Doctor Sleep (The Shining, #2)(98)

“And continue on by yourself.”

Dan tipped him a grin. “Well . . . there’s Billy.”

“Billy’s seventy-three if he’s a day.”

“He’d say that’s a plus. Billy likes to tell people that the good thing about being old is that you don’t have to worry about dying young.”

John pointed. “Freeman town line.” He gave Dan a small, tight smile. “I can’t completely believe I’m doing this. What are you going to think if that ethanol plant is gone? If it’s been torn down since Google Earth snapped its picture, and planted over with corn?”

“It’ll still be there,” Dan said.


8

And so it was: a series of soot-gray concrete blocks roofed in rusty corrugated metal. One smokestack still stood; two others had fallen and lay on the ground like broken snakes. The windows had been smashed and the walls were covered in blotchy spray-paint graffiti that would have been laughed at by the pro taggers in any big city. A potholed service road split off from the two-lane, ending in a parking lot that had sprouted with errant seed corn. The water tower Abra had seen stood nearby, rearing against the horizon like an H. G. Wells Martian war machine. FREEMAN, IOWA was printed on the side. The shed with the broken roof was also present and accounted for.

“Satisfied?” Dan asked. They had slowed to a crawl. “Factory, water tower, shed, No Trespassing sign. All just like she said it would be.”

John pointed to the rusty gate at the end of the service road. “What if that’s locked? I haven’t climbed a chainlink fence since I was in junior high.”

“It wasn’t locked when killers brought that kid here, or Abra would have said.”

“Are you sure of that?”

A farm truck was coming the other way. Dan sped up a little and lifted a hand as they passed. The guy behind the wheel—green John Deere cap, sunglasses, bib overalls—raised his in return but hardly glanced at them. That was a good thing.

“I asked if—”

“I know what you asked,” Dan said. “If it’s locked, we’ll deal with it. Somehow. Now let’s go back to that motel and check in. I’m whipped.”


9

While John got adjoining rooms at the Holiday Inn—paying cash—Dan sought out the Adair True Value Hardware. He bought a spade, a rake, two hoes, a garden trowel, two pairs of gloves, and a duffel to hold his new purchases. The only tool he actually wanted was the spade, but it seemed best to buy in bulk.

“What brings you to Adair, may I ask?” the clerk asked as he rang up Dan’s stuff.

“Just passing through. My sister’s in Des Moines, and she’s got quite the garden patch. She probably owns most of this stuff, but presents always seem to improve her hospitality.”

“I hear that, brother. And she’ll thank you for this short-handle hoe. No tool comes in handier, and most amateur gardeners never think to get one. We take MasterCard, Visa—”

“I think I’ll give the plastic a rest,” Dan said, taking out his wallet. “Just give me a receipt for Uncle Sugar.”

“You bet. And if you give me your name and address—or your sister’s—we’ll send our catalogue.”

“You know what, I’m going to pass on that today,” Dan said, and put a little fan of twenties on the counter.


10

At eleven o’clock that night, there came a soft rap on Dan’s door. He opened it and let John inside. Abra’s pediatrician was pale and keyed-up. “Did you sleep?”

“Some,” Dan said. “You?”

“In and out. Mostly out. I’m nervous as a goddam cat. If a cop stops us, what are we going to say?”

“That we heard there was a juke joint in Freeman and decided to go looking for it.”

“There’s nothing in Freeman but corn. About nine billion acres of it.”

“We don’t know that,” Dan said mildly. “We’re just passing through. Besides, no cop’s going to stop us, John. Nobody’s even going to notice us. But if you want to stay here—”

“I didn’t come halfway across the country to sit in a motel watching Jay Leno. Just let me use the toilet. I used mine before I left the room, but now I need to go again. Christ, am I nervous.”

The drive to Freeman seemed very long to Dan, but once they left Adair behind, they didn’t meet a single car. Farmers went to bed early, and they were off the trucking routes.

When they reached the ethanol plant, Dan doused the rental car’s lights, turned in to the service road, and rolled slowly up to the closed gate. The two men got out. John cursed when the Ford’s dome light came on. “I should have turned that thing off before we left the motel. Or smashed the bulb, if it doesn’t have a switch.”

“Relax,” Dan said. “There’s no one out here but us chickens.” Still, his heart was beating hard in his chest as they walked to the gate. If Abra was right, a little boy had been murdered and buried out here after being miserably tortured. If ever a place should be haunted—

John tried the gate, and when pushing didn’t work, he tried pulling. “Nothing. What now? Climb, I guess. I’m willing to try, but I’ll probably break my f*cking—”

“Wait.” Dan took a penlight from his jacket pocket and shone it on the gate, first noting the broken padlock, then the heavy twists of wire above and below it. He went back to the car, and it was his turn to wince when the trunk light came on. Well, shit. You couldn’t think of everything. He yanked out the new duffel, and slammed the trunk lid down. Dark returned.