The sudden noise of traffic and city chaos was a harsh contrast to the stark silence of the Dark Tower. In the Dark Tower, the only sounds came from Roland's own troubled conscience. This city was loud and alive. It was as Lud might have been centuries ago, before the Tick-Tock Man and the crashed plane. Loud like Gilead had been during its glory days.
The door didn't hover like the ones on the beach. This door had been attached to the side of an old building, and it shut immediately upon Roland's exit. When the gunslinger turned to admire the door from the other side, it was nothing but a rusted old frame, practically falling from the hinges. Its knob or handle had been stolen from kids playing pranks years ago. Fate. Ka. The gunslinger gave a soft sigh. I will be here for a long time.
It would take many years to find the Dark Tower again. But that's what he had sacrificed in order to make amends with the boy. In order to make peace with Jake. Jake. The boy. One of the ka-tet. My son.
Roland could feel the boy's presence like he could the cool breeze that rushed through the cracks of the tall buildings. He had not been wrong in choosing the door. He had not been right, either, but at least he had not been wrong. It was no trick. The boy was here. The Dark Tower had been honest with him. For some reason, Roland found that surprising. Because the Dark Tower--
He creased his brows together. He was forgetting. Not everything. But little by little he was forgetting the emotions and memories brought on by the Dark Tower. The sensations he received as he took the stairs one step at a time were slowly fading. He tried to cling onto all of the knowledge, but it was impossible. He'd chosen not to take the final door. He'd chosen to forget much of his journey. Ka willed it. The strength of the Tower in his soul was dwindling, but the presence of the boy was becoming ever-more forceful.
Roland stepped out onto the sidewalk looking very out of place. Dust-clad boots carried his gunslinger physique across the pavement. He was tall and lithe, the weight of his single sandalwood pistol hanging heavy on his left hip. A few passerbys pointed and stared. He caught a few muttering words of familiarity, but Roland didn't share their acknowledgment. He didn't know them. He didn't need to know them. He needed to find the boy. And -- Oy. Oy is with him. He could feel it. They were drawn together. Connected. They were ka-tet. More than family. It was a bond that surpassed all others.
The gunslinger was close, but he was in no hurry. He knew he would find Jake in time. So, for once, he took a backseat and let ka lead him. Straight and true.