That was New York, he could almost smell New York.
And New York meant smack.
He could almost smell that, too.
Except there was a hitch, wasn’t there?
One big motherfucker of a hitch.
8
Roland watched Eddie carefully, and although he could have killed him six times over at almost any time he wanted, he had elected to remain still and silent and let Eddie work the situation out for himself. Eddie was a lot of things, and a lot of them were not nice （as a fellow who had consciously let a child drop to his death, the gunslinger knew the difference between nice and not quite well）， but one thing Eddie wasn’t was stupid.
He was a smart kid.
He would figure it out.
So he did.
He looked back at Roland, smiled without showing his teeth, twirled the gunslinger’s revolver once on his finger, clumsily, burlesquing a show-shooter’s fancy coda, and then he held it out to Roland, butt first.
“This thing might as well be a piece of shit for all the good it can do me, isn’t that right?”
You can talk bright when you want to, Roland thought. Why do you so often choose to talk stupid, Eddie? Is it because you think that’s the way they talked in the place where your brother went with his guns?
“Isn’t that right?” Eddie repeated.
Roland nodded.
“If I had plugged you, what would have happened to that door?”
“I don’t know. I suppose the only way to find out would be to try it and see.”
“Well, what do you think would happen?”
“I think it would disappear.”
Eddie nodded. That was what he thought, too. Poof! Gone like magic! Now ya see it, my friends, now ya don’t. It was really no different than what would happen if the projectionist in a movie-theater were to draw a six-shooter and plug the projector, was it?
If you shot the projector, the movie stopped.
Eddie didn’t want the picture to stop.
Eddie wanted his money’s worth.
“You can go through by yourself,” Eddie said slowly.
“Yes.”
“Sort of.”
“Yes.”
“You wind up in her head. Like you wound up in mine.”
“Yes.”
“So you can hitchhike into my world, but that’s all.”
Roland said nothing. Hitchhike was one of the words Eddie sometimes used that he didn’t exactly understand . . . but he caught the drift.
“But you could go through in your body. Like at Balazar’s.” He was talking out loud but really talking to himself. “Except you’d need me for that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then take me with you.”
The gunslinger opened his mouth, but Eddie was already rushing on.
“Not now, I don’t mean now,” he said. “I know it would cause a riot or some goddam thing if we just . . . popped out over there.” He laughed rather wildly. “Like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat, except without any hat, sure I did. We’ll wait until she’s alone, and—”
“No.”
“I’ll come back with you,” Eddie said. “I swear it, Roland. I mean, I know you got a job to do, and I know I’m a part of it. I know you saved my ass at Customs, but I think I saved yours at Balazar’s—now what do you think?”