Dark Tower Redux
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story that appeared in Dark Tower Series. All credit goes to Stephen King.
Book One
Chapter One
1. All things serve the Beam
The Man in Black fled across the desert and the Gunslinger followed. This is the first and last line in a tale that is worthy of the telling. The journey was long, the trail hard and the cost high. No one knew, especially Roland, that the journey would end the way it did. Although in retrospect Roland should have seen it. He was fond of saying that Ka was a wheel so he should have seen it coming. Like a Mack truck as Eddie would have said. What goes around comes around. That's a pretty good description of what a wheel does. The problem for Roland is that he was standing right in the path of Ka and got run over.
Before I go any further, I want to take a few seconds to tell you about myself. First, let me say I am not Sai King. I am not a Word slinger of his caliber. Not by a long shot. What I am is a servant of the beam. My name is not important. After these few short paragraphs, I will not intrude again until the story is told. All I will say is that sometimes the story writes itself and the author is merely along for the ride. I will not be retelling the entire story of Roland. I could not even if I wanted to. What I will do is retell the important parts, the parts that changed. If I disappoint, the fault is with me.
Roland reached the top of the Dark Tower as you know. He placed the guns of his father, made from the sword of Arthur Eld, at the foot of the dark tower to gain entrance to the Tower. He had been told that he could not gain access to the Tower with them but he chooses to forget that fact. Maybe he didn't forget it. Maybe he just didn't understand. At the top, he found himself back at the beginning. Only this time, he had the Horn of Eld with him. This time, Roland stopped to pick it up from the hands of his dead friend Cuthbert. Will this choice make a difference? Only Ka knows.
2. Choices
Roland was a pragmatic man. His life was directed by the choices he made as a young man. Some of those choices where hard and some of them where easy. Some he regretted and some he didn't.
"There will be water if Ka wills it," thought Roland as he followed the Man in Black across the desert.
He adjusted the silver horn that hung from the pommel of his saddle. The Horn of Eld. Just looking at it brought up an image of his childhood friend Cuthbert.
"Cuthbert," said Roland softly, "would that you where here. The day would not be so long with your smiling face, the sun not so hot with your kind words."
Roland thought for a second of Jericho Hill. He thought of the gunslingers that he led against Farsons troops. All those brave men. All dead except for me. Why should I alone survive? I surely did not expect to survive when I lead that last charge. But I did. I remember the bullet that struck Burt, the bullet that sent him to the clearing at the end of the path. My battle senses were preternaturally sharp. The crash of the rifles, the sharp cracks of the pistols, the occasional chattering of a machine gun. The screams of the wounded and the moans of the dying mingled and joined into a cacophony that threatened to drive a person mad. There was a loud zipping sound as something tore through the air with great speed and then a loud wet slapping sound. I was not looking at him when it happened. I only saw the result.
"Damn," I heard Bert say softly and I knew immediately what had happened.
I remember running to him and tripping over the strewn bodies of the fallen. I remember the look of peace that came over his face in the end. I remember …..
"Enough of this," said Roland hoarsely, the pain of the memory raising a lump in his throat. "This is getting me no closer to finding water."
Roland refocused on the task at hand. The task of following the Man in Black; the more important task of finding water. As he rode, his hands slipped back to the horn. They absently stroked the delicate scroll work on the side of the instrument, a sad smile briefly crossing his face.
3. Under the Mountain
Roland and Jake rode the handcart through the mountain in search of an exit. Roland did most of the work while Jake helped as much as he could.
"Jake." Roland said softly.
"Yeah Roland?" answered Jake, his voice thick with sleep.
"We are not alone," said Roland simply.
"What do you mean?" asked Jake, worry creeping into his voice, replacing sleep. He sounded very awake now.
"More Slow Mutants. Stand ready. I am going to try to build speed and outrun them, but, if it comes to it, we need to be ready to fight."
Memories of the last encounter made Jake shudder. They almost had me that time, thought Jake. If Roland hadn't been such a good shot, I would be Mutant food right now.
Jake pulled out the silver horn from his pack. Roland had let him carry after the demon at the Oracle had almost got him. Just holding it seemed to calm his mind.
"I'm ready for them," he told Roland.
Roland noticed that Jake's voice sounded much surer of itself.
Good boy, he thought. You have more strength than I gave you credit for.
The Slow Mutants came on slowly. As the cart moved forward, Roland began to see a glow ahead of the cart. The light was too bright to be just the mutants.
"There seems to be something ahead," he said.
"I see it to. I wonder what it is."
His question was not answered right away. Roland seemed lost in thought. Finally, he answered.
"It looks like a train station."
"A station?" said Jake.
"Yes," answered Roland flatly.
At first Jake was unsure.
"Why would you put a train station underground?" he mused.
While the question hung in the air unanswered, the cart moved closer to both the mutants and the station. The mutants where moving in from the right. They would not reach the cart before it pulled into the station. Roland figured that Jake and he would have about a minute, maybe a minute and a half to find a fortified position once they reached the station.
"Be ready to run when we reach the platform Jake."
As the cart slowed, Roland and Jake prepared to jump to the raised platform to the right. It's not a train station thought Jake, it's a subway station. The words rose to Jake's lips but they died there as Roland spoke.
"Now Jake, run, for your fathers sake!" said Roland, his voice rising.
After that, Jake had no more time to think about the subway station. He and Roland pelted down the platform to the crop of buildings. As he ran he tried to look behind to see how close the Mutants had come. This caused him to slow slightly and Roland increased the pressure on his arm, pulling him along faster.
Roland felt Jake slowing and knew why. The boy is scared. Not that I blame him. We need to find a place to hole up, a place that can be defended. As he ran, his eyes scanned the nearest buildings. He dismissed a likely building that at first showed promise. As he drew near, he saw the large holes in the front of it. Two of the holes were covered with sheets of glass and there were four more holes with the sheets missing. He ran on and spied a medium sized building further down the platform.
The building was square shaped and had a double door on the front. The doors had delicate scroll work of metal from the top to the bottom. The scroll work showed branches twisting to and fro as if blown by an unseen wind. Interspersed among the branches Roland could see smallish figures. At first they looked indistinct, but, as he neared he could see that they were representations of the Guardians of the beams, six on each door. Above the door was a plaque that read: SECURITY. It was written in the high speech and Roland thought that there was a certain symmetry to it. We seek security and we find it, thought Roland. Ka, as sure as I breath.
He saw all of this as he pelted down the platform. He decided on the Security building and steered Jake towards it. As they reached the door, Roland looked behind them. The mutants had reached the cart. They passed it by without a glance.
"Hurry," said Roland. "They look slow, but, they come as steady as the floods. We must get inside and brace the door!" Roland grabbed the handle on the right hand door and pulled. He saw that behind both doors was a sheet of glass that covered the lower half of the inside of each door and screen covering the top half of them. The door opened with a loud squeal, the dry hinges protesting. Roland pushed Jake in and then followed.
As Jake entered the building, he turned to inspect the inside of the door. He saw a large security bolt on the inside of the door near the floor. The bolt was made of thick metal and sunk at least 4 inches into the floor. As Roland closed the door, the hinges protesting even louder, Jake dropped the bolt into its slot. He saw a similar bolt on the other door and dropped this one in place as well.
"Well, now what?" asked Jake, his voice heaving from his run.
Roland looked around the room.
"First, we must inspect the cage we have placed ourselves in."
The room was about 20 feet on a side and about 8 feet tall. There were small rectangular windows spaced around the top of the room near the ceiling. These were about 6 inches tall and maybe a foot long. Some were missing the glass in them. The few still containing glass were white with dust. There was a counter running around the entire left wall that curved along the back wall and continued about halfway down it. Spaced at intervals on this counter were upright square shapes that Roland did not recognize. In front of each was a rectangle of plastic with rows of buttons covered with strange letters.
"They look like computer screens," said Jake. "Those are surely keyboards, but the monitors seem to be too big and way too thin." Computers were a rare thing in Jakes world, but, he had seen them. They were usually large affairs. "The computers at my fathers' network where large suitcase shaped boxes with small screens, called monitors. " His voice trailed off, his mind lost in memory.
In front of every monitor was a high backed chair set on small wheels. Jake pulled one out and sat in it. Near the front of the right side of the room was a large white box that looked to Roland like and ice box. Next to the icebox was a counter that had a sink set into its surface. He twisted the handle on the right side and was very surprised when, after a few sputtering seconds, crystal clear water. Must be drawn from a well he thought. He leaned forward and took a tentative taste. The water had a slight mineral taste but was okay. Above the sink were three glass fronted shelves. Roland could see cans and boxes on the shelves. He was going to open the doors to the shelves when he noticed something else.
The right side of the room had a rack running down the rest of the length of the wall. There were slots running down the rack were something could be stored. In the very last slot was what had to be a rifle of a design that Roland had never seen. He moved to the end of the rack to inspect the rifle. He moved around the table in the middle of the room that was covered with papers and neared the end of the rack. Before he could reach it, a large bang sounded from the front of the room.
"The mutants are here," said Jake, his voice trembling.
Authors Note: I no longer have access to my account here that I started a long time ago, so, I will not be finishing my other two stories. (Come Together and Can't live for Tomorrow) I hope this time to carry this story to its end. Guess we will have to see.