Doctor Sleep (63 page)

Rose walked back to the lookout platform, took several long and steadying breaths, and then began to climb the steps.

Dan stood with his hands propped against one of the picnic tables, head down, eyes closed.

“Doing it this way is crazy,” Billy said. “I should stay with you.”

“You can't. You've got your own fish to fry.”

“What if you faint halfway down that path? Even if you don't, how are you going to take on the whole bunch of them? The way you look now, you couldn't go two rounds with a five-year-old.”

“I think pretty soon I'm going to feel a whole lot better. Stronger, too. Go on, Billy. You remember where to park?”

“Far end of the lot, by the sign that says kids eat for free when the Colorado teams win.”

“Right.” Dan raised his head and noted the oversize sunglasses Billy was now wearing. “Pull your cap down hard. All the way to your ears. Look young.”

“I might have a trick that'll make me look even younger. If I can still do it, that is.”

Dan barely heard this. “I need one other thing.”

He stood up straight and opened his arms. Billy hugged him, wanting to do it hard—fiercely—and not daring.

“Abra made a good call. I never would have gotten here without you. Now take care of your business.”

“You take care of yours,” Billy said. “I'm counting on you to drive the Thanksgiving run out to Cloud Gap.”

“I'd like that,” Dan said. “Best model train set a boy never had.”

Billy watched him walk slowly, holding his hands against his stomach as he went, to the signpost on the far side of the clearing. There were two wooden arrows. One pointed west, toward Pawnee Lookout. The other pointed east, downhill. This one read TO BLUEBELL CAMPGROUND.

Dan started along that path. For a little while Billy could see him through the glowing yellow leaves of the aspens, walking slowly and painfully, his head down to watch his footing. Then he was gone.

“Take care of my boy,” Billy said. He wasn't sure if he was talking to God or Abra, and guessed it didn't matter; both were probably too busy to bother with the likes of him this afternoon.

He went back to his truck, and from the bed pulled out a little girl with staring china blue eyes and stiff blond curls. Not much weight; she was probably hollow inside. “How you doin, Abra? Hope you didn't get bumped around too much.”

She was wearing a Colorado Rockies tee and blue shorts. Her feet were bare, and why not? This little girl—actually a mannequin purchased at a moribund children's clothing shop in Martenville—had never walked a single step. But she had bendable knees, and Billy was able to place her in the truck's passenger seat with no trouble. He buckled her seatbelt, started to close the door, then tried the neck. It also bent, although only a little. He stepped away to examine the effect. It wasn't bad. She seemed to be looking at something in her lap. Or maybe praying for strength in the coming battle. Not bad at all.

Unless they had binoculars, of course.

He got back in the truck and waited, giving Dan time. Also hoping he wasn't passed out somewhere along the path that led to the Bluebell Campground.

At quarter to five, Billy started the truck and headed back the way he had come.

Dan maintained a steady walking pace in spite of the growing heat in his midsection. It felt as though there were a rat on fire in there, one that kept chewing at him even as it burned. If the path had been going up instead of down, he never would have made it.

At ten to five, he came around a bend and stopped. Not far ahead, the aspens gave way to a green and manicured expanse of lawn sloping down to a pair of tennis courts. Beyond the courts he could see the RV parking area and a long log building: Overlook Lodge.
Beyond that, the terrain climbed again. Where the Overlook had once stood, a tall platform reared gantrylike against the bright sky. Roof O' the World. Looking at it, the same thought that had occurred to Rose the Hat

(
gallows
)

crossed Dan's mind. Standing at the railing, facing south toward the parking lot for day visitors, was a single silhouetted figure. A woman's figure. The tophat was tilted on her head.

(
Abra are you there
)

(
I'm here Dan
)

Calm, by the sound. Calm was just the way he wanted it.

(
are they hearing you
)

That brought a vague ticklish sensation: her smile. The angry one.

(
if they're not they're deaf
)

That was good enough.

(
you have to come to me now but remember if I tell you to go YOU GO
)

She didn't answer, and before he could tell her again, she was there.

The Stones and John Dalton watched helplessly as Abra slid sideways until she was lying with her head on the boards of the stoop and her legs splayed out on the steps below her. Hoppy spilled from one relaxing hand. She didn't look as if she were sleeping, nor even in a faint. That was the ugly sprawl of deep unconsciousness or death. Lucy lunged forward. Dave and John held her back.

She fought them. “Let me go! I have to help her!”

“You can't,” John said. “Only Dan can help her now. They have to help each other.”

She stared at him with wild eyes. “Is she even breathing? Can you tell?”

“She's breathing,” Dave said, but he sounded unsure even to himself.

When Abra joined him, the pain eased for the first time since Boston. That didn't comfort Dan much, because now Abra was suffering, too. He could see it in her face, but he could also see the wonder in her eyes as she looked around at the room in which she found herself. There were bunk beds, knotty-pine walls, and a rug embroidered with western sage and cactus. Both the rug and the lower bunk were littered with cheap toys. On a small desk in the corner was a scattering of books and a jigsaw puzzle with large pieces. In the room's far corner, a radiator clanked and hissed.

Abra walked to the desk and picked up one of the books. On the cover, a small child on a trike was being chased by a little dog. The title was
Reading Fun with Dick and Jane
.

Dan joined her, wearing a bemused smile. “The little girl on the cover is Sally. Dick and Jane are her brother and sister. And the dog's name is Spot. For a little while they were my best friends. My only friends, I guess. Except for Tony, of course.”

She put the book down and turned to him. “What
is
this place, Dan?”

“A memory. There used to be a hotel here, and this was my room. Now it's a place where we can be together. You know the wheel that turns when you go into someone else?”

“Uh-huh . . .”

“This is the middle. The hub.”

“I wish we could stay here. It feels . . . safe. Except for
those
.” Abra pointed to the French doors with their long panes of glass. “They don't feel the same as the rest.” She looked at him almost accusingly. “They weren't here, were they? When you were a kid.”

“No. There weren't any windows in my room, and the only door was the one that went into the rest of the caretaker's apartment. I changed it. I had to. Do you know why?”

She studied him, her eyes grave. “Because that was then and this is now. Because the past is gone, even though it defines the present.”

He smiled. “I couldn't have said it better myself.”

“You didn't have to say it. You thought it.”

He drew her toward those French doors that had never existed. Through the glass they could see the lawn, the tennis courts, the Overlook Lodge, and Roof O' the World.

“I see her,” Abra breathed. “She's up there, and she's not looking this way, is she?”

“She better not be,” Dan said. “How bad is the pain, honey?”

“Bad,” she said. “But I don't care. Because—”

She didn't have to finish. He knew, and she smiled. This togetherness was what they had, and in spite of the pain that came with it—pain of all kinds—it was good. It was very good.

“Dan?”

“Yes, honey.”

“There are ghostie people out there. I can't see them, but I feel them. Do you?”

“Yes.” He had for years. Because the past defines the present. He put his arm around her shoulders, and her arm crept around his waist.

“What do we do now?”

“Wait for Billy. Hope he's on time. And then all of this is going to happen very fast.”

“Uncle Dan?”

“What, Abra.”

“What's inside you? That isn't a ghost. It's like—” He felt her shiver. “It's like a
monster
.”

He said nothing.

She straightened and stepped away from him. “Look! Over there!”

An old Ford pickup was rolling into the visitor's parking lot.

Rose stood with her hands on the lookout platform's waist-high railing, peering at the truck pulling into the parking lot. The steam had sharpened her vision, but she still wished she had brought a
pair of binoculars. Surely there were some in the supply room, for guests who wanted to go bird-watching, so why hadn't she?

Because you had so many other things on your mind. The sickness . . . the rats jumping ship . . . losing Crow to the bitchgirl . . .

Yes to all of that—yes, yes, yes—but she still should have remembered. For a moment she wondered what else she might have forgotten, but pushed the idea away. She was still in charge of this, loaded with steam and at the top of her game. Everything was going exactly as planned. Soon the little girl would come up here, because she was full of foolish teenage confidence and pride in her own abilities.

But I have the high ground, dear, in all sorts of ways. If I can't take care of you alone, I'll draw from the rest of the True. They're all together in the main room, because you thought that was such a good idea. But there's something you didn't take into consideration. When we're together we're linked, we're a True Knot, and that makes us a giant battery. Power I can draw on if I need to.

If all else failed, there was Silent Sarey. She would now have the sickle in her hand. She might not be a genius, but she was merciless, murderous, and—once she understood the job—completely obedient. Also, she had her own reasons for wanting the bitchgirl laid out dead on the ground at the foot of the lookout platform.

(
Charlie
)

Token Charlie hit her back at once, and although he was ordinarily a feeble sender, now—boosted by the others in the main room of the Lodge—he came in loud and clear and nearly mad with excitement.

(
I'm getting her steady and strong we all are she must be real close you must feel her
)

Rose did, even though she was still working hard to keep her mind closed off so the bitchgirl couldn't get in and mess with her.

(
never mind that just tell the others to be ready if I need help
)

Many voices came back, jumping all over each other. They were ready. Even those that were sick were ready to help all they could. She loved them for that.

Rose stared at the blond girl in the truck. She was looking down. Reading something? Nerving herself up? Praying to the God of Rubes, perhaps? It didn't matter.

Come to me, bitchgirl. Come to Auntie Rose
.

But it wasn't the girl who got out, it was the uncle. Just as the bitch had said he would. Checking. He walked around the hood of the truck, moving slowly, looking everywhere. He leaned in the passenger window, said something to the girl, then moved away from the truck a little. He looked toward the Lodge, then turned to the platform rearing against the sky . . . and waved. The insolent bugger actually waved at her.

Rose didn't wave back. She was frowning. An uncle. Why had her parents sent an uncle instead of bringing their bitch daughter themselves? For that matter, why had they allowed her to come at all?

She convinced them it was the only way. Told them that if she didn't come to me, I'd come to her. That's the reason, and it makes sense
.

It did, but she felt a growing unease all the same. She had allowed the bitchgirl to set the ground rules. To that extent, at least, Rose had been manipulated. She had allowed it because this was her home ground and because she had taken precautions, but mostly because she had been angry. So angry.

She stared hard at the man in the parking lot. He was strolling around again, looking here and there, making sure she was alone. Perfectly reasonable, it was what she would have done, but she still had a gnawing intuition that what he was really doing was buying time, although why he would want to was beyond her.

Rose stared harder, now focusing on the man's gait. She decided he wasn't as young as she had first believed. He walked, in fact, like a man who was far from young. As if he had more than a touch of arthritis. And why was the little girl so still?

Rose felt the first pulse of real alarm.

Something was wrong here.

“She's looking at Mr. Freeman,” Abra said. “We should go.”

He opened the French doors, but hesitated. Something in her voice. “What's the trouble, Abra?”

“I don't know. Maybe nothing, but I don't like it. She's looking at him really
hard
. We have to go right now.”

“I need to do something first. Try to be ready, and don't be scared.”

Dan closed his eyes and went to the storage room at the back of his mind. Real lockboxes would have been covered with dust after all these years, but the two he'd put here as a child were as fresh as ever. Why not? They were made of pure imagination. The third—the new one—had a faint aura hanging around it, and he thought:
No wonder I'm sick
.