Doctor Sleep (The Shining, #2)(100)

They had buried him holding his baseball glove to his chest. Its lovingly oiled pocket was full of squirming bugs.

The air escaped Dan’s lungs in a shocked whoosh, and the breath he inhaled to replace it was rich with rot. He lunged out of the grave to his right, managing to vomit on the dirt they’d taken out of the hole instead of on the wasted remains of Bradley Trevor, whose only crime had been to be born with something a tribe of monsters wanted. And had stolen from him on the very wind of his dying shrieks.


13

They reburied the body, John doing most of the work this time, and covered the spot with a makeshift crypt of broken asphalt chunks. Neither of them wanted to think of foxes or stray dogs feasting on what scant meat was left.

When they were done, they got back into the car and sat without speaking. At last John said, “What are we going to do about him, Danno? We can’t just leave him. He’s got parents. Grandparents. Probably brothers and sisters. All of them still wondering.”

“He has to stay awhile. Long enough so nobody’s going to say, ‘Gee, that anonymous call came in just after some stranger bought a spade in the Adair hardware store.’ That probably wouldn’t happen, but we can’t take the chance.”

“How long’s awhile?”

“Maybe a month.”

John considered this, then sighed. “Maybe even two. Give his folks that long to go on thinking he might just have run off. Give them that long before we break their hearts.” He shook his head. “If I’d had to look at his face, I don’t think I ever could have slept again.”

“You’d be surprised what a person can live with,” Dan said. He was thinking of Mrs. Massey, now safely stored away in the back of his head, her haunting days over. He started the car, powered down his window, and beat the baseball glove several times against the door to dislodge the dirt. Then he put it on, sliding his fingers into the places where the child’s had been on so many sunlit afternoons. He closed his eyes. After thirty seconds or so, he opened them again.

“Anything?”

“?‘You’re Barry. You’re one of the good guys.’?”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, except I’m betting he’s the one Abra calls Barry the Chunk.”

“Nothing else?”

“Abra will be able to get more.”

“Are you sure of that?”

Dan thought of the way his vision had sharpened when Abra opened her eyes inside his head. “I am. Shine your light on the pocket of the glove for a sec, will you? There’s something written there.”

John did it, revealing a child’s careful printing: THOME 25.

“What does that mean?” John asked. “I thought his name was Trevor.”

“Jim Thome’s a baseball player. His number is twenty-five.” He stared into the pocket of the glove for a moment, then laid it gently on the seat between them. “He was that kid’s favorite Major Leaguer. He named his glove after him. I’m going to get these f*ckers. I swear before God Almighty, I’m going to get them and make them sorry.”


14

Rose the Hat shone—the entire True shone—but not in the way Dan or Billy did. Neither Rose nor Crow had any sense, as they said their goodbyes, that the child they had taken years ago in Iowa was at that moment being uncovered by two men who knew far too much about them already. Rose could have caught the communications flying between Dan and Abra if she had been in a state of deep meditation, but of course then the little girl would have noticed her presence immediately. Besides, the goodbyes going on in Rose’s EarthCruiser that night were of an especially intimate sort.

She lay with her fingers laced together behind her head and watched Crow dress. “You visited that store, right? District X?”

“Not me personally, I have a reputation to protect. I sent Jimmy Numbers.” Crow grinned as he buckled his belt. “He could’ve gotten what we needed in fifteen minutes, but he was gone for two hours. I think Jimmy’s found a new home.”

“Well, that’s good. I hope you boys enjoy yourselves.” Trying to keep it light, but after two days of mourning Grampa Flick, climaxed by the circle of farewell, keeping anything light was an effort.

“He didn’t get anything that compares to you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Had a preview, did you, Henry?”

“Didn’t need one.” He eyed her as she lay naked with her hair spread out in a dark fan. She was tall, even lying down. He had ever liked tall women. “You’re the feature attraction in my home theater and always will be.”

Overblown—just a bit of Crow’s patented razzle-dazzle—but it pleased her just the same. She got up and pressed against him, her hands in his hair. “Be careful. Bring everyone back. And bring her.”

“We will.”

“Then you better get a wiggle on.”

“Relax. We’ll be in Sturbridge when EZ Mail Services opens on Friday morning. In New Hampshire by noon. By then, Barry will have located her.”

“As long as she doesn’t locate him.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

Fine, Rose thought. I’ll worry for both of us. I’ll worry until I’m looking at her wearing cuffs on her wrists and clamps on her ankles.