reached it and jumped toward it, praying it would shatter and he would fall
through. And it did.
Roland hit the dirt of the road very hard, and he crawled away from the
church on battered and exhausted arms and legs. He saw the church collapse
finally, totally destroyed. Roland's final thoughts before unconsciousness
were ones of stubborn determination to reach the Man in Black and see him
die in a blaze of his own guns.
When he awoke, the gunslinger was totally unaware of how long he had been unconscious. He checked the sun for the time and recognized it as early morning, and decided to make his way back to the inn and collect the remaining amount of food that was most likely there before continuing his journey through the desert. At the inn, he found meat, bread, and a variety of nuts. The man he had talked to in the corner was also there, now decayed and with a distinct odor present. The gunslinger ignored him and took everything. Than he filled his water skins at the pump and made his way to the edge of town. He looked out on the desert and wondered how much distance he had lost over the Man in Black. He took a step onto the sand and walked without looking back, the previous battle against the church and the Man in Black's trap left behind, and replaced with new determination and need for the Dark Tower.
The Dark Tower - Collapse
Post Cuthbert, Alain, alone, along the trail of the Man in Black in the desert.
The sun shone bright and extremely hot over the gunslinger's head, his brimmed hat doing nothing to stop the rays from penetrating his worn, grizzly face. He pressed on through the desert, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other enough times to reach the next town, hopefully not deserted. He peered through the desert haze searching for signs of life. He sighed when none appeared and returned his gaze to the desert floor, studying it for the trail of the Man in Black. It was still in front of him; fresher than it had been a few months ago, twice as fresh as the few months before that. Roland the gunslinger knew he was getting closer to his quarry. Another eventless day past by the gunslinger, the scenery unchanged, his water sack hardly lighter than the day before. The night came as it always did in the desert, cold, an exact opposite of the day's blistering heat. Roland lit his fire from the few pieces of bark left in his purse and with the scattered grass and plant life he had encountered during his journey. He was always careful not to burn or the devil's grass he found. He knew of the dangers in that. He knew of how the devil's grass grasped the soul of a man and tore it out, leaving him lifeless, in a limbo world controlled by the need for it. The very smoke that came from burning that satanic weed could leave you insensible and raving. Staring into the flames, Roland thought of past times greater than the present, before the world had moved on. Before the Good man, John Farson, had claimed lordship or war over the entire land. He thought of Gilead, he thought of Cuthbert, he thought of Cort, he thought of Susan. Susan with her beautiful golden hair, Susan in the grove, Susan in the piece Maerlyn's Rainbow. The last almost brought a tear to the gunslinger's dusty blue bombardier's eyes. He looked up at the sky and at the constellations of a world he thought he knew, the world before it moved on. He was on his back staring at the great twinkling specks of light when an uneasy, haunted sleep overtook him. He lapsed in and out of consciousness through the night simply trying to rest up for the grueling walk that lay ahead of him the next day.
He was up as the sun came over the eastern horizon in a brilliant display of red, pink and orange colors. His sleep had been restless as expected. Roland reached into his purse pulling out his last strip of jerky and sipped the last drops of water from his water skin. He would need to reach a town by nightfall and get new supplies. He could only stay so strong with this little food. The gunslinger continued on down the path toward the Man in Black, hoping to come across the town he knew was just ahead. As midday rose and the scorching sun with it, buildings appeared within view of the bombardier's eyes. He guessed there was six miles of desert between himself and the town ahead of him, and knew he would reach it be nightfall. He trudged on focusing on the settlement ahead that was now beginning to take shape. He noticed with his sharp eyes the outer part of the town had smaller buildings, probably houses. In the middle of the settlement was a large building with a steeple, obviously a church. It was easily the tallest building of the lot, though it looked more recent than the others. The only building that attempted to match its size was a very old looking tunnel. He pushed his body to its endurance limit and beyond, but the collapsing was gaining on him. Soon it would be above him, then he would never reach the Dark Tower. This last thought drove him farther and faster toward the stairs, toward safety, toward the tower. The increasingly loud crumbling reached the gunslinger's ears and he could feel it at his heels. Where were the stairs and the end of the passage? It was taking too long. Had that been part of the trap set by the Man in Black too? That there was no end and he would have to keep running until he could run no more and then be crushed? Except that as these thoughts entered Roland's mind, he saw the end of the cavern. Just a few more paces. Doubts re-entered his mind, as he grew increasingly tired and slowed as the tunnel caved with new ferocity. Just a few more paces. He was racing his death as it slowly gained on him, reaching out to him by means of collapsing ceiling. Just a few more paces! He slowed some more, his endurance breaking, his thoughts giving one last sweep of his sweetest memories. Then he was at the stairs climbing up with his last bit of strength, hoping to reach the top of the stairs and just fall and relax. But the nightmare wouldn't let him. As he entered the main part of the church, he felt the church itself start to rumble under and around him. He got to the aisle and ran toward the doors. He ran until he noticed that something was very wrong. He should have been at the doors by now, it wasn't that long of an aisle. And he realized that the Man in Black had planned this as part of his trap too. Roland couldn't get any closer to the door. He might as well have been running in place, devoured by the Man in Black's enchantment. The church finally gave and Roland rested all of his hope on the window to his left. He half hanging from the ceiling, and the altar was smashed in two. Upon a second look by the gunslinger, he noticed that the actions had been deliberately. Evidence of this was the perfect cut in the exact center of the altar. Again, a chill ran down his spine and he tried to shake the feeling as he stepped further into the church to explore a little more. He found, in the back of the church, a stairway leading downward. Something drew Roland down these stairs; though he couldn't remember what it was when he reflected back on this in the later days of the desert. It may have been the bright blue light that came from the invisible dark at the bottom of the stairs, but it doesn't matter, because he did go down the stairs, and he did see what he thought he saw. The blue light lit the way for the gunslinger down the cave-like tunnel. It was the only light in the entire passage. Thirty steps forward, forty steps, one hundred steps, and still the gunslinger saw nothing other than that blue light that drew him to the back of the cave. But then the cave ended, and the wall in front of the gunslinger had no door or other means of getting through to the other side. Then came the laugh that echoed in the dark cavern, and the gunslinger knew he had walked directly into a trap, realizing this almost too late. The blue light was gone, leaving him in an unforgiving darkness. He sensed what was happening before it did. The walls began to tremble, the same with the floor under Roland's feet. He felt dust from the cave ceiling fall lightly onto his shoulders, then he reacted. The gunslinger bolted down the passage toward the stairs that would lead him up to safety. He had barely gone from the back of the cave when he heard the collapsing of it. More dust reached the gunslinger as he ran blindly down the building to the east of the center of town. The gunslinger assumed this was an inn or tavern. In any case, that would probably be the place where he would find shelter. He didn't intend to stay long, just one night he hoped, to regain much needed strength for the even longer strip of desert ahead. He entered the town by means of a run down carriage trail that hadn't been used for Lord knows how long. Roland had a suspicion that it was part of the Great Road, but it didn't matter. This little town was forgotten by all but the inhabitants of it. The gunslinger didn't pass any people on his way to the inn. He prayed it wasn't deserted. That churched looked so recent, people had to be here! Roland stepped into the inn. There was no one in the old building. It was empty, save for a few chairs tables, and the smell of smoke.. "What you doin' in this town, partnah?" A voice from the corner of the inn called to the gunslinger, who was now angry beyond belief at himself for not seeing the man on the stool. Roland looked over the man in the corner, surveying him and trying to see beyond the emotionless face. He was dirty and old and looked as if he hadn't moved from the stool he sat on for many hours, maybe even days. His dirty gray beard was halfway down his chest, and the matching hair was down below shoulder length. The gunslinger noticed a cigarette in the man's mouth, but it wasn't tobacco. He noticed it immediately as devil's grass, or weed. "Where is the owner of the inn, weed-eater?" Roland never removed his gaze from the man. Something about him didn't make him feel right. The cackle that erupted from the man only intensified the gunslinger's uneasiness. "Gone. They're all gone," another laughing fit conquered the dirty man. Roland removed his gaze of question from the man and looked over the inn. It only looked a couple of days deserted if it was at all. "Tell me, where did they all go?" There was a tone in the gunslinger's voice of anger. He was losing his patience. "They.gone.into.desert.priest.scared.'em all." The weed-eater managed to get the words out in between spells of laughter. Insane, the gunslinger thought. He's gone insane. Than something clicked in Roland's mind that made him rush to the man on the stool. "What did you say about a priest?" The gunslinger was right in the man's face. It scared him half to death. Dropping the cigarette to a hand, the man replied without laughter. He did not enjoy this man with the bombardier's eyes in his face. He was now scared and wanted no more to do with this man. He decided to answer a good answer the first time, so as to not avoid another confrontation. But maybe he could get something out of this.. "I might remember something, for a pretty penny." It was almost a question and the gunslinger didn't like being bargained with, but he needed to know. "I promise your answer will be rewarded nicely. Now, what can you tell me about this priest?" "The priest, let's see. All dressed in black, was he, that's why I think of 'im as a priest. Told the people the end of the world was coming, so he did. He made some kills of some people, though he never touched em'. Strange thing." "Why didn't you flee with the rest of them?" "Doped out of my mind, so I was, yes sir. The priest didn't bother with me. He left a week ago, maybe two, maybe three, maybe a few months ago. Time is weird nowadays." The gunslinger turned toward the door without a reply, but was held back by the words of the man in the corner. "My, erm, payment sir?" The gunslinger turned, his face emotionless. Than he spoke. "An end to your misery." And with that same expressionless look, drew his gun at lightning speed. He hammered back the trigger. One bullet was put through the weed-man's head.
The streets of the town certainly did look deserted to the gunslinger, just as the weed-eater had said. But he couldn't be sure, so he decided to have a look around. If, indeed, there was no one left, Roland would assume the Man in Black did scare everyone away, than loot the deserted town. It wasn't dishonest of him to do that, because otherwise, everything would just have gone to waste. Dust came off the ground as he walked on through the streets. He came to the church, the building that looked the most recently built. At the door there was a sign that chilled the gunslinger, though that same expressionless look never left his hardened, still young face. On the door, this sign:
Gunslinger, renounce the tower, or die in my wake!
Roland just stared at the sign, knowing he would never renounce that infernal, mysterious object. He had already lost so much that it would be incredibly foolish to desert the job now. He stepped inside the church. His first reaction, upon seeing the deserted church, was that vandalizers had destroyed it. The pews had been turned over and were thrown all through out the room. Rafters were
When he awoke, the gunslinger was totally unaware of how long he had been unconscious. He checked the sun for the time and recognized it as early morning, and decided to make his way back to the inn and collect the remaining amount of food that was most likely there before continuing his journey through the desert. At the inn, he found meat, bread, and a variety of nuts. The man he had talked to in the corner was also there, now decayed and with a distinct odor present. The gunslinger ignored him and took everything. Than he filled his water skins at the pump and made his way to the edge of town. He looked out on the desert and wondered how much distance he had lost over the Man in Black. He took a step onto the sand and walked without looking back, the previous battle against the church and the Man in Black's trap left behind, and replaced with new determination and need for the Dark Tower.
The Dark Tower - Collapse
Post Cuthbert, Alain, alone, along the trail of the Man in Black in the desert.
The sun shone bright and extremely hot over the gunslinger's head, his brimmed hat doing nothing to stop the rays from penetrating his worn, grizzly face. He pressed on through the desert, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other enough times to reach the next town, hopefully not deserted. He peered through the desert haze searching for signs of life. He sighed when none appeared and returned his gaze to the desert floor, studying it for the trail of the Man in Black. It was still in front of him; fresher than it had been a few months ago, twice as fresh as the few months before that. Roland the gunslinger knew he was getting closer to his quarry. Another eventless day past by the gunslinger, the scenery unchanged, his water sack hardly lighter than the day before. The night came as it always did in the desert, cold, an exact opposite of the day's blistering heat. Roland lit his fire from the few pieces of bark left in his purse and with the scattered grass and plant life he had encountered during his journey. He was always careful not to burn or the devil's grass he found. He knew of the dangers in that. He knew of how the devil's grass grasped the soul of a man and tore it out, leaving him lifeless, in a limbo world controlled by the need for it. The very smoke that came from burning that satanic weed could leave you insensible and raving. Staring into the flames, Roland thought of past times greater than the present, before the world had moved on. Before the Good man, John Farson, had claimed lordship or war over the entire land. He thought of Gilead, he thought of Cuthbert, he thought of Cort, he thought of Susan. Susan with her beautiful golden hair, Susan in the grove, Susan in the piece Maerlyn's Rainbow. The last almost brought a tear to the gunslinger's dusty blue bombardier's eyes. He looked up at the sky and at the constellations of a world he thought he knew, the world before it moved on. He was on his back staring at the great twinkling specks of light when an uneasy, haunted sleep overtook him. He lapsed in and out of consciousness through the night simply trying to rest up for the grueling walk that lay ahead of him the next day.
He was up as the sun came over the eastern horizon in a brilliant display of red, pink and orange colors. His sleep had been restless as expected. Roland reached into his purse pulling out his last strip of jerky and sipped the last drops of water from his water skin. He would need to reach a town by nightfall and get new supplies. He could only stay so strong with this little food. The gunslinger continued on down the path toward the Man in Black, hoping to come across the town he knew was just ahead. As midday rose and the scorching sun with it, buildings appeared within view of the bombardier's eyes. He guessed there was six miles of desert between himself and the town ahead of him, and knew he would reach it be nightfall. He trudged on focusing on the settlement ahead that was now beginning to take shape. He noticed with his sharp eyes the outer part of the town had smaller buildings, probably houses. In the middle of the settlement was a large building with a steeple, obviously a church. It was easily the tallest building of the lot, though it looked more recent than the others. The only building that attempted to match its size was a very old looking tunnel. He pushed his body to its endurance limit and beyond, but the collapsing was gaining on him. Soon it would be above him, then he would never reach the Dark Tower. This last thought drove him farther and faster toward the stairs, toward safety, toward the tower. The increasingly loud crumbling reached the gunslinger's ears and he could feel it at his heels. Where were the stairs and the end of the passage? It was taking too long. Had that been part of the trap set by the Man in Black too? That there was no end and he would have to keep running until he could run no more and then be crushed? Except that as these thoughts entered Roland's mind, he saw the end of the cavern. Just a few more paces. Doubts re-entered his mind, as he grew increasingly tired and slowed as the tunnel caved with new ferocity. Just a few more paces. He was racing his death as it slowly gained on him, reaching out to him by means of collapsing ceiling. Just a few more paces! He slowed some more, his endurance breaking, his thoughts giving one last sweep of his sweetest memories. Then he was at the stairs climbing up with his last bit of strength, hoping to reach the top of the stairs and just fall and relax. But the nightmare wouldn't let him. As he entered the main part of the church, he felt the church itself start to rumble under and around him. He got to the aisle and ran toward the doors. He ran until he noticed that something was very wrong. He should have been at the doors by now, it wasn't that long of an aisle. And he realized that the Man in Black had planned this as part of his trap too. Roland couldn't get any closer to the door. He might as well have been running in place, devoured by the Man in Black's enchantment. The church finally gave and Roland rested all of his hope on the window to his left. He half hanging from the ceiling, and the altar was smashed in two. Upon a second look by the gunslinger, he noticed that the actions had been deliberately. Evidence of this was the perfect cut in the exact center of the altar. Again, a chill ran down his spine and he tried to shake the feeling as he stepped further into the church to explore a little more. He found, in the back of the church, a stairway leading downward. Something drew Roland down these stairs; though he couldn't remember what it was when he reflected back on this in the later days of the desert. It may have been the bright blue light that came from the invisible dark at the bottom of the stairs, but it doesn't matter, because he did go down the stairs, and he did see what he thought he saw. The blue light lit the way for the gunslinger down the cave-like tunnel. It was the only light in the entire passage. Thirty steps forward, forty steps, one hundred steps, and still the gunslinger saw nothing other than that blue light that drew him to the back of the cave. But then the cave ended, and the wall in front of the gunslinger had no door or other means of getting through to the other side. Then came the laugh that echoed in the dark cavern, and the gunslinger knew he had walked directly into a trap, realizing this almost too late. The blue light was gone, leaving him in an unforgiving darkness. He sensed what was happening before it did. The walls began to tremble, the same with the floor under Roland's feet. He felt dust from the cave ceiling fall lightly onto his shoulders, then he reacted. The gunslinger bolted down the passage toward the stairs that would lead him up to safety. He had barely gone from the back of the cave when he heard the collapsing of it. More dust reached the gunslinger as he ran blindly down the building to the east of the center of town. The gunslinger assumed this was an inn or tavern. In any case, that would probably be the place where he would find shelter. He didn't intend to stay long, just one night he hoped, to regain much needed strength for the even longer strip of desert ahead. He entered the town by means of a run down carriage trail that hadn't been used for Lord knows how long. Roland had a suspicion that it was part of the Great Road, but it didn't matter. This little town was forgotten by all but the inhabitants of it. The gunslinger didn't pass any people on his way to the inn. He prayed it wasn't deserted. That churched looked so recent, people had to be here! Roland stepped into the inn. There was no one in the old building. It was empty, save for a few chairs tables, and the smell of smoke.. "What you doin' in this town, partnah?" A voice from the corner of the inn called to the gunslinger, who was now angry beyond belief at himself for not seeing the man on the stool. Roland looked over the man in the corner, surveying him and trying to see beyond the emotionless face. He was dirty and old and looked as if he hadn't moved from the stool he sat on for many hours, maybe even days. His dirty gray beard was halfway down his chest, and the matching hair was down below shoulder length. The gunslinger noticed a cigarette in the man's mouth, but it wasn't tobacco. He noticed it immediately as devil's grass, or weed. "Where is the owner of the inn, weed-eater?" Roland never removed his gaze from the man. Something about him didn't make him feel right. The cackle that erupted from the man only intensified the gunslinger's uneasiness. "Gone. They're all gone," another laughing fit conquered the dirty man. Roland removed his gaze of question from the man and looked over the inn. It only looked a couple of days deserted if it was at all. "Tell me, where did they all go?" There was a tone in the gunslinger's voice of anger. He was losing his patience. "They.gone.into.desert.priest.scared.'em all." The weed-eater managed to get the words out in between spells of laughter. Insane, the gunslinger thought. He's gone insane. Than something clicked in Roland's mind that made him rush to the man on the stool. "What did you say about a priest?" The gunslinger was right in the man's face. It scared him half to death. Dropping the cigarette to a hand, the man replied without laughter. He did not enjoy this man with the bombardier's eyes in his face. He was now scared and wanted no more to do with this man. He decided to answer a good answer the first time, so as to not avoid another confrontation. But maybe he could get something out of this.. "I might remember something, for a pretty penny." It was almost a question and the gunslinger didn't like being bargained with, but he needed to know. "I promise your answer will be rewarded nicely. Now, what can you tell me about this priest?" "The priest, let's see. All dressed in black, was he, that's why I think of 'im as a priest. Told the people the end of the world was coming, so he did. He made some kills of some people, though he never touched em'. Strange thing." "Why didn't you flee with the rest of them?" "Doped out of my mind, so I was, yes sir. The priest didn't bother with me. He left a week ago, maybe two, maybe three, maybe a few months ago. Time is weird nowadays." The gunslinger turned toward the door without a reply, but was held back by the words of the man in the corner. "My, erm, payment sir?" The gunslinger turned, his face emotionless. Than he spoke. "An end to your misery." And with that same expressionless look, drew his gun at lightning speed. He hammered back the trigger. One bullet was put through the weed-man's head.
The streets of the town certainly did look deserted to the gunslinger, just as the weed-eater had said. But he couldn't be sure, so he decided to have a look around. If, indeed, there was no one left, Roland would assume the Man in Black did scare everyone away, than loot the deserted town. It wasn't dishonest of him to do that, because otherwise, everything would just have gone to waste. Dust came off the ground as he walked on through the streets. He came to the church, the building that looked the most recently built. At the door there was a sign that chilled the gunslinger, though that same expressionless look never left his hardened, still young face. On the door, this sign:
Gunslinger, renounce the tower, or die in my wake!
Roland just stared at the sign, knowing he would never renounce that infernal, mysterious object. He had already lost so much that it would be incredibly foolish to desert the job now. He stepped inside the church. His first reaction, upon seeing the deserted church, was that vandalizers had destroyed it. The pews had been turned over and were thrown all through out the room. Rafters were