“All the time we were on that train I wouldn’t let go of the book. I even remember thinking, ‘If he tries to steal us, I’ll rip out his pages until he quits.’ But of course we arrived right where we were supposed to, and on time, too. Daddy even took me up front, so I could see the engine. It was a diesel, not a steam engine, and I remember that made me happy. Then, after the wedding, that man Mort dropped the brick on me and I was in a coma for a long time. I never saw Charlie the Choo-Choo after that. Not until now.” She hesitated, then added: “This could be my copy, for all I know—or Eddie’s.” “Yeah, and probably is,” Eddie said. His face was pale and solemn . . . and then he grinned like a lad. ” ‘See the TURTLE, ain’t he keen? All things serve the f**kin Beam.’ “
Roland glanced west. “The sun’s going down. Read the story before we lose the light, Jake.”
Jake turned to the first page, showed them the picture of Engineer Bob in Charlie’s cab, and began: ” ‘Bob Brooks was an engineer for The Mid-World Railway Company, on the St. Louis to Topeka run…..’ ”
“‘. . . AND EVERY NOW AND then the children hear him singing his old song in his soft, gruff voice,’ ” Jake finished. He showed them the last picture—the happy children who might actually have been screaming— and then closed the book. The sun had gone down; the sky was purple. “Well, it’s not a perfect fit,” Eddie said, “more like a dream where the water sometimes runs uphill—but it fits well enough to scare me silly. This is Mid-World—Charlie’s territory. Only his name over here isn’t Charlie at all. Over here it’s Blaine the Mono.”
Roland was looking at Jake. “What do you think?” he asked. “Should we go around the city? Stay away from this train?”
Jake thought it over, head down, hands working distractedly through Oy’s thick, silky fur. “I’d like to,” he said at last, “but if I’ve got this stuff about ka right, I don’t think we’re supposed to.” Roland nodded. “If it’s ka, questions of what we’re supposed to or not supposed to do aren’t even in it; if we tried to go around, we’d find circumstances forcing us back. In such cases it’s better to give in to the inevitable promptly instead of putting it off. What do you think, Eddie?” Eddie thought as long and as carefully as Jake had done. He didn’t want anything to do with a talking train that ran by itself, and whether you called it Charlie the Choo-Choo or Blaine the Mono, everything Jake had told them and read them suggested that it might be a very nasty piece of work. But they had a tremendous distance to cross, and some-where, at the end of it, was the thing they had come to find. And with that thought, Eddie was amazed to discover he knew exactly what he thought, and what he wanted. He raised his head and for almost the first time since he had come to this world, he fixed Roland’s faded blue eyes firmly with his hazel ones.
“I want to stand in that field of roses, and I want to see the Tower that stands there. I don’t know what comes next. Mourners please omit flowers, probably, and for all of us. But I don’t care. I want to stand there. I guess I don’t care if Blaine’s the devil and the train runs through hell itself on the way to the Tower. I vote we go.”
Roland nodded and turned to Susannah.
“Well, I didn’t have any dreams about the Dark Tower,” she said, “so I can deal with the question on that level—the level of desire, I suppose you’d say. But I’ve come to believe in ka, and I’m not so numb that I can’t feel it when someone starts rapping on my head with his knuckles and saying, ‘That way, idiot.’ What about you, Roland? What do you think?” “I think there’s been enough talk for one day, and it’s time to let it go until tomorrow.”
“What about Riddle-De-Dum!—” Jake asked, “do you want to look at that?” “There’ll be time enough for that another day,” Roland said. “Let’s get some sleep.”
BUT THE GUNSLINGER LAY long awake, and when the rhythmic drum-ming began again, he got up and walked back to the road. He stood looking toward the bridge and the city. He was every inch the diplomat Susannah had suspected, and he had known the train was the next step on the road they must travel almost from the moment he had heard of it … but he’d felt it would be unwise to say so. Eddie in particular hated to feel pushed; when he sensed that was being done, he simply lowered his head, planted his feet, made his silly jokes, and balked like a mule. This time he wanted what Roland wanted, but he was still apt to say day if Roland said night, and night if Roland said day. It was safer to walk softly, and surer to ask instead of telling.
He turned to go back . . . and his hand dropped to his gun as he saw a dark shape standing on the edge of the road, looking at him. He didn’t draw, but it was a near thing.
“I wondered if you’d be able to sleep after that little performance,” Eddie said. “Guess the answer’s no.”
“I didn’t hear you at all, Eddie. You’re learning . .. only this time you almost got a bullet in the gut for your pains.” “You didn’t hear me because you have a lot on your mind.” Eddie joined him, and even by starlight, Roland saw he hadn’t fooled Eddie a bit. His respect for Eddie continued to grow. It was Cuthbert Eddie reminded him of, but in many ways he had already surpassed Cuthbert.
If I underestimate him, Roland thought, I’m apt to come away with a bloody paw. And if I let him down, or do something that looks to him like a double-cross, he’ll probably try to kill me.