Doctor Sleep

driver’s side door, getting his breath back. And his wits.
    We were on vacation, he decided. I wanted to visit my old stomping grounds in Boulder. Then we came up here to take in the view from Roof O’ the World, but the campground was deserted. I was feeling frisky and bet Billy I could drive his truck straight up the hill to the lookout. I was going too fast and lost control. Hit one of the support posts. Really sorry. Damn fool stunt.
    He would get hit with one hell of a fine, but there was an upside: he would pass the Breathalyzer with flying colors.
    Dan looked in the glove compartment and found a can of lighter fluid. No Zippo—that would be in Billy’s pants pocket—but there were indeed two books of half-used matches. He went to the hatand doused it with the lighter fluid until it was soaking. Then he squatted, touched a match, and flicked it into the hat’s upturned bowl. The hat didn’t last long, but he moved upwind until it was nothing but ashes.
    The smell was foul.
    When he looked up, he saw Billy trudging toward him, wiping at his bloody face with his sleeve. As they tromped through the ashes, making sure there wasn’t asingle ember that might spark a wildfire, Dan told him the story they would tell the Colorado State Police when they arrived.
    “I’ll have to pay to have that thing repaired, and I bet it costs a bundle. Good thing I’ve got some savings.”
    Billy snorted. “Who’s gonna chase you for damages? There’s nothing left of those True Knot folks but their clothes. I looked.”
    “Unfortunately,” Dan said, “RoofO’ the World belongs to the great State of Colorado.”
    “Ouch,” Billy said. “Hardly seems fair, since you just did Colorado and the rest of the world a favor. Where’s Abra?”
    “Back home.”
    “Good. And it’s over? Really over?”
    Dan nodded.
    Billy was staring at the ashes of Rose’s tophat. “Went up damn fast. Almost like a special effect in a movie.”
    “I imagine it was very old.” And full of magic, he didn’t add. The black variety .
    Dan went to the pickup and sat behind the wheel so he could examine his face in the rearview mirror.
    “See anything that shouldn’t be there?” Billy asked. “That’s what my mom always used to say when she caught me moonin over my own reflection.”
    “Not a thing,” Dan said. A smile began to break on his face. It was tired but genuine. “Not a thing in the world.”
    “Then let’s call the police and tell em about our accident,” Billy said. “Ordinarily I got no use for the Five-O, but right about now I wouldn’t mind some company. Place gives me the willies.” He gave Dan a shrewd look. “Full of ghosts, ain’t it? That’s why they picked it.”
    That was why, no doubt about it. But you didn’t need to be Ebenezer Scrooge to know there were good ghostie people as wellas bad ones. As they walked down toward the Overlook Lodge, Dan paused to look back at Roof O’ the World. He was not entirely surprised to see a man standing on the platform by the broken rail. He raised one hand, the summit of Pawnee Mountain visible through it, and sketched a flying kiss that Dan remembered from his childhood. He remembered it well. It had been their special end-of-the-day thing.
    Bedtime, doc. Sleep tight. Dream up a dragon and tell me about it in the morning.
    Dan knew he was going to cry, but not now. This wasn’t the time. He lifted his own hand to his mouth and returned the kiss.
    He looked for a moment longer at what remained of his father. Then he headed down to the parking lot with Billy. When they got there, he looked back once more.
    Roof O’ the World was empty.

UNTIL YOU SLEEP
    FEAR stands for face everything and recover.
    —Old AA saying

ANNIVERSARY
    1
    The Saturday noon AA meeting in Frazier was one of the oldest in New Hampshire, dating back to 1946, and had been founded by Fat Bob D., who had known the Program’s founder, Bill Wilson, personally. Fat Bob was long in his grave, a victim of lung cancer—in the early days most recovering alkies had smoked like chimneys and newbies were routinely told to keep their mouths shut andthe ashtrays empty—but the meeting was still well attended. Today it was SRO, because when it was over there would be pizza and a sheet cake. This was the case at most anniversary meetings, and today one of their number was celebrating fifteen years of sobriety. In the early years he had been known as Dan or Dan T., but word of his work at the local