Doctor Sleep (The Shining, #2)(141)

Lucy pressed her palms to her temples. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“If you did a search of records, I think you’d find that the True Knot—under whatever name they might be incorporated—has been very generous to that particular Colorado town. You don’t shit in your nest, you feather it. Then, if bad times come, you have lots of friends.”

“These bastards have been around a long time,” John said. “Haven’t they? Because the main thing they take from this steam is longevity.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s right,” Dan said. “And as good Americans, I’m sure they’ve been busy making money the whole time. Enough to grease wheels a lot bigger than the ones that turn in Sidewinder. State wheels. Federal wheels.”

“And this Rose . . . she’ll never stop.”

“No.” Dan was thinking of the precognitive vision he’d had of her. The cocked hat. The yawning mouth. The single tooth. “Her heart is set on your daughter.”

“A woman who stays alive by killing children has no heart,” Dave said.

“Oh, she has one,” Dan said. “But it’s black.”

Lucy stood up. “No more talking. I want to go to her now. Everybody use the bathroom, because once we leave, we’re not stopping until we get to that motel.”

Dan said, “Does Concetta have a computer? If she does, I need to take a quick peek at something before we go.”

Lucy sighed. “It’s in her study, and I think you can guess the password. But if you take more than five minutes, we’re going without you.”


14

Rose lay awake in her bed, stiff as a poker, trembling with steam and fury.

When an engine started up at quarter past two, she heard it. Steamhead Steve and Baba the Russian. When another started at twenty till four, she heard that one, too. This time it was the Little twins, Pea and Pod. Sweet Terri Pickford was with them, no doubt looking nervously through the back window for any sign of Rose. Big Mo had asked to go along—begged to go along—but they had turned her down because Mo was carrying the disease.

Rose could have stopped them, but why bother? Let them discover what life was like in America on their own, with no True Knot to protect them in camp or watch their backs while they were on the road. Especially when I tell Toady Slim to kill their credit cards and empty their rich bank accounts, she thought.

Toady was no Jimmy Numbers, but he could still take care of it, and at the touch of a button. And he’d be there to do it. Toady would stick. So would all the good ones . . . or almost all the good ones. Dirty Phil, Apron Annie, and Diesel Doug were no longer on their way back. They had taken a vote and decided to head south instead. Deez had told them Rose was no longer to be trusted, and besides, it was long past time to cut the Knot.

Good luck with that, darling boy, she thought, clenching and unclenching her fists.

Splitting the True was a terrible idea, but thinning the herd was a good one. So let the weaklings run and the sicklings die. When the bitchgirl was also dead and they had swallowed her steam (Rose had no more illusions of keeping her prisoner), the twenty-five or so who were left would be stronger than ever. She mourned Crow, and knew she had no one who could step into his shoes, but Token Charlie would do the best he could. So would Harpman Sam . . . Bent Dick . . . Fat Fannie and Long Paul . . . Greedy G, not the brightest bulb, but loyal and unquestioning.

Besides, with the others gone, the steam she still had in storage would go farther and make them stronger. They would need to be strong.

Come to me, little bitchgirl, Rose thought. See how strong you are when there are two dozen against you. See how you like it when it’s just you against the True. We’ll eat your steam and lap up your blood. But first, we’ll drink your screams.

Rose stared up into the darkness, hearing the fading voices of the runners, the faithless ones.

At the door came a soft, timid knock. Rose lay silent for a moment or two, considering, then swung her legs out of bed.

“Come.”

She was naked but made no attempt to cover herself when Silent Sarey crept in, shapeless inside one of her flannel nightgowns, her mouse-colored bangs covering her brows and almost hanging in her eyes. As always, Sarey seemed hardly there even when she was.

“I’m sad, Loze.”

“I know you are. I’m sad, too.”

She wasn’t—she was furious—but it sounded good.

“I miss Andi.”

Andi, yes—rube name Andrea Steiner, whose father had f*cked the humanity out of her long before the True Knot had found her. Rose remembered watching her that day in the movie theater, and how, later, she had fought her way through the Turning with sheer guts and willpower. Snakebite Andi would have stuck. Snake would have walked through fire, if Rose said the True Knot needed her to.

She held out her arms. Sarey scurried to her and laid her head against Rose’s breast.

“Wivvout her I lunt to die.”

“No, honey, I don’t think so.” Rose pulled the little thing into bed and hugged her tight. She was nothing but a rack of bones held together by scant meat. “Tell me what you really want.”

Beneath the shaggy bangs, two eyes gleamed, feral. “Levenge.”

Rose kissed one cheek, then the other, then the thin dry lips. She drew back a little and said, “Yes. And you’ll have it. Open your mouth, Sarey.”