“We’ve heard of Thunderclap,” Roland said. His voice was somehow terrifying in its lack of emotion, and when Eddie felt Susannah’s hand creep into his, he was glad of it.

“ ’Tis a land of vampires, boggarts, and taheen, so the stories say,” Zalia told them. Her voice was thin, on the verge of trembling. “Of course the stories are old—”

“The stories are true,” Callahan said. His own voice was harsh, but Eddie heard the fear in it. Heard it very well. “There are vampires—other things as well, very likely—and Thunderclap’s their nest. We might speak more of this another time, gunslinger, if it does ya. For now, only hear me, I beg: of vampires I know a good deal. I don’t know if the Wolves take the Calla’s children to them—I rather think not—but yes, there are vampires.”

“Why do you speak as if I doubt?” Roland asked.

Callahan’s eyes dropped. “Because many do. I did myself. I doubted much and…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, and when he finished, it was almost in a whisper. “…and it was my undoing.”

Roland sat quiet for several moments, hunkered on the soles of his ancient boots with his arms wrapped around his bony knees, rocking back and forth a little. Then, to Overholser: “What o’ the clock do they come?”

“When they took Welland, my brother, it was morning,” the farmer said. “Breakfast not far past. I remember, because Welland asked our Ma if he could take his cup of coffee into the cellar with him. But last time…the time they come and took Tian’s sister and Zalia’s brother and so many others…”

“I lost two nieces and a nephew,” Slightman the Elder said.

“That time wasn’t long after the noon-bell from the Gathering Hall. We know the day because Andy knows the day, and that much he tells us. Then we hear the thunder of their hooves as they come out of the east and see the rooster-tail of dust they raise—”

“So you know when they’re coming,” Roland said. “In fact, you know three ways: Andy, the sound of their hoofbeats, the rise of their dust.”

Overholser, taking Roland’s implication, had flushed a dull brick color up the slopes of his plump cheeks and down his neck. “They come armed, Roland, do ya. With guns—rifles as well as the revolvers yer own tet carries, grenados, too—and other weapons, as well. Fearsome weapons of the Old People. Light-sticks that kill at a touch, flying metal buzz-balls called drones or sneetches. The sticks burn the skin black and stop the heart—electrical, maybe, or maybe—”

Eddie heard Overholser’s next word as ant-NOMIC . At first he thought the man was trying to say “anatomy.” A moment later he realized it was probably “atomic.”