Темная башня: Стрелок

           Hisbeercameinacrackedglassschooner."Iain’tgotchangeforgold,"thewomansaidtruculently.

           "Don’texpectany."

           Shenoddedangrily,asifthisshowofwealth,evenatherbenefit,incensedher.Butshetookhisgold,andamomentlaterthehamburgerscameonacloudyplate,stillredaroundtheedges.

           "Doyouhavesalt?"

           Shegaveintohimfromunderneaththebar."Bread?"

           "No."Heknewshewaslying,buthedidn’tpushit.Thebaldmanwasstaringathimwithcyanosedeyes,hishandsclenchingandunclenchingonthesplinteredandgougedsurfaceofhistable.Hisnostrilsflaredwithpulsatingregularity.

           Thegunslingerbegantoeatsteadily,almostblandly,choppingthemeatapartandforkingitintohismouth,tryingnottothinkofwhatmighthavebeenaddedtocutthebeef.

           Hewasalmostthrough,readytocallforanotherbeerandrollasmokewhenthehandfellonhisshoulder.

           Hesuddenlybecameawarethattheroomhadgonesilentagain,andhetastedthicktensionintheair.Heturnedaroundandstaredintothefaceofthemanwhohadbeenasleepbythedoorwhenheentered.Itwasaterribleface.Theodorofthedevil-grasswasarankmiasma.Theeyesweredamned,thestaring,glaringeyesofthosewhoseebutdonotsee,eyeseverturnedinwardtothesterilehellofdreamsbeyondcontrol,dreamsunleashed,risenoutofthestinkingswampsoftheunconscious.

           Thewomanbehindthebarmadeasmallmoaningsound.

           Thecrackedlipswrithed,lifted,revealingthegreen,mossyteeth,andthegunslingerthought:-He’snotevensmokingitanymore.