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.
“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?
8
Abra kept putting off the thing she had to do until she realized her mother would soon be pestering her to go to bed. She wasn’t going to school in the morning, but it was still going to be a big day. And, perhaps, a very long night.
Putting things off only makes them worse, cara mia.
That was the gospel according to Momo. Abra looked toward her window, wishing she could see her great-grandma there instead of Rose. That would be good.
“Momes, I’m so scared,” she said. But after two long and steadying breaths, she picked up her iPhone and dialed the Overlook Lodge at Bluebell Campground. A man answered, and when Abra said she wanted to talk to Rose, he asked who she was.
“You know who I am,” she said. And—with what she hoped was irritating inquisitiveness: “Are you sick yet, mister?”
The man on the other end (it was Toady Slim) didn’t answer that, but she heard him murmur to someone. A moment later, Rose was on, her composure once more firmly in place.
“Hello, dear. Where are you?”
“On my way,” Abra said.
“Are you really? That’s nice, dear. So I don’t suppose that I’d find this call came from a New Hampshire area code if I star-sixty-nined it?”
“Of course you would,” Abra said. “I’m using my cell. You need to get with the twenty-first century, bitch.”
“What do you want?” The voice on the other end was now curt.
“To make sure you know the rules,” Abra said. “I’ll be there at five tomorrow. I’ll be in an old red truck.”
“Driven by whom?”
“My uncle Billy,” Abra said.
“Was he one of the ones from the ambush?”
“He’s the one who was with me and the Crow. Stop asking questions. Just shut up and listen.”
“So rude,” Rose said sadly.
“He’ll park way at the end of the lot, by the sign that says KIDS EAT FREE WHEN COLORADO PRO TEAMS WIN.”
“I see you’ve been on our website. That’s sweet. Or was it your uncle, perhaps? He’s very brave to act as your chauffeur. Is he your father’s brother or your mother’s? Rube families are a hobby of mine. I make family trees.”
She’ll try to snoop, Dan had told her, and how right he was.
“What part of ‘shut up and listen’ don’t you understand? Do you want this to happen or not?”
No reply, just waiting silence. Creepy waiting silence.
“From the parking lot, we’ll be able to see everything: the campground, the Lodge, and Roof O’ the World on top of the hill. My uncle and me better see you up there, and we better not see the people from your True Knot anywhere. They’re going to stay in that meeting-hall thingy while we do our business. In the big room, got it? Uncle Billy won’t know if they’re not where they’re supposed to be, but I will. If I pick up a single one somewhere else, we’ll be gone.”
“Your uncle will stay in his truck?”
“No. I’ll stay in the truck, until we’re sure. Then he’ll get back in and I’ll come to you. I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
“All right, dear. It will be as you say.”
No, it won’t. You’re lying.
But so was Abra, which kind of made them even.
“I have one really important question, dear,” Rose said pleasantly.
Abra almost asked what it was, then remembered her uncle’s advice. Her real uncle. One question, right. Which would lead to another . . . and another . . . and another.
“Choke on it,” she said, and hung up. Her hands began to tremble. Then her legs and arms and shoulders.
“Abra?” Mom. Calling from the foot of the stairs. She feels it. Just a little, but she does feel it. Is that a mom thing or a shining thing? “Honey, are you okay?”
“Fine, Mom! Getting ready for bed!”
“Ten minutes, then we’re coming up for kisses. Be in your PJs.”
“I will.”
If they knew who I was just talking to, Abra thought. But they didn’t. They only thought they knew what was going on. She was here in her bedroom, every door and window in the house was locked, and they believed that made her safe. Even her father, who had seen the True Knot in action.
But Dan knew. She closed her eyes and reached out to him.