Page 11 of The End of the World As We Know It: New Tales of Stephen King’s The Stand

He said seventeen like it meant bulletproof . He was tall, strong, his blue eyes sharp, his hair shiny with that chlorine sheen that swimmers got. And oh my God too young.

“Did you win?” Mollie said. “At the meet?”

His voice turned somber. “Hugely. Doesn’t matter now.”

He was in this store solo, Dani thought—but that didn’t mean he was alone. “Anybody else from the bus make it?”

He shook his head.

Did she believe him? The knife felt alive in her hand.

She’d had self-defense training. Mostly it was aimed at disabling unruly drunks. Neutralize them, with passenger backup if necessary. Zip-tie their wrists, restrain them until the plane landed. But she’d practiced more. Throw scalding coffee in an attacker’s face. Jab an ice pick into his eye.

If it’s you or them, make it them. Dani’s palm, gripping the knife, was slick.

Mollie’s X-ray gaze targeted Jesse. “You shouldn’t go back to California.”

“Why?” he said.

Mollie blinked and began kneading her fingers together. After a second he crouched down, getting to eye level with her.

“Going west means we’ll die, doesn’t it?” he said.

Mollie hupped a breath and whispered, “Yes.”

“But if we stay…”

“Worse.”

He parsed her demeanor. She was buzzing at a quantum frequency. “You dreamed it?”

Nodding hard, Mollie crouched down as well, her brown eyes pinned on his face.

“Me too.” His voice quieted. “I’m at sea, swimming toward shore. I thought it meant I was supposed to come home to the coast. But I’m about to get pulled under by a riptide.” He paused, forced his voice to stay even. “Because home is gone, isn’t it?”

“All gone.”

Anguish broke across his face. He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, they held acceptance. Mollie spoke truth. Dani was shocked at how quickly he absorbed it.

“The sea,” he said. “Last night, it was bright. It’s a sea of green. But—”

“It’s corn,” Mollie whispered. “The sea. Cornfields.”

His intake of breath was like a slowly rising wave. “And I heard…”

“Her voice?” Mollie’s chin quivered, with—relief? Connection?

He nodded. Mollie’s eyes were deep and wide. She mouthed, Mayhap.

Jesse held her gaze, then turned to Dani. “We have to go.”

He stood. Mollie followed suit. Their faces had the certainty of saints who’d been confronted by angels. Or devils.

Dani inhaled. “But not west.”

Mollie slowly shook her head.

Dani deflated. San Francisco. Santa Barbara. Seattle. If not there, where?

Kill him.

Where the fuck did that voice come from? Hissing, inside her head.

Stab him in the ribs.

Dani gasped. Mollie stared at her in the half-light—confused, then frightened.

Her eyes widened. “No, no, Dani, no.”

Dani scrutinized Jesse. She wanted to run from this city. To flee, to fly. But if he was a snitch…

Mollie started to cry. “Stop, Dani, no!”

He’ll talk, you’ll die.

She glared at him. “You know who that girl is, don’t you? Amber. Did you talk to her? You know how to find her?”

Snitchhhhhh.

“Yeah. That’s right. Snitch. That you?”

Jesse tensed. “What the hell?”

“Answer the question.”

Mollie reached toward her. “He’s good, he’s okay, who is talking to you? ”

The knife hung in Dani’s hand, blade catching the light. Jesse coiled. The thoughts behind his eyes seemed to race. Bolt. Get gone, stay gone . Then he looked at Mollie. He held steady.

He was either an all-pro liar, or was genuinely more worried for Mollie than for his own safety.

Kill him and live? Believe him and die? Or—

A sea of green.

Dani backed against a shelf, tears stinging her eyes. She threw the knife to the floor.

Mollie rushed to her. Cheeks hot, eyes frightened. Dani hugged her.

“I’m okay. It’s okay. We’re cool.”

But nothing was cool. Something—some body —wanted her to kill this boy, then to stay in Vegas with Mollie, terrorized and frozen.

She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Bugs seemed to scurry under her skin. “We have to go. Together. Today .” Before that voice returned, that silky hiss, and tried to feed on her again.

“Righteous,” Jesse said. “Let’s do it.”

Dani straightened and wiped her eyes. “If not west, south? Mexico?”

Mollie turned to the windows, looking east. Jesse said, “Over the Rockies.”

“Fuck me,” Dani said.

They packed up. Food, water. Hiking boots.

Bikes. Dani fitted Mollie’s helmet. Jesse snagged gas station maps and plotted a route in red marker.

It would avoid main roads, winding through residential neighborhoods and past silent warehouses to a state road that eventually intersected I-15.

The kid was not just strong, but smart and organized. Solid. Older than his years.

Survival tempered you.

“I scoped out two gun stores,” he said. “Both were stripped clean. One had ‘Eat me, bitches,’ spray-painted on the door.”

“Poetry.”

“I wrote, ‘Not without a tetanus shot’ underneath it.”

Or maybe he was born sarcastic.

They waited until nightfall. Leaving the motel, Dani paused to gaze into the star-freckled darkness of the western sky. She had clung to the fiction that her family and friends were alive in Seattle. That the cavalry would come—the literal 1st Cavalry, helicopters thrumming.

Mollie changed that. And now Jesse. Two kids, anchoring her in reality.

“Let’s go,” she said.

They rode side by side under gaudy moonlight. After several miles, Dani murmured, “It’s like being guided by Elvis’s jumpsuit.”

“The King is our copilot. Don’t hate on him…”

Jesse trailed off. They were coasting down a rise toward the edge of the city. He held up a hand and they all braked. Dani’s hair rose.

Ahead, visible under the chalky light, was a roadblock. Two pickups blockaded the blacktop. Mollie raised binoculars to her eyes. Her little mouth tightened.

Dani took the binocs. Trucks, men. Guns. And, half-hidden in the brush, more men, waiting to ambush anyone who tried to slip past off-road.

Behind them rose the guttering rumble of a diesel engine.

“Get out of sight,” she said.

They hid in an abandoned filling station as a Land Rover rolled by. A man sat on the roof, feet propped against the luggage rack, cradling a shotgun. A cigarette dangled from his lips, glowing red. Inside the SUV, rifle barrels glinted under the dashboard lights. Flashlights searched the roadside.

They ducked as the beams swept the gas station windows.

Then, with a smooth German purr, the BMW arrived. They heard a door open. Footsteps scuffed on the asphalt.

From the SUV, a man called, “Nothing yet.”

“They cleared out of the motel,” Amber said. “They’re running. Catch them.”

Even her voice hissed and sizzled like radio static. Christ, did she sound aggrieved.

“The girl’s smaller, weaker. Separate her from the woman like cutting a calf from the herd. Bring her to me.”

Mollie curled into herself. Dani slipped an arm around her shoulders.

“And the stewardess?”

“Dealer’s choice. Now get on the walkie-talkie to the other posts,” she said. “They do not slither past. Sneaky fucks.”

Jesse cut a glance at Dani, his blue eyes chilly in the moonlight.

They were trapped.

Car doors slammed. The vehicles peeled out.

Dani breathed. After ten minutes, she peeked her head up. Clear. They retreated.

They woke in a casino parking garage. They’d slept in cars left at valet parking. The sky outside blazed blue. While Mollie sat on the tailgate of a Bronco eating a granola bar, Dani pulled Jesse aside.

“I don’t know why Amber wants Mollie so bad. Why she… covets her. But—”

“She doesn’t get hold of her. Or you. Period,” Jesse said. “And she’s a psychopath.”

Yeah. Maybe the radioactive static was actually Amber’s internal monologue, broadcasting through the radio. Dani nodded crisply, grateful to Jesse. Terrified.

Pensive, he scanned the sun-sickened street outside. “She doesn’t know about me. Thinks it’s just you two. Keep that in mind.”

The hum of a motorized scooter drew their attention.

Eleanor was cruising up the center of the Strip, hauling a shopping trolley stuffed with $100,000 chips from Circus Circus. Wearing a full-length mink, a leopard-print tube top, and four-inch purple platforms. A sun umbrella topped the scooter.

Dani waved from the shadows. Casually, almost discreetly—the umbrella was traffic-cone orange, with Christmas lights—Eleanor veered into the garage. She braked and lit a Winston.

Jesse crossed his arms. “You got ahead of the parade.”

“I been ridin’ in everybody’s wake. My whole life. Now…” She shrugged as if a burr had lodged beneath her tube top, goading her. “… think I might get upwind.”

Mollie hopped off the tailgate and walked over. Eleanor eagle-eyed the three of them.

“Y’all tried to leave?”

Jesse brusquely nodded. “You aren’t scared to go?”

She squinted through curling smoke. “I ain’t nobody to them. They’d take cash and let me pass. And I got enough to shower it like cupcake sprinkles. I’m off, and they won’t stop me.” She turned to Mollie. “You follow the local news, pumpkin?”

Mollie shrugged. “Kinda.”

“You know about them tunnels?”

After a second, Mollie’s face cleared.

“Push comes to shove, surface streets may not be the way out.” Eleanor flicked her cigarette butt. “And no way the riffraff down there got by better than the rest of us. It’ll likely be cleared out.”

Her eyes cut to Dani. “Not what you wanted, but it’s what you got. You understand that?”

Dani nodded, throat tight.

Eleanor put on her cat-eye shades. “Be good, babies. I’m off. Viva Las Vegas.” Nudging the throttle, she buzzed forward and tenderly set a hand against Mollie’s cheek. “Stay safe, angel.”

She rode away.

“What did she mean, tunnels?” Jesse said.

He got maps from City Hall.

“Flood-control tunnels.” He unrolled them on the hood of a turquoise Impala.

“Oh, yeah,” Mollie said. “I did see the news. The mayor cut a ribbon with giant scissors.”

Dani bit her thumbnail. “?‘Riffraff.’?”

Jesse slid a glance at her. “Homeless. And people who don’t want to be found.”

He tapped the maps. “I think we can do it.”