Doctor Sleep (The Shining #2)(148)

Don’t you look at that window, either. Don’t you dare.

No. Absolutely not. Never. So she did, and there was Rose, grinning in at her from below her rakishly tilted hat. All billowing hair and pale porcelain skin and dark mad eyes and rich red lips masking that one snaggle tooth. That tusk.

You’re going to die screaming, bitchgirl.

Abra closed her eyes and thought hard

(not there not there not there)

and opened them again. The grinning face at the window was gone. But not really. Somewhere high in the mountains—at the roof of the world—Rose was thinking about her. And waiting.

6

The motel had a breakfast buffet. Because his traveling companion was watching him, Dan made a point of eating some cereal and yogurt. Billy looked relieved. While he checked them out, Dan strolled to the lobby men’s room. Once inside, he turned the lock, fell to his knees, and vomited up everything he’d eaten. The undigested cereal and yogurt floated in a red foam.

“All right?” Billy asked when Dan rejoined him at the desk.

“Fine,” Dan said. “Let’s roll.”

7

According to Billy’s road atlas, it was about twelve hundred miles from Cincinnati to Denver. Sidewinder lay roughly seventy-five miles further west, along roads full of switchbacks and lined with steep drops. Dan tried driving for awhile on that Sunday afternoon, but tired quickly and turned the wheel over to Billy again. He fell asleep, and when he woke up, the sun was going down. They were in Iowa—home of the late Brad Trevor.

(Abra?)

He had been afraid distance would make mental communication difficult or even impossible, but she came back promptly, and as strong as ever; if she’d been a radio station, she would have been broadcasting at 100,000 watts. She was in her room, pecking away on her computer at some homework assignment or other. He was both amused and saddened to realize she had Hoppy, her stuffed rabbit, on her lap. The strain of what they were doing had regressed her to a younger Abra, at least on the emotional side.

With the line between them wide open, she caught this.

(don’t worry about me I’m all right)

(good because you have a call to make)

(yes okay are you all right)

(fine)

She knew better but didn’t ask, and that was just the way he wanted it.

(have you got the)

She made a picture.

(not yet it’s Sunday stores not open)

Another picture, one that made him smile. A Walmart . . . except the sign out front read ABRA’S SUPERSTORE.

(they wouldn’t sell us what we need we’ll find one that will)

(okay I guess)

(you know what to say to her?)

(yes)

(she’ll try to suck you into a long conversation try to snoop don’t let her)

(I won’t)

(let me hear from you after so I won’t worry)

Of course he would worry plenty.

(I will I love you Uncle Dan)

(love you too)

He made a kiss. Abra made one back: big red cartoon lips. He could almost feel them on his cheek. Then she was gone.

Billy was staring at him. “You were just talkin to her, weren’t you?”

“Indeed I was. Eyes on the road, Billy.”

“Yeah, yeah. You sound like my ex-wife.”

Billy put on his blinker, switched to the passing lane, and rolled past a huge and lumbering Fleetwood Pace Arrow motorhome. Dan stared at it, wondering who was inside and if they were looking out the tinted windows.

“I want to make another hundred or so miles before we quit for the night,” Billy said. “Way I got tomorrow figured, that should give us an hour to do your errand and still put us in the high country about the time you and Abra set for the showdown. But we’ll want to get on the road before daybreak.”

“Fine. You understand how this will go?”

“I get how it’s supposed to go.” Billy glanced at him. “You better hope that if they have binoculars, they don’t use them. Do you think we might come back alive? Tell me the truth. If the answer’s no, I’m gonna order me the biggest steak dinner you ever saw when we stop for the night. MasterCard can chase my relatives for the last credit card bill, and guess what? I ain’t got any relatives. Unless you count the ex, and if I was on fire she wouldn’t piss on me to put me out.”

“We’ll come back,” Dan said, but it sounded pale. He felt too sick to put up much of a front.

“Yeah? Well, maybe I’ll have that steak dinner, anyway. What about you?”

“I think I could manage a little soup. As long as it’s clear.” The thought of eating anything too thick to read a newspaper through—tomato bisque, cream of mushroom—made his stomach cringe.

“Okay. Why don’t you close your eyes again?”

Dan knew he couldn’t sleep deeply, no matter how tired and sick he felt—not while Abra was dealing with the ancient horror that looked like a woman—but he managed a doze. It was thin but rich enough to grow more dreams, first of the Overlook (today’s version featured the elevator that ran by itself in the middle of the night), then of his niece. This time Abra had been strangled with a length of electrical cord. She stared at Dan with bulging, accusing eyes. It was all too easy to read what was in them. You said you’d help me. You said you’d save me. Where were you?