The Dark Tower

One

In the final days of their long journey,after Bill—just Bill now, no longer Stuttering Bill—dropped themoff at the Federal, on the edge of the White Lands, Susa

Her time in Mid-World—andEnd-World—was almost at an end.

Two

Bill took them in his fine orange plow to alonely Quonset hut with a faded sign out front reading

FEDERAL OUTPOST 19

TOWER WATCH

TRAVEL BEYOND THISPOINT IS FORBIDDEN!

She supposed Federal Outpost 19 was stilltechnically in the White Lands of Empathica, but the air had warmedconsiderably as Tower Road descended, and the snow on the ground was littlemore than a scrim. Groves of trees dotted the ground ahead, but Susa

“I may go no further,” Bill said, shuttingdown the plow and cutting off Little Richard in mid-rave. “Tell ya sorry, asthey say in the Arc o’ the Borderlands.”

Their trip had taken one full day and halfof another, and during that time he had entertained them with a constant streamof what he called “golden oldies.” Some of these were not old at all toSusa

“Fu

Patrick, sitting with Oy in the plow’s tinyrear seat, tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and he held up the padthrough which he was currently working his way. Beneath a picture of Roland inprofile, he had printed: BEATLES, not Beetles.

“It’s a fu

He shrugged and smiled. This gesture said Idon’t know, but she thought Patrick did know. She thought he knew verywell.

Three

They reached “the Federal” near noon, andthere Bill served them a fine meal. Patrick wolfed his and then sat off to oneside with Oy curled at his feet, sketching the others as they sat around thetable in what had once been the common room. The walls of this room werecovered with TV screens—Susa

“I don’t think the Red King liked being ontelevision,” Bill told them. “Especially if he knew company might be coming.Won’t you have another sandwich? There are plenty, I assure you. No? Soup,then? What about you, Patrick? You’re too thin, you know—far, fartoo thin.”

Patrick turned his pad around and showedthem a picture of Bill bowing in front of Susa

“There’s a fleet of vehicles out back,”Bill said, “and while many of them no longer run, some still do. I can give youa truck with four-wheel drive, and while I ca

Susa

“You would not want to come upon the Towerafter dark,” Bill said. “At least I shouldn’t think so, considering the newresident. But what’s one more night camped at the side of the road to suchgreat travelers as yourselves? Not much, I should say! But even with one lastnight on the road (and barring breakdowns, which the gods know are alwayspossible), you’d have your goal in sight by mid-morning of tomorrowday.”

Roland considered this long and carefully.Susa

I’m not ready, that part thought.And there was a deeper part—a part that remembered every nuance of whathad become a recurring (and evolving) dream—that thought something else: I’mnot meant to go at all. Not all the way.

At last Roland said: “I thank you,Bill—we all say thank you, I’m sure—but I think we’ll pass on yourkind offer. Were you to ask me why, I couldn’t say. Only that part of me thinksthat tomorrowday’s too soon. That part of me thinks we should go the rest ofthe way on foot, just as we’ve already traveled so far.” He took a deep breath,let it out. “I’m not ready to be there yet. Not quite ready.”

You too, Susa

“I need a little more time to prepare mymind and my heart. Mayhap even my soul.” He reached into his back pocket andbrought out the photocopy of the Robert Browning poem that had been left forthem in Dandelo’s medicine chest. “There’s something writ in here aboutremembering the old times before coming to the last battle… or the last stand.It’s well-said. And perhaps, really, all I need is what this poet speaksof—a draught of earlier, happier sights. I don’t know. But unlessSusa

“Susa