10
Thanks to an early start—4 a.m., long before first light—Dan Torrance and Billy Freeman began to see a horizon-spanning cloud shortly after 9 a.m. An hour later, by which time the blue-gray cloud had resolved itself into a mountain range, they stopped in the town of Martenville, Colorado. There, on the short (and mostly deserted) main street, Dan saw not what he was hoping for, but something even better: a children’s clothing store called Kids’ Stuff. Half a block down was a drugstore flanked by a dusty-looking hockshop and a Video Express with CLOSING MUST SELL ALL STOCK AT BARGAIN PRICES soaped in the window. He sent Billy to Martenville Drugs & Sundries to get sunglasses and stepped through the door of Kids’ Stuff.
The place had an unhappy, losing-hope vibe. He was the only customer. Here was somebody’s good idea going bad, probably thanks to the big-box mall stores in Sterling or Fort Morgan. Why buy local when you could drive a little and get cheaper pants and dresses for back-to-school? So what if they were made in Mexico or Costa Rica? A tired-looking woman with a tired-looking hairdo came out from behind the counter and gave Dan a tired-looking smile. She asked if she could help him. Dan said she could. When he told her what he wanted, her eyes went round.
“I know it’s unusual,” Dan said, “but get with me on this a little. I’ll pay cash.”
He got what he wanted. In little losing-hope stores off the turnpike, the C-word went a long way.
11
As they neared Denver, Dan got in touch with Abra. He closed his eyes and visualized the wheel they both now knew about. In the town of Anniston, Abra did the same. It was easier this time. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking down the slope of the Stones’ back lawn at the Saco River, gleaming in the afternoon sun. Abra opened hers on a view of the Rockies.
“Wow, Uncle Billy, they’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
Billy glanced at the man sitting beside him. Dan had crossed his legs in a way that was utterly unlike him, and was bouncing one foot. Color had come back into his cheeks, and there was a bright clarity in his eyes that had been missing on their run west.
“They sure are, honey,” he said.
Dan smiled and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the health Abra had brought to his face was fading. Like a rose without water, Billy thought.
“Anything?”
“Ping,” Dan said. He smiled again, but this one was weary. “Like a smoke detector that needs a battery change.”
“Do you think they heard it?”
“I sure hope so,” Dan said.
12
Rose was pacing back and forth near her EarthCruiser when Token Charlie came running up. The True had taken steam that morning, all but one of the canisters she had in storage, and on top of what Rose had taken on her own over the last couple of days, she was too wired even to think about sitting down.
“What?” she asked. “Tell me something good.”
“I got her, how’s that for good?” Wired himself, Charlie grabbed Rose by the arms and whirled her around, making her hair fly. “I got her! Just for a few seconds, but it was her!”
“Did you see the uncle?”
“No, she was looking out the windshield at the mountains. She said they were beautiful—”
“They are,” Rose said. A grin was spreading on her lips. “Don’t you agree, Charlie?”
“—and he said they sure were. They’re coming, Rosie! They really are!”
“Did she know you were there?”
He let go of her, frowning. “I can’t say for sure . . . Grampa Flick probably could . . .”
“Just tell me what you think.”
“Probably not.”
“That’s good enough for me. Go someplace quiet. Someplace where you can concentrate without being disturbed. Sit and listen. If—when—you pick her up again, let me know. I don’t want to lose track of her if I can help it. If you need more steam, ask for it. I saved a little.”
“No, no, I’m fine. I’ll listen. I’ll listen hard!” Token Charlie gave a rather wild laugh and rushed off. Rose didn’t think he had any idea where he was going, and she didn’t care. As long as he kept listening.
13
Dan and Billy were at the foot of the Flatirons by noon. As he watched the Rockies draw closer, Dan thought of all the wandering years he had avoided them. That in turn made him think of some poem or other, one about how you could spend years running, but in the end you always wound up facing yourself in a hotel room, with a na**d bulb hanging overhead and a revolver on the table.
Because they had time, they left the freeway and drove into Boulder. Billy was hungry. Dan wasn’t . . . but he was curious. Billy pulled the truck into a sandwich shop parking lot, but when he asked Dan what he could get him, Dan only shook his head.
“Sure? You got a lot ahead of you.”
“I’ll eat when this is over.”
“Well . . .”
Billy went into the Subway for a Buffalo Chicken. Dan got in touch with Abra. The wheel turned.