Mo begin to reply; then they were gone, their clothes floating to the floor. It was that quick.
He turned to Abra, meaning to tell her they had to finish it at once, but then Rose the Hat began to shriek, and for a few moments—until Abra could block her—those cries of rage and maddened grief blotted out everything else, even the blessed relief of being pain-free. And, he devoutly hoped, cancer-free. About that he wouldn’t know for sure until he could see his face in a mirror.
16
Rose was at the head of the steps leading down from the platform when the killing mist rolled over the True Knot, the remains of Abra’s momo doing its quick and lethal work.
A white sheet of agony filled her. Screams shot through her head like shrapnel. The cries of the dying True made those of the Cloud Gap raiding party in New Hampshire and Crow in New York seem puny by comparison. Rose staggered back as if she had been hit with a club. She struck the railing, rebounded, and fell down on the boards. Somewhere in the distance, a woman—an old one, by the wavering sound of her voice—was chanting no, no, no, no, no.
That’s me. It has to be, because I’m the only one left.
It wasn’t the girl who had fallen into the trap of overconfidence, but Rose herself. She thought of something
(hoisted on your own petard)
the bitchgirl had said. It scalded her with rage and dismay. Her old friends and longtime traveling companions were dead. Poisoned. Except for the cowards who had run, Rose the Hat was the last of the True Knot.
But no, that wasn’t true. There was Sarey.
Sprawled on the platform and shivering under the late-afternoon sky, Rose reached out to her.
(are you)
The thought that came back was full of confusion and horror.
(yes but Rose are they can they be)
(never mind them just remember Sarey do you remember)
(“don’t make me punish you”)
(good Sarey good)
If the girl didn’t run . . . if she made the mistake of trying to finish her murderous day’s work . . .
She would. Rose was sure of it, and she had seen enough in the mind of the bitchgirl’s companion to know two things: how they had accomplished this slaughter, and how their very connection could be turned against them.
Rage was powerful.
So were childhood memories.
She struggled to her feet, reset her hat at the proper jaunty angle without even thinking about it, and walked to the railing. The man from the pickup truck was staring up at her, but she paid scant attention to him. His treacherous little job was done. She might deal with him later, but now she had eyes only for the Overlook Lodge. The girl was there, but also far away. Her bodily presence at the True’s campground was little more than a phantom. The one who was whole—a real person, a rube—was a man she had never seen before. And a steamhead. His voice in her mind was clear and cold.
(hello Rose)
There was a place nearby where the girl would cease to flicker. Where she would take on her physical body. Where she could be killed. Let Sarey take care of the steamhead man, but not until the steamhead man had taken care of the bitchgirl.
(hello Danny hello little boy)
Loaded with steam, she reached into him and swatted him to the hub of the wheel, barely hearing Abra’s cry of bewilderment and terror as she turned to follow.
And when Dan was where Rose wanted him, for a moment too surprised to keep his guard up, she poured all her fury into him. She poured it into him like steam.
CHAPTER TWENTY
HUB OF THE WHEEL, ROOF O’ THE WORLD
1
Dan Torrance opened his eyes. Sunlight shot through them and into his aching head, threatening to set his brains on fire. It was the hangover to end all hangovers. Loud snoring from beside him: a nasty, annoying sound that could only be some drunk chick sleeping it off at the wrong end of the rainbow. Dan turned his head that way and saw the woman sprawled on her back beside him. Vaguely familiar. Dark hair spread around her in a halo. Wearing an oversize Atlanta Braves t-shirt.
This isn’t real. I’m not here. I’m in Colorado, I’m at Roof O’ the World, and I have to end it.
The woman rolled over, opened her eyes, and stared at him. “God, my head,” she said. “Get me some of that coke, daddy. It’s in the living