Chapter 5 Chapter Three Oracles and Mountains

The boy finds the oracle, but that nearly destroys him. A weak instinct suddenly awakened the gunslinger from his dream, and before his eyes was a darkness as thick as black velvet.He and Jack had crossed the first rolling hills to this almost level oasis.The journey after they left the desert was arduous, with no shelter to protect them from the blinding sun, and every step was a painful struggle, but all the way they could hear the cheerful chirping of crickets from the distant willow grove from here.The gunslinger was still able to maintain his composure, and the boy's expression was a fake one, but it made the gunslinger very proud of him.It's just that Jack couldn't hide the madness in his eyes, that kind of white crazy eyes can sometimes be seen on horses. At that time, the horse must have smelled the smell of water, but the invisible chain in the owner's eyes prevented it from running away Find water; Jack at this moment is like a horse, spurs and whips are ineffective, and only understanding can stabilize him and keep him calm.The gunslinger could gauge Jack's longing, for the cricket's cricket stirred an uncontrollable madness within himself.His arms sought out the jagged walls to scrape against, his knees begged him to tear them open with bleeding wounds.

The sun ravaged them all the way; even at dusk, when it was a swollen red ball, it pursued them tirelessly through the gaps between the hills, blinding their eyes and making every drop of sweat crystallized into pain. Gradually, plants appeared on the road, at first it was yellow sawgrass, clinging tightly to the dry and cracked land with firm adhesion, maybe the stream formed by the melting snow stopped here.Going further, you will see Witchgrass (Note: Witchgrass, Witchgrass, also known as wool millet, is a very common weed in the United States, an annual plant with thick hairs.), gradually from sparse to thick and lush ...then they smelled the sweet smell of real grass, mingled with timothy, and they saw the shade with excitement, as if the dwarf firs were trees they had seen for the first time.The gunslinger saw a brown arc through the bushes.He drew his gun and shot in an instant, and before Jack could open his mouth to scream, he had already picked up the rabbit he had shot.After waiting a moment, he slipped the gun back into the belt.

"Here you are," said the gunslinger.Further on, the grassland had turned into a dense willow forest. After getting used to the desert wasteland that was baked by the scorching sun, there was no life left, and both of them couldn't help but be surprised to see this piece of green suddenly.Maybe there is a spring there, maybe there is more than one, and it will be more shady there.But the gunslinger changed his mind and chose this open land.The boy tried his best, he dragged his legs every step he took, and there might be vampire bats deep in the woods.That way, no matter how sleepy the boy was, the bat would disturb his sleep; and if there were vampires, the two of them might never wake up again...at least, not in this world.

The boy volunteered: "I'll go get some firewood." The gunslinger smiled. "No, you stay here, sit down, Jack." He remembered someone saying the same thing.It was said by a woman.Susan?He couldn't remember.Time is the thief who steals memory.He remembered this sentence, it was Fan Nei who said it. The boy sat down obediently.When the gunslinger came back, Jack was lying on the grass fast asleep.At the end of a lock of his hair that curls up, a large praying mantis repeats its bathing ritual.The gunslinger laughed -- God couldn't remember how long it had been since he laughed like that -- and built a fire and fetched water.

The willow grove was deeper than he had imagined, and it looked very mysterious in the dim light.He found a spring surrounded by guarded frogs.He filled a water bag...and straightened up to listen.There was a voice floating in the night sky, inexplicably arousing a strong desire in him, which made him very uneasy.Even in Te'ao, when she was in bed with Allie, she had never been able to arouse this desire in him-of course, he and Allie were often as emotionless as routine.He guessed that the sudden change in the environment might have caused him to hallucinate.The night here seemed so soft after a long walk in the scorching desert that it almost melted him.

He went back to the fire, skinned the rabbit while the water was boiling, and stewed the fresh meat with the last remaining pot of vegetables.It's been a long time since I enjoyed such food.He wakes Jack up and watches him sleepily gorge. "We're staying here tomorrow," the gunslinger told him. "But the man you're chasing...the priest..." "He's not a priest. Don't worry. He'll be waiting for us." "How did you know?" The gunslinger could only answer him with a shake of his head.He had a very strong intuition in his heart... but it made him uneasy.

After the meal, he rinsed the can of food with water (he couldn't believe he was so profligate with water), and when he turned back, Jack was fast asleep again.The gunslinger was used to this feeling for Jack now, the only one he had ever felt for Cuthbert.Cuthbert was the same age as Roland, but Cuthbert seemed much younger. The ashes of the cigarette were almost touching the grass, and he threw the butt into the fire.Compared with the fire of burning ghost grass, the yellow flame looks very different here, it is so bright.The air was cool and pleasant, and he lay down with his back to the fire.

From the depths of the distant mountains came the rumbling thunder.He fell asleep and had a strange dream. He watched Susan Delgado, his lover, slowly die. He watched helplessly, his arms were firmly held down by four villagers, and a rusty iron shackle made him unable to lift his head.But that wasn't the case at the time - he wasn't even there - dreams have their own logic and always get confused with reality, don't they? She is very weak.He could smell her charred hair and hear the villagers yelling "burn you" (Note: The original text is Charyou tree. The persecuted or sinners were tied to a large wooden frame, their hands were painted red, corn husks were thrown under the wooden frame, and then set on fire.).He thought he was going crazy.Susan is the groom's daughter. In Roland's impression, she is a beautiful girl who has been sitting by the window.Roland saw her flying over the shark slope. Her figure was the fusion of a horse and a girl, a magical creation in ancient legends, and a symbol of wildness and freedom!He saw them both fly over the cornfields together.He awoke from the hallucination to see people throwing corn husks at Susan, and the whole corn husks started to burn before they touched her.Burn you, burn you, these haters of light and love grow louder and louder.In the dark, the old witch Rui was muttering something.Through the flames, Susan could be seen turning black, her skin cracked, and—

what is she shouting "Child!" she screamed. "Roland, that boy!" Dazed for a while, he desperately pushed and shoved the villagers who trapped him.The iron shackles clamped down on his neck, and he heard the sound of being strangled coming from his throat.The sweet smell of roasting meat was in the air, but it made him gag. The boy looked down at him from a far window.It's by the same window where he first saw Susan, and that's where Susan taught him to grow into a man; Susan loved to sit there and sing old songs to him, like "Hi Jude" , "Journey in Style" and "Shallow Love".The boy standing behind the window looked like an alabaster saint in a cathedral, with eyes carved out of marble.A spike went through Jack's forehead.

The gunslinger tried to scream but was suffocated. He was completely insane. "Uh--" The flame scalded him, making Roland scream in his nightmare.He suddenly sat up straight, the scene of the cremation of Meijisi was still in front of him, and the illusion suffocated him like the iron chains in a dream.While dreaming, he kept rolling and twisting, and one hand touched the charcoal with only embers left.He put his hands to his face and felt the dream dissolve, leaving only the stiff outline of Jack, a plaster-pale icon. "Uh--" He looked around the mysterious darkness around him vigilantly, and had drawn his guns.His eyes were red holes in the last firelight.

"Uh--" Jack. The gunslinger jumped to his feet and ran in the direction of the sound.In the faint moonlight, he could make out the boy's footprints in the dew on the grass.He stooped through the willows, pedaled across the creek, and ran and slipped through the wet grass to the far bank (to his comfort).The wicker stroked his face.Here the woods are denser, and no moonlight can penetrate.The tree trunks are intertwined, the shadows of the trees overlap, and the grass is knee-high, stroking him, as if begging him to slow down, enjoy the coolness, and enjoy life.Half-rotted dead branches lay on the ground, touching his calf.He stopped and looked up to smell the air.A breeze came and helped him.Jack's body odor is noticeable these days; of course they both do.The gunslinger's nostrils opened and closed like those of an orangutan.Jack's sweat smelled like a child's, very faint and greasy, which convinced the gunslinger.He hurried there, trod over a thorn, broke some branches, and galloped through narrow passages formed by dense willows and sumacs.Sometimes the moss was brushed against his shoulders, like the limp hands of a dead corpse; others left gray tendrils of drooling on his shoulders. He pushed aside the last clump of willow branches and came to a clearing.You can see the stars when you look up here, and a nearby mountain glows like a bone, and its height seems invincible. A circle of large black stone pillars looks like a surreal hunting trap in the moonlight.In the center is a stone table... an altar.A very old altar, rising from the ground, supported by arm-shaped black stone pillars. The boy was standing right in front of the altar, rocking back and forth.His hands kept shaking, as if they were filled with static electricity.The gunslinger called his name aloud, but Jack just faltered vaguely, as if denying something.A face loomed over the boy's left shoulder, looking frightened but excited.However, there is more to it than that. The gunslinger stepped into the enclosure, and Jack screamed, shaking his arms away involuntarily.The gunslinger was finally able to see his face clearly, and sensed that he was going through a struggle of terror and excruciating joy. The gunslinger felt something caressing him—the spirit of the altar, the thirsty daemon.Suddenly the base of his thighs was filled with light, a light that was both soft and firm.He felt his head twist to one side, his tongue thickened, and he was sensitive to even a little saliva on the surface of the tongue. His mind went blank, and he subconsciously took out a somewhat corroded jawbone from his pocket.He had kept the jawbone ever since he found it from the talking ghost at the inn.He didn't think about anything because he was used to his instincts guiding him.Instinct is what he can rely on most.He held his jawbone high, looking straight into that frozen ancient smile, and stretched out his other clenched hand stiffly, thumb and pinky reaching forward in the shape of an ancient fork, a demonic savior. Eye mark. Like when a coat is ripped off, the hot feeling around him disappeared in an instant. Jack screamed again. The gunslinger stepped up to Jack, holding his jawbone up to his frightened eyes. "Look at this, Jack—look at it carefully." The only response was a cry of pain.Jack tried to look away, but he seemed to be stuck there.At that moment, he looked like he was about to be torn to shreds—even if his body was temporarily intact, his spirit was on the verge of collapse.Suddenly, his eyes rolled upwards, and he collapsed to the ground.His soft body hit the ground without a sound, and one of his hands almost touched the stone pillar supporting the altar.The gunslinger got down on one knee and picked Jack up.He weighed very little, like a completely dehydrated leaf in late autumn. All around him, Roland could feel the ghost wandering, and could even feel its jealousy and anger—for its spoils had been taken from it.As the gunslinger stepped out of the stone circle, the envy and frustration dissipated immediately.He carried Jack back to camp.When he put Jack down, the comatose boy had calmed down, stopped writhing, and was slowly falling asleep. The gunslinger stared at the gray remains of the fire in a daze for a while.The moonlight shone on Jack's face, reminding him of the icon in the church, the unknown purity of alabaster.He put his arms around the child and kissed him lightly.He knows he loves this kid.Perhaps that expression is not accurate enough.Indeed, he liked the child at first sight (as he had fallen in love with Susan Delgado at first sight), but only at this moment did he allow himself to admit his affection.He couldn't deny it anymore because it was a fact. He thought he could almost hear the man in black's laughter, far away. Jack's loud cry woke the gunslinger.He tied Jack to a thick tree trunk nearby, and the boy was hungry and frustrated.According to the position of the sun, it was almost half past nine. "Why tie me up?" Jack asked angrily as the gunslinger untied him from the thick blanket knot. "I'm not going to run away!" "You did run away last night," said the gunslinger, amused by Jack's expression. "It took me a long way to find you. You sleepwalked." "Really?" Jack looked at him suspiciously. "I've never had—" The gunslinger suddenly took out the jawbone and held it in front of him.Jack flinched back in fright, stretched out his arms with a terrified expression. "remember?" Jack nodded, but was dazed: "What the hell happened?" "We don't have time to chat right now. I have to be away for a while. Maybe all day. Listen, kid, it's important, and if I'm not back by sundown—" Fear appeared on Jack's face: "You are leaving me!" The gunslinger just watched him silently. "No." After a while, Jack answered himself, "I guess if you were going to leave me, you would have left." "That's what you say with your head. Now, listen, listen to me. I want you to stay here when I leave. Just stay where you are, don't go away, even if you feel like wandering around is the best part of the world. Even the most attractive ideas don't go away. If you have a weird feeling—a feeling you can't describe—take this bone and hold it in your hand." Expressions of hatred and disgust flitted across Jack's face, and at the same time he was a bit at a loss. "I can't. I... I just can't." "You can do it. You have to do it. Especially in the afternoon. It's important to us all. Maybe you'll get nausea or a headache when you first touch the bone, but it'll pass. Understand?" "yes." "Will you do as I tell you?" "Yes. But why do you have to leave?" Jack couldn't help crying. "I have my reasons." The gunslinger saw the perseverance in Jack's bones again. This kind of strength is so mysterious, just like the buildings in the city he said are so tall that they can wipe the sky.This quality in the boy reminded the gunslinger of his other close friend, Alan, not Cuthbert.Alan is very quiet, and he doesn't like to brag about himself like Burt, and Alan is very trustworthy and fearless. "Okay," Jack said finally. The gunslinger carefully placed the jawbone beside the ashes of the fire.A grinning jawbone hides in the grass, like a corroded fossil that has seen light after five thousand years of darkness.Jack dared not look at it.He was pale and looked very pitiful.The gunslinger wondered if it would be beneficial for both of them to hypnotize the boy and ask him questions, but he quickly dismissed the idea, thinking there would be nothing to ask.He was certain that the stone circle contained the spirit of a demon, most likely an oracle.An invisible demon with only invisible sexuality and prophetic eyes.He wondered if this could be the soul of Sylvia Pittston, a fat woman who used religious fanaticism to incite the villagers of Te'ao, and eventually led to the destruction of the entire village... But he ruled out this possibility sex.It won't be her.The stones that make up the niche clearly show signs of age, and compared to the spiritual beings hiding in the niche, Sylvia Pittston is just a cunning witch who popped up by chance.The spirits in the stone niches are unpredictable.But the gunslinger was sure the boy didn't need the Jawbone charm to protect himself.He can concentrate the spirit of the spirit on him. He is very curious and wants to find out. Although it takes a risk... the price may not be small, but for Jack and himself, he will desperately go to find out. clear. The gunslinger opened the pipe, reached in with one hand and pushed the leaves aside until he felt a small hard object.The thing was wrapped in a piece of white torn paper, and he played with the hard object between his fingers, looking at the sky blankly.Finally, he opened the white paper and took out the contents - a small white tablet, the edge of which was a little worn due to the long journey. Jack looked at the thing in his hand curiously, and couldn't help asking: "What's that?"' The gunslinger laughed: "Curt often told us a story. He said that a long time ago, the gods peed in the desert, and the result was mescaline (Note: an alkaloid.)." Jack looked at him puzzled. "It's a drug," the gunslinger explained, "but it's not a pill that makes you drowsy. It makes you suddenly very wide awake." "Like methamphetamine." Jack was quick to respond, only to be confused again in the blink of an eye. "What is it?" "I don't know," Jack said. "It came out of my mouth all of a sudden. I guess it's from...you know, before." The gunslinger nodded, but still doubted.He'd never heard mescaline called crystal meth, not even in Marten's old book. "Is it bad for you?" Jack asked him. "Never." The gunslinger knew in his heart that this was just an excuse. "I do not like this." "It doesn't matter." The gunslinger knelt down, picked up the water bottle, took a swig, and swallowed the pill.As usual, he immediately felt a reaction in his mouth: what seemed to be a sudden excess of saliva.He sat down in front of Ashes. "How long does it take for you to react?" Jack asked. "Not yet. Be quiet." So Jack sat aside in silence, watching suspiciously as the gunslinger calmly and ritually wiped his guns. He holstered the gun and said to Jack, "Your shirt, Jack. Take it off and give it to me." Jack reluctantly removed his faded shirt and handed it to the gunslinger, revealing his lean ribs. The gunslinger took out a needle from the hem of his jeans and pulled a thread from a blank bullet hole in the gun belt.He tried to sew up a long rip in Jack's shirt sleeve.By the time he finished sewing and letting Jack put the shirt on, he felt the drug kick in—his stomach convulsed, and every muscle in his body seemed to be ripped open. "I have to go." He stood up. "It's time." Just as the boy was about to stand up, he sat down again, looking preoccupied. "Take care," he said. "Be careful." "Remember that jawbone," said the gunslinger.He put his hands on Jack's head before leaving and smoothed his corn-colored hair.This action startled himself, and he quickly covered it up with a laugh.Jack watched his back disappear into the willow forest, although he had a smile on his face, he was very worried. The gunslinger walked unhurriedly towards the stone niche, resting for a while and drinking a few sips of cool spring water.He saw his own reflection in the small pond formed by the spring, and admired it somewhat narcissistically.The pills were also starting to work on his nervous system, slowing his thinking and hallucinating from any sensory impact.Things that he had ignored until then suddenly became very important.He hesitated for a while, then finally stood up and looked into the tangle of willow bushes.Sunlight formed a golden beam of light through the dense branches. He looked at the flying dust particles in the beam of light and was in a daze. In the past, taking the drug had always made him uneasy: maybe he was too self-conscious (or maybe just too simplistic) and he couldn't stand the feeling of being completely stripped and emotionally exposed—it was like he hated people using cats. It made him tickle, and sometimes it even made him angry.But this time, he felt very calm.It feels good to him. He stepped into the clearing and walked straight into the stone circle.He stood there and let his thoughts run free.Yes, his thoughts were fast and furious now.The grass was bursting with green; he felt that if he stooped over and stroked a handful of green grass, his palms and fingertips would be stained green.He tried his best to restrain this naughty impulse. But the oracle made no sound.The air was still, too, and he didn't feel the lustful touch of last night. He walked to the altar and stood silently aside.He had trouble thinking coherently, and orderly thinking had become impossible for him.He felt as if the teeth had grown in the wrong place.Tiny tombstones dot the wet pink earth.The world around me was blindingly bright.He climbed up the altar and lay down on his back.His mind became a jungle of strange plants, filled with strange thoughts he had never had before.The sky turned into water, and he was suspended above the water.The thought made him dizzy, everything seemed so far away, so small. An ancient poem suddenly echoed in his ears, not the voice of a nursery rhyme for him, no; his mother was terrified of the pill and doubted the need for its use (just as she was terrified of Cote and did not understand the need for him to flog these boys) ; this verse comes from the Mani people who lived in the northern part of the desert, who still live among the machines that have long been abandoned... and those machines devoured many people when they were still working.The verse repeats over and over again, reminding him (there is no connection between them, but the effect of the pills) when he was a child, a spherical toy with snowflakes in it, which seemed mysterious and weird to him at the time: outside the human world, A little hell, a little weird... Faces are hidden among the branches hanging over the altar.He watched them absently, puzzled: here a hovering green dragon; there a woodland nymph, opening a tree-branched arm to him;Faces, faces, many faces. Suddenly something swept across the grass and the grass fell down. I am coming. I am coming. He felt something lightly touch his skin.What a journey, he sighed.From lying on the lush grass of Shapo with Susan until now coming here. She lay on top of him.She has a body made of wind, and a breast made of jasmine, rose, and honeysuckle. "Tell me your prophecy," he said. "Tell me what I need to know." His mouth felt like it was full of metal. A sigh.Another soft sob.The gunslinger felt a rush of heat rush to the base of his thigh.Over the faces in the leaves, he could see the mountains—menacing, grim, and defiant. Her body squirmed, rubbing against him.He felt his hands clenched into fists unconsciously.She gave him a hallucination and made him see Susan.On top of him was Susan, the beautiful Susan Delgado, waiting for him in an abandoned hut on Shapo, with her long hair draped over her shoulders.His head jerked back, but her face followed immediately. Jasmine, rose, honeysuckle, hay... the smell of love.Love me. "Tell me the prophecy," he said, "tell me the truth." Please don't, sobbed the oracle, don't be cold to me.It's always so cold in here— Hands slid over his skin, playing with him, teasing him, making his whole body burn like fire.A scented black crack.damp, warm— No.dry.cold.barren. Be merciful, gunslinger.Oh, I beg you, be merciful! Can you be kinder to boys too? what boy?I don't know any boys.Boy is not what I need.Oh please. Jasmine, Rose, Honeysuckle.Dry grass with traces of clover.Lamp oil poured from ancient tombs.Indulging in the flesh. "Wait till you tell me," he said, "if your prophecy works for me." Now.I beg you.Now. He forced himself not to think about her, without the slightest emotion.The body above him froze and began to scream.There was a tension between his temples, as if his nerves were a twisted rope of gray fibers.Then, for a long time, everything was silent except for his quiet breathing.A breeze blew by, causing the faces among the branches to change expressions, they winked and made all kinds of grimaces.The chirping of the birds also stopped. She clings to Roland's limbs and relaxes.Her sobbing sounded again.Let her open her mouth quickly, or she will leave him.Continuing to lie next to the gunslinger would mean her weakening, and perhaps her destruction.He already felt that she was getting cold, about to leave his body, leave the large circle of stone pillars.The wind blew across the grass, and pieces of grass fell down, looking very miserable. "Prophecy," he said, and then pressed harder, "Truth." Weeping softly, sighing wearily.The gunslinger was almost on the verge of giving her the clemency she begged for, but—he thought of Jack.Had he been one step late that night, Jack might have died, or become delirious. you sleep. "No." Then half asleep. What she's asking of Gunslinger is dangerous, but perhaps necessary.The gunslinger looked at the faces among the leaves.The faces came into play to entertain him.Worlds appeared and disappeared before his eyes.A kingdom was built on the yellow desert, where the machines ran like electric shocks.Kingdoms fell and fell, and new kingdoms were raised.The fast-spinning axle at first seemed to flow soundlessly like a liquid, but gradually slowed down, creaked, became screeching, and finally the axle stopped.The black sky, the stars are like jewels shining with cold light, all the streets form concentric circles, and the sewers paved with stainless steel pipes on the street are all blocked by sand and dust.A gust of wind with changing wind blows, bringing the fragrance of osmanthus in October.The gunslinger watched the world move by before his eyes. He became half asleep. three.This is the number of your destiny. three? Yes.Three is mysterious.Three is placed in the center of the spell.Another number you will know later.For now, though, remember "three." Which three? "We see part of it, so the mirror of prophecy has been dimmed." Tell me what you can see. The first was a dark-haired young man.He stands on the brink of robbery and murder with a demon possessing him.The devil's name is "heroin". What kind of demon is that?I'd never heard of it, not even the teachers in my nursery mentioned the name. "We see part of it, so the mirror of prophecy has been darkened." Gunslinger, there are other worlds beyond this, and there are other demons there.These waters are deep.Pay attention to the door.Note the roses and the missing doorway. What about the second one? She came in a wheelchair.I can't see anything else. The third? Death... But, it's not for you. Man in black?where is he? near.You'll be talking to him shortly. what will we talk about tower. Boy, where's Jack? ... Tell me, what will happen to Jack? This boy is your door to the Men in Black.The Men in Black are your door to the Three. "Three" is your way to the Dark Tower. Why?why is it like this?Why does it have to be like this? "We see part of it, so the prophesied mirror..." God curse you. No god has ever cursed me. Don't put on a benefactor, "stuff". ... Otherwise what else can I call you?Star whore?wind bitch? Some people live by love... even in these sad, evil times.There are people who live on blood, gunslinger.I know, even by the blood of little boys. Can he not be pardoned? Can. How to do? Back off, gunslinger.Pack up your tent and turn back to head northwest.In the Northwest, there is still a need for people who can go with the bullet. But I swore by my father's gun, I swore to avenge Ma Teng's treachery. Ma Teng is no longer there.The man in black devoured his soul.You know this. I swear. Then there is no help. Bring it on, you whore. The sound of longing breaths. The shadow moved over and completely enveloped him.It gave him a sense of ecstasy, laced with pain, like the red glow of an ancient, dim star dying.As their copulation climaxed, he could not help thinking of many people, one by one: Sylvia Pittston; Alice of T'ao; Susan; a dozen others. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of time, he pushed her away from him, half-consciously feeling contemptible and disgusted with her. No!This is not enough!This-- "Let me go." The gunslinger sat up, nearly falling off the altar before his feet hit the ground.She hesitated, touching him cautiously. (Honeysuckle, jasmine, luscious rose oil.) But he pushed her away hard, kneeling on the ground. He staggered like he was drunk.He walked around the circle of boulders, and when he stepped out, he felt the heavy weight on his shoulders disappear.He took a deep breath and made a slightly trembling voice like weeping.Had he been prophesied enough to justify the stain?He couldn't judge.But he knew that when the time came, there would be a conclusion.As he shuffled away, she could feel her standing inside her cage, watching him go away.The gunslinger wondered how long it would be before anyone across the desert saw her, this hungry and lonely soul.At that moment, the relationship between time and chance made him feel very small and helpless. "you are sick!" Seeing the gunslinger staggering out of the woods, Jack stood up quickly.He had been sitting by the ashes of the fire, with his jawbone on his knee, gnawing morosely on a rabbit bone.Seeing Jack running over with a concerned expression on his face, the gunslinger suddenly felt how shameful he was about to betray the boy. "No, not sick. A little tired. Walking too fast." He pointed to the jawbone. "Jack, you can put it down now." The boy threw the jawbone quickly and hard, then wiped his hands on his shirt.His upper lip curled up in contempt, which the gunslinger believed to be entirely involuntary. The gunslinger sat down—almost fell to the ground—and the pain wore off, as if he had been punched in the head.The joints all over his body were also very sore, and the roots of his thighs were also throbbing faintly, allowing him to clearly feel the pulse there.He rolled a cigarette very slowly.Jack looked at him.The gunslinger had a sudden urge to tell him the prophecies he knew, and let him decide what they should do, but quickly dismissed the idea in horror.He didn't know if part of himself—mind or soul—was still intact.Tell a child all your thoughts and follow his command?The idea is crazy. "We're going to sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we start climbing. I'll go out later and see if I can get something for dinner. We need to recharge our batteries. I'm going to sleep. Okay?" "Okay. Go to a deep sleep." "I do not understand what you say." "Sleep if you want." "Ah." The gunslinger nodded and lay down.He's still pondering Jack's words, knocking myself out? (Note: Jack's original words are "knock yourself out", which in slang means to put someone into a deep sleep or coma. But the gunslinger does not understand the language of Jack's world, he only understands the original meaning of knock out, "knock down", so he thinks Jack said "knock yourself down".) When he woke up, the shadows of the trees were already long. "Fire," he said to Jack, throwing him his flint and tinder. "Can you use it?" "I think I can do it." The gunslinger walked toward the willows, but the boy's voice stopped him and he froze. "Spark-ah-dark, where are my ancestors?" the boy murmured, and the scythe rapped loudly like a robotic bird. "Can I sleep here? Can I live here? Give my camp sparks." From me, the gunslinger thought, not surprised he got goosebumps all over his body, shivering like a wet dog.From me, I don't even remember saying these words, I have the heart to betray such a child?Ah, Roland, can you abandon such an innocent child?How could you leave him in this sad, hopeless world?Is there any reason for you to do so? He just learned a few words. Yes, but that's an old saying.It has been passed down to you from generation to generation. "Roland?" the boy asked him. "Are you all right?" "It's all right," he said vaguely, the smell of cigarettes still lingering in his nostrils, "you lit a fire." "Yes." The boy answered briefly, and Roland didn't need to look back to know that there was a smile on his face. The gunslinger went left, this time along the willow grove.When he came to an open grassy slope, he stopped and stood under the shadow of the trees.There was silence, and he could vaguely hear the crackling and crackling of the fire that Jack had just started.The voice made him smile knowingly. He stood there without moving for ten minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes passed.Three rabbits appeared on the grassy slope. When they lowered their heads to eat grass, the gunslinger drew his guns.He knocked down three rabbits, skinned them, washed them, and brought them back to the campfire.Jack had already boiled water on the fire and waited. The gunslinger nodded in admiration: "It's really well done." Jack blushed with joy, and silently handed the gunslinger the flint and the scythe. 兔肉在火上炖着，枪侠趁天还没全暗时又走进了柳树林。在最近的一个池塘旁，枪侠砍了几条粗壮的蔓藤。晚上当火堆灭了，杰克睡熟后，枪侠要将蔓藤编成根绳子，可能在以后派得上用场。但是他的直觉告诉他，上山的路途不会太艰险。他感到命运影响着许多事情，他再也不觉得这有什么奇怪了。 当他提着蔓藤赶到杰克等着的地方时，手上已经沾满绿色的树汁。 第一缕晨曦将他们唤醒，他们只用了半个小时就打好了包袱。枪侠想去草坡边再打只兔子，但时间太短，没等到兔子出现，只能空手而回。他们剩下的食物不多，打成的包袱十分轻小，杰克背着也显得很轻松。他变得强壮了些，这明显可以看得出来。 枪侠背着所有的水袋，水袋里全都灌满了清冽的泉水。他将三根蔓藤编的绳索系在腰间。他们特意选择了远离祭坛的路。（枪侠担心杰克看到祭坛会想起那晚恐怖的经历，当他们沿着乱石嶙峋的小路上山时，祭坛就在脚下，但杰克只是扫了一眼，注意力便被一只振翅高飞的鸟儿吸引了。）很快，山上的树便明显变得稀疏，和山下的相比也显得格外矮小。树干都盘扭着，树根也和土地进行着痛苦的争斗，想汲取些水分。 “一切都显得那么苍老。”当他们停下休息时，杰克阴郁地说，“这世界就不剩一点年轻的生气了吗？” 枪侠笑了，用手肘推了他一下。“你就是啊。”他说。 杰克淡淡一笑。“这山难爬吗？” 枪侠好奇地看着他。“这些山脉那么高。你不认为会很难爬吗？” 杰克看着枪侠，眼里蒙上层迷雾。 "No." 他们继续往上走。 太阳已经爬上了最高点，但和在沙漠中相比，它在那儿高悬的时间短了些，不多一会儿便迫不急待地继续赶路，把影子还给了枪侠和男孩。层层岩石突兀地立在山地上，就像埋在土里的巨型安乐椅的扶手。灌木变得枯黄萎蔫。最后他们来到了像烟囱那样的一条深深的罅隙面前，他们顺着一带低矮斑驳的岩石攀爬，试图绕着道越过这道罅隙。古老的花岗岩裂开的条纹形成阶梯式的形状，让两人都觉得至少这段山路开始的一段还算容易走。他们站在四英尺宽的悬崖顶，回头看着脚下的绿地和近处的沙漠。沙漠就像只巨大的黄色脚爪蜷缩在绿地周围。再往远处望去，沙漠完全成了一块白色的金属盾牌，反射的阳光让他们睁不开眼，渐渐地，视线中只剩下升腾着的白色热浪。枪侠想到自己几乎命丧沙漠，仍有些难以置信。他们现在站在山顶享受着凉风，已经无法想像那片沙漠曾是如此致命，尽管它看上去仍那样壮观。 他们继续向连绵的群山迈进，翻过了乱石堆，弓着腰爬上陡峭的石坡，令他们惊异的是石块中闪耀着石英、云母的光芒。岩石还留有太阳的余温，摸上去非常温暖，但气温已明显下降。黄昏时分，枪侠听到沉闷的雷声。但眼前高耸的山峰挡住了视线，他们看不到山那边的暴雨。 他们眼前有一片突兀的岩石悬垂着形成了斜坡式的天然屋顶。当天边只剩一抹紫光时，他们在那里搭起了营帐。枪侠铺开毯子，将毯子的两边分别固定在头顶上的岩石和地面上，这样借助地势形成了一个简陋的单面坡斜顶小屋。他们坐在“屋”门口，看着黑暗给世界披上一件大氅。杰克将两脚伸在悬崖边上，摇摆着。枪侠卷了枝烟，幽默地对杰克说：“睡觉时可别从这里滚下去，不然等你醒过来就已经在地狱里了。” “不会。”杰克一本正经地回答他，“我妈妈说——”他突然停住了。 “她说什么？” “说我睡觉时就像个死人。”他说完了，枪侠看到他嘴唇颤抖，费力地要把眼泪挤回去。还只是个孩子，他想，突然头部一阵剧痛，就像在滚烫的前额上一下子敷了太多的冰水。只是个孩子。Why?愚蠢的问题。他记得，当一个身心都受挫的男孩委屈地向柯特提出这个问题时，这个疤痕累累的战争机器只会说：为什么一个弯曲的字母不是直的？ ……别问为什么，只要你站起来，懦夫。stand up!天色还早呢！他一心只知道教这些枪侠们的儿子掌握他们必须具备的基础本领。 “我为什么在这里？”杰克问，“为什么我忘了以前所有的事？” “因为黑衣人将你带到了这里，因为那座塔楼。塔楼位于一种……能源网中。在时间概念里。” “我不懂你说什么！” “我也不懂。”枪侠说，“但有些事正在发生。就在我属于的那个时间里。我们总是说'世界变了'……我们一直这么说。但现在它变得更快了。时间也发生着变化。它软化了。” 他们沉默地坐着。一阵微风吹过，颇有些凉意。在吹过某个石缝时，发出了空洞的哨声。 “你从哪儿来？”杰克问。 “从一个再也不存在的地方来。你知道《圣经》吗？” “耶稣和摩西。当然。” 枪侠笑了。“对。我住的地方有个《圣经》似的名字——新迦南，人们都这么叫，盛产牛奶和蜂蜜的土地。圣经中的迦南，人们都说那里种的葡萄大得要用车拉。我们种的葡萄没那么大，但的确也是甜蜜之乡。” “我知道尤利西斯。”他迟疑地说，“他也是《圣经》里的吗？” “也许吧。”枪侠回答，“我可不是研究《圣经》的学者，说不准。” “那其他人……你的朋友们——” “没有其他人了。我是最后一个。” 一痕残月出现在夜空，细长的脸颊面对着他们落脚的乱石堆。 “那儿美吗？你的家乡……你的土地？” “非常美丽。那儿有田野，森林，河流，清晨有雾霭。但那只是表面的美。我母亲总是说真正的惟一的美在于秩序，爱，还有光。” 杰克支吾了一声，但没有明确地回应。 枪侠抽着烟，思绪回到了过去——在宽敞的中央大厅，几百个衣着华丽的人或随着舒缓的华尔兹节拍轻舞着，或随着旋律跳起轻快的波尔卡曼舞（注：波尔卡曼舞，Pol-kam，是流行于蓟犁的舞蹈，比华尔兹的节奏要更轻快。宫廷宴会上，人们都会跳波尔卡曼舞。)。艾琳·芮拓在他的臂弯中随他起舞。他猜是他的父母选中了她，她的眼睛比任何宝石都要明亮，连宫廷交际花们头上闪耀的水晶饰品在她面前都黯然失色。这个大厅所在的中央区由上百座巨大的石堡组成，就像一个充满光明的岛屿，漂流在茫茫不可知的时间河流中。罗兰第一眼看到这些城堡时，它们经历过的岁月就已经难以计数，当罗兰永远离开那里，当他转身离开将脸别过不再回头时，他的心被刺痛了。自此他踏上了追寻黑衣人的路途。那时，墙垣已经坍塌，庭院里野草横生，蝙蝠在中央大厅的横梁上筑巢，柱廊间充满了燕子的呢喃细语。柯特曾教授他们箭术、射击和鹰猎的训练场成了梯牧草、野蔓藤肆虐的地方。厨房，这个曾经充满烟雾和香味的哈可斯的领地，现在已是一群面目狰狞的“缓型突变异种”（注：缓型突变异种。古老的世界尽管早已毁灭，但留下了许多有毒物质，这让中世界的许多生物发生基因转变。其中最骇人的要属缓型突变异种。这一类变异种曾经是人类，但已经失去了人类的显著特征。它们的形状也会因变异程度不同而有区别，但总体上，它们都喜欢黑暗，身体发绿色磷光。）的安乐窝，它们躲在黑暗的餐具室或从梁柱的阴影里怜悯地看着罗兰。曾装过香味扑鼻的烤牛肉、熏猪肉的锅盆已经爬满潮湿滑腻的苔藓。在阴暗的角落，连“缓型突变异种”都不敢落脚的角落，长满了巨大的白色毒蕈。下层地窖厚重的橡木门敞开着，从里面传出来的所有气味中最明显的是酒变成醋的刺鼻气味，这种气味仿佛无情地宣告着这里的一切已经彻底变质毁灭。这些场景让他毅然向南方走去，将一切留在身后——但这些刺痛了他的心。 “是因为战争吗？”杰克问。 “比战争更甚。”枪侠把只剩一点红光的烟蒂扔出去，“那是一场革命。我们胜了每场战役，但输了那场战争。没有人是战争的胜利者，也许除了那些食腐动物。它们可以吃上好些年了。” “要我生活在那里该多好。”杰克的眼中充满渴望。 “你真那么想？” "real." “该睡觉了，杰克。” 男孩靠石壁蜷缩着躺下，毯子松松地搭在身上。枪侠坐在那儿足足一个小时，守望着这个娇小的身影。刚才的谈话让他完全沉浸在回忆中。往事夹杂着甜蜜与忧愁，但他不是个习惯于回忆、容易感伤的人，而且回忆往事无法解决眼前的问题：关于杰克，神谕说得非常清楚，他也想不出其他解决办法，但是转身离开杰克又是他做不到的。也许会发生一幕惨剧而让他失去杰克，但是枪侠无法想像；他能看到的只是永远伴随着人的命运。最后，他更真实的性格占了上风，他无法再作思考。他睡着了，没做任何梦。 第二天，道路变得更艰险。他们试图穿越山脉间狭窄的V字形通道。枪侠走得很慢，没有要紧紧追赶黑衣人的意思。脚下坚硬的石块没有留下他的任何痕迹，但枪侠肯定他从这里走过——在他们老远看到他像个黑点似的爬山之后。每阵寒冷的倒灌风里都有他的气味。那气味十分油腻，就像鬼草的恶臭那样苦涩。 杰克的头发很长了，在被太阳晒黑了的颈部还有些卷曲。他很卖力，稳稳地走着每一步；他没有表现任何恐高的迹象，当他们爬过陡峭的山壁，或跨越豁缝时他都非常勇敢。已经有两次，他爬上了枪侠无法攀登的峭壁，然后甩下一根绳索让枪侠一把一把地拽着上来。 一天早晨，他们被阴冷潮湿的云海包围了，根本无法辨认脚下的斜坡。在石隙中间仍可见积雪，雪已经结冰了，颗粒粗大，像石英那样闪光，但却像沙子一样干燥。那天下午，他们在一堆积雪中看到一个脚印。杰克看着脚印仿佛看到了什么恐怖的东西，他惊恐地抬起头，好像黑衣人会在脚印之上现形似的。枪侠拍拍他的肩膀，指向前方。“快走。天要暗了。” 他们趁着最后一点亮光在一片宽敞的平地上搭起帐篷。平地东北走向，斜插入山脉的中心。天气非常寒冷，他们可以看到自己吐出的白气，但是远处却传来雷声，天边红紫色的闪电看上去那样不真实，只有在梦境中才会看到。 枪侠以为男孩会有许多问题问他，但杰克一言未发。他几乎头刚着地就睡着了。枪侠也效仿他躺下。他又一次梦到杰克是一尊雪花石膏做的圣人雕像，一根长钉穿过他的前额。这让他惊醒，大口喘息着，刺骨的寒风直灌入肺里。杰克躺在他身边，但睡得也不安稳；他扭动着，口中还不停地嘀咕着，显然梦神也没放过他。枪侠惊魂未定地躺下。 在杰克看到脚印的一星期后，他们看到了黑衣人，但只是非常短暂的一刻。就在那一刻，枪侠觉得自己几乎能感到塔楼的存在，因为那一刻似乎被无限地延伸下去了。 他们继续朝东南方向走，这时他们在这片巨石嶙峋的山群中已经差不多走了一半路程。眼前的路变得非常艰险，也第一次让他们有些发怵。（他们头顶上是座座陡峭的孤山和裹着冰层的峭壁，枪侠抬头看山顶时几乎有种倒立的晕眩感。）此时狭窄的小道引着他们向下走。蜿蜒的小道将他们带到峡谷的底部；那儿，从高处奔流而下的一条小溪积聚了极大的势能冲击着地面，所过之处水流的边缘已经结冰。 那天下午，男孩停下来，回头看着正俯身在溪流边洗脸的枪侠。 “我闻到他的气味。”杰克说。 "me too." 在他们前面，山脉显示出它最后的震慑力——一面无法逾越的花岗岩峭壁拔地而起，直耸入云霄。枪侠觉得迂回的溪流随时可能将他们带到高悬的瀑布和那堵被水冲得十分平滑的不可逾越的石壁跟前，那时他们也就走到了尽头。但这里的空气似乎有放大的作用，就像在高原地带常见的那样，看上去近在咫尺的东西其实还有段距离。他们又走了一天才来到花岗岩峭壁脚下。 一种强烈的期待感又一次回到枪侠体内，他觉得似乎一切又在掌握之内了。这种感觉过去他经历过许多次，但他仍然需要花大力气才能将这种迫不及待的急切的心情克制住。 “等一等！”杰克突然止住脚步。他们看到溪流突然改变流向，几乎来了个直角转弯；在一块腐蚀了的砂岩巨砾跟前，溪流冒着白沫咆哮着。整个上午他们都走在山脉的阴影中，峡谷慢慢变窄。 杰克的脸色变得惨白，全身剧烈地颤抖着。 "what happened?" “我们回去吧。”杰克小声说，“我们赶快回去。” 枪侠的脸板着。 “求你了！”他的脸绷紧了，下颚由于克制怒火而抖动着。尽管在峡谷中，周围是山的屏障，他们还是听到远处的雷鸣，就像机器轰鸣一样有节奏。他们抬头只能看到一小片天空，此刻冷暖气流交会开战，云层翻滚，天空也呈现骇人的灰色。 “回去吧。求你了！”男孩举起一只拳头，仿佛要击打枪侠的胸部。 "No." 男孩看上去突然像做梦似的。“你要杀了我。第一次是他杀了我，而这次，就是你。我知道你心里也清楚。” 枪侠知道自己在撒谎，但还是说：“你会没事的。”然后又编了个更大的谎言：“我会照顾好你。” 杰克的脸完全变成灰色，他没再说一句话。他不情愿地伸出手。他和枪侠就这样手牵手绕过了溪流的急转弯口。在巨砾另一侧，他们看到了高耸的峭壁和黑衣人。 他就站在二十英尺的高处，在他左边是从峭壁上的孔眼中喷涌而出的瀑布。水柱形成的气流吹动他的长袍。他一手拿着根棍棒，另一只手朝他们伸着，做出一个嘲讽式的欢迎姿势。他站在乌云急涌的天空下，立在悬崖一块微凸的岩石上，就像一个先知，一个预言厄运的先知，他的声音就是耶利米（注：Jeremiah，耶利米，专作预言的先知。《圣经》中有《耶利米书》。）的声音。 “枪侠！看你，多么完美地实现了古老的预言啊！再见了，再见了，再见啊！”他笑着朝枪侠鞠了一躬，笑声非常洪亮，产生了回声，甚至盖过了急流的咆哮。 枪侠本能地掏出双枪。男孩躲到他的右后方，只剩一个微小的身影。 在他的理智控制住自己的双手之前，他已经发了三枪——周围的石谷中回响着清亮的金属声，盖过了风声、水声。 黑衣人头顶上一撮花岗岩的碎片迸裂开；第二颗子弹打在他兜帽的左边；第三颗落在右边。很明显，三颗子弹都射空了。 黑衣人笑了——他饱满响亮的笑声似乎要挑战变弱了的枪声的回音。“难道你想这么轻易地就毁了你能得到的全部回答吗，枪侠？” “下来。”枪侠说。“我请求你这么做。那样你就能慢慢回答我的问题。” 又是一阵鄙夷的笑声。“罗兰，我并不怕你的子弹。我怕的是你逼问我要回答。” "Come down." “我想，我们会在山那边谈。”黑衣人说，“在山那边我们会有足够的时间商讨，甚至聊天。” 他瞟了眼杰克，补充了一句：“就咱们俩。” 杰克朝后退缩了几步，痛苦地叫出声来。黑衣人转过身，他的长袍在风中飘动着就像蝙蝠翅膀。他消失在峭壁的裂缝中，而水流就是从那里湍急地喷涌而出。枪侠咬着牙克制着自己，才没朝他的背影开枪——难道你想这么轻易地就毁了你能得到的全部回答吗，枪侠？ 周围只剩下风和水的声音，那是这个渺无人烟的地方千年来仅有的声音。黑衣人刚才就站在那里。自上次看到他后，已有十二年了；罗兰又一次近距离地看到了他，还跟他说了几句话。黑衣人居然还笑了。 在山那边我们会有足够的时间商讨，甚至聊天。 男孩仰头看着他，无法控制身体的颤抖。那一刻，枪侠看到了爱丽的面容，这个特岙的女孩站在杰克的位置，她前额的疤痕无声地控诉着。枪侠突然十分憎恨面前的这两个人（直到后来，枪侠才想起爱丽丝前额的伤疤和他在梦中见到的穿过杰克前额的长钉其实就在同一个位置）。杰克可能猜到了他的想法，呜咽了一声。但他咬起自己的嘴唇，把那个声音吞了下去。他具有成为一个优秀的人的要素，如果给他足够的时间，可能他会成为枪侠式的人物。 就咱们俩。 枪侠觉得在自己体内深处的某个未知的暗处，有一种强烈的邪恶的欲望让他口渴难耐，但这种欲望饮再多的水或酒都填补不了。世界颤抖着，就在他手指可及之处；本能地，他发誓他不会堕落，但另一个冰冷的声音告诉他这种努力是白费的，永远都没有用。最后，决定一切的只有命运。 时值正午，他抬起头来，让阴沉而多变的阳光最后一次照在他自己过于脆弱的良心上。没有人能用银子来偿还背叛的债，背叛总是要用血肉来偿还的。 “跟我走或者留在这里。”枪侠说。 对这个提议，男孩硬挤出一丝苦笑——就像他父亲的笑容，如果他自己能看到的话。“如果我留在这儿，我会没事的。”他说，“就我一个人，在这山里，会好好的。有人会到这里救我。他们会带着蛋糕和三明治。保温瓶里装着咖啡。你说呢？” “跟我走或者留在这里。”枪侠重复道，突然有种奇怪的感觉。一种事物分离的感觉。那一刻，眼前矮小的身影不再是杰克，只是一个男孩，一个没有血肉气息的东西，能够被移动，被使用。 在寂静中，除了飕飕的风声，还有什么发出了一声尖叫；他和男孩都听到了。 枪侠开始攀登峭壁，过了一会儿，杰克也跟上来。在钢铁般冰冷的水流旁，他们一起爬上了峭壁，站在黑衣人刚才站过的岩石上。然后，他们一起钻进了裂缝，黑衣人就消失在那里。黑暗吞没了两人。