Doctor Sleep (The Shining #2)(146)

Lucy fixed her daughter with a reproachful glance. “You goaded her. That was a dangerous thing to do, but when she has a chance to settle down . . .”

Although no one interrupted, she trailed off. Maybe, Dan thought, she heard how implausible that sounded when it was actually articulated.

“They won’t stop, Mom,” Abra said. “She won’t stop.”

“Abra will be safe enough,” Dan said. “There’s a wheel. I don’t know how to explain it any better than that. If things get bad—if they go wrong—Abra will use the wheel to get away. To pull out. She’s promised me that.”

“That’s right,” Abra said. “I promised.”

Dan fixed her with a hard look. “And you’ll keep it, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Abra said. She spoke firmly enough, although with obvious reluctance. “I will.”

“There’s all those kids to consider, too,” John said. “We’ll never know how many this True Knot has taken over the years. Hundreds, maybe.”

Dan thought that if they lived as long as Abra believed, the number was probably in the thousands. He said, “Or how many they will take, even if they leave Abra alone.”

“That’s assuming the measles doesn’t kill them all,” Dave said hopefully. He turned to John. “You said that really might happen.”

“They want me because they think I can cure the measles,” Abra said. “Duh.”

“Keep a civil tongue, miss,” Lucy said, but she spoke absently. She picked up the last slice of pizza, looked at it, then threw it back in the box. “I don’t care about the other kids. I care about Abra. I know how horrible that sounds, but it’s the truth.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if you’d seen all those little pictures in the Shopper,” Abra said. “I can’t get them out of my head. I dream about them sometimes.”

“If this crazy woman has half a brain, she’ll know Abra isn’t coming alone,” Dave said. “What’s she going to do, fly to Denver and then rent a car? A thirteen-year-old?” And, with a half-humorous look at his daughter: “Duh.”

Dan said, “Rose already knows from what happened at Cloud Gap that Abra’s got friends. What she doesn’t know is that she has at least one with the shining.” He looked at Abra for confirmation. She nodded. “Listen, Lucy. Dave. Together, I think that Abra and I can put an end to this”—he searched for the right word and found only one that fit—“plague. Either of us alone . . .” He shook his head.

“Besides,” Abra said, “you and Dad can’t really stop me. You can lock me in my room, but you can’t lock up my head.”

Lucy gave her the Death Stare, the one mothers save especially for rebellious young daughters. It had always worked with Abra, even when she was in one of her furies, but it didn’t this time. She looked back at her mother calmly. And with a sadness that made Lucy’s heart feel cold.

Dave took Lucy’s hand. “I think this has to be done.”

There was silence in the room. Abra was the one who broke it. “If nobody’s going to eat that last slice, I am. I’m starving.”

3

They went over it several more times, and at a couple of points voices were raised, but essentially, everything had been said. Except, it turned out, for one thing. When they left the room, Billy refused to get into John’s Suburban.

“I’m goin,” he told Dan.

“Billy, I appreciate the thought, but it’s not a good idea.”

“My truck, my rules. Besides, are you really gonna make the Colorado high country by Monday afternoon on your own? Don’t make me laugh. You look like shit on a stick.”

Dan said, “Several people have told me that lately, but none have put it so elegantly.”

Billy didn’t smile. “I can help you. I’m old, but I ain’t dead.”

“Take him,” Abra said. “He’s right.”

Dan looked at her closely.

(do you know something Abra)

The reply was quick.

(no feel something)

That was good enough for Dan. He held out his arms and Abra hugged him hard, the side of her face pressed against his chest. Dan could have held her like that for a long time, but he let her go and stepped back.

(let me know when you get close Uncle Dan I’ll come)

(just little touches remember)

She sent an image instead of a thought in words: a smoke detector beeping the way they did when they wanted a battery change. She remembered perfectly.

As she went to the car, Abra said to her father, “We need to stop on the way back for a get-well card. Julie Cross broke her wrist yesterday in soccer practice.”

He frowned at her. “How do you know that?”

“I know,” she said.

He gently pulled one of her pigtails. “You really could do it all along, couldn’t you? I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell us, Abba-Doo.”

Dan, who had grown up with the shining, could have answered that question.

Sometimes parents needed to be protected.

4

So they parted. John’s SUV went east and Billy’s pickup truck went west, with Billy behind the wheel. Dan said, “Are you really okay to drive, Billy?”