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'There's apt to be a hell of a fight。'
'Well； I'll do what I can。'
'I love you； Richard。'
Richard smiled wanly。 'I love you； too； Jack。 Now let's go for it before I lose my nerve。'
9
Sloat really believed he had everything under control…the situation； of course； but more important； himself。 He went right on believing this until he saw his son； obviously weak； obviously sick； but still very much alive； e out of the black hotel with his arm around Jack Sawyer's neck and his head leaning against Jack's shoulder。
Sloat had also believed he finally had his feelings about Phil Sawyer's brat under control…it was his previous rage that had caused him to miss Jack； first at the Queen's pavillion； then in the midwest。 Christ； he had crossed Ohio unscathed…and Ohio was only an eyeblink from Orris； that other Morgan's stronghold。 But his fury had led to uncontrolled behavior； and so the boy had slipped through。 He had suppressed his rage…but now it flared up with wicked and unbridled freedom。 It was as if someone had hosed kerosene on a well…banked fire。
His son； still alive。 And his beloved son； to whom he had meant to turn over the kingship of worlds and universes； was leaning on Sawyer for support。
Nor was that all。 Glimmering and flashing in Sawyer's hands like a star which had fallen to earth was the Talisman。 Even from here Sloat could feel it…it was as if the planet's gravitational field had suddenly gotten stronger； pulling him down； making his heart labor； as if time were speeding up； drying out his flesh； dimming his eyes。
'It hurts！' Gardener wailed beside him。
Most of the Wolfs who had stood up to the quake and rallied to Morgan were now reeling away； hands before their faces。 A couple of them were vomiting helplessly。
Morgan felt a moment of swooning fear 。 。 。 and then his rage； his excitement； and the lunacy that had been feeding on his increasingly grandiose dreams of overlordship…these things burst apart the webbing of his self…control。
He raised his thumbs to his ears and slammed them deep inside； so deep it hurt。 Then he stuck out his tongue and waggled his fingers at Mr。 Jack Dirty Motherfuck and Soon…to…be…Dead Sawyer。 A moment later his upper teeth descended like a drop…gate and seered the tip of his wagging tongue。 Sloat didn't even notice it。 He seized Gardener by the flak…vest。
Gardener's face was moony with fear。 'They're out； he's got IT； Morgan 。 。 。 my Lord 。 。 。 we ought to run； we must run…'
'SHOOT HIM！' Morgan screamed into Gardener's face。 Blood from his severed tongue flew in a fine spray。 'SHOOT HIM； YOU ETHIOPIAN JUG…FUCKER； HE KILLED YOUR BOY！ SHOOT HIM AND SHOOT THE FUCKING TALISMAN！ SHOOT RIGHT THROUGH HIS ARMS AND BREAK IT！'
Sloat now began to dance slowly up and down before Gardener； his face working horribly； his thumbs back in his ears； his fingers waggling beside his head； his amputated tongue popping in and out of his mouth like one of those New Year's Eve party favors that unroll with a tooting sound。 He looked like a murderous child…hilarious； and at the same time awful。
'HE KILLED YOUR SON！ AVENGE YOUR SON！ SHOOT HIM！ SHOOT IT！ YOU SHOT HIS FATHER； NOW SHOOT HIM！'
'Reuel；' Gardener said thoughtfully。 'Yes。 He killed Reuel。 He's the baddest bitch's bastard to ever draw a breath。 All boys。 Axiomatic。 But he 。 。 。 he 。 。 。'
He turned toward the black hotel and raised the Weather…bee to his shoulder。 Jack and Richard had reached the bottom of the twisted front steps and were beginning to move down the broad walkway； which had been flat a few minutes ago and which was now crazy…paved。 In the Judkins scope； the two boys were as big as house…trailers。
'SHOOT HIM！' Morgan bellowed。 He ran out his bleeding tongue again and made a hideously triumphant nursery…school sound： Yadda…yadda…yadda…yah！ His feet； clad in dirty Gucci loafers； bumped up and down。 One of them landed squarely on the severed tip of his tongue and tromped it deeper into the sand。
'SHOOT HIM！ SHOOT IT！' Morgan howled。
The muzzle of the Weatherbee circled minutely as it had when Gardener was preparing to shoot the rubber horse。 Then it settled。 Jack was carrying the Talisman against his chest。 The crosshairs were over its flashing； circular light。 The 。360 slug would pass right through it； shattering it； and the sun would turn black 。 。 。 but before it does； Gardener thought； I will see that baddest bad boy's chest explode。
'He's dead meat；' Gardener whispered； and began to settle pressure against the Weatherbee's trigger。
10
Richard raised his head with great effort and his eyes were sizzled by reflected sunlight。
Two men。 One with his head slightly cocked； the other seeming to dance。 That flash of sunlight again； and Richard understood。 He understood 。 。 。 and Jack was looking in the wrong place。 Jack was looking down toward the rocks where Speedy lay。
'Jack look out！' he screamed。
Jack looked around； surprised。 'What…'
It happened fast。 Jack missed it almost entirely。 Richard saw it and understood it； but could never quite explain what had happened to Jack。 The sunlight flashed off the shooter's riflescope again。 The ray of reflected light this time struck the Talisman。 And the Talisman reflected it back directly at the shooter。 This was what Richard later told Jack； but that was like saying the Empire State Building is a few stories high。
The Talisman did not just reflect the sunflash； it boosted it somehow。 It sent back a thick ribbon of light like a deathray in a space movie。 It was there only for a second； but it imprinted Richard's retinas for almost an hour afterward； first white； then green； then blue； and finally； as it faded； the lemony yellow of sunshine。
11
'He's dead meat；' Gardener whispered； and then the scope was full of living fire。 Its thick glass lenses shattered。 Smoking fused glass was driven backward into Gardener's right eye。 The shells in the Weatherbee's magazine exploded； tearing its mid…section apart。 One of the whickers of flying metal amputated most of Gardener's right cheek。 Other hooks and twists of steel flew around Sloat in a storm； leaving him incredibly untouched。 Three Wolfs had remained through everything。 Now two of them took to their heels。 The third lay dead on his back； glaring into the sky。 The Weatherbee's trigger was planted squarely between his eyes。
'What？' Morgan bellowed。 His bloody mouth hung open。 'What？ What？'
Gardener looked weirdly like Wile E。 Coyote in the Road…runner cartoons after one of his devices from the Acme pany has misfired。
He cast the gun aside； and Sloat saw that all the fingers had been torn from Gard's left hand。
Gardener's right hand pulled out his shirt with effeminate tweezing delicacy。 There was a knife…case clipped to the inner waistband of his pants…a narrow sleeve of fine…grained kid leather。 From it Gardener took a piece of chrome…banded ivory。 He pushed a button； and a slim blade seven inches long shot out。
'Bad；' he whispered。 'Bad！' His voice began to rise。 'All boys！ Bad！ It's axiomatic！ IT'S AXIOMATIC！' He began to run up the beach toward the A