Doctor Sleep: A Novel

twenty-three and twenty-four, and parked the truck. Abra was curled up on the seat with her head pillowed on one arm, fast asleep. Billy unlocked the rooms, turned on the lights, and opened the connecting doors. He judged the accommodations shabby but not quite desperate. All he wanted now was to get the two of them inside and go to sleep himself. Preferably for about ten hours. He rarely felt old, but tonight he felt ancient.
    Abra woke up a little as he laid her on the bed. “Where are we?”
    “Crownville, New York. We’re safe. I’ll be in the next room.”
    “I want my dad. And I want Dan.”
    “Soon.” Hoping he was right about that.
    Her eyes closed, then slowly opened again. “I talked to that woman. That bitch .”
    “Did you?” Billy had no idea what she meant.
    “She knows what we did. She felt it. And it hurt .” A harsh light gleamed momentarily in Abra’s eyes. Billy thought it was like seeing a peek of sun at the end of a cold, overcast day in February. “I’m glad.”
    “Go to sleep, hon.”
    That cold winter light still shone out of the pale and tired face. “She knows I’m coming for her.”
    Billy thought of brushing her hair out of her eyes, but what if she bit? Probably that was silly, but . . . the light in her eyes. His mother had looked like that sometimes, just before she lost her temper and whopped one of the kids. “You’ll feel better in the morning. I’d like it if we could go back tonight—I’m sure your dad feels that way, too—but I’m in no shape to drive. I was lucky to get this far without running off the road.”
    “I wish I could talk to my mom and dad.”
    Billy’s own mother and father—never candidates for Parents of the Year, even at their best—were long dead and he wished only for sleep. He looked longingly through the open door at the bed in the other room. Soon, but not quite yet. He took out his cell phone and flipped it open. It rang twice, and then he was talking to Dan. After a few moments, he handed the phone to Abra. “Your father. Knock yourself out.”
    Abra seized the phone. “Dad? Dad? ” Tears began to fill her eyes. “Yes, I’m . . . stop, Dad, I’m all right . Just so sleepy I can hardly—” Her eyes widened as a thought struck her. “Are you okay?”
    She listened. Billy’s eyes drifted shut and he snapped them open with an effort. The girl was crying hard now, and he was sort of glad. The tears had doused that light in her eyes.
    She handed the phone back. “It’s Dan. He wants to talk to you again.”
    He took the phone and listened. Then he said, “Abra, Dan wants to know if you think there are any other bad guys. Ones close enough to get here tonight.”
    “No. I think the Crow was going to meet some others, but they’re still a long way away. And they can’t figure out where we are”—she broke off for a huge yawn—“without him to tell them. Tell Dan we’re safe. And tell him to make sure my dad gets that.”
    Billy relayed this message. When he ended the call, Abra was curled up on the bed, knees to chest, snoring softly. Billy covered her with a blanket from the closet, then went to the door and ran the chain. He considered, then propped the desk chair under the knob for good measure. Always safe, never sorry, his father had liked to say.
    14
    Rose opened the compartment under the floor and took out one of the canisters. Still on her knees between the EarthCruiser’s front seats, she cracked it and put her mouth over the hissing lid. Her jaw unhinged all the way to her chest, and the bottom of her head became a dark hole in which a single tooth jutted. Her eyes, ordinarily uptilted, bled downward and darkened. Her face became a doleful deathmask with the skull standing out clear beneath.
    She took steam.
    When she was done, she replaced the canister and sat behind the wheel of her RV, looking straight ahead. Don’t bother coming to me, Rose—I’ll come to you . That was what she had said. What she had dared to say to her, Rose O’Hara, Rose the Hat. Not just strong, then; strong and vengeful . Angry.
    “Come ahead, darling,” she said. “And stay angry. The angrier you are, the more foolhardy you’ll be. Come and see your auntie Rose.”
    There was a snap. She looked down and saw she had broken off the lower half of the EarthCruiser’s steering wheel. Steam conveyed strength. Her hands were bleeding. Rose threw the jagged arc of plastic aside, raised her palms to her face, and began to lick