There was not one word writ upon this door but two . . . and neither of them was DEATH. He read it again, lips moving soundlessly:

THE PUSHER

Yet it means death, Roland thought, and knew it was so.

What made him look around was the sound of Eddie’s voice moving away. Eddie had begun to climb the first slope, still calling Odetta’s name.

For a moment Roland considered just letting him go.

He might find her, might even find her alive, not too badly hurt, and still herself. He supposed the two of them might even make a life of sorts for themselves here, that Eddie’s love for Odetta and hers for him might somehow smother the nightshade who called herself Detta Walker. Yes, between the two of them he supposed it was possible that Detta might simply be squeezed to death. He was a romantic in his own harsh way . . . yet he was also realist enough to know that sometimes love actually did conquer all. As for himself? Even if he was able to get the drugs from Eddie’s world which had almost cured him before, would they be able to cure him this time, or even make a start? He was now very sick, and he found himself wondering if perhaps things hadn’t gone too far. His arms and legs ached, his head thudded, his chest was heavy and full of snot. When he coughed there was a painful grating in his left side, as if ribs were broken there. His left ear flamed. Perhaps, he thought, the time had come to end it; to just cry off.

At this, everything in him rose up in protest.

“Eddie!” he cried, and there was no cough now. His voice was deep and powerful.

Eddie turned, one foot on raw dirt, the other braced on a jutting spar of rock.

“Go on,” he said, and made a curious little sweeping gesture with his hand, a gesture that said he wanted to be rid of the gunslinger so he could be about his real business, the important business, the business of finding Odetta and rescuing her if rescue were necessary. “It’s all right. Go on through and get the stuff you need. We’ll both be here when you get back.”

“I doubt that.”

“I have to find her.” Eddie looked at Roland and his gaze was very young and completely naked. “I mean, I really have to.”

“I understand your love and your need,” the gunslinger said, “but I want you to come with me this time, Eddie.”

Eddie stared at him for a long time, as if trying to credit what he was hearing.

“Come with you,” he said at last, bemused. “Come with you! Holy God, now I think I really have heard everything. Deedle-deedle-dumpkin everything. Last time you were so determined I was gonna stay behind you were willing to take a chance on me cutting your throat. This time you want to take a chance on something ripping hers right out.”