Alan didn't answer Ace. He spoke to Polly instead, tightening his hands on the Tastee-Munch can as he did. Ace hadn't even noticed the can, it seemed, very likely because Alan had made absolutely no attempt to hide it.

"Annie wasn't wearing her seatbelt that day," Alan said to Polly. "Did I ever tell you that?"

"I... I don't remember, Alan."

Behind Ace, Norris Ridgewick was pulling himself laboriously out of the cruiser's window.

"That's why she went through the windshield." In just a moment I'm going to have to go for one of them, he thought. Ace or Mr. Gaunt? Which way? Which one? Which one? "That's what I always wondered about-why her belt wasn't buckled. She didn't even think about it, the habit was so deeply ingrained. But she didn't do it that day." "That's what I always wondered about-why her belt wasn't buckled. She didn't even think about it, the habit was so deeply ingrained. But she didn't do it that day."

"Last chance, cop!" Ace shrieked. Ace shrieked. "I'll take my money or this b.i.t.c.h! You choose!" "I'll take my money or this b.i.t.c.h! You choose!"

Alan went on ignoring him. "But on the tape, her belt was still buckled, her belt was still buckled," Alan said, and suddenly he knew. knew. Knowing rose in the middle of his mind like a clear silver column of flame. "It Knowing rose in the middle of his mind like a clear silver column of flame. "It was still buckled and you f.u.c.ked up, MR. GAUNT!" was still buckled and you f.u.c.ked up, MR. GAUNT!"

Alan wheeled toward the tall figure standing beneath the green canopy eight feet away. He grasped the top of the Tastee-Munch can as he took a single large step toward Castle Rock's newest entrepreneur, and before Gaunt could do anything-before his eyes could do more than begin to widen-Alan had spun the lid off Todd's last joke, the one Annie had said to let him have because he would only be young once.

The snake sprang out, and this time it was no joke.

This time it was real.

It was only real for a few seconds, and Alan never knew if anyone else had seen it, but Gaunt Gaunt did; of that he was absolutely sure. It was long-much longer than the crepe-paper snake that had flown out a week or so ago when he had removed the can's top in the Munic.i.p.al Building parking lot after his long, solitary ride back from Portland. Its skin glowed with a shifting iridescence and its body was mottled with diamonds of red and black, like the skin of some fabulous rattler. did; of that he was absolutely sure. It was long-much longer than the crepe-paper snake that had flown out a week or so ago when he had removed the can's top in the Munic.i.p.al Building parking lot after his long, solitary ride back from Portland. Its skin glowed with a shifting iridescence and its body was mottled with diamonds of red and black, like the skin of some fabulous rattler.

Its jaws opened as it struck the shoulder of Leland Gaunt's broadcloth coat, and Alan squinted against the dazzling, chromic gleam of its fangs. He saw the deadly triangular head draw back, then dart down toward Gaunt's neck. He saw Gaunt grab for it and seize it... but before he did, the snake's fangs sank into his flesh, not once but several times. The triangular head blurred up and down like the bobbin of a sewing machine.

Gaunt screamed-although with pain, fury, or both, Alan could not tell-and dropped the valise in order to seize the snake with both hands. Alan saw his chance and leaped forward as Gaunt held the whipping snake away from him, then hurled it to the sidewalk at his booted feet. When it landed, it was again what it had been before-nothing but a cheap novelty, five feet of spring wrapped in faded green crepe-paper, the sort of trick only a kid like Todd could truly love and only a creature like Gaunt could truly appreciate.

Blood was trickling from Gaunt's neck in tiny threads from three pairs of holes. He wiped it away absently with one of his strange, long-fingered hands as he bent to pick up his valise... and stopped suddenly. Bent over like that, long legs c.o.c.ked, long arm reaching, he looked like a woodcut of Ichabod Crane. But what he was reaching for was no longer there. The hyena-hide valise with its gruesome, respiring sides now sat on the pavement between Alan's feet. He had taken it while Mr. Gaunt had been occupied with the snake, and he had done it with his customary speed and dexterity.

There was no doubt about Gaunt's expression now; a thunderous combination of rage, hate, and unbelieving surprise contorted his features. His upper lip curled back like a dog's muzzle, exposing the rows of jostling teeth. Now all of those teeth came to points, as if filed for the occasion.

He held his splayed hands out and hissed: "Give it to me-it's mine!" "Give it to me-it's mine!"

Alan didn't know that Leland Gaunt had a.s.sured dozens of Castle Rock residents, from Hugh Priest to Slopey Dodd, that he hadn't the slightest interest in human souls-poor, wrinkled, diminished things that they were. If he had had known, Alan would have laughed and pointed out that lies were Mr. Gaunt's chief stock in trade. Oh, he knew what was in the bag, all right-what was in there, screaming like powerlines in a high wind and breathing like a frightened old man on his deathbed. He knew very well. known, Alan would have laughed and pointed out that lies were Mr. Gaunt's chief stock in trade. Oh, he knew what was in the bag, all right-what was in there, screaming like powerlines in a high wind and breathing like a frightened old man on his deathbed. He knew very well.

Mr. Gaunt's lips pulled back from his teeth in a macabre grin. His horrible hands stretched out farther toward Alan.

"I'm warning you, Sheriff--don't f.u.c.k with me. I'm not a man you want to f.u.c.k with. That bag is mine, I say!"

"I don't think so, Mr. Gaunt. I have an idea that what's in there is stolen property. I think you'd better-"

Ace had been staring at Gaunt's subtle but steady transformation from businessman to monster, his mouth agape. The arm around Polly's throat had relaxed a little, and she saw her chance. She twisted her head and buried her teeth up to the gumline in Ace Merrill's wrist. Ace shoved her away without thinking, and Polly went sprawling into the street. Ace leveled the gun at her.

"b.i.t.c.h!" he cried. he cried.

15.

"There," Norris Ridgewick murmured gratefully.

He had rested the barrel of his service revolver along one of the flasher-bars. Now he held his breath, caught his lower lip in his teeth, and squeezed the trigger. Ace Merrill was suddenly hurled over the woman in the street--it was Polly Chalmers, and Norris had time to think he should have known-with the back of his head spreading and flying outward in clumps and clots.

Suddenly Norris felt very faint.

But he also felt very, very blessed.

16.

Alan took no notice of Ace Merrill's end.

Neither did Leland Gaunt.

They faced each other, Gaunt on the sidewalk, Alan standing by his station wagon in the street with the horrible, breathing valise between his feet.

Gaunt took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Something pa.s.sed over his face-a kind of shimmer. When he opened his eyes again, a semblance of the Leland Gaunt who had fooled so many people in The Rock was back-charming, urbane Mr. Gaunt. He glanced down at the paper snake lying on the sidewalk, grimaced with distaste, and kicked it into the gutter. Then he looked back at Alan and held out one hand.

"Please, Sheriff-let's not argue. The hour is late and I'm tired. You want me out of your town, and I want to go. I will will go... as soon as you give me what's mine. And it go... as soon as you give me what's mine. And it is is mine, I a.s.sure you." mine, I a.s.sure you."

"a.s.sure and be d.a.m.ned. I don't believe you, my friend."

Gaunt stared at Alan with impatience and anger. "That bag and its contents belong to me! me! Don't you believe in free trade, Sheriff Pangborn? What are you, some sort of Communist? I d.i.c.kered for each and every one of the things in that valise! I got them fair and square. If it's a reward you want, an emolument, a commission, a finder's fee, a dip out of the old gravy-boat, whatever you want to call it, that I can understand and that I will gladly pay. But you must see that this is a Don't you believe in free trade, Sheriff Pangborn? What are you, some sort of Communist? I d.i.c.kered for each and every one of the things in that valise! I got them fair and square. If it's a reward you want, an emolument, a commission, a finder's fee, a dip out of the old gravy-boat, whatever you want to call it, that I can understand and that I will gladly pay. But you must see that this is a business business matter, not a legal m-" matter, not a legal m-"

"You cheated!" Polly screamed. "You Polly screamed. "You cheated and you lied and you cozened!" cheated and you lied and you cozened!"

Gaunt shot her a pained glance, then looked back at Alan. "I didn't, you know. I dealt as I always do. I show people what I have to sell... and let them make up their own minds. So... if you please..."

"I think I'll keep it," Alan said evenly. A small smile, as thin and sharp as a rind of November ice, touched his mouth. "Let's just call it evidence, okay?"

"I'm afraid you can't do that, Sheriff." Gaunt stepped off the sidewalk and into the street. Small red pits of light glowed in his eyes. "You can die, but you can't keep my property. Not if I mean to take it. And I do." He began to walk toward Alan, the red pinp.r.i.c.ks in his eyes deepening. He left a boot-track in an oatmeal-colored lump of Ace's brains as he came.

Alan felt his belly try to fold in on itself, but he didn't move. Instead, prompted by some instinct he made no effort to understand, he put his hands together in front of the station wagon's left headlight. He crossed them, made a bird-shape, and began to bend his wrists rapidly back and forth.

The sparrows are flying again, Mr. Gaunt, he thought.

A large projected shadow-bird-more hawk than sparrow and unsettlingly realistic realistic for an insubstantial shade-suddenly flapped across the false front of Needful Things. Gaunt saw it from the corner of his eye, whirled toward it, gasped, and retreated again. for an insubstantial shade-suddenly flapped across the false front of Needful Things. Gaunt saw it from the corner of his eye, whirled toward it, gasped, and retreated again.

"Get out of town, my friend," Alan said. He rearranged his hands and now a large shadow-dog-perhaps a Saint Bernard-slouched across the front of You Sew and Sew in the spotlight thrown by the station wagon's headlights. And somewhere near-perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not-a dog began to bark. A large one, by the sound.

Gaunt turned in that direction. He was looking slightly harried now, and definitely off-balance.

"You're lucky I'm cutting you loose," Alan went on. "But what would I charge you with, come to that? The theft of souls may be covered in the legal code Brigham and Rose deal with, but I don't think I'd find it in mine. Still, I'd advise you to go while you still can."

"Give me my bag!"

Alan stared at him, trying to look unbelieving and contemptuous while his heart hammered away wildly in his chest. "Don't you understand yet? Don't you get it? You lose. You lose. Have you forgotten how to deal with that?" Have you forgotten how to deal with that?"

Gaunt stood looking at Alan for a long second, and then he nodded. "I knew I was wise to avoid you," he said. He almost seemed to be speaking to himself. "I knew it very well. All right. You win." He began to turn away; Alan relaxed slightly. "I'll go-"

He turned back, quick as a snake himself, so quick he made Alan look slow. His face had changed again; its human aspect was entirely gone. It was the face of a demon now, with long, deeply scored cheeks and drooping eyes that blazed with orange fire.

"-BUT NOT WITHOUT MY PROPERTY!" he screamed, and leaped for the bag. he screamed, and leaped for the bag.

Somewhere-close by or a thousand miles away-Polly shrieked, "Look out, Alan!" "Look out, Alan!" but there was no time to look out; the demon, smelling like a mixture of sulphur and fried shoeleather, was upon him. There was only time to act or time to die. but there was no time to look out; the demon, smelling like a mixture of sulphur and fried shoeleather, was upon him. There was only time to act or time to die.

Alan pa.s.sed his right hand down the inside of his left wrist, groping for the tiny elastic loop protruding from his watchband. Part of him was announcing that this would never work, even another miracle of trans.m.u.tation couldn't save him this time, because the Folding Flower Trick was used up, it was- His thumb slipped into the loop.

The tiny paper packet snapped out.

Alan thrust his hand forward, sliding the loop free for the last time as he did so.

"ABRACADABRA, YOU LYING f.u.c.k!" he cried, and what suddenly bloomed in his hand was not a bouquet of flowers but a blazing bouquet of light that lit Upper Main Street with a fabulous, shifting radiance. Yet he realized the colors rising from his fist in an incredible fountain were one color, as all the colors translated by a gla.s.s prism or a rainbow in the air are one color. He felt a jolt of power run up his arm, and for a moment he was filled with a great and incoherent ecstasy: he cried, and what suddenly bloomed in his hand was not a bouquet of flowers but a blazing bouquet of light that lit Upper Main Street with a fabulous, shifting radiance. Yet he realized the colors rising from his fist in an incredible fountain were one color, as all the colors translated by a gla.s.s prism or a rainbow in the air are one color. He felt a jolt of power run up his arm, and for a moment he was filled with a great and incoherent ecstasy: The white! The coming of the white!

Gaunt howled with pain and rage and fear... but did not back away. Perhaps it was as Alan had suggested: it had been so long since he had lost the game that he had forgotten how. He tried to dive in below the bouquet of light shimmering over Alan's closed hand, and for just a moment his fingers actually touched the handles of the valise between Alan's feet.

Suddenly a foot clad in a bedroom slipper appeared-Polly's foot. She stamped down on Gaunt's hand. "Leave it alone!" "Leave it alone!" she screamed. she screamed.

He looked up, snarling... and Alan jammed the fistful of radiance into his face. Mr. Gaunt gave voice to a long, gibbering wail of pain and fear and scrabbled backward with blue fire dancing in his hair. The long white fingers made one final effort to seize the handles of the valise, and this time it was Alan who stamped on them.

"I'm telling you for the last time to get out," he said in a voice he did not recognize as his own. It was too strong, too sure, too full of power. He understood he probably could not put an end to the thing which crouched before him with one cringing hand raised to shield its face from the shifting spectrum of light, but he could make it be gone. Tonight that power was his... if he dared to use it. If he dared to stand and be true. "And I'm telling you for the last time that you're going without this."

"They'll die without me!" the Gaunt-thing moaned. Now its hands hung between its legs; long claws clicked and c.l.i.ttered in the scattered debris which lay in the street. "Every single one one of them will die without me, like plants without water in the desert. Is that what you want? of them will die without me, like plants without water in the desert. Is that what you want? Is Is it?" it?"

Polly was with Alan then, pressed against his side.

"Yes," she said coldly. "Better that they die here and now, if that's what has to happen, than that they go with you and live. They-we-did some lousy things, but that price is much too high."

The Gaunt-thing hissed and shook its claws at them.

Alan picked up the bag and backed slowly into the street with Polly by his side. He raised the fountain of light-flowers so that they cast an amazing, revolving glow upon Mr. Gaunt and his Tucker Talisman. He pulled air into his chest-more air than his body had ever contained before, it seemed. And when he spoke, the words roared from him in a vast voice which was not his own. "GO HENCE, DEMON! YOU ARE CAST OUT FROM THIS PLACE!" HENCE, DEMON! YOU ARE CAST OUT FROM THIS PLACE!"

The Gaunt-thing screamed as if burned by scalding water. The green awning of Needful Things burst into flame and the show-window blew inward, its gla.s.s pulverized to diamonds. From above Alan's closed hand, bright rays of radiance-blue, red, green, orange, deep-hued violet-struck out in every direction. For a moment a tiny, exploding star seemed balanced on his fist.

The hyena-hide valise burst open with a rotted pop, and the trapped, wailing voices escaped in a vapor which was not seen but felt by all of them-Alan, Polly, Norris, Seaton.

Polly felt the hot, sinking poison in her arms and chest disappear.

The heat slowly gathering around Norris's heart dissipated.

All over Castle Rock, guns and clubs were cast down; people looked at each other with the wondering eyes of those who have awakened from a dreadful dream.

And the rain stopped.

17.

Still screaming, the thing which had been Leland Gaunt hopped and scrambled across the sidewalk to the Tucker. It pulled the door open and flopped behind the wheel. The motor screamed into life. It was not the sound of any engine made by human hands. A long lick of orange fire belched from the exhaust pipe. The taillights flared and they were not red gla.s.s but ugly little eyes-the eyes of cruel imps.

Polly Chalmers screamed and turned her face against Alan's shoulder, but Alan could not turn away. Alan was doomed to see and to remember all his life what he saw, as he would remember the night's brighter marvels: the paper snake that became momentarily real, the paper flowers that had turned into a bouquet of light and a reservoir of power.

The three headlights blazed on. The Tucker backed out into the street, smoking the macadam beneath its tires to boiling goo. It screamed around in a reverse turn to the right, and although it did not touch Alan's car, the station wagon flew backward several feet just the same, as if repelled by some powerful magnet. The front end of the Talisman had begun to glow with a foggy white radiance, and beneath this glow it seemed to be changing and reforming itself.

The car shrieked, shrieked, pointing downhill toward the boiling cauldron which had been the Munic.i.p.al Building, the litter of smashed cars and vans, and the roaring stream that no bridge spanned. The engine cranked up to insane revs, souls howling in a discordant frenzy, and the bright, misty glow began to spread backward, engulfing the car. pointing downhill toward the boiling cauldron which had been the Munic.i.p.al Building, the litter of smashed cars and vans, and the roaring stream that no bridge spanned. The engine cranked up to insane revs, souls howling in a discordant frenzy, and the bright, misty glow began to spread backward, engulfing the car.

For one single moment the Gaunt-thing looked out the drooping, melting driver's-side window at Alan, seeming to mark him forever with its red, lozenge-shaped eyes, and its mouth opened in a yawning snarl.

Then the Tucker began to roll.

It picked up speed as it went downhill, and the changes picked up speed, as well. The car melted, rearranged itself. The roof peeled backward, the shiny hubcaps grew spokes, the tires grew simultaneously higher and thinner. A form began to extrude itself from the remains of the Tucker's grille. It was a black horse with eyes as red as Mr. Gaunt's, a horse encased in a milky shroud of brightness, a horse whose hooves struck up fire from the pavement and left deep, smoking tracks impressed in the center of the street.

The Talisman had become an open buckboard with a hunchbacked dwarf sitting up high on the seat. The dwarf's boots were propped on the splashboard, and the caliph-curled toes of those boots appeared to be on fire.

And still the changes were not done. As the glowing buckboard raced toward the lower end of Main Street, the sides began to grow; a wooden roof with overhanging eaves knit itself out of that nourishing protean shroud. A window appeared. The spokes of the wheels took on ghostly flashes of color as the wheels themselves-and the hooves of the black horse-left the pavement.

The Talisman had become a buckboard; the buckboard now became a medicine-show wagon of the sort which might have crisscrossed the country a hundred years ago. There was a legend written on the side, and Alan could just make it out.

CAVEAT EMPTOR.

it said.

Fifteen feet in the air and still rising, the wagon pa.s.sed through the flames sprawling out from the ruins of the Munic.i.p.al Building. The hooves of the black horse galloped on some invisible road in the sky, still striking off sparks of brilliant blue and orange. It rose over Castle Stream, a glowing box in the sky; it pa.s.sed over the downed bridge which lay in the torrent like the skeleton of a dinosaur.

Then a raft of smoke from the burning hulk of the Munic.i.p.al Building blew across Main Street, and when the smoke cleared, Leland Gaunt and his h.e.l.lwagon were gone.

18.

Alan walked Polly down to the cruiser which had brought Norris and Seaton upstreet from the Munic.i.p.al Building. Norris was still sitting in the window, clinging to the flasher-bars. He was too weak to lower himself back inside without falling.

Alan slipped his hands around Norris's belly (not that Norris, who was built like a tent-peg, had much) and helped him to the ground.