Темная башня: Стрелок

           Couldheholdupahand,tellthemhehadspenttwenty-fiveyearslearningthistrickandothers,tellthemofthegunsandthebloodthathadblessedthem?Notwithhismouth.Buthishandscouldspeaktheirowntale.

           Theywereinthrowingrangeashefinishedreloading,andastickstruckhimontheforeheadandbroughtbloodinabradeddrops.Intwosecondstheywouldbeingrippingdistance.IntheforefronthesawKennerly;Kennerly’syoungerdaughter,perhapseleven;Soobie;twomalebar-flies;afemalebarflynamedAmyFeldon.Heletthemallhaveit,andtheonesbehindthem.Theirbodiesthumpedlikescarecrows.Bloodandbrainsflewinstreamers.

           Theyhaltedforamoment,startled,themobfaceshiveringintoindividual,bewilderedfaces.Amanraninalarge,screamingcircle.Awomanwithblistersonherhandsturnedherheadupandcackledfeverishlyatthesky.Themanwhomhehadfirstseensittinggravelyonthestepsofthemercantilestoremadeasuddenandamazingloadinhispants.

           Hehadtimetoreloadonegun.

           ThenitwasSylviaPittston,runningathim,wavingawoodencrossineachhand."DEVIL!DEVIL!DEVIL!CHILD-KILLER!MONSTER!DESTROYHIM,BROTHERSANDSISTERS!DESTROYTHECHILD-KILLINGINTERLOPER!"

           Heputashotintoeachofthecrosspieces,blowingtheroodstosplinters,andfourmoreintothewoman’shead.Sheseemedtoaccordianintoherselfandwaverlikeashimmerofheat.

           Theyallstaredatherforamomentintableau,whilethegunslinger’sfingersdidtheirreloadingtrick.Thetipsofhisfingerssizzledandburned.