We Gotta Get Out of This Place

The battle of Jericho Hill was more chaotic than anything Eden had ever experienced. The ambush in Vietnam was like a walk down 42nd. She wasn't sure of anything but her ka-tet; everything else was a blur of blue faces, a cacophony of screams and gunshots. How long it really lasted, Eden had no idea; it seemed like a lifetime or a few breaths.

She knew when it was over, though. The gunslinger Cuthbert was struck down, the Horn of Eld falling from dead fingers. Her ka-tet was there, and the Horn saved. Penny whisked them away, to hide on a ledge above the Clean Sea. Eden drove thoughts of the battle away by seeing to the wounds of the others. There was little she could do for herself, just bind her leg were the spear had struck and hope for the best.

Hours past, and little was said. Sounds of the pillaging going on above filtered down to them, not quite drowned by the roar of the waves. Eden looked at her tet-mates, and she was filled with a deep, proud love of them. It should have been impossible, yet they had saved the Horn of Eld and they had survived Jericho Hill. Together. Maybe it was ka, but ka had done a damn fine job when it threw the six of them together.

Or was it seven? When they had returned to the Hill, after they rested and struck out in a direction they hoped would take them home, Arthur had showed up. Arthur was a strange little creature, like a long-muzzled raccoon-dog with a curlicue tail. A billy bumbler, she was told, a creature of this world who could talk--or at least mimic speech. Arthur seemed attached to Alistair, and Alistair drank up that affection with a bewildered kind of cheerfulness.

They'd needed the laughter, the up-lifting of spirits that Arthur's antics brought. While bumbler showed a definite preference for Alistair, he seemed willing to accept the attention and affection of the entire group. Eden swore she even saw James smile, although it may have been more at Penny's obvious delight than Arthur's mimicry.

Eden was very glad for Arthur's presence as Carrie became more and more irritable. The last of the younger woman's heroin was gone, and withdrawals had set in. Morale was hard to keep up as the days went by without a way home; it was harder when Carrie cried or lashed out verbally. Carrie's pain hurt the heart to see. When James thought of hypnotizing Carrie to minimize the effects of withdrawals, Eden could have hugged him.

How long until they reached a way home? They'd been in Mid-World for almost two weeks. Eden couldn't tell yet, but Alistair had to be feeling the effects of being away from the Rose. Would he be able to continue leading them in the right direction? Whatever sense it was that drew him to the highways, that enabled him to navigate the passages between worlds, Eden hoped that it would not dim with time as his intelligence would.

More pressing was the thinny that lay ahead. Those who had read enough of Stephen King's books evidently knew enough that Eden could feel the trepidation that no one spoke aloud. A place where the stuff between worlds was thin. Eden kept an eye on Ashleigh as they drew closer and the maddening sound intensified. James had passed around bullets to plug their ears, and it worked muffle the sound, but she still worried about the tall, quiet Southerner.

All she wanted was get her ka-tet home safely. And she'd do everything she possibly could to achieve that.