Stephen King – The Dark Tower

And—

Eleven-year-old Daneeka Rostov came out of the rolling smoke that now entirely

obscured the lower half of Damli House, pulling two red wagons behind her. Daneeka’s

face was red and swollen; tears were streaming from her eyes; she was bent over almost

double with the effort it was taking her to keep pulling Baj, who sat in one Radio Flyer

wagon, and Sej, who sat in the other. Both had the huge heads and tiny, wise eyes of

hydrocephalic savants, but Sej was equipped with waving stubs of arms while Baj had none.

Both were now foaming at the mouth and making hoarse gagging sounds.

“Help me!” Dani managed, coughing harder than ever. “Help me, someone, before they

choke!”

Dinky saw her and started in that direction. Trampas restrained him, although it was clear

his heart wasn’t in it. “No, Dink,” he said. His tone was apologetic but firm. “Let someone

else do it. Boss wants to talk to—”

Then Brautigan was there again, face pale, mouth a single stitched line in his lower face.

“Let him go, Trampas. I like you, dog, but you don’t want to get in our business today.”

“Ted? What—”

Dink started toward Dani again. Trampas pulled him back again. Beyond them, Baj

fainted and tumbled headfirst from his wagon. Although he landed on the soft grass, his

head made a dreadful rottensplitting sound, and Dani Rostov shrieked.

Dinky lunged for her. Trampas yanked him back once more, and hard. At the same time he pulled the .38 Colt Woodsman he was wearing in his own docker’s clutch.

There was no more time to reason with him. Ted Brautigan hadn’t thrown the mind-spear

since using it against the wallet-thief in Akron, back in 1935; hadn’t even used it when the

low men took him prisoner again in the Bridgeport, Connecticut, of 1960, although he’d

been sorely tempted. He had promised himself he’d never use it again, and he certainly

didn’t want to throw it at

(smilewhen you say that )

Trampas, who had always treated him decently. But he had to get to the south end of the

compound before order was restored, and he meant to have Dinky with him when he

arrived.

Also, he was furious. Poor little Baj, who always had a smile for anyone and everyone!

He concentrated and felt a sick pain rip through his head. The mind-spear flew. Trampas

let go of Dinky and gave Ted a look of unbelieving reproach that Ted would remember to

the end of his life. Then Trampas grabbed the sides of his head like a man with the worst

Excedrin Headache in the universe, and fell dead on the grass with his throat swollen and

his tongue sticking out of his mouth.

“Come on!” Ted cried, and grabbed Dinky’s arm. Prentiss was looking away for the time

being, thank God, distracted by another explosion.

“But Dani…and Sej!”

“She can get Sej!” Sending the rest of it mentally:

(now that she doesn’t have to pull Baj too)

Ted and Dinky fled while behind them Pimli Prentiss turned, looked unbelievingly at

Trampas, and bawled for them to stop—to stop in the name of the Crimson King.

Finli o’ Tego unlimbered his own gun, but before he could fire, Daneeka Rostov was on

him, biting and scratching. She weighed almost nothing, but for a moment he was so

surprised to be attacked from this unexpected quarter that she almost bowled him over. He

curled a strong, furry arm around her neck and threw her aside, but by then Ted and Dinky

were almost out of range, cutting to the left side of Warden’s House and disappearing into

the smoke.

Finli steadied his pistol in both hands, took in a breath, held it, and squeezed off a single shot. Blood flew from the old man’s arm; Finli heard him cry out and saw him swerve.

Then the young pup grabbed the old cur and they cut around the corner of the house.

“I’m coming for you!” Finli bellowed after them. “Yar I am, and when I catch you, I’ll make you wish you were never born!” But the threat felt horribly empty, somehow.

Now the entire population of Algul Siento—Breakers, taheen, hume guards, can-toi with

bloody red spots glaring on their foreheads like third eyes—was in tidal motion, flowing

south. And Finli saw something he really did not like at all: the Breakers andonly the

Breakers were moving that way with their arms raised. If there were more harriers down

there, they’d have no trouble at all telling which ones to shoot, would they?

And—

In his room on the third floor of Corbett Hall, still on his knees at the foot of his

glass-covered bed, coughing on the smoke that was drifting in through his broken window,

Sheemie Ruiz had his revelation…or was spoken to by his imagination, take your pick. In

either case, he leaped to his feet. His eyes, normally friendly but always puzzled by a world he could not quite understand, were clear and full of joy.

“BEAM SAYS THANKYA!”he cried to the empty room.

He looked around, as happy as Ebenezer Scrooge discovering that the spirits have done it

all in one night, and ran for the door with his slippers crunching on the broken glass. One

sharp spear of glass pierced his foot—carrying his death on its tip, had he but known it, say sorry, say Discordia—but in his joy he didn’t even feel it. He dashed into the hall and then

down the stairs.

On the second floor landing, Sheemie came upon an elderly female Breaker named Belle

O’Rourke, grabbed her, shook her.“BEAM SAYS THANKYA! ” he hollered into her

dazed and uncomprehending face.“BEAM SAYS ALL MAY YET BE WELL! NOT TOO

LATE! JUST IN TIME!”

He rushed on to spread the glad news (glad to him, anyway), and—

On Main Street, Roland looked first at Eddie Dean, then at Jake Chambers. “They’re

coming, and this is where we have to take them. Wait for my command, then stand and be

true.”

Eighteen

First to appear were three Breakers, running full out with their arms raised. They crossed

Main Street that way, never seeing Eddie, who was in the box-office of the Gem (he’d

knocked out the glass on all three sides with the sandalwood grip of the gun which had

once been Roland’s), or Jake (sitting inside an engineless Ford sedan parked in front of the

Pleasantville Bake Shoppe), or Roland himself (behind a mannequin in the window of Gay

Paree Fashions).

They reached the other sidewalk and looked around, bewildered.

Go,Roland thought at them.Go on and get out of here, take the alley, get away while you

can.

“Come on!” one of them shouted, and they ran down the alley between the drug store and

the bookshop. Another appeared, then two more, then the first of the guards, a hume with a

pistol raised to the side of his frightened, wide-eyed face. Roland sighted him…and then

held his fire.

More of the Devar personnel began to appear, running into Main Street from between the

buildings. They spread themselves wide apart. As Roland had hoped and expected, they

were trying to flank their charges and channel them. Trying to keep the retreat from turning

into a rout.

“Form two lines!”a taheen with a raven’s head was shouting in a buzzing, out-of-breath

voice.“Form two lines and keep em between, for your fathers’ sakes!”

One of the others, a redheaded taheen with his shirttail out, yelled:“What about the fence,

Jakli? What if they run on the fence?”

“Can’t do nothing about that, Cag, just—”

A shrieking Breaker tried to run past the raven before he could finish, and the

raven—Jakli—gave him such a mighty push that the poor fellow went sprawling in the

middle of the street. “Stay together, you maggots!” he snarled. “Run if’ee will, but keep

some fucking order about it!” As if there could be any order in this, Roland thought (and

not without satisfaction). Then, to the redhead, the one called Jakli shouted: “Let one or

two of em fry—the rest’ll see and stop!”

It would complicate things if either Eddie or Jake started shooting at this point, but neither did. The three gunslingers watched from their places of concealment as a species of order

rose from the chaos. More guards appeared. Jakli and the redhead directed them into the

two lines, which was now a corridor running from one side of the street to the other. A few

Breakers got past them before the corridor was fully formed, but only a few.

A new taheen appeared, this one with the head of a weasel, and took over for the one called

Jakli. He pounded a couple of running Breakers on the back, actually hurrying them up.

From south of Main Street came a bewildered shout: “Fence is cut!” And then another: “I

think the guards are dead!” This latter cry was followed by a howl of horror, and Roland