Doctor Sleep (The Shining, #2)(107)

“At a place called the Bluebird Campground. Or maybe it’s Bluebell. They own it. There’s a town nearby. That’s where the supermarket is, the Sam’s. The town is called Sidewinder. Rose is there, and the True. That’s what they call themselves, the . . . Dan? What’s wrong?”

Dan made no reply. For the moment, at least, he was incapable of speech. He was remembering Dick Hallorann’s voice coming from Eleanor Ouellette’s dead mouth. He had asked Dick where the empty devils were, and now the answer made sense.

In your childhood.

“Dan?” That was John. He sounded far away. “You’re as white as a sheet.”

It all made a weird kind of sense. He had known from the first—even before he actually saw it—that the Overlook Hotel was an evil place. It was gone now, burned flat, but who was to say the evil had also been burned away? Certainly not him. As a child, he had been visited by revenants who had escaped.

This campground they own—it stands where the hotel stood. I know it. And sooner or later, I’ll have to go back there. I know that, too. Probably sooner. But first—

“I’m all right,” he said.

“Want a Coke?” Abra asked. “Sugar solves lots of problems, that’s what I think.”

“Later. I have an idea. It’s sketchy, but maybe the four of us working together can turn it into a plan.”


6

Snakebite Andi parked in the truckers’ lot of a turnpike rest area near Westfield, New York. Nut went into the service plaza to get juice for Barry, who was now running a fever and had a painfully sore throat. While they waited for him to come back, Crow put through a call to Rose. She answered on the first ring. He filled her in as quickly as he could, then waited.

“What’s that I hear in the background?” she asked.

Crow sighed and rubbed one hand up a stubbled cheek. “That’s Jimmy Numbers. He’s crying.”

“Tell him to shut up. Tell him there’s no crying in baseball.”

Crow conveyed this, omitting Rose’s peculiar sense of humor. Jimmy, at the moment wiping Barry’s face with a damp cloth, managed to muffle his loud and (Crow had to admit it) annoying sobs.

“That’s better,” Rose said.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Give me a second, I’m trying to think.”

Crow found the idea of Rose having to try to think almost as disturbing as the red spots that had now broken out all over Barry’s face and body, but he did as he was told, holding the iPhone to his ear but saying nothing. He was sweating. Fever, or just hot in here? Crow scanned his arms for red blemishes and saw none. Yet.

“Are you on schedule?” Rose asked.

“So far, yes. A little ahead, even.”

There was a brisk double rap at the door. Andi looked out, then opened it.

“Crow? Still there?”

“Yes. Nut just came back with some juice for Barry. He’s got a bad sore throat.”

“Try this,” Walnut said to Barry, unscrewing the cap. “It’s apple. Still cold from the cooler. It’ll soothe your gullet something grand.”

Barry got up on his elbows and gulped when Nut tipped the small glass bottle to his lips. Crow found it hard to look at. He’d seen baby lambs drink from nursing bottles in that same weak, I-can’t-do-it-myself way.

“Can he talk, Crow? If he can, give him the phone.”

Crow elbowed Jimmy aside and sat down beside Barry. “Rose. She wants to talk to you.”

He attempted to hold the phone next to Barry’s ear, but the Chink took it from him. Either the juice or the aspirin Nut had made him swallow seemed to have given him some strength.

“Rose,” he croaked. “Sorry about this, darlin.” He listened, nodding. “I know. I get that. I . . .” He listened some more. “No, not yet, but . . . yeah. I can. I will. Yeah. I love you, too. Here he is.” He handed the phone to Crow, then collapsed back onto the stacked pillows, his temporary burst of strength exhausted.

“I’m here,” Crow said.

“Has he started cycling yet?”

Crow glanced at Barry. “No.”

“Thank God for small favors. He says he can still locate her. I hope he’s right. If he can’t, you’ll have to find her yourselves. We have to have that girl.”

Crow knew she wanted the kid—maybe Julianne, maybe Emma, probably Abra—for her own reasons, and for him that was enough, but there was more at stake. Maybe the True’s continued survival. In a whispered consultation at the back of the Winnebago, Nut had told Crow that the girl had probably never had the measles, but her steam might still serve to protect them, because of the inoculations she would have been given as a baby. It wasn’t a sure bet, but a hell of a lot better than no bet at all.

“Crow? Talk to me, honey.”

“We’ll find her.” He shot the True’s computer maven a look. “Jimmy’s got it narrowed down to three possibles, all in a one-block radius. We’ve got pictures.”

“That’s excellent.” She paused, and when she spoke again her voice was lower, warmer, and perhaps the slightest bit shaky. Crow hated the idea of Rose being afraid, but he thought she was. Not for herself, but for the True Knot it was her duty to protect. “You know I’d never send you on with Barry sick if I didn’t think it was absolutely vital.”