Doctor Sleep (The Shining #2)(131)

Looks of surprise and more uneasy mutters greeted this. Did they think she was crazy? Let them. It wasn’t just measles eating into the True Knot; it was terror, and that was far worse.

“When we’re all together, we’re going to circle. We’re going to grow strong. Lodsam hanti, we are the chosen ones—have you forgotten that? Sabbatha hanti, we are the True Knot, and we endure. Say it with me.” Her eyes raked them. “Say it.”

They said it, joining hands, making a ring. We are the True Knot, and we endure. A little resolution came into their eyes. A little belief. Only half a dozen of them were showing the spots, after all; there was still time.

Rose and Silent Sarey stepped to the circle. Terri and Baba let go of each other to make a place for them, but Rose escorted Sarey to the center. Under the security lights, the bodies of the two women radiated multiple shadows, like the spokes of a wheel. “When we’re strong—when we’re one again—we’re going to find her and take her. I tell you that as your leader. And even if her steam doesn’t cure the sickness that’s eating us, it’ll be the end of the rotten—”

That was when the girl spoke inside her head. Rose could not see Abra Stone’s angry smile, but she could feel it.

(don’t bother coming to me, Rose)

8

In the back of John Dalton’s Suburban, Dan Torrance spoke four clear words in Abra’s voice.

“I’ll come to you.”

9

“Billy? Billy!”

Billy Freeman looked at the girl who didn’t exactly sound like a girl. She doubled, came together, and doubled again. He passed a hand over his face. His eyelids felt heavy and his thoughts seemed somehow glued together. He couldn’t make sense of this. It wasn’t daylight anymore, and they sure as hell weren’t on Abra’s street anymore. “Who’s shooting? And who took a shit in my mouth? Christ.”

“Billy, you have to wake up. You have to . . .”

You have to drive was what Dan meant to say, but Billy Freeman wasn’t going to be driving anywhere. Not for awhile. His eyes were drifting shut again, the lids out of sync. Dan threw one of Abra’s elbows into the old guy’s side and got his attention again. For the time being, at least.

Headlights flooded the cab of the truck as another car approached. Dan held Abra’s breath, but this one also went by without slowing. Maybe a woman on her own, maybe a salesman in a hurry to get home. A bad Samaritan, whoever it was, and bad was good for them, but they might not be lucky a third time. Rural people tended to be neighborly. Not to mention nosy.

“Stay awake,” he said.

“Who are you?” Billy tried to focus on the kid, but it was impossible. “Because you sure don’t sound like Abra.”

“It’s complicated. For now, just concentrate on staying awake.”

Dan got out and walked around to the driver’s side of the truck, stumbling several times. Her legs, which had seemed so long on the day he met her, were too damned short. He only hoped he wouldn’t have enough time to get used to them.

Crow’s clothes were lying on the seat. His canvas shoes were on the dirty floormat with the socks trailing out of them. The blood and brains that had splattered his shirt and jacket had cycled out of existence, but they had left damp spots. Dan gathered everything up and, after a moment’s consideration, added the gun. He didn’t want to give it up, but if they were stopped . . .

He took the bundle to the front of the truck and buried it beneath a drift of old leaves. Then he grabbed a piece of the downed birch the F-150 had struck and dragged it over the burial site. It was hard work with Abra’s arms, but he managed.

He found he couldn’t just step into the cab; he had to pull himself up by the steering wheel. And once he was finally behind the wheel, her feet barely reached the pedals. Fuck.

Billy gave a galumphing snore, and Dan threw another elbow. Billy opened his eyes and looked around. “Where are we? Did that guy drug me?” Then: “I think I have to go back to sleep.”

At some point during the final life-or-death struggle for the gun, Crow’s unopened bottle of Fanta had fallen to the floor. Dan bent over, grabbed it, then paused with Abra’s hand on the cap, remembering what happens to soda when it takes a hard thump. From somewhere, Abra spoke to him

(oh dear)

and she was smiling, but it wasn’t the angry smile. Dan thought that was good.

10

You can’t let me go to sleep, the voice coming from Dan’s mouth said, so John took the Fox Run exit and parked in the lot farthest from Kohl’s. There he and Dave walked Dan’s body up and down, one on each side. He was like a drunk at the end of a hard night—every now and then his head sagged to his chest before snapping back up again. Both men took a turn at asking what had happened, what was happening now, and where it was happening, but Abra only shook Dan’s head. “The Crow shot me in my hand before he let me go in the bathroom. The rest is all fuzzy. Now shh, I have to concentrate.”

On the third wide circle of John’s Suburban, Dan’s mouth broke into a grin, and a very Abra-like giggle issued from him. Dave looked a question at John across the body of their shambling, stumbling charge. John shrugged and shook his head.

“Oh, dear,” Abra said. “Soda.”

11

Dan tilted the soda and removed the cap. A high-pressure spray of orange pop hit Billy full in the face. He coughed and spluttered, for the time being wide awake.