No one had been in here; no one had moved it; consequently the voice had to be right.
This is how it always was, the angry voice insisted. The only question is this: are you going to do something about it, or are you going to run away into the darkness?
He began to grope for the noose, and at that moment he sensed he was not alone in the shed. In that moment he seemed to smell tobacco and coffee and some faint cologne-Southern Gentleman, perhaps-the smells of Mr. Gaunt.
Either he lost his balance or angry, invisible hands pushed him from the stool. One foot clipped it as he swayed outward and knocked it over.
Norris's shout was choked off as the slip-knot pulled tight. One flailing hand found the overhead beam and caught it. He yanked himself partway up, providing himself with some slack. His other hand clawed at the noose. He could feel hemp pricking at his throat.
No is right! he heard Mr. Gaunt cry out angrily. No is exactly right, you damned welsher!
He wasn't here, not really; Norris knew he hadn't been pushed.
Yet he felt a complete certainty that part of Mr. Gaunt was here just the same... and Mr. Gaunt was not pleased, because this was not the way it was supposed to go. The suckers were supposed to see nothing. Not, at least, until it was too late to matter.
He yanked and clawed at the noose, but it was as if the slipknot had been dipped in concrete. The arm which was holding him up trembled wildly. His feet scissored back and forth three feet above the floor.
He could not hold this half-chin-up much longer.
It was amazing he had been able to keep any slack in the rope at all.
At last he managed to wiggle two of his fingers under the noose and pull it partway open. He shook his head out of it just as a horrible, numbing cramp struck the arm that was holding him up.
He toppled to the floor in a sobbing heap, holding his cramped arm to his chest. Lightning flew and turned the spit on his bared teeth into tiny purple arcs of light. He grayed out then... for how long he didn't know, but the rain was still pelting and the lightning was still flashing when his mind swam back into itself He staggered to his feet and walked over to the fishing pole, still holding his arm. The cramp was beginning to loosen now, but Norris was still panting. He seized the pole and examined it closely and angrily.
Bamboo. Dirty, filthy bamboo. It wasn't worth everything; it was worth nothing.
Norris's thin chest hitched in breath, and he uttered a scream of shame and rage. At the same moment he raised his knee and snapped the fishing rod over it. He doubled the pieces and snapped them again.
They felt nasty-almost germy-in his hands. They felt fraudulent. He cast them aside and they rattled to a stop by the overturned stool like so many meaningless pick-up sticks.
"There!" he cried. "There! There! THERE!"
Norris's thoughts turned to Mr. Gaunt. Mr. Gaunt with his silver hair and his tweed and his hungry, jostling smile.
"I'm going to get you," Norris Ridgewick whispered. "I don't know what happens after that, but I am going to get you so good."
He walked to the shed door, yanked it open, and stepped out into the pouring rain. Unit 2 was parked in the driveway. He bent his thin Barney Fife body into the wind and walked over to it.
"I dunno what you are," Norris said, "but I'm coming for your lying, conning ass."
He got into the cruiser and backed down the driveway.
Humiliation, misery, and anger were equally at war on his face... At the foot of the driveway he turned left and began driving toward Needful Things as fast as he dared.
3
Polly Chalmers was dreaming.
In her dream she was walking into Needful Things, but the figure behind the counter was not Leland Gaunt; it was Aunt Evvie Chalmers.
Aunt Evvie was wearing her best blue dress and her blue shawl, the one with the red edging. Gripped between her large and improbably even false teeth was a Herbert Tareyton.
Aunt Evvie! Polly cried in her dream. A vast delight and an even vaster relief-that relief we only know in happy dreams, and in the moment of waking from horrid ones-filled her like light. Aunt Evvie, you're alive!
But Aunt Evvie showed no sign of recognition. Buy anything you want, Miss, Aunt Evvie said. By the way is your name Polly or Patricia? I disremember, somehow.
Aunt Evvie, you know my name-I'm Trisha. I've always been Trisha to you.
Aunt Evvie took no notice. Whatever your name is, we're having a special today. Everything must go.
Aunt Evvie, what are you doing here?
I BELONG here, Aunt Evvie said. Everyone in town belongs here, Miss Two-Names. In fact, everyone in the WORLD belongs here, because everyone loves a bargain. Everyone loves somethingfor nothing... even if it costs everything.
The good feeling was suddenly gone. Dread replaced it. Polly looked into the glass cases and saw bottles of dark fluid marked DR.