by Stephen King
Rose said nothing.
"You're not thinking about Shakespeare at all," the bitchgirl said. "You're thinking about how much you'd like to kill me. I don't have to read your mind to know that."
"If I were you, I'd run," Rose said thoughtfully. "As fast and as far as your baby legs can carry you. It wouldn't do you any good, but you'd live a little longer."
The bitchgirl was not to be turned. "There was another saying. I can't remember it exactly, but it was something like 'Hoisted on your own petard.' Ms. Franklin said a petard was a bomb on a stick. I think that's sort of what's happening to your tribe of cowards. You sucked the wrong kind of steam, and got stuck on a petard, and now the bomb is going off." She paused. "Are you still there, Rose? Or did you run away?"
"Come to me, dear," Rose said. She had regained her calm. "If you want to meet me on the lookout, that's where I'll be. We'll take in the view together, shall we? And see who's the stronger."
She hung up before the bitchgirl could say anything else. She'd lost the temper she had vowed to keep, but she had at least gotten the last word.
Or maybe not, because the one the bitchgirl kept using played over and over in her head, like a gramophone record stuck in a bad groove.
Coward. Coward. Coward.
4
Abra replaced the telephone receiver carefully in its cradle. She looked at it; she even stroked its plastic surface, which was hot from her hand and wet with her sweat. Then, before she realized it was going to happen, she burst into loud, braying sobs. They stormed through her, cramping her stomach and shaking her body. She rushed to the bathroom, still crying, knelt in front of the toilet, and threw up.
When she came out, Mr. Freeman was standing in the connecting doorway with his shirttail hanging down and his gray hair in corkscrews. "What's wrong? Are you sick from the dope he gave you?"
"It wasn't that."
He went to the window and peered out into the pressing fog. "Is it them? Are they coming for us?"
Temporarily incapable of speech, she could only shake her head so vehemently her pigtails flew. It was she who was coming for them, and that was what terrified her.
And not just for herself.
5
Rose sat still, taking long steadying breaths. When she had herself under control again, she called for Long Paul. After a moment or two, he poked his head cautiously through the swing door that gave on the kitchen. The look on his face brought a ghost of a smile to her lips. "It's safe. You can come in. I won't bite you."
He stepped in and saw the spilled coffee. "I'll clean that up."
"Leave it. Who's the best locator we've got left?"
"You, Rose." No hesitation.
Rose had no intention of approaching the bitchgirl mentally, not even in a touch-and-go. "Aside from me."
"Well . . . with Grampa Flick gone . . . and Barry . . ." He considered. "Sue's got a touch of locator, and so does Greedy G. But I think Token Charlie's got a bit more."
"Is he sick?"
"He wasn't yesterday."
"Send him to me. I'll wipe up the coffee while I'm waiting. Because--this is important, Paulie--the person who makes the mess is the one who should have to clean it up."
After he left, Rose sat where she was for awhile, fingers steepled under her chin. Clear thinking had returned, and with it the ability to plan. They wouldn't be taking steam today after all, it seemed. That could wait until Monday morning.
At last she went into the galley for a wad of paper towels. And cleaned up her mess.
6
"Dan!" This time it was John. "Gotta go!"
"Right there," he said. "I just want to splash some cold water on my face."
He went down the hall listening to Abra, nodding his head slightly as if she were there.
(Mr. Freeman wants to know why I was crying why I threw up what should I tell him)
(for now just that when we get there I'll want to borrow his truck)
(because we're going on going west)
(. . . well . . .)
It was complicated, but she understood. The understanding wasn't in words and didn't need to be.
Beside the bathroom washbasin was a rack holding several wrapped toothbrushes. The smallest--not wrapped--had ABRA printed on the handle in rainbow letters. On one wall was a small plaque reading A LIFE WITHOUT LOVE IS LIKE A TREE WITHOUT FRUIT. He looked at it for a few seconds, wondering if there was anything in the AA program to that effect. The only thing he could think of was If you can't love anybody today, at least try not to hurt anybody. Didn't really compare.
He turned on the cold water and splashed his face several times, hard. Then he grabbed a towel and raised his head. No Lucy in the portrait with him this time; just Dan Torrance, son of Jack and Wendy, who had always believed himself to be an only child.
His face was covered with flies.
PART FOUR
ROOF O' THE WORLD
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GOING WEST
1
What Dan remembered best about that Saturday wasn't the ride from Boston to the Crown Motel, because the four people in John Dalton's SUV said very little. The silence wasn't uncomfortable or hostile but exhausted--the quiet of people who have a great deal to think about but not a hell of a lot to say. What he remembered best was what happened when they reached their destination.
Dan knew she was waiting, because he had been in touch with her for most of the trip, talking in a way that had become comfortable for them--half words and half pictures. When they pulled in, she was sitting on the back bumper of Billy's old truck. She saw them and jumped to her feet, waving. At that moment the cloud cover, which had been thinning, broke apart and a ray of sun spotlighted her. It was as if God had given her a high five.
Lucy gave a cry that was not quite a scream. She had her seatbelt unbuckled and her door open before John could bring his Suburban to a complete stop. Five seconds later she had her daughter in her arms and was kissing the top of her head--the best she could do, with Abra's face crushed between her breasts. Now the sun spotlighted them both.
Mother and child reunion, Dan thought. The smile that brought felt strange on his face. It had been a long time between smiles.
2
Lucy and David wanted to take Abra back to New Hampshire. Dan had no problem with that, but now that they were together, the six of them needed to talk. The fat man with the ponytail was back on duty, today watching a cage-fighting match instead of porn. He was happy to re-rent them Room 24; it was nothing to him whether they spent the night or not. Billy went into Crownville proper to pick up a couple of pizzas. Then they settled in, Dan and Abra talking turn and turn about, filling in the others on everything that had happened and everything that was going to happen. If things went as they hoped, that was.
"No," Lucy said at once. "It's far too dangerous. For both of you."
John offered a bleak grin. "The most dangerous thing would be to ignore these . . . these things. Rose says that if Abra doesn't come to her, she'll come to Abra."
"She's, like, fixated on her," Billy said, and selected a slice of pepperoni-and-mushroom. "Happens lots of times with crazy people. All you have to do to know that is watch Dr. Phil."
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?"
"After all the sleep I got last night? Sweetheart, I could drive to California."
"Do you know where we're going?"
"I bought a road atlas in town while I was waitin for the pizza."
"So you'd made up your mind even then. And you knew what Abra and I were planning."
"Well . . . sorta."
"When you need me to take over, just yell," Dan said, and promptly fell asleep with his head against the passenger window. He descended through a deepening depth of unpleasant images. First the hedge animals at the Overlook, the ones that moved when you weren't looking. This was followed by Mrs. Massey from Room 217, who now wore a cocked tophat. Still descending, he revisited the battle at Cloud Gap. Only this time when he burst into the Winnebago, he found Abra lying on the floor with her throat cut and Rose standing over her with a dripping straight razor. Rose saw Dan and the bottom half of her face dropped away in an obscene grin where one long tooth gleamed. I told her it would end this way but she wouldn't listen, she said. Children so rarely do.
Below this there was only darkness.
When he woke it was to twilight with a broken white line running down the middle of it. They were on an interstate highway.
"How long did I sleep?"
Billy glanced at his watch. "A good long while. Feel better?"
"Yes." He did and didn't. His head was clear, but his stomach hurt like hell. Considering what he had seen that morning in the mirror, he wasn't surprised. "Where are we?"
"Hunnert-n-fifty miles east of Cincinnati, give or take. You slept through two gas stops. And you snore."
Dan sat up straight. "We're in Ohio? Christ! What time is it?"
Billy glanced at his watch. "Quarter past six. Wasn't no big thing; light traffic and no rain. I think we got an angel ridin with us."
"Well, let's find a motel. You need to sleep and I have to piss like a racehorse."
"Not surprised."
Billy pulled off at the next exit showing signs for gas, food, and motels. He pulled into a Wendy's and got a bag of burgers while Dan used the men's. When they got back into the truck, Dan took one bite of his double, put it back in the bag, and sipped cautiously at a coffee milkshake. That his stomach seemed willing to take.
Billy looked shocked. "Man, you gotta eat! What's wrong with you?"
"I guess pizza for breakfast was a bad idea." And because Billy was still looking at him: "The shake's fine. All I need. Eyes on the road, Billy. We can't help Abra if we're getting patched up in some emergency room."
Five minutes later, Billy pulled the truck under the canopy of a Fairfield Inn with a blinking ROOMS AVAILABLE sign over the door. He turned off the engine but didn't get out. "Since I'm riskin my life with you, chief, I want to know what ails you."
Dan almost pointed out that taking the risk had been Billy's idea, not his, but that wasn't fair. He explained. Billy listened in round-eyed silence.
"Jesus jumped-up Christ," he said when Dan had finished.
"Unless I missed it," Dan said, "there's nothing in the New Testament about Jesus jumping. Although I guess He might've, as a child. Most of them do. You want to check us in, or should I do it?"
Billy continued to sit where he was. "Does Abra know?"
Dan shook his head.
"But she could find out."
"Could but won't. She knows it's wrong to peek, especially when it's someone you care about. She'd no more do it than she'd spy on her parents when they were making love."
"You know that from when you were a kid?"
"Yes. Sometimes you see a little--you can't help it--but then you turn away."
"Are you gonna be all right, Danny?"
"For awhile." He thought of the sluggish flies on his lips and cheeks and forehead. "Long enough."
"What about after?"
; "I'll worry about after after. One day at a time. Let's check in. We need to get an early start."
"Have you heard from Abra?"
Dan smiled. "She's fine."
At least so far.
5
But she wasn't, not really.
She sat at her desk with a half-read copy of The Fixer in her hand, trying not to look at her bedroom window, lest she should see a certain someone looking in at her. She knew something was wrong with Dan, and she knew he didn't want her to know what it was, but had been tempted to look anyway, in spite of all the years she'd taught herself to steer clear of APB: adult private business. Two things held her back. One was the knowledge that, like it or not, she couldn't help him with it now. The other (this was stronger) was knowing he might sense her in his head. If so, he would be disappointed in her.
It's probably locked up, anyway, she thought. He can do that. He's pretty strong.
Not as strong as she was, though . . . or, if you put it in terms of the shining, as bright. She could open his mental lockboxes and peer at the things inside, but she thought doing so might be dangerous for both of them. There was no concrete reason for this, it was just a feeling--like the one she'd had about how it would be a good idea for Mr. Freeman to go with Dan--but she trusted it. Besides, maybe it was something that could help them. She could hope for that. True hope is swift, and flies on swallow's wings--that was another line from Shakespeare.
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.
