The Gunslinger
Chapter Seven
"The – "
"Oh, Jesus . .. Oh – "
"– loper -
" - Aw...Aw...Aw... "
"And who is he?" She screamed (but calm within, he could sense the calmness, the mastery, the control, the domination. He thought suddenly, with terror and absolute surety: he has left a demon in her. She is haunted. He felt the hot ripple of sexual desire again through his fear.)
The man who was holding his head crashed and blundered forward.
"I'm in hell!" He screamed up at her. His face twisted and writhed as if snakes crawled beneath his skin. "I done fornications! I done gambling! I done weed! I done sins! I
– " But his voice rose skyward in a dreadful, hysterical wail that drowned articulation. He held his head as if it would burst like an overripe cantaloupe at any moment.
The audience stilled as if a cue had been given, frozen in their half-erotic poses of ecstasy.
Sylvia Pittston reached down and grasped his head. The man's cry ceased as her fingers, strong and white, unblemished and gentle, worked through his hair. He looked up at her dumbly.
"Who was with you in sin?" She asked. Her eyes looked into his, deep enough, gentle enough, cold enough to drown in.
"The.. . the Interloper."
"Called who?"
"Called Satan." Raw, oozing whisper.
"Will you renounce?"
Eagerly: "Yes! Yes! Oh, my Jesus Savior!"
She rocked his head; he stared at her with the blank, shiny eyes of the zealot. "If he walked through that door
– " she hammered a finger at the vestibule shadows where
the gunslinger stood – "would you renounce him to his face?"
"On my mother's name!"
"Do you believe in the eternal love of Jesus?"
He began to weep. "Your fucking-A I do – "
"He forgives you that, Jonson."
"Praise God," Jonson said, still weeping.
"I know he forgives you just as I know he will cast out the unrepentant from his palaces and into the place of burning darkness. "
"Praise God. " The congregation drained, spoke it solemnly.
"Just as I know this Interloper, this Satan, this Lord of Flies and Serpents will be cast down and crushed. . . will you crush him if you see him, Jonson?"
"Yes and praise God!" Jonson wept.
"Will you crush him if you see him, brothers and sisters?"
"Yess... " Sated.
"If you see him sashaying down Main St tomorrow?"
"Praise God... "
The gunslinger, unsettled, at the same time, faded back out the door and headed for town. The smell of the desert was clear in the air. Almost time to move on. Almost
XIII
In bed again.
"She won't see you," Allie said. She sounded frightened. "She doesn't see anybody. She only comes out on Sunday evenings to scare the hell out of everybody."
"How long has she been here?"
"Twelve years or so. Let's not talk about her."
"Where did she come from? Which direction?"
"I don't know." Lying.
"Allie?"
"I don't know!"
"Allie?"
"All right! All right! She came from the dwellers! From the desert!"
"I thought so." He relaxed a little. "Where does she live?"
Her voice dropped a notch. "If I tell you, will you make love to me?"
"You know the answer to that."
She sighed. It was an old, yellow sound, like turning pages. "She has a house over the knoll in back of the church. A little shack. It's where the . . . the real minister used to live until he moved out. Is that enough? Are you satisfied?"
"No. Not yet." And he rolled on top of her.
XIV
It was the last day, and he knew it.
The sky was an ugly, bruised purple, weirdly lit from above with the first fingers of dawn. Allie moved about like a wraith, lighting lamps, tending the corn fritters that spluttered in the skillet. He had loved her hard after she had told him what he had to know, and she had sensed the coming end and had given more than she had ever given, and she had given it with desperation against the coming of dawn, given it with the tireless energy of sixteen. But she was pale this morning, on the brink of menopause again.
She served him without a word. He ate rapidly, chewing, swallowing, chasing each bite with hot coffee. Allie went to the batwings and stood staring out at the morning, at the silent battalions of slow-moving clouds.
"It's going to dust up today. "
"I'm not surprised."
"Are you ever?" She asked ironically, and turned to watch him get his hat. He clapped it on his head and brushed past her.
"Sometimes," he told her. He only saw her once more alive.
XV
By the time he reached Sylvia Pittston's shack, the wind had died utterly and the whole world seemed to wait. He had been in desert country long enough to know that the longer the lull, the harder the wind would blow when it finally decided to start up. A queer, flat light hung over everything.
There was a large wooden cross nailed to the door of the place, which was leaning and tired. He rapped and waited. No answer. He rapped again. No answer. He drew back and kicked in the door with one hard shot of his right boot. A small bolt on the inside ripped free. The door banged against a haphazardly planked wall and scared rats into skittering flight Sylvia Pittston sat in the hall, sat in a mammoth darkwood rocker, and looked at him calmly with those great and dark eyes. The stormlight fell on her cheeks in terrifying half - tones. She wore a shawl. The rocker made tiny squeaking noises.
They looked at each other for a long, clockless moment.
"You will never catch him," she said. "You walk in the way of evil."
"He came to you," the gunslinger said.
"And to my bed. He spoke to me in the Tongue. He – "
"He screwed you. "
She did not flinch. "You walk an evil way, gunslinger. You stand in shadows. You stood in the shadows of the holy
place last night Did you think I couldn't see you?"
"Why did he heal the weed - eater?"
"He was an angel of God. He said so."
"I hope he smiled when he said it."
She drew her lip back from her teeth in an unconsciously feral gesture. "He told me you would follow. He told me what to do. He said you are the Antichrist"
The gunslinger shook his head. "He didn't say that."
She smiled up at him lazily. "He said you would want to bed me. Do you?"
"Yes."
"The price is your life, gunslinger. He has got me with child... the child of an angel. If you invade me – " She let the lazy smile complete her thought At the same time she gestured with her huge, mountainous thighs. They stretched beneath her garment like pure marble slabs. The effect was dizzying.
"Oh, Jesus . .. Oh – "
"– loper -
" - Aw...Aw...Aw... "
"And who is he?" She screamed (but calm within, he could sense the calmness, the mastery, the control, the domination. He thought suddenly, with terror and absolute surety: he has left a demon in her. She is haunted. He felt the hot ripple of sexual desire again through his fear.)
The man who was holding his head crashed and blundered forward.
"I'm in hell!" He screamed up at her. His face twisted and writhed as if snakes crawled beneath his skin. "I done fornications! I done gambling! I done weed! I done sins! I
– " But his voice rose skyward in a dreadful, hysterical wail that drowned articulation. He held his head as if it would burst like an overripe cantaloupe at any moment.
The audience stilled as if a cue had been given, frozen in their half-erotic poses of ecstasy.
Sylvia Pittston reached down and grasped his head. The man's cry ceased as her fingers, strong and white, unblemished and gentle, worked through his hair. He looked up at her dumbly.
"Who was with you in sin?" She asked. Her eyes looked into his, deep enough, gentle enough, cold enough to drown in.
"The.. . the Interloper."
"Called who?"
"Called Satan." Raw, oozing whisper.
"Will you renounce?"
Eagerly: "Yes! Yes! Oh, my Jesus Savior!"
She rocked his head; he stared at her with the blank, shiny eyes of the zealot. "If he walked through that door
– " she hammered a finger at the vestibule shadows where
the gunslinger stood – "would you renounce him to his face?"
"On my mother's name!"
"Do you believe in the eternal love of Jesus?"
He began to weep. "Your fucking-A I do – "
"He forgives you that, Jonson."
"Praise God," Jonson said, still weeping.
"I know he forgives you just as I know he will cast out the unrepentant from his palaces and into the place of burning darkness. "
"Praise God. " The congregation drained, spoke it solemnly.
"Just as I know this Interloper, this Satan, this Lord of Flies and Serpents will be cast down and crushed. . . will you crush him if you see him, Jonson?"
"Yes and praise God!" Jonson wept.
"Will you crush him if you see him, brothers and sisters?"
"Yess... " Sated.
"If you see him sashaying down Main St tomorrow?"
"Praise God... "
The gunslinger, unsettled, at the same time, faded back out the door and headed for town. The smell of the desert was clear in the air. Almost time to move on. Almost
XIII
In bed again.
"She won't see you," Allie said. She sounded frightened. "She doesn't see anybody. She only comes out on Sunday evenings to scare the hell out of everybody."
"How long has she been here?"
"Twelve years or so. Let's not talk about her."
"Where did she come from? Which direction?"
"I don't know." Lying.
"Allie?"
"I don't know!"
"Allie?"
"All right! All right! She came from the dwellers! From the desert!"
"I thought so." He relaxed a little. "Where does she live?"
Her voice dropped a notch. "If I tell you, will you make love to me?"
"You know the answer to that."
She sighed. It was an old, yellow sound, like turning pages. "She has a house over the knoll in back of the church. A little shack. It's where the . . . the real minister used to live until he moved out. Is that enough? Are you satisfied?"
"No. Not yet." And he rolled on top of her.
XIV
It was the last day, and he knew it.
The sky was an ugly, bruised purple, weirdly lit from above with the first fingers of dawn. Allie moved about like a wraith, lighting lamps, tending the corn fritters that spluttered in the skillet. He had loved her hard after she had told him what he had to know, and she had sensed the coming end and had given more than she had ever given, and she had given it with desperation against the coming of dawn, given it with the tireless energy of sixteen. But she was pale this morning, on the brink of menopause again.
She served him without a word. He ate rapidly, chewing, swallowing, chasing each bite with hot coffee. Allie went to the batwings and stood staring out at the morning, at the silent battalions of slow-moving clouds.
"It's going to dust up today. "
"I'm not surprised."
"Are you ever?" She asked ironically, and turned to watch him get his hat. He clapped it on his head and brushed past her.
"Sometimes," he told her. He only saw her once more alive.
XV
By the time he reached Sylvia Pittston's shack, the wind had died utterly and the whole world seemed to wait. He had been in desert country long enough to know that the longer the lull, the harder the wind would blow when it finally decided to start up. A queer, flat light hung over everything.
There was a large wooden cross nailed to the door of the place, which was leaning and tired. He rapped and waited. No answer. He rapped again. No answer. He drew back and kicked in the door with one hard shot of his right boot. A small bolt on the inside ripped free. The door banged against a haphazardly planked wall and scared rats into skittering flight Sylvia Pittston sat in the hall, sat in a mammoth darkwood rocker, and looked at him calmly with those great and dark eyes. The stormlight fell on her cheeks in terrifying half - tones. She wore a shawl. The rocker made tiny squeaking noises.
They looked at each other for a long, clockless moment.
"You will never catch him," she said. "You walk in the way of evil."
"He came to you," the gunslinger said.
"And to my bed. He spoke to me in the Tongue. He – "
"He screwed you. "
She did not flinch. "You walk an evil way, gunslinger. You stand in shadows. You stood in the shadows of the holy
place last night Did you think I couldn't see you?"
"Why did he heal the weed - eater?"
"He was an angel of God. He said so."
"I hope he smiled when he said it."
She drew her lip back from her teeth in an unconsciously feral gesture. "He told me you would follow. He told me what to do. He said you are the Antichrist"
The gunslinger shook his head. "He didn't say that."
She smiled up at him lazily. "He said you would want to bed me. Do you?"
"Yes."
"The price is your life, gunslinger. He has got me with child... the child of an angel. If you invade me – " She let the lazy smile complete her thought At the same time she gestured with her huge, mountainous thighs. They stretched beneath her garment like pure marble slabs. The effect was dizzying.
