“That may have already happened,” Roland said, although he knew it hadn’t. The Lady might be hurt, but he knew she wasn’t dead.

Unfortunately, Eddie did, too. A week or ten days without his drug had sharpened his mind remarkably. He pointed at the door. “You know she’s not. If she was, that goddam thing would be gone. Unless you were lying when you said it wasn’t any good without all three of us.”

Eddie tried to turn back to the slope, but Roland’s eyes held him nailed.

“All right,” the gunslinger said. His voice was almost as soft as it had been when he spoke past the hateful face and screaming voice of Detta to the woman trapped somewhere behind it. “She’s alive. That being so, why does she not answer your calls?”

“Well . . . one of those cats-things may have carried her away.” But Eddie’s voice was weak.

“A cat would have killed her, eaten what it wanted, and left the rest. At most, it might have dragged her body into the shade so it could come back tonight and eat meat the sun perhaps hadn’t yet spoiled. But if that was the case, the door would be gone. Cats aren’t like some insects, who paralyze their prey and carry them off to eat later, and you know it.”

“That isn’t necessarily true,” Eddie said. For a moment he heard Odetta saying You should have been on the debate team, Eddie and pushed the thought aside. “Could be a cat came for her and she tried to shoot it but the first couple of shells in your gun were misfires. Hell, maybe even the first four or five. The cat gets to her, mauls her, and just before it can kill her . . . BANG!” Eddie smacked a fist against his palm, seeing all this so vividly that he might have witnessed it. “The bullet kills the cat, or maybe just wounds it, or maybe just scares it off. What about that?”

Mildly, Roland said: “We would have heard a gunshot.”

For a moment Eddie could only stand, mute, able to think of no counter-argument. Of course they would have heard it. The first time they had heard one of the cats yowling, it had to have been fifteen, maybe twenty miles away. A pistol-shot—

He looked at Roland with sudden cunning. “Maybe you did,” he said. “Maybe you heard a gunshot while I was asleep.”

“It would have woken you.”

“Not as tired as I am, man. I fall asleep, it’s like—”

“Like being dead,” the gunslinger said in that same mild voice. “I know the feeling.”

“Then you understand—”

“But it’s not being dead. Last night you were out just like that, but when one of those cats screeched, you were awake and on your feet in seconds. Because of your concern for her. There was no gunshot, Eddie, and you know it. You would have heard it. Because of your concern for her.”