Characters in The Dark Tower VII: The Dark Tower

Suddenly one of them, a vamp named Albrecht, shrieked and bolted forward, allowing Flaherty a view of two newcomers, men with raindrops still fresh and dark on their jeans and boots and shirts. There was trail-dusty gunna-gar at their feet and revolvers hung at their hips.

When she tried to raise her midsection from the table, the nurse—Alia, Susannah thought the nurse’s name was Alia—forced her down again, and Scowther gave a short, curt cry of what sounded like satisfaction. He tossed aside the forceps he’d been holding. “Why d’ye do that?” Sayre demanded.

… might work— Meiman (the Canaryman to Mia, Tweety Bird to Jake) crept forward, grasping Andrew—the fat man in the tux with the plaid lapels—with one hand and Andrew’s even fatter jilly with the other. He gestured at Callahan’s turned back. Tirana shook her head vehemently. Meiman opened his beak and …

“I swear it on the name of Andrew John Cornwell, of Tioga Springs, New York. And on his face, too. The King of this castle really did run mad, and really did burst those Wizard’s Glasses that had come into his hands.

She had an idea that, unlike Andy, Nigel was essentially goodhearted, but yes—he’d either lied or gilded the truth about the rats in the larder.

Sheemie must have found a memory of a carriage-ride, or maybe a trip on the Hartford Trolley to see my Uncle Jim and Aunt Molly in Bridgeport. Something in my subconscious.” He shook his head.

… 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 …

Two can-toi security guards, Beeman and Trelawney, stood at the end of the hall, guarding the head of the stairs going down to the basement. To Pimli, all can-toi men, even those with blond hair and skinny builds, looked weirdly like that actor from the forties and fifties, Clark Gable.

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!

He saw a low man—Ben Alexander, he was quite sure—chewed beneath the firetruck’s huge …

The slur disappeared from Carver’s voice; his words became crisp. “Then you know they spoke of a book called The Hogan, by Benjamin Slightman. The title of the book was mis-printed, and so was the writer’s name, which was just the sort of thing that turned old fatty’s dials.”

There’s another one named Beowulf and a fellow named Van Gogh Baez.” Susannah, a Bleecker Street folkie from way back, put her face in her hands to stifle a gust of giggles.

… Damli’s west wing, red-eyed and coughing, some with their pants on fire, a few—oh, praise Gan and Bessa and all the gods—with weapons. Cag screamed at them to get out of the way and could hardly hear himself in the cacophony. He saw Joey …

… one, a scrawny ex-carpenter with a receding hairline named Birdie McCann. “Birdie, what is it?” Trampas shouted. He was currently wearing his thinking-cap, which meant he could not share in the telepathic pulse all around him. “What’s happening, do you kn—” “Shooting!” Birdie yelled, pulling free. “Shooting! They’re out there!”

“Brinkley said King was killed by a minivan while walking near his home in Lovell, Maine.” Eddie jerked. Roland sat forward, his eyes burning.

… the previous Master, Humma, had executed the rapist Cameron. Pimli hadn’t had to execute anyone in his time and was glad of it, but holding the pistol in his lap, feeling its grave weight, always offered a certain comfort. Although why he should require comfort in the watches of the …

… s like to spend your whole life on the outside, to be the butt of the joke every time, to always be Carrie at the fuckin prom?” “Who?” Eddie asked, confused, but Dinky was on a roll and paid no attention. “There are guys down there who can’t walk …

… the same disfigured boy, but not in any saloon; it had been in Gage Park, the one where they’d seen Charlie the Choo-Choo. Last night. Had to have been. He hadn’t remembered until now, would probably never have remembered if Sheemie hadn’t told …

… gotten a busy—I ’us on the phone to Charlie Beemer. It was his wife ’n sister-in-law that got killed in the market, don’t you know. And then I thought, ‘What the hell, I’ll just give the whole place a good sweep before I put my gear in the back of …

… Wilkes calling Paul Sheldon a cockadoodie brat for trying to get rid of silly, bubbleheaded Misery Chastain. Annie shouting that Paul was the writer and the writer is God to his characters, he doesn’t have to kill any of them if he doesn’t want to …

Chet Huntley’s partner (good night Chet good night David) saying that Stephen King had been struck and killed by a Dodge minivan while walking near his …

Say please. “Surround him, Gan, with light. “Fill him, Chloe, with strength. “If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing. “If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.

… to be curious, but that had always been Conor Flaherty’s curse. Lamla lowered his head. “I don’t like to say. ’Tis bad enough. The point is, sai, we’ll die down there if we’re not careful. What happened to you might look like a stroke or a heart attack to a …

… of a ravenhead taheen named Jakli, a can-toi technician named Conroy, and two hume guards whose names Pimli could not immediately recall. Taheen, can-toi, and humes got on together during work hours by virtue of careful—and sometimes brittle—courtesy, but one did not expect to see them socializing off-duty. And indeed …

Susannah heard the tortured Owuff! as the gunslinger lost whatever breath he had managed to regain. She raised herself on one arm, panting, and pointed the gun at the one on top, the one undergoing some horridly busy change inside his clothes. Dandelo raised his hands, which were empty.

He was still wearing his tweed riding cap. Daneeka Rostov looked up from the dollhouse and gave him a smile. Brautigan dropped her a wink in return. Pimli gave Finli a little nudge. Finli: (I see him) But it was more than seeing. They felt him.

Hearing Dave Garroway say that President Kennedy’s little boy was dead, for instance—little John-John, the one who saluted his Daddy’s coffin when the catafalque …

I saw Dave Ittaway go pale, and although Tanya didn’t make a sound—she was a tough little thing, as I told you—it was bright enough in the car to see there were tears standing in the corners of her eyes.

“I come in the name of Jamie DeCurry, he of Gilead! “I come in the name of Vannay the Wise, he of Gilead! “I come in the name of Hax the Cook, he of Gilead! “I come in the name of David the hawk, he of Gilead and the sky!

… his years here, a perfectly idiotic hume guard named David Burke, who had actually been throwing something—had it been peanut-shells?—down on the Breakers below. When Burke had realized the Master was serious about lobotomizing him, he begged for a second chance, promising he’d never do anything so foolish and demeaning …

… and it seemed that she had finally gotten David Seymour Tassenbaum’s attention again. Based on her encounter with Roland, David’s attention was definitely second prize, but it was better than nothing, by God. Roland Deschain would vanish from her life soon, leaving her to find her way back to northern …

Me, Jace McGovern, Dave Ittaway, Dick...I can’t remember his last name, he died about six months later, Humma said it was pneumonia and the rest of the ki’cans backed him up—ki’can sort of means shit-people or shit-folken, if you’re interested—but it was suicide and I knew it if no one …

Cullum nodded at the sign reading BECKHARDT. “I’ve care-took for Dick Beckhardt since the late fifties,” he said. “Helluva nice man. He’s in Wasin’ton now, doin something with the Carter administration.” Caaa-tah. “I got a key. I think maybe we ought to go on down there.

I’d just warshed the floor—” “Looked to me like Dobbie was doing it,” he said. Dobbie was the sort of domestic robot known as a “house-elf,” old but still quite efficient. Tammy grew hotter still.

“Look at em,” John said reverently. “Walk-ins! Gorry, there’s hundreds! I wish my friend Donnie was here to see.”

And stalks away. Ted invites Dr. Sam to think of a relative, any relative, and a moment later tells the doctor he’s thinking of his brother Guy, who died of appendicitis when Guy was fourteen; ever since, their mother has called Guy Sam’s guardian angel.

The ones that wake you up at two in the morning?” Eddie looks almost shocked. “How can you know that?” “It’s a long story. Maybe someday I’ll tell you.” If I can still remember, she thinks. “It’s not just the voices.” “No?” “No.

“What?” Eddie asked. “County Sheriff Eldon Royster took four fellas into custody over in Auburn couple of hours ago. Seems as though they was tryin to sneak past a police roadblock on a woods road and gut stuck for their trouble.”

Justine Anderson (of Maybrook, New York) and Elvira Toothaker (her Lovell friend) are walking along the side of Route 7 (which Elvira still calls The Old Fryeburg Road) with their plastic buckets, harvesting from the bushes which run for at least half a mile along the old rock wall.

His own hand was ungloved, and although the fingers were gnarled with arthritis, his grip was strong. “New York, is it! Why, I once hailed from there, myself. Also Akron, Omaha, and San Francisco. Son of Henry and Flora, if it matters to you.” “You’re from America-side?” Susannah asked.

The man, whose name turns out to be Frank Armitage, hands Ted a sheet of paper. On it, blown up, is Question 23, the one about the Young Man and the Satchel of Money. “You circled ‘c,’ ” Frank Armitage says.

“His name is Fred Towne. He sees a great deal and is rarely if ever mistaken. This watch is a Patek Philippe, Roland. It cost nineteen thousand dollars, and the makers guarantee a full refund of the price if it’s ever fast or slow.

He, Dinky, Fred Worthington (the bankerly-looking man), and Dani Rostov had all been to New York, and were all able to summon up clear mental images of Times Square: the lights, the crowds, the movie marquees...and, most important, the giant news-ticker which broadcast the events …

There was a tremendous roar—seemingly from directly beneath them—and Gangli Tristum was thrown into the air, the metal wheels on his roller skates spinning. The others were thrown as well, and suddenly the smoky air was full of flying papers.

He would go away, possibly with his friend, Garma, if he could find her. If shooting started, they would hide in a deep hole, and he would share his tissues with her.

Garrett McKeen built that wall a hundred years ago, and it is to Garrett’s great-grandson that Roland Deschain of Gilead is speaking at this very moment. Ka is a wheel, do ya not kennit.

Hard to believe such crazy-jane weather, but you could go and see Gary Barker, if you don’t believe me; he’s got the pictures to prove it.

“I gut called away kinda sudden, don’tcha know, and can’t say with any degree a’ certainty just when I’ll be back. If this inconveniences ya, I beg pa’aad’n, but you c’n call Gary Crowell, at 926-5555, or Junior Barker, at 929-4211.”

You’re kidding, right?” “Nope. I always thought you were the one who was kidding about Ronnie Reagan, Eddie.” “I don’t know what you mean.” “That’s okay, just tell me who the President is.” “Gary Hart,” he says, as if speaking to a child.

Jake cried. “That’s the same paper Pere Callahan was reading when he found out his friend George Magruder—” “Hush,” Roland said. “Listen.” They listened.

Six There was a rag rug on the living room floor that would have looked at home in Gramma Holmes’s house, and a La-Z-Boy recliner with a table beside it.

When I die, I want to go peacefully, in my sleep, like Grampa Fred. Not screaming, like the passengers in his car.” Roland roared with laughter at that one, and Susannah did, too.

And stalks away. Ted invites Dr. Sam to think of a relative, any relative, and a moment later tells the doctor he’s thinking of his brother Guy, who died of appendicitis when Guy was fourteen; ever since, their mother has called Guy Sam’s guardian angel.

The one with the bulldog jowls and the heavy, sloping gut was Haber. Next to Haber was a bird-thing with the brown feathered head and vicious beebee eyes of a hawk. This creature’s name seemed to be Jey, or possibly Gee.

“This fellow’s name is Haylis of Chayven. Will anyone miss him?” “Unlikely,” Ted said. “The Rods show up at the gate beyond the dorms in little groups, looking for work. Fetching and carrying, mostly. They’re given a meal or something to drink as pay.

His own hand was ungloved, and although the fingers were gnarled with arthritis, his grip was strong. “New York, is it! Why, I once hailed from there, myself. Also Akron, Omaha, and San Francisco. Son of Henry and Flora, if it matters to you.” “You’re from America-side?” Susannah asked.

What’s your name, cully? Jochabim, that be I, son of Hossa. Jake had told them this part of his story, but it was not memory that spoke to Roland now. It was the voices of the dead.

It was the one with which the previous Master, Humma, had executed the rapist Cameron. Pimli hadn’t had to execute anyone in his time and was glad of it, but holding the pistol in his lap, feeling its grave weight, always offered a certain comfort.

Irene Tassenbaum of Manhattan hadn’t driven a standard since she had been Irene Cantora of Staten Island. It was also a stick shift, and she had never driven one of those.

Me, Jace McGovern, Dave Ittaway, Dick...I can’t remember his last name, he died about six months later, Humma said it was pneumonia and the rest of the ki’cans backed him up—ki’can sort of means shit-people or shit-folken, if you’re interested—but it was suicide and I …

… but five had stayed, including his personal assistant, Jack London. Gangli was proud of them, although one could not have told it from his hectoring voice as he skated up and down, up and down, in the thickening smoke. “Get the papers, d’ye hear? You better, by all the gods …

“You and Jake—what’s your last name?” “Toren,” he says. “It’s German.” Before either of them can say anything else, Jake joins them. And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after?

… an odd trio consisting of a ravenhead taheen named Jakli, a can-toi technician named Conroy, and two hume guards whose names Pimli could not immediately recall. Taheen, can-toi, and humes got on together during work hours by virtue of careful—and sometimes brittle—courtesy, but one did not expect to see them …

… the dormitory directly behind Damli House, talking with James Cagney. Cagney was a redhaired can-toi who favored Western-style shirts and boots that added three inches to his actual five-foot-five. Both had clipboards and were discussing certain necessary changes in the following week’s Damli security. Six of the guards who’d been …

… been some anomalous blips on what Finli and Jenkins, their chief technician, liked to call the Deep Telemetry, as if these were instruments at the bottom of the ocean instead of just in a basement closet adjacent to the long, low room holding the rest of the more useful gear.

This creature’s name seemed to be Jey, or possibly Gee. That was seven, all armed with what looked like automatic pistols in docker’s clutches. Scowther’s swung carelessly out from beneath his white coat each time he bent down. Susannah had already marked that one as hers.

Which would be saying a lot. There are video games out there, kid—think about it.” Jochabim continued giving Jake the duh look, however, and Jake gave up. He was about to speak to Oy when someone spoke to him through the door.

Another foursome was on the putting green. Tanya Leeds and Joey Rastosovich were playing chess under a graceful old elm, the sunlight making dapples on their faces. They greeted him with real pleasure, and why not?

If this inconveniences ya, I beg pa’aad’n, but you c’n call Gary Crowell, at 926-5555, or Junior Barker, at 929-4211.”

Justine Anderson (of Maybrook, New York) and Elvira Toothaker (her Lovell friend) are walking along the side of Route 7 (which Elvira still calls The Old Fryeburg Road) with their plastic buckets, harvesting from the bushes which run for at least half a mile along the …

A single kick from one of Lamla’s feet could cut a full-grown man in half. Flaherty—raised in Boston, for the last twenty years one of the King’s men in a score of late-twentieth-century New Yorks—had put together his posse as fast as he could, in a nerve-roasting agony of fear …

“Sure, Lippy, I see em!” the old man cried, turning in that direction. “I got a’least one good eye left, ain’t I?” Then he turned back to where Roland stood on the snowbank with Susannah and Oy flanking him.

“It’s sim, but it’s still incredible—I made it with Marilyn Monroe, Madonna, and Nicole Kidman all in one week.” He said this with a certain uneasy pride.

Which is a long-winded way of saying this is my daughter, Marian Odetta Carver, President of the Tet Corporation since I stepped down in ’97, at the age of ninety-eight.

“Absolutely astral sex, for one thing,” Dinky said. “It’s sim, but it’s still incredible—I made it with Marilyn Monroe, Madonna, and Nicole Kidman all in one week.” He said this with a certain uneasy pride. “I could have had them all at the same time if I’d wanted to.

… approaching click of toenails down the hall, and Marlowe pokes his long nose into the office. He’s a Welsh Corgi, with short legs and big ears, and a pretty old guy now, with his own aches and pains, not to mention the eye he lost to cancer the previous year.

Had probably been writing Mary Lou Kenopensky’s name on his desk while the other kids had been obediently taking notes.

“Mr. Sharpton, his name was. He used to tell me that never’s the word God listens for when he needs a laugh.” Jake made no reply. He was thinking of how Eddie had talked about the rooms of ruin.

… spine, a woman could be paralyzed like poor Mrs. Bernstein’s daughter that was in the car accident in Mamaroneck, such things happened. And so she ignored the catcalls of the children (Henry Dean and his little brother Eddie often among them) and went on her way, head down, arm outstretched …

… been there, he might have been reminded of Mrs. Mislaburski from up the block: Mrs. Mislaburski in February, after a sleet storm, when the sidewalk was glazed with ice and not yet salted down. But, ice or no ice, she would not be kept from her daily chop or bit …

… Those of MOSES ISAAC CARVER MARIAN ODETTA CARVER NANCY REBECCA DEEPNEAU With Our Gratitude White Over Red, Thus GOD Wills Ever “Thankee-sai,” Roland said in a hoarse and trembling voice. “I thank you, and so would my friends, were they here to speak.” “In our hearts they do speak, Roland,” …

“It’s sim, but it’s still incredible—I made it with Marilyn Monroe, Madonna, and Nicole Kidman all in one week.” He said this with a certain uneasy pride. “I could have had them all at the same time if I’d wanted to.

Perhaps ten hours had passed since Nigel the domestic robot had performed his last duty. Mordred, who in fact had fallen deeply asleep, turned his head toward the voice of the stranger with no residual fuzzy-headedness or surprise.

Then he mounted the greatest of the gray horses—he calls it Nis, after the land of sleep and dreams—and rode southeast into the white lands of Empathica with his little bit of gunna before him on the …

“There was a bus there, with a robot driver named Phil. ‘My name’s Phil, I’m over the hill, but the best news is that I never spill,’ he said.

And what could he, once Paul Prentiss of Rahway, New Jersey, and now Pimli Prentiss of the Algul Siento, do about it? His job, that was what. His fackin job.

Oy was licking the dirt and oil from Jake’s face, while in the van, Pistol and Bullet were gobbling up the hamburger, this time without interference from their master.

“A hume, just as you are,” said Fimalo, resignedly. “Rando Thoughtful was my name during my years as the Crimson King’s Minister of State. Once upon a time, however, I was plain old Austin Cornwell, from upstate New York. Not the Keystone World, I regret to say, but another.

Chip McAvoy, maybe, and surely the Reverend Peterson from that crazy Church of the Walk-Ins down in Stoneham Corners, but anyone else? Her husband, for instance? Nope. Never.

… Chip had time to register that it was Rhoda Beemer, eldest daughter of one of the two women who’d been killed in here on That Day. Then it seemed to him that time had folded back on itself and it was Ruth herself lying there with a can of creamed …

And he’s got a new tooth! On the floor of the fourth room was the collar of his first dog, Ring-A-Levio. Ringo, for short. He’d died when Roland was three, which was something of a gift.

… had folded back on itself and it was Ruth herself lying there with a can of creamed corn rolling free of one relaxing hand. He heard a bullet buzz over his head like an angry bee and skidded to a stop, hands raised. “Don’t shoot, mister!” he heard himself bawl …

Walter, son of Sam the Miller in the Eastar’d Barony. He who had run away at thirteen, had been raped in the ass by another wanderer a year later and yet had somehow withstood the temptation to go crawling back home. Instead he had moved on toward his destiny.

… 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 …

… reliable old Ford pickup truck and going where Shantz, his agent, sent him. He almost never worked the weekends; on the weekends, even the third-rate clubs wanted to book rock-and-roll bands. This was in the late sixties and early seventies, and there’d been no shortage of what Joe called “current …

I.e. gone fishin’ with Sonny Emerson, t’other end of the lake, ayuh, ayuh. Will be back by 7 unless the bugs are too bad. If I bring you a bass, will you cook & clean? D. PS: Something going on at the store big enuf to rate 3 police cars.

“Sheemie!” “Aye, Roland of Gilead, Will Dearborn that was!” Roland reached out and placed his hands on the sides of Sheemie’s head. “Close your eyes, Sheemie, son of Stanley.” Sheemie did as he was told, then reached out his own hands and grasped the sides of Roland’s head.

When this one joins the Breakers in Thunderclap—” “Shut up, Straw!” Haber snapped, and pushed Susannah’s would-be comforter backward. Then he turned eagerly to the delivery again. Mia arched her back, groaning. The rathead nurse put her hands on Mia’s hips and pushed them gently back down to the bed.

Stuttering Bill changes the propane tank and does the maintenance when it needs maintaining, which hasn’t …

“And I think right then I knew that business about the six-year plan, and re-upping if we wanted to, was what my friend Bobby Garfield and his friend Sully-John would have called just a shuck and jive. Not that we could read it in their thoughts.

Kleenex, in fact. “Did Tammy Kelly send you to pick up the swill this morning?” Pimli asked. The Rod nodded fearfully. “Did she tell you that you could have whatever you found and fancied from the wastecans?” He thought the Rod would lie.

Tanya Leeds was now actually Tanya Rastosovich, for Pimli had married them a month ago, just like the captain of a ship.

Certainly he would have been quite astounded to learn that Tammy (his housekeeper) and Tassa (his houseboy) loathed each other. They treated each other with perfect—if chilly—respect when they were around him, after all.

… acromegaly and got work playing monsters and psychopaths, but his name is Thomas Carlyle. There’s another one named Beowulf and a fellow named Van Gogh Baez.” Susannah, a Bleecker Street folkie from way back, put her face in her hands to stifle a gust of giggles.

And so far as Timothy Atwood knows, what happens is perfectly straightforward: offer made, offer accepted, nephew shines in all the right areas, nephew graduates and prepares to enter uncle’s furniture business after six months spent touring post–World War I Europe.

He gestured at Callahan’s turned back. Tirana shook her head vehemently. Meiman opened his beak and hissed at her. She shrank away from him. Detta Walker had already gotten her fingers into the mask Tirana wore and it hung in shreds about her jaw and neck.

… he’s the only one who’s got it until Trampas tells him. Trampas never means to tell him anything, but he’s got this lousy case of eczema, you see, and it changes everything. Hard to believe a flaky scalp might be responsible for saving the Dark Tower, but the idea’s not …

Two can-toi security guards, Beeman and Trelawney, stood at the end of the hall, guarding the head of the stairs going down to the basement. To Pimli, all can-toi men, even those with blond hair and skinny builds, looked weirdly like that actor from the forties and fifties, Clark Gable.

… after all, that might work— Meiman (the Canaryman to Mia, Tweety Bird to Jake) crept forward, grasping Andrew—the fat man in the tux with the plaid lapels—with one hand and Andrew’s even fatter jilly with the other. He gestured at Callahan’s turned back. Tirana shook her head vehemently. Meiman opened …

Sheemie must have found a memory of a carriage-ride, or maybe a trip on the Hartford Trolley to see my Uncle Jim and Aunt Molly in Bridgeport. Something in my subconscious.” He shook his head.

There’s another one named Beowulf and a fellow named Van Gogh Baez.” Susannah, a Bleecker Street folkie from way back, put her face in her hands to stifle a gust of giggles.

A fat Breaker named Waverly jostled him. Finli snared him before Waverly could fly on by. “What happened? Who told you to go south?”

Two Wendell “Chip” McAvoy was at the deli counter, weighing up a pretty sizable order of sliced honey-cured turkey for Mrs. Tassenbaum, and until the bell over the door rang, once more turning Chip’s life upside …