table first, then dropped to his knees and followed. He paused halfway under and looked back over his shoulder. He saw a strange and terrible thing although the buzzing sound had not returned, the deathbag was reknitting itself around the replacement wedding ring. Already the bright gold had dimmed to a ghostly circlet. He stared at it for several seconds, fascinated, almost hypnotized, then tore his eyes away with an effort and began to crawl after Lois. 9 Ralph was afraid they would lose valuable time trying to navigate their way back through the maze of corridors which crisscrossed Atroposs storehouse of keepsakes, but that turned out not to be a problem. Their own footprints, fading but still visible, were there to guide them. He began to feel a little stronger as they put the terrible little room behind them, but Lois was now flagging badly. By the time they reached the archway between the storehouse and Atroposs filthy apartment, she was leaning on him. He asked if she was all right. Lois managed a shrug and a small, tired smile. [Most of my problem is being in this place. It doesnt really matter how high up we go, its still foul and I hate it. Once I get some fresh air, I think Ill be fine. Honestly.] Ralph hoped she was right. As he ducked under the arch into Atroposs apartment, he was trying to think of a pretext by which he could send Lois on ahead of him. That would give him an opportunity to give the place a quick search. If that didnt turn up the earrings, he would have to assume that Atropos was still wearing them. He noticed her slip was hanging below the hem of her dress again, opened his mouth to tell her, and saw a flicker of movement from the tail of his left eye. He realized they had been a lot less cautious on the return trip  partly because they were worn out  and now they might have to pay a high price for dropping their guard. [Lois, look out!] Too late. Ralph felt her arm jerked away as the snarling creature in the dirty tunic seized her about the waist and dragged her backward. Atroposs head only came to her armpit, but that was enough to allow him to hold his rusty blade over her. When Ralph made an instinctive lunge at him, Atropos brought the straightrazor down until it was touching the pearlgray cord which drifted up from the crown of her head. He bared his teeth at Ralph in an unspeakable grin. [Not another step, Shorts . . . not one!] Well, he didnt have to worry about Loiss errant earrings anymore, at least. They glittered a murky, pinkishred against the tiny lobes of Atroposs ears. It was more the sight of them than the shout that stopped Ralph where he was. The scalpel drew back a little . . . but only a little. [Now, Shorts  you took something of mine just now, didnt you? Dont try to deny it; I know. And now youre going to give it back.] The scalpel returned to Loiss balloonstring; Atropos caressed it with the flat of the blade. [You give it back or this bitch is going to die here in front of you  you can stand there and watch the sack turn black. So what do you say, Short Stuff? Hand it over.] CHAPTER TWENTYSIX 1 Atroposs smile shone out, full of repulsive triumph, and full of  Full of fear. He caught you flatfooted, hes got his scalpel to Loiss balloonstring and his hand around her throat, but hes still scared to death. Why? [Come on! Quit wasting time, shithead! Give me the ring!] Ralph reached slowly into his watchpocket and grasped the ring, wondering why Atropos hadnt killed Lois outright. Surely he didnt intend to let her  to let either of them  go. Hes afraid I might hammer him with another one of those telepathic karatechops. And thats just for starters. I think hes also afraid of screwing up. Afraid of the thing  the entity  thats running him. Afraid of the Crimson King. Youre scared of the boss, arent you, my filthy little friend? He held the ring up between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and peeked through it again. [Come and get it, why dont you? Dont be shy.] Atroposs face knotted with rage. The expression twisted his nervy, gloating grin into a cartoon scowl. [Ill kill her, Shorts, didnt you hear me? Is that what you want?] Ralph slowly and deliberately raised his left hand. He made a sawing gesture in the air with it, and was gratified to see Atropos wince when the edge of the palm turned momentarily toward him. [If you even nick her with that blade, Ill hit you so hard youll need a pocketknife to dig your teeth out of the wall. And thats a promise.] [Just give me the ring, Shorts.] They cant lie, Ralph thought suddenly. I cant remember if I was actually told that or just intuited it, but Im sure its true  they cant lie. I can, though. [Ill tell you what, Mr A  promise me its a push and Ill give it to you.] Atropos gave him a narrow look in which doubt and suspicion were mingled. [A push? What do you mean, a push?] [Ralph, no!] He glanced at her, then back at Atropos. He raised his left hand to scratch his cheek without considering how the gesture would look to the little bald doctor. The scalpel was pressed against Loiss balloonstring again in a trice, this time hard enough to dent it and create a dark splotch at the point of contact. It looked like a bloodblister. Great beads of sweat stood out on Atroposs brow, and when he spoke, his voice was a panicky shriek. [Dont you go throwing any of your cutrate thunderbolts at me! The woman dies if you do!] Ralph lowered his hand in a hurry, then put both of them behind his back like a penitent child. Eds wedding ring was still folded into his hand, and now, almost without thinking about it, he tucked it into the back pocket of his pants. It was only then that he was completely sure he didnt mean to give up the ring. Even if it cost Lois her life  both of them their lives  he didnt mean to give up the ring. But perhaps it wouldnt come to that. [A push means we both walk away, Mr A  I give you the ring, you give me back my ladyfriend. All you have to do is promise not to hurt her. What do you say?] [No, Ralph, no!] What Atropos said was nothing. His eyes glittered at Ralph with feary, hateful impotence. If ever in his long life hed wished for the ability to lie, Ralph supposed he must be wishing for it at that moment. All it would take was Okay, its a deal, and the ball would be right back in Ralphs court. But he couldnt say that, because he couldnt do that. He knows hes in a nasty corner, Ralph thought. It really doesnt matter if he cuts her cord or lets her go  he must think I mean to flashfry him in either case, and hes not wrong. How much damage can you actually do to him, sweetheart? Carolyn asked doubtfully from the place she kept inside his head. How much juice have you got left after cutting open the deathbag around the wedding ring? The answer, unfortunately, was not much. Maybe enough to singe his bald head, but probably not enough to saut it. And Then Ralph saw something he didnt like the edgeofpanic quality in Atroposs grin was being replaced by cautious confidence. And he felt those mad eyes crawling avidly over him  his face, his body, but mostly his aura. Ralph had a sudden clear vision of a mechanic using a dipstick to find out how much oil was left in an automobile crankcase. Do something, Lois begged him with her eyes. Please, Ralph. But he didnt know what to do. He was completely out of ideas. Atroposs smile took on a gloating, nasty edge. [Youre unloaded, Short Stuff, aintcha? Gee, thats sad.] [Hurt her and youll find out, you sawedoff piece of shit.] Atroposs grin went on widening. [You couldnt give a rat a hotfoot with what youve got left. Why dont you just be a good boy and hand over the ring before I] [Oh, you bastard!] It was Lois. She was no longer looking at Ralph; she was looking across the room, into the mirror where Atropos no doubt checked the fit and tilt of his latest fashion accents  Rosalies bandanna, say, or Bill McGoverns Panama. Her eyes were wide and full of fury, and Ralph knew exactly what she was seeing. [Those are MINE, you rotten little thief!] She shoved violently backward, using her greater weight to slam Atropos against the side of the archway. A startled grunt escaped him. The hand holding the scalpel flew upward; the blade dug dry scales of dirt from the wall. Lois turned toward him, her face knotted in an angry snarl  a look so unour Lois that McGovern might have fainted in shock at the sight of it. Her hands clawed at the sides of his face, reaching for his ears. One of her fingers dug into his cheek. Atropos yapped like a dog whose paw has been stepped on, then grabbed her by the waist again and whirled her back around. He turned the scalpels blade inward, getting ready to slash. Ralph shook the forefinger of his right hand at it in a scolding gesture. A flash of light so pallid it was almost invisible shot out from the nail and struck the scalpels tip, momentarily knocking it away from Loiss balloonstring. And that was all there was; Ralph sensed that his personal armory was now empty. Atropos bared his teeth at him from over Loiss shoulder as she bucked and twisted in his arms. She was not trying to get away, either; she was trying to turn and attack him. Her feet flailed out as she threw all her weight against him again, trying to squash him against the wall behind them, and without having the slightest idea of what he meant to do, Ralph lunged forward and dropped to his knees with his hands out. He looked like a manic suitor making a strenuous marriage proposal, and one of Loiss thrashing feet came close to kicking him in the throat. He snatched at the hem of her slip and it came free in a slithery little rush of pink nylon. Meanwhile, Lois was still yelling. [Miserable little thief! Heres something for you! How do you like it?] Atropos uttered a squeal of pain, and when Ralph looked up, he saw that Lois had buried her teeth in his right wrist. His left hand, the one holding the scalpel, flailed blindly at her balloonstring, missing it by less than an inch. Ralph sprang to his feet and, still with no clear idea of what he was doing, pulled Loiss pink halfslip over Atroposs slashing hand . . . and his head. [Get away from him, Lois! Run!] She spat out the small white hand and stumbled toward the barrelhead table in the center of the room, wiping Atroposs blood from her mouth with atavistic loathing . . . but the dominant expression on her face was still one of anger. Atropos himself, for the moment just a bawling, writhing shape under the pink halfslip, groped after her with his free hand. Ralph slapped it away and shoved him back against the side of the archway. [No you dont, my friend  not at all.] [Let me go! Let me go, you bastard! You cant do this!] And the weirdest thing of all is that he really believes that, Ralph thought. Hes had it his own way for so long that hes completely forgotten what ShortTimers can do. I can fix that, I think. Ralph remembered how Atropos had slashed Rosalies balloonstring after the dog had licked his hand, and his hatred for this strutting, leering, complacently insane creature suddenly exploded in his head like a rottengreen roadflare. He grabbed one side of Loiss slip and twisted his fist twice around it in a savage windingup gesture, pulling it so tight that Atroposs features stood out in a pink nylon deathmask. Then, just as the blade of the scalpel popped through the fabric and began to cut it open, Ralph whirled Atropos around, using the slip as a man might use a sling to whirl a stone, and sent him flying across the archway. The damage might have been less if Atropos had fallen, but he didnt; his feet knocked against each other but never quite crossed. He hit the rock facing of the archway with a thud, voiced a muffled scream of pain, and dropped to his knees. Spots of blood bloomed on Loiss halfslip like flowerpetals. The scalpel had disappeared back through the slit it had made in the cloth. Ralph sprang after Atropos just as it reappeared and lengthened the original cut, freeing the bald creatures staring, bewildered face. His nose was bleeding; so were his forehead and right temple. Before he could begin to get up, Ralph grabbed the slippery pink bulges that were his shoulders. [Stop it! Im warning you, Shorts! Ill make you sorry you were ever bo] Ralph ignored this pointless bluster and slammed Atropos forward, hard. The midgets arms were still tangled in the slip and he caught the floor with nothing but face. His shriek was part amazement, mostly pain. Incredibly, Ralph felt Lois in the back of his mind, telling him that enough was enough, not to really hurt him  not to hurt the pintsized psychotic who had just tried to kill her. Atropos attempted to roll over. Ralph kneedropped him in the middle of the back and knocked him flat again. [Dont move, friend. I like you just the way you are.] He looked up at Lois, and saw that her amazing fury had departed as suddenly as it had come  like some freak weather phenomenon. A tornado, perhaps, that touches down out of a clear blue sky, rips the top off a barn, and then disappears again. She was pointing at Atropos. [Hes got my earrings, Ralph. The nasty little thief has got my earrings. Hes wearing them!] [I know. I saw.] One snarling side of Atroposs face poked out of the slit in the nylon like the face of the worlds ugliest baby at the moment of its birth. Ralph could feel the muscles of the small creatures back trembling beneath his pinioning knee, and he remembered an old proverb hed read somewhere . . . maybe at the end of a Salada teabag string He who takes a tiger by the tail dare not let go. Now, in this unlikely den beneath the ground and feeling like a character in a fairytale concocted by a lunatic, Ralph thought he had achieved a sort of divine understanding of that proverb. Through a combination of Loiss sudden rage and plain old shitass luck, he had wound up at least temporarily on top of the scuzzy little fuck. The question  and a fairly pressing one, at that  was what to do next. The hand holding the scalpel lashed up, but the stroke was both weak and blind. Ralph avoided it easily. Sobbing and cursing, not afraid even now but clearly hurting and all but consumed with impotent rage, Atropos flailed up at him again. [Let me up, you overgrown ShortTime bastard! Silly old whitehair! Ugly wrinkleface!] [I look a little better than that just lately, my friend. Havent you noticed?] [Asshole! Stupid ShortTime asshole! Ill make you sorry! Ill make you so sorry!] Well, Ralph thought, at least hes not begging. I almost would have expected him to start begging by now. Atropos continued to flail weakly with the scalpel. Ralph ducked two or three of these strokes easily, then slid one hand toward the throat of the creature lying beneath him. [Ralph! No! Dont!] He shook his head at her, not knowing if he was expressing annoyance, reassurance, or both. He touched Atroposs skin, and felt him shudder. The bald doc uttered a choked cry of revulsion, and Ralph knew exactly how he felt. It was sickening for both of them, but he didnt take his hand away. Instead, he tried to close it around Atroposs throat and wasnt very surprised to find he couldnt do it. Still, hadnt Lachesis said that only ShortTimers could oppose the will of Atropos? He thought so. The question was, how? Beneath him, Atropos laughed nastily. [Please, Ralph! Please just get my earrings and well go!] Atropos rolled his eyes in her direction, then looked back at Ralph. [Did you think you could kill me, Shorts? Well, guess again.] No, he hadnt thought it, but hed needed to find out for sure. [Lifes a bitch, aint it, Shorts? Why dont you just give me back the ring? Im going to get it sooner or later, I guarantee you that.] [Fuck you, you little weasel.] Tough talk, but talk was cheap. The most pressing question was still unanswered What the hell was he supposed to do with this monster? Whatever it is, you wont be able to do it with Lois standing there and watching you, a cold voice that was not quite Carolyns advised him. She was fine when she was pissed off, but shes not pissed off now. Shes too tenderhearted for whatevers going to happen next, Ralph. You have to get her out of here. He turned toward Lois. Her eyes were half closed. She looked ready to crumple at the base of the archway and go to sleep. [Lois, I want you to get out of here. Right now. Go up the stairs and wait for me under the tr] The scalpel flashed up again, and this time it almost sliced off the end of Ralphs nose. He recoiled, and his knee slid on nylon. Atropos gave a mighty heave and came within a whisker of rolling out from under. At the last second, Ralph shoved the little mans head flat again with the heel of his hand  that, it seemed, was allowed by the rules  and replanted his knee. [Owww! Owww! Stop it! Youre killing me!] Ralph ignored him and looked at Lois. [Go on, Lois! Go on up! Ill be there as soon as I can!] [I dont think I can climb out on my own  Im too tired.] [Yes, you can. You have to, and you can.] Atropos subsided again  for the moment, at least  a small, gasping engine under Ralphs knee. But that was a long way from being enough. Time was passing topside, passing fast, and right now time was the real enemy, not Ed Deepneau. [My earrings] [Ill bring them when I come, Lois. I promise.] Making what looked like a supreme effort, Lois straightened and looked solemnly at Ralph. [You shouldnt hurt him, Ralph, not if you dont have to. Its not Christian.] No, not at all Christian, a capering little creature deep inside Ralphs head agreed. Not Christian, but still . . . I cant wait to get started. [Go on, Lois. Leave him to me.] She looked at him sadly. [It wouldnt do me any good to ask you to promise not to hurt him, would it?] He thought about it, then shook his head. [No, but Ill promise you this much it wont be any harder than he makes it. Is that good enough?] Lois considered carefully, then nodded. [Yes, I think that will do. And maybe I can make it back up, if I take it slow and easy . . . but what about you?] [Ill be fine. Wait for me under the tree.] [All right, Ralph.] He watched her cross the filthy room, Helens sneaker bobbing from one wrist. She ducked beneath the arch between the apartment and the stairway and slowly started up. Ralph waited until her feet had disappeared from view, then turned back to Atropos. [Well, Chumley, here we are  two old pals reunited. What should we do? Should we play? You like to play, dont you?] Atropos immediately renewed his struggles, simultaneously waving his scalpel above his head and trying to buck Ralph off. [Quit it! Get your hands off me, you old faggot!] Atropos thrashed so wildly that kneeling on him now was like kneeling on a snake. Ralph ignored the yelling, the bucking, and the blindly waving scalpel. Atroposs whole head was now sticking out of the slip, which made things a lot easier. He grabbed Loiss earrings and tugged. They stayed where they were but earned him a hearty, pained scream from Atropos. Ralph leaned forward, smiling a little. [For pierced ears, arent they, pal?] [Yes! Yes, goddammit!] [To quote you, lifes a bitch, aint it?] Ralph seized the earrings again and ripped them free. There were two small fans of blood as the minute holes in the lobes of Atroposs ears became flaps. The bald mans scream was as sharp as a new drillbit. Ralph felt an uneasy mixture of pity and contempt. Little bastards used to hurting other people, but not being hurt himself. Maybe hes never been hurt himself. Well say hello to how the other half lives, pal. [Stop it! Stop it! You cant do this to me!] [Ive got a newsflash for you, buddy . . . I am doing it. Now why dont you just get with the program?] [What do you think youre going to accomplish by this, Shorts? Itll happen anyway, you know. All those people at the Civic Center are going to go byebye, and taking the ring wont stop it.] Dont I know it, Ralph thought. Atropos was still panting, but he had stopped thrashing. Ralph felt able to look away from him for a moment and send his eyes on a quick tour of the room. He supposed what he was really looking for was inspiration  even a small bolt would do. [Can I make a suggestion, Mr A? As your new little pal and playmate? I know youre busy, but you ought to find time to do something about this place. Im not talking about getting it in House Beautiful or anything like that, but sheesh! What a sty!] Atropos, simultaneously sulky and wary [Do you think I give a fuck what you think, Shorts?] He could only think of one way to proceed. He didnt like it, but he was going to go ahead, just the same. He had to go ahead; there was a picture in his mind that guaranteed it. It was a picture of Ed Deepneau flying toward Derry from the coast in a light plane, one with either a crate of high explosive or a tank of nervegas stowed in the nose. [What can I do with you, Mr A? Any ideas?] The response was immediate and unequivocal. [Let me go. Thats the answer. The only answer. Ill leave you alone, both of you. Leave you for the Purpose. Youll live another ten years. Hell, maybe another twenty, its not impossible. All you and the little lady have to do is butt out. Go home. And when the big bang comes, watch it on the TV news.] Ralph tried to sound as if he were honestly considering this. [And youd leave us alone? Youd promise to leave us alone?] [Yes!] Atroposs face had taken on a hopeful look, and Ralph could see the first traces of an aura springing up around the little creep. It was the same low and nasty red as the pulsing glow which lit the apartment. [Do you know something, Mr A?] Atropos, looking more hopeful than ever [No, what?] Ralph shot one hand forward, grabbed Atroposs left wrist, and twisted it hard. Atropos shrieked in agony. His fingers loosened on the handle of the scalpel, and Ralph plucked it free with the ease of a veteran pickpocket lifting a wallet. [I believe you.] 2 [Give it back! Give it back! Give it back! Give it] In his hysteria, Atropos might have gone on shrieking this for hours, so Ralph put a stop to it in the most direct way he knew. He leaned forward and slashed a shallow vertical cut down the back of the big bald head poking out of the hole in Loiss halfslip. No invisible hand tried to repel him, and his own hand moved with no trouble at all. Blood  a shocking amount of it  welled out of the linecut. The aura around Atropos had now gone to the dark and baleful red of an infected wound. He shrieked again. Ralph rocked forward and spoke chummily into his ear. [Maybe I cant kill you, but I can certainly fuck you up, cant I? And I dont need to be loaded with psychic juice to do it, either. This little honey will do just fine.] He used the scalpel to cross the first cut hed made, making a lowercase t on the back of Atroposs head. Atropos shrieked and began to flail wildly. Ralph was disgusted to discover that part of him  the capering gremlin  was enjoying this enormously. [If you want me to go on cutting you, go on struggling. If you want me to stop, then you stop.] Atropos became still at once. [Okay. Now Im going to ask you a few questions. I think youll find it in your best interest to answer them.] [Ask me anything! Whatever you want! Just dont cut me anymore!] [Thats a pretty good attitude, pally, but I think theres always room for improvement, dont you? Lets see.] Ralph sliced down again, this time opening a long gash in the side of Atroposs skull. A flap of skin peeled loose like badly glued wallpaper. Atropos howled. Ralph felt a cramp of revulsion in the pit of his stomach and was actually relieved . . . but when he spokethought at Atropos, he took great pains not to let that feeling show. [Okay, thats my motivational lecture, doc. If I have to repeat it, youll need Krazy Glue to keep the top of your head from flying off in a high wind. Do you understand me?] [Yes! Yes!] [And do you believe me?] [Yes! Rotten old whitehair, YES!] [Okay, thats good. Heres my question, Mr A if you make a promise, are you bound by it?] Atropos was slow in answering, an encouraging sign. Ralph laid the flat of the scalpels blade against his cheek to hurry him up. He was rewarded with another scream and instant cooperation. [Yes! Yes! Just dont cut me again! Please dont cut me again!] Ralph took the scalpel away. The outline of the blade burned on the little creatures unlined cheek like a birthmark. [Okay, sunshine, listen up. I want you to promise youll leave me and Lois alone until the rally at the Civic Center is over. No more chasing, no more slashing, no more bullshit. Promise me that.] [Fuck you! Take your promise and shove it up your ass!] Ralph was not put out of temper by this; his smile, in fact, widened. Because Atropos hadnt said I wont, and even more important, Atropos hadnt said I cant. He had just said no. Just a little backsliding, in other words, and easily remedied. Steeling himself, Ralph ran the scalpel straight down the middle of Atroposs back. The slip split, the dirty white tunic beneath it split, and so did the flesh beneath the tunic. Blood poured out in a sickening flood, and Atroposs tortured, wailing shriek beat at Ralphs ears. He leaned over and murmured into the small ear again, grimacing and avoiding the blood as best he could. [I dont like doing this anymore, Chumley  in fact, about two more cuts and Im going to throw up again  but I want you to know that I can do it and Im going to keep on doing it until you either give me the promise I want or until the force that stopped me from choking you stops me again. I think if you wait for that to happen, youre going to be one hurting unit. So what do you say? Do you want to promise, or do you want me to peel you like a grape?] Atropos was blubbering. It was a nauseating, horrible sound. [You dont understand! If you succeed in stopping whats been started  the chances are slim, but its possible that you might  I will be punished by the creature you call the Crimson King!] Ralph clamped his teeth together and slashed down again, his lips pressed so tightly together that his mouth looked like a longhealed scar. There was a faint tug as the scalpels blade slid through gristle, and then Atroposs left ear tumbled to the floor. Blood poured out of the hole on the side of his bald head, and his scream this time was loud enough to hurt Ralphs ears. Theyre sure a long way from being gods, arent they? Ralph thought. He felt sick with horror and dismay. The only real difference between them and us is that they live longer and theyre a little harder to see. And I guess Im not much of a soldier  just looking at all that blood makes me feel like passing out. Shit. [All right, I promise! Just stop cutting me! No more! Please, no more!] [Thats a start, but youre going to have to be more specific. I want to hear you say that you promise to stay away from me and Lois, and Ed, too, until the rally at the Civic Center is over.] He expected more wiggling and weaseling, but Atropos surprised him. [I promise! I promise to stay away from you, and from the bitch youre running around with] [Lois. Say her name. Lois.] [Yeah, yeah, her  Lois Chasse! I agree to stay away from her, and Deepneau, too. From all of you, just as long as you dont cut me anymore. Are you satisfied? Is it good enough, God damn you?] Ralph decided he was satisfied . . . or as satisfied as any man can be when he is deeply sickened by his own methods and actions. He didnt believe there were any trapdoors hidden in Atroposs promise; the little bald man knew he might pay a high price later for giving in now, but in the end that hadnt been able to offset the pain and terror Ralph had inflicted on him. [Yes, Mr A, I think its good enough.] Ralph slid off his small victim with his stomach rolling and a sensation  it had to be false, didnt it?  that his throat was opening and closing like the valve of a clam. He looked at the bloodspattered scalpel for a moment, then cocked his arm back and threw it as hard as he could. It flew endforend through the arch and disappeared into the storeroom beyond. Good riddance, Ralph thought. At least I didnt get much on myself. Theres that. He no longer felt like vomiting. Now he felt like crying. Atropos got slowly to his knees and looked around with the dazed eyes of a man who has survived a killer storm. He saw his ear lying on the floor and picked it up. He turned it over in his small hands and looked at the strands of gristle trailing out from the back side. Then he looked up at Ralph.


His eyes swam with tears of pain and humiliation, but there was something else in them as well  a rage so deep and deadly that Ralph recoiled from it. All his precautions seemed flimsy and foolish in the face of that rage. He took a blundering step backward and pointed at Atropos with an unsteady finger. [Remember your promise!] Atropos bared his teeth in a gruesome grin. The dangling flap of skin on the side of his face swung back and forth like a slack sail, and the raw flesh beneath it oozed and trickled. [Of course Ill remember it  how could I forget? In fact, Id like to make you another. Two for the price of one, you might say.] Atropos made a gesture Ralph remembered well from the hospital roof, spreading the first two fingers of his right hand in a V and then flicking them upward, creating a red arc in the air. Within it, Ralph saw a human figure. Beyond it, dimly glimpsed, as if seen though a mist of blood, was the Red Apple Store. He started to ask who that was standing in the foreground, on the curb of Harris Avenue . . . and then, suddenly, he knew. He looked up at Atropos with shocked eyes. [Jesus, no! No, you cant!] The grin on Atroposs face continued to widen. [You know, thats what I kept thinking about you, ShortTime. Only I was wrong. You are, too. Watch.] Atropos moved his spread fingers slightly wider. Ralph saw someone wearing a Boston Red Sox baseball cap come out of the Red Apple, and this time Ralph knew immediately whom he was looking at. This person called to the one across the street, and then something terrible began to happen. Ralph turned away, sickened, from the bloody arc of the future between Atroposs small fingers. But he heard it when it happened. [The one I showed you first belongs to the Random, Shorts  to me, in other words. And heres my promise to you if you go on getting in my way, what Ive just shown you is going to happen. Theres nothing you can do, no warning you can give, that will stop it from happening. But if you leave off now  if you and the woman simply stand aside and let events take their course  then I will stay my hand.] The vulgarities which formed so large a part of Atroposs usual discourse had been left behind like a discarded costume, and for the first time Ralph had some clear sense of how truly old and malevolently wise this being was. [Remember what the junkies say, Shorts dying is easy, living is hard. Its a true saying. If anyone should know, its me. So what do you think? Having any second thoughts?] Ralph stood in the filthy chamber with his head down and his fists clenched. Loiss earrings burned in one of them like small hot coals. Eds ring also seemed to burn against him, and he knew there wasnt a thing in the world to stop him from taking it out of his pocket and throwing it into the other room after the scalpel. He remembered a story hed read in school about a thousand years ago. The Lady or the Tiger? it had been called, and now he understood what it was to be given such a terrible power . . . and such a terrible choice. On the surface it seemed easy enough; what, after all, was one life against a thousand? But that one life! Yet really, it isnt as if anyone would ever have to know, he thought coldly. No one except maybe for Lois . . . and Lois would accept my decision. Carolyn might not have done, but theyre very different women. Yes, but did he have the right? Atropos also read this in his aura  it was spooky, how much the creature saw. [Of course you do, Ralph  thats what these matters of life and death are really about who has the right. This time its you. So what do you say?] [I dont know what I say. I dont know what I think. All I know is that I wish all three of you had LEFT ME THE FUCK ALONE!] Ralph Roberts raised his head toward the rootriddled ceiling of Atroposs den and screamed. CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN 1 Five minutes later, Ralphs head poked out of the shadows beneath the old, leaning oak. He saw Lois at once. She was kneeling in front of him, peering anxiously through the tangle of roots at his upturned face. He raised a grimy, bloodstreaked hand and she took it firmly, holding him steady as he made his way up the last few steps  gnarled roots that were actually more like ladderrungs. Ralph wriggled his way out from under the tree and turned over on his back, taking the sweet air in great long pulls of breath. He thought air had never in his whole life tasted so good. In spite of everything else, he was enormously grateful to be out. To be free. [Ralph? Are you all right?] He turned her hand over, kissed her palm, then put her earrings where his lips had been. [Yes. Fine. These are yours.] She looked at them curiously, as if she had never seen earrings  these or any others  before, and then put them in her dress pocket. [You saw them in the mirror, didnt you, Lois?] [Yes, and it made me angry . . . but I dont think I was really surprised, not down deep.] [Because you knew.] [Yes. I guess I did. Maybe from when we first saw Atropos wearing Bills hat. I just kept it . . . you know . . . in the back of my mind.] She was looking at him carefully, assessingly. [Never mind my earrings right now  what happened down there? How did you get away?] Ralph was afraid if she looked at him in that careful way for too long, she would see too much. He also had an idea that if he didnt get moving soon, he might never move again; his weariness was now so large it was like some great encrusted object  a longsunken ocean liner, perhaps  lying inside him, calling to him, trying to drag him down. He got to his feet. He couldnt allow either of them to be dragged down, not now. The news the sky told wasnt as bad as it could have been, but it was bad enough  it was six oclock at least. All over Derry, people who didnt give a shit one way or the other about the abortion issue (the vast majority, in other words) were sitting down to hot dinners. At the Civic Center the doors would now be open; 10K TV lights would be bathing them, and Minicams would be transmitting live shots of early arriving prochoice advocates driving past Dan Dalton and his signwaving Friends of Life. Not far from here, people were chanting that old Ed Deepneau favorite, the one that went Hey, hey, Susan Day, how many kids did you kill today? Whatever he and Lois did, they would have to do it in the next sixty to ninety minutes. The clock was ticking. [Come on, Lois. We have to get moving.] [Are we going back to the Civic Center?] [No, not to start with. I think that to start with, we ought to . . .] Ralph discovered that he simply couldnt wait to hear what he had to say. Where did he think they ought to go to start with? Back to Derry Home? The Red Apple? His house? Where did you go when you needed to find a couple of wellmeaning but far from allknowing fellows who had gotten you and your few close friends into a world of hurt and trouble? Or could you reasonably expect them to find you? They might not want to find you, sweetheart. In fact, they might actually be hiding from you. [Ralph, are you sure youre] He suddenly thought of Rosalie, and knew. [The park, Lois. Strawford Park. Thats where we have to go. But we need to make a stop on the way.] He led her along the Cyclone fence, and soon they heard the lazy sound of interwoven voices. Ralph could smell roasting hotdogs as well, and after the fetid stench of Atroposs den, the smell was ambrosial. A minute or two later, he and Lois stepped to the edge of the little picnic area near Runway 3. Dorrance was there, standing at the heart of his amazing, multicolored aura and watching as a light plane drifted down toward the runway. Behind him, Faye Chapin and Don Veazie were sitting at one of the picnic tables with a chessboard between them and a halffinished bottle of Blue Nun near to hand. Stan and Georgina Eberly were drinking beer and twiddling forks with hotdogs impaled upon them in the heatshimmer  to Ralph that shimmer was a strangely dry pink, like coralcolored sand  above the picnic areas barbecue pit. For a moment Ralph simply stood where he was, struck dumb by their beauty  the ephemeral, powerful beauty that was, he supposed, what ShortTime life was mostly about. A snatch of song, something at least twentyfive years old, occurred to him We are stardust, we are golden. Dorrances aura was different  fabulously different  but even the most prosaic of the others glittered like rare and infinitely desirable gemstones. [Oh, Ralph, do you see? Do you see how beautiful they are?] [Yes.] [What a shame they dont know!] But was it? In light of all that had happened, Ralph wasnt so sure. And he had an idea  a vague but strong intuition he could never have put into words  that perhaps real beauty was something unrecognized by the conscious self, a work that was always in progress, a thing of being rather than seeing. Come on, dumbwit, make your move, a voice said. Ralph jerked, first thinking the voice was speaking to him, but it was Faye, talking to Don Veazie. Youre slowern old creepin Jesus. Never mind, Don said. Im thinkin. Think till hell freezes over, Slick, and its still gonna be mate in six moves. Don poured some wine into a paper cup and rolled his eyes. Oh boogersnot! he cried. I didnt realize I was playin chess with Boris Spassky! I thought it was just plain old Faye Chapin! I apologize all to hell and gone! Thats a riot, Don. An act like that, you could take it on the road and make a million dollars. You wont have to wait long to do it, either  you can start just six moves from now. Aint you smart, Don said. You just dont know when to Hush! Georgina Eberly said in a sharp tone. What was that? It sounded like something blew up! That was Lois, sucking a flood of vibrant rainforest green from Georginas aura. Ralph raised his right hand, curled it into a tube around his lips, and began to inhale a similar stream of bright blue light from Stan Eberlys aura. He felt fresh energy fill him at once; it was as if fluorescent lights were going on in his brain. But that vast sunken ship, which was really no more or less than four months worth of mostly sleepless nights, was still there, and still trying to suck him down to the place where it was. The decision was still right there, too  not yet made one way or the other, but only deferred. Stan was also looking around. No matter how much of his aura Ralph took (and he had drawn off a great deal, it seemed to him), the source remained as densely bright as ever. Apparently what they had been told about the allbutendless reservoirs of energy surrounding each human being had been the exact, literal truth. Well, Stan said, I did hear somethin I didnt, Faye said. Coss not, youre deaf as dirt, Stan replied. Stop interruptin for just one minute, cantcha? I started to say it wasnt a fueltank, because there aint no fire or smoke. Cant be that Don farted, either, cause there aint no squirrels droppin dead out of the trees with their fur burnt off. I guess it musta been one of those big Air National Guard trucks backfirin. Dont worry, darlin, Ill pertect ya. Pertect this, Georgina said, slapping one hand into the crook of her elbow and curling her fist at him. She was smiling, however. Oh boy, Faye said. Take a peek at Old Dor. They all looked at Dorrance, who was smiling and waving in the direction of the Harris Avenue Extension. Who do you see there, old fella? Don Veazie asked with a grin. Ralph and Lois, Dorrance said, smiling radiantly. I see Ralph and Lois. They just came out from under the old tree! Yep, Stan said. He shaded his eyes, then pointed directly at them. This delivered a wallop to Ralphs nervous system which only abated when he realized Stan was just pointing where Dorrance was waving. And look! Theres Glenn Miller coming out right behind em! Goddam! Georgina threw an elbow and Stan stepped away nimbly, grinning. [Hello, Ralph! Hello, Lois!] [Dorrance! Were going to Strawford Park! Is that right?] Dorrance, grinning happily [I dont know, its all LongTime business now, and Im through with it. Im going back home soon and read Walt Whitman. Its going to be a windy night, and Whitmans always best when the wind blows.] Lois, sounding nearly frantic [Dorrance, help us!] Dors grin faltered, and he looked at her solemnly. [I cant. Its passed out of my hands. Whatevers done will have to be done by you and Ralph now.] Ugh, Georgina said. I hate it when he stares that way. You could almost believe he really does see someone. She picked up her longhandled barbecue fork and began to toast her hotdog again. Has anybody seen Ralph and Lois, by the way? No, Don said. Theyre shacked up in one of those Xrated motels down the coast with a case of beer and a bottle of Johnsons Baby Oil, Stan said. The gianteconomysize bottle. I toldja that yesterday. Filthy old man, Georgina said, this time throwing the elbow with a little more force and a lot more accuracy. Ralph [Dorrance, cant you give us any help at all? At least tell us if were on the right track?] For a moment he was sure Dor was going to reply. Then there was a buzzing, approaching drone from overhead and the old man looked up. His daffy, beautiful smile resurfaced. Look! he cried. An old Grumman Yellow Bird! And a beauty! He jogged to the chainlink fence to watch the small yellow plane land, turning his back to them. Ralph took Loiss arm and tried to smile himself. It was hard going  he thought he had never felt quite so frightened and confused in his entire life  but he gave it the old college try. [Come on, dear. Lets go.] 2 Ralph remembered thinking  this while theyd been making their way along the abandoned railline which had eventually taken them back to the airport  that walking was not exactly what they were doing; it had seemed more like gliding. They went from the picnic area at the end of Runway 3 back to Strawford Park in that same fashion, only the glide was faster and more pronounced now. It was like being carried along by an invisible conveyor belt. As an experiment, he stopped walking. The houses and storefronts continued to flow mildly past. He looked down at his feet to make sure, and yes, they were completely still. It seemed the sidewalk was moving, not him. Here came Mr Dugan, head of the Derry Trusts Loan Department, decked out in his customary threepiece suit and rimless eyeglasses. As always, he looked to Ralph like the only man in the history of the world to be born without an asshole. He had once rejected Ralphs application for a BillPayer loan, which, Ralph supposed, might account for a few of his negative feelings about the man. Now he saw that Dugans aura was the dull, uniform gray of a corridor in a Veterans Administration hospital, and Ralph decided that didnt surprise him much. He held his nose like a man forced to swim across a polluted canal and passed directly through the banker. Dugan did not so much as twitch. That was sort of amusing, but when Ralph glanced at Lois, his amusement faded in a hurry. He saw the worry on her face, and the questions she wanted to ask. Questions to which he had no satisfactory answers. Ahead was Strawford Park. As Ralph looked, the streetlights came on suddenly. The little playground where he and McGovern  Lois too, more often than not  had stood watching the children play was almost deserted. Two juniorhigh kids were sitting side by side on the swings, smoking cigarettes and talking, but the mothers and toddlers who came here during the daylight hours were all gone now. Ralph thought of McGovern  of his ceaseless, morbid chatter and his selfpity, so hard to see when you first got to know him, so hard to miss once youd been around him for awhile, both of them lightened and somehow turned into something better by his irreverent wit and his surprising, impulsive acts of kindness  and felt deep sadness steal over him. ShortTimers might be stardust, and they might be golden as well, but when they were gone they were as gone as the mothers and babies who made brief playtime visits here on sunny summer afternoons. [Ralph, what are we doing here? The deathbags over the Civic Center, not Strawford Park!] Ralph guided her to the park bench where he had found her several centuries ago, crying over the argument shed had with her son and daughterinlaw . . . and over her lost earrings. Down the hill, the two Portosans glimmered in the deepening twilight. Ralph closed his eyes. I am going mad, he thought, and Im headed there on the express rather than the local. Which is it going to be? The lady . . . or the tiger? [Ralph, we have to do something. Those lives . . . those thousands of lives . . .] In the darkness behind his closed lids, Ralph saw someone coming out of the Red Apple Store. A figure in dark corduroy pants and a Red Sox cap. Soon the terrible thing would start to happen again, and because Ralph didnt want to see it, he opened his eyes and looked at the woman beside him. [Every life is important, Lois, wouldnt you agree? Every single one.] He didnt know what she saw in his aura, but it clearly terrified her. [What happened down there after I left? What did he do or say to you? Tell me, Ralph! You tell me!] So which was it going to be? The one or the many? The lady or the tiger? If he didnt choose soon, the choice would be taken out of his hands by nothing more than the simple passage of time. So which one? Which? Neither . . . or both, he said hoarsely, unaware in his terrible agitation that he was speaking aloud, and on several different levels at once. I wont choose one or the other. I wont. Do you hear me? He leaped up from the bench, looking around wildly. Do you hear me? he shouted. I reject this choice! I will have BOTH or I will have NEITHER! On one of the paths north of them, a wino who had been poking through a trashbarrel, searching for returnable cans and bottles, took one look at Ralph, then turned and ran. What he had seen was a man who appeared to be on fire. Lois stood up and grasped his face between her hands. [Ralph, what is it? Who is it? Me? You? Because if its me, if youre holding back because of me, I dont want] He took a deep, steadying breath and then put his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. [Its not you, Lois, and not me. If it was either of us, I might be able to choose. But its not, and Ill be goddamned if Im going to be a pawn anymore.] He shook her loose and took a step away from her. His aura flashed out so brilliantly that she had to raise her hand in front of her eyes; it was as if he were somehow exploding. And when his voice came, it reverberated in her head like thunder. [CLOTHO! LACHESIS! COME TO ME, DAMMIT, AND COME NOW!] 3 He took two or three more steps and stood looking down the hill. The two juniorhighschool boys sitting on the swings were looking up at him with identical expressions of startled fear. They were up and gone the moment Ralphs eyes lit on them, running flatout toward the lights of Witcham Street like a couple of deer, leaving their cigarettes to smolder in the footditches beneath the swings. [CLOTHO! LACHESIS!] He was burning like an electric arc, and suddenly all the strength ran out of Loiss legs like water. She took one step backward and collapsed onto the park bench. Her head was whirling, her heart full of terror, and below everything was that vast exhaustion. Ralph saw it as a sunken ship; Lois saw it as a pit around which she was forced to walk in a gradually tightening spiral, a pit into which she must eventually fall. [CLOTHO! LACHESIS! LAST CHANCE! I MEAN IT!] For a moment nothing happened, and then the doors of the Portosans at the foot of the hill opened in perfect unison. Clotho stepped from the one marked MEN, Lachesis from the one marked WOMEN. Their auras, the brilliant greengold of summer dragonflies, glimmered in the ashy light of days end. They moved together until their auras overlapped, then walked slowly toward the top of the hill that way, with their whiteclad shoulders almost touching. They looked like a pair of frightened children. Ralph turned to Lois. His aura still blazed and burned. [Stay here.] [Yes, Ralph.] She let him get partway down the hill, then gathered her courage and called after him. [But Ill try to stop Ed if you wont. I mean it.] Of course she did, and his heart responded to her bravery . . . but she didnt know what he knew. Hadnt seen what he had seen. He looked back at her for a moment, then walked down to where the two little bald doctors looked at him with their luminous, frightened eyes. 4 Lachesis, nervously [We didnt lie to you  we didnt.] Clotho, even more nervously (if that were possible) [Deepneau is on his way. You have to stop him, Ralph  you have to at least try.] The fact is I dont have to anything, and your faces show it, he thought. Then he turned to Lachesis, and was gratified to see the small bald man flinch from his gaze and drop his dark, pupilless eyes. [Is that so? When we were on the hospital roof you told us to stay away from Ed, Mr L. You were very emphatic about that.] Lachesis shifted uncomfortably and fidgeted with his hands. [I . . . that is to say we . . . we can be wrong. This time we were.] Except Ralph knew that wrong wasnt the best word for what they had been; selfdeceived would be better. He wanted to scold them for it  oh, tell the truth, he wanted to scold them for getting him into this shitting mess in the first place  and found he couldnt. Because, according to old Dor, even their selfdeception had served the Purpose; the sidetrip to High Ridge had for some reason not been a sidetrip at all. He didnt understand why or how that was, but he intended to find out, if finding out was possible. [Lets forget that part of it for the time being, gentlemen, and talk about why all this is happening. If you want help from me and Lois, I think you better tell me.] They looked at each other with their big, frightened eyes, then back at Ralph. Lachesis [Ralph, do you doubt that all those people are really going to die? Because if you do] [No, but Im tired of having them waved in my face. If an earthquake that served the Purpose happened to be scheduled for this area and the butchers bill came to ten thousand instead of just two thousand and change, youd never even bat an eye, would you? So whats so special about this situation? Tell me!] Clotho [Ralph, we dont make the rules any more than you do. We thought you understood that.] Ralph sighed. [Youre weaseling again, and not wasting anybodys time but your own.] Clotho, uneasily [All right, perhaps the picture we gave you wasnt completely clear, but time was short and we were frightened. And you must see that, regardless of all else, those people will die if you cant stop Ed Deepneau!] [Never mind all of them for now; I only want to know about one of them  the one who belongs to the Purpose and cant be handed over just because some undesignated pisher comes along with a headful of loose screws and a planeful of explosive. Who is it you feel you cant give up to the Random? Who? Its Day, isnt it? Susan Day.] Lachesis [No. Susan Day is part of the Random. She is none of our concern, none of our worry.] [Who, then?] Clotho and Lachesis exchanged another glance. Clotho nodded slightly, and then they both turned back to Ralph. Once again Lachesis flicked the first two fingers of his right hand upward, creating that peacocks fan of light. It wasnt McGovern Ralph saw this time, but a little boy with blond hair cut in bangs across his forehead and a hookshaped scar across the bridge of his nose. Ralph placed him at once  the kid from the basement of High Ridge, the one with the bruised mother. The one who had called him and Lois angels. And a little child shall lead them, he thought, utterly flabbergasted. Oh my God. He looked disbelievingly at Clotho and Lachesis. [Am I understanding? All this has been about that one little boy?] He expected more waffling, but the reply from Clotho was simple and direct [Yes, Ralph.] Lachesis [Hes at the Civic Center now. His mother, whose life you and Lois also saved this morning, got a call from her babysitter less than an hour ago, saying shed cut herself badly on a piece of glass and wouldnt be able to take care of the boy tonight after all. By then it was too late to find another sitter, of course, and this woman has been determined for weeks to see Susan Day . . . to shake her hand, even give her a hug, if possible. She idolizes the Day woman.] Ralph, who remembered the fading bruises on her face, supposed that was an idolatry he could understand. He understood something else even better the babysitters cut hand had been no accident. Something was determined to place the little boy with the shaggy blond bangs and the smokereddened eyes at the Civic Center, and was willing to move heaven and earth to do it. His mother had taken him not because she was a bad parent, but because she was as subject to human nature as anyone else. She hadnt wanted to miss her one chance at seeing Susan Day, that was all. No, its not all, Ralph thought. She also took him because she thought it would be safe, with Pickering and his Daily Bread crazies all dead. It must have seemed to her that the worst shed have to protect her son from tonight would be a bunch of signwaving prolifers, that lightning couldnt possibly strike her and her son twice on the same day. Ralph had been gazing off toward Witcham Street. Now he turned back to Clotho and Lachesis. [Youre sure hes there? Positive?] Clotho [Yes. Sitting in the upper north balcony next to his mother with a McDonalds poster to color and some storybooks. Would it surprise you to know that one of the stories is The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins?] Ralph shook his head. At this point, nothing would surprise him. Lachesis [Its the north side of the Civic Center that Deepneaus plane will strike. This little boy will be killed instantly if steps are not taken to prevent it . . . and that cant be allowed to happen. This boy must not die before his scheduled time.] 5 Lachesis was looking earnestly at Ralph. The fan of bluegreen light between his fingers had disappeared. [We cant go on talking like this, Ralph  hes already in the air, less than a hundred miles from here. Soon it will be too late to stop him.] That made Ralph feel frantic, but he held his place just the same. Frantic, after all, was how they wanted him to feel. How they wanted both of them to feel. [Im telling you that none of that matters until I understand what the stakes are. I wont let it matter.] Clotho [Listen, then. Every now and again a man or woman comes along whose life will affect not just those about him or her, or even all those who live in the ShortTime world, but those on many levels above and below the ShortTime world. These people are the Great Ones, and their lives always serve the Purpose. If they are taken too soon, everything changes. The scales cease to balance. Can you imagine, for instance, how different the world might be today if Hitler had drowned in the bathtub as a child? You may believe the world would be better for that, but I can tell you that the world would not exist at all if it had happened. Suppose Winston Churchill had died of foodpoisoning before he ever became Prime Minister? Suppose Augustus Caesar had been born dead, strangled on his own umbilicus? Yet the person we want you to save is of far greater importance than any of these.] [Dammit, Lois and I already saved this kid once! Didnt that close the books, return him to the Purpose?] Lachesis, patiently [Yes, but he is not safe from Ed Deepneau, because Deepneau has no designation in either Random or Purpose. Of all the people on earth, only Deepneau can harm him before his time comes. If Deepneau fails, the boy will be safe again  he will pass his time quietly until his moment comes and he steps upon the stage to play his brief but crucially important part.] [One life means so much, then?] Lachesis [Yes. If the child dies, the Tower of all existence will fall, and the consequences of such a fall are beyond your comprehension. And beyond ours, as well.] Ralph stared down at his shoes for a moment. His head seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. There was an irony here, one he was able to grasp easily in spite of his weariness. Atropos had apparently set Ed in motion by inflaming some sort of Messiah complex which might have been preexisting . . . a byproduct of his undesignated status, perhaps. What Ed didnt see  and would never believe if told  was that Atropos and his bosses on the upper levels intended to use him not to save the Messiah but to kill him. He looked up again into the anxious faces of the two little bald doctors. [Okay, I dont know how Im supposed to stop Ed, but Ill give it a shot.] Clotho and Lachesis looked at each other and smiled identical (and very human) broad smiles of relief. Ralph raised a cautioning finger. [Wait. You havent heard all of it.] Their smiles faded. [I want something back from you. One life. Ill trade the life of your fouryearold boy for] 6 Lois didnt hear the end of that; his voice dropped below the range of audibility for a moment, but when she saw first Clotho and then Lachesis begin shaking their heads, her heart sank. Lachesis [I understand your distress, and yes, Atropos can certainly do as he threatens. Yet you must surely comprehend that this one life is hardly as important as] Ralph [But I think it is, dont you see? I think it is. What you two guys need to get through your heads is that to me, both lives are equally] She lost him again, but had no problem hearing Clotho; in the depth of his distress he was almost wailing. [But this is different! This boys life is different!] Now she heard Ralph clearly, speaking (if speech was what it was) with a fearless, relentless logic that made Lois think of her father. [All lives are different. All of them matter or none matters. Thats only my shortsighted, ShortTime view, of course, but I guess you boys are stuck with it, since Im the one with the hammer. The bottom line is this Ill trade you, evenup. The life of yours for the life of mine. All you have to do is promise, and the deals on.] Lachesis [Ralph, please! Please understand that we really must not!] There was a long moment of silence. When Ralph spoke, his voice was soft but still audible. It was, however, the last completely audible thing Lois heard in their conversation. [Theres a world of difference between cannot and must not, wouldnt you say?] Clotho said something, but Lois caught only an isolated [trade might possibly be] phrase. Lachesis shook his head violently. Ralph replied and Lachesis answered by making a grim little scissoring gesture with his fingers. Surprisingly, Ralph replied to this with a laugh and a nod. Clotho put a hand on his colleagues arm and spoke to him earnestly before turning back to Ralph. Lois clenched her hands in her lap, willing them to reach some sort of agreement. Any agreement that would keep Ed Deepneau from killing all those people while they just stood here yattering. Suddenly the side of the hill was illuminated by brilliant white light. At first Lois thought it came down from the sky, but that was only because myth and religion had taught her to believe the sky was the source of all supernatural emanations. In reality, it seemed to come from everywhere  trees, sky, ground, even from herself, streaming out of her aura like ribbons of fog. There was a voice, then . . . or rather a Voice. It spoke only four words, but they echoed in Loiss head like iron bells. [IT MAY BE SO.] She saw Clotho, his small face a mask of terror and awe, reach into his back pocket and bring out his scissors. He fumbled and almost dropped them, a nervous blunder that made Lois feel real kinship for him. Then he was holding them up with one handle in each hand and the blades open. Those four words came again [IT MAY BE SO.