“No. But I’m sure we’ll find out.”

“How reassuring,” Eddie said sourly.

Roland got to his feet. “Come on. Let’s not waste the day.”

2

THE FOG BEGAN TO unravel after they had been on the road for an hour or so. They took turns pushing Susannah’s chair, and it jolted unhappily along, for the road was now mined with large, rough cobblestones. By midmorning the day was fair, hot, and cloudless; the city skyline stood out clearly on the southeastern horizon. To Jake it didn’t look much different from the skyline of New York, although he thought these buildings might not be as high. If the place had fallen apart, as most things in Roland’s world apparently had, you certainly couldn’t tell it from here. Like Eddie, Jake had begun to entertain the unspoken hope that they might find help there... or at least a good hot meal.

To their left, thirty or forty miles away, they could see the broad sweep of the Send River. Birds circled above it in large flocks. Every now and then one would fold its wings and drop like a stone, probably on a fishing expedition. The road and the river were moving slowly toward one another, although the junction point could not yet be seen.

They could see more buildings ahead. Most looked like farms, and all appeared deserted. Some of them had fallen down, but these wrecks seemed to be the work of time rather than violence, furthering Eddie’s and Jake’s hopes of what they might find in the city—hopes each had kept strictly within himself, lest the others scoff. Small herds of shaggy beasts grazed their way across the plains. They kept well away from the road except to cross, and this they did quickly, at a gallop, like packs of small children afraid of traffic. They looked like bison to Jake... except he saw several which had two heads. He mentioned this to the gunslinger and Roland nodded.

“Muties.”

“Like under the mountains?” Jake heard the fear in his own voice and knew the gunslinger must, also, but he was helpless to keep it out. He remembered that endless nightmare journey on the handcart very well.

“I think that here the mutant strains are being bred out. The things we found under the mountains were still getting worse.”

“What about up there?” Jake pointed toward the city. “Will there be mutants there, or—” He found it was as close as he could come to voicing his hope.

Roland shrugged. “I don’t know, Jake. I’d tell you if I did.”

They were passing an empty building—almost surely a farmhouse— that had been partially burnt. But that could have been lightning, Jake thought, and wondered which it was he was trying to do—explain to himself or fool himself.

Roland, perhaps reading his mind, put an arm around Jake’s shoulders. “No use even trying to guess, Jake,” he said. “Whatever happened here happened long ago.” He pointed. “That over there was probably a corral. Now it’s just a few sticks poking out of the grass.”