Wolves of the Calla - Stephen King [252]
“Cal, listen. Guys like Balazar don’t believe or disbelieve. What they do is test the limits. Did I scare Big Nose? No, just knocked him out. Did I scare Jack? Yes. And it’ll stick, because Jack’s got a little bit of imagination. Will Balazar be impressed that I scared Ugly Jack? Yes…but just enough to be cautious.”
Eddie leaned over the counter, looking at Tower earnestly.
“I don’t want to kill kids, okay? Let’s get that straight. In…well, in another place, let’s leave it at that, in another place me and my friends are going to put our lives on the line to save kids. But they’re human kids. People like Jack and Tricks Postino and Balazar himself, they’re animals. Wolves on two legs. And do wolves raise human beings? No, they raise more wolves. Do male wolves mate with human women? No, they mate with female wolves. So if I had to go in there—and I would if I had to—I’d tell myself I was cleaning out a pack of wolves, right down to the smallest cub. No more than that. And no less.”
“My God he means it,” Tower said. He spoke low, and all in a breath, and to the thin air.
“I absolutely do, but it’s neither here nor there,” Eddie said. “The point is, they’ll come after you. Not to kill you, but to turn you around in their direction again. If you stay here, Cal, I think you can look forward to a serious maiming at the very least. Is there a place you can go until the fifteenth of next month? Do you have enough money? I don’t have any, but I guess I could get some.”
In his mind, Eddie was already in Brooklyn. Balazar guardian-angeled a poker game in the back room of Bernie’s Barber Shop, everybody knew that. The game might not be going on during a weekday, but there’d be somebody back there with cash. Enough to—
“Aaron has some money,” Tower was saying reluctantly. “He’s offered a good many times. I’ve always told him no. He’s also always telling me I need to go on a vacation. I think by this he means I should get away from the fellows you just turned out. He is curious about what they want, but he doesn’t ask. A hothead, but a gentleman hothead.” Tower smiled briefly. “Perhaps Aaron and I could go on a vacation together, young sir. After all, we might not get another chance.”
Eddie was pretty sure the chemo and radiation treatments were going to keep Aaron Deepneau up and on his feet for at least another four years, but this was probably not the time to say so. He looked toward the door of The Manhattan Restaurant of the Mind and saw the other door. Beyond it was the mouth of the cave. Sitting there like a comic-strip yogi, just a cross-legged silhouette, was the gunslinger. Eddie wondered how long he’d been gone over there, how long Roland had been listening to the muffled but still maddening sound of the todash chimes.
“Would Atlantic City be far enough, do you think?” Tower asked timidly.
Eddie Dean almost shuddered at the thought. He had a brief vision of two plump sheep—getting on in years, yes, but still quite tasty—wandering into not just a pack of wolves but a whole city of them.
“Not there,” Eddie said. “Anyplace but there.”
“What about Maine or New Hampshire? Perhaps we could rent a cottage on a lake somewhere until the fifteenth of July.”
Eddie nodded. He was a city boy. It was hard for him to imagine the bad guys way up in northern New England, wearing those checkered caps and down vests as they chomped their pepper sandwiches and drank their Ruffino. “That’d be better,” he said. “And while you’re there, you might see if you could find a lawyer.”
Tower burst out laughing. Eddie looked at him, head cocked, smiling a little himself. It was always good to make folks laugh, but it was better when you knew what the fuck they were laughing at.
“I’m sorry,” Tower said after a moment or two. “It’s just that Aaron was a lawyer. His sister and two brothers, all younger, are still lawyers. They like to boast that they have the most unique legal letterhead in New York, perhaps in the entire United States. It reads simply ‘DEEPNEAU.’ “
“That speeds