Wolves of the Calla - Stephen King [288]
“Ye spoke well tonight,” Slightman said, and clicked his coffee cup against Roland’s.
“Do you say so?”
“Aye. Of course they were ready, as I think ye knew, but Faraday must have been a surprise to ye, and ye handled him well.”
“I only told the truth,” Roland said. “If the Wolves lose enough of their troop, they’ll take what they can and cut their losses. Legends grow beards, and twenty-three years is plenty of time to grow a long one. Calla-folken assume there are thousands of Wolves over there in Thunderclap, maybe millions of em, but I don’t think that’s true.”
Slightman was looking at him with frank fascination. “Why not?”
“Because things are running down,” Roland said simply, and then: “I need you to promise me something.”
Slightman looked at him warily. The lenses of his spectacles twinkled in the torchlight. “If I can, Roland, I will.”
“Make sure your boy’s here four nights from now. His sister’s dead, but I doubt if that untwins him to the Wolves. He’s still very likely got what it is they come for.”
Slightman made no effort to disguise his relief. “Aye, he’ll be here. I never considered otten else.”
“Good. And I have a job for you, if you’ll do it.”
The wary look returned. “What job would it be?”
“I started off thinking that six would be enough to mind the children while we dealt with the Wolves, and then Rosalita asked me what I’d do if they got frightened and panicked.”
“Ah, but you’ll have em in a cave, won’t you?” Slightman asked, lowering his voice. “Kiddies can’t run far in a cave, even if they do take fright.”
“Far enough to run into a wall and brain themselves or fall down a hole in the dark. If one were to start a stampede on account of the yelling and the smoke and the fire, they might all fall down a hole in the dark. I’ve decided I’d like to have an even ten watching the kiddos. I’d like you to be one of em.”
“Roland, I’m flattered.”
“Is that a yes?”
Slightman nodded.
Roland eyed him. “You know that if we lose, the ones minding the children are apt to die?”
“If I thought you were going to lose, I’d never agree to go out there with the kids.” He paused. “Or send my own.”
“Thank you, Ben. Thee’s a good man.”
Slightman lowered his voice even further. “Which of the mines is it going to be? The Gloria or the Redbird?” And when Roland didn’t answer immediately: “Of course I understand if ye’d rather not tell—”
“It’s not that,” Roland said. “It’s that we haven’t decided.”
“But it’ll be one or the other.”
“Oh, aye, where else?” Roland said absently, and began to roll a smoke.
“And ye’ll try to get above them?”
“Wouldn’t work,” Roland said. “Angle’s wrong.” He patted his chest above his heart. “Have to hit em here, remember. Other places…no good. Even a bullet that goes through armor wouldn’t do much damage to a zombi.”
“It’s a problem, isn’t it?”
“It’s an opportunity,” Roland corrected. “You know the scree that spreads out below the adits of those old garnet mines? Looks like a baby’s bib?”
“Aye?”
“We’ll hide ourselves in there. Under there. And when they ride toward us, we’ll rise up and…” Roland cocked a thumb and forefinger at Slightman and made a trigger-pulling gesture.
A smile spread over the foreman’s face. “Roland, that’s brilliant!”
“No,” Roland contradicted. “Only simple. But simple’s usually best. I think we’ll surprise them. Hem them in and pick them off. It’s worked for me before. No reason it shouldn’t work again.”
“No. I suppose not.”
Roland looked around. “Best we not talk about such things here, Ben. I know you’re safe, but—”
Ben nodded rapidly. “Say n’more, Roland,