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disclosed a wide； squarer tray。 He gave it a push and it disappeared； trailing
rope behind it。
〃It's a secret passage！〃 Danny said excitedly to his mother； momentarily
forgetting all fears in favor of that intoxicating shaft behind the wall。 〃Just
like in Abbott and Costello Meet the Monsters！〃
Mr。 Ullman frowned but Wendy smiled indulgently。 Danny ran over to the dumb…
waiter and peered down the shaft。；
〃This way； please。〃
He opened the door on the far side of the living room。 It gave on the bedroom；
which was spacious and airy。 There were twin beds。 Wendy looked at her husband；
smiled； shrugged。
〃No problem；〃 Jack said。 〃We'll push them together。〃
Mr。 Ullman looked over his shoulder； honestly puzzled。 〃Beg pardon？〃
〃The beds；〃 Jack said pleasantly。 〃We can push them together。〃
〃Oh； quite；〃 Ullman said； momentarily confused。 Then his face cleared and a
red flush began to creep up from the collar of his shirt。 〃Whatever you like。〃
He led them back into the sitting room； where a second door opened on a second
bedroom； this one equipped with bunk beds。 A radiator clanked in one corner； and
the rug on the floor was a hideous embroidery of western sage and cactus — Danny
bad already fallen in love with it； Wendy saw。 The walls of this smaller room
were paneled in real pine。
〃Think you can stand it in here； doc？〃 Jack asked。
〃Sure I can。 I'm going to sleep in the top bunk。 Okay？〃
〃If that's what you want。〃
〃I like the rug； too。 Mr。 Ullman； why don't you have all the rugs like that？〃
Mr。 Ullman looked for a moment as if he had sunk his teeth into a lemon。 Then
he smiled and patted Danny's head。 〃Those are your quarters；〃 he said； 〃except
for the bath； which opens off the main bedroom。 It's not a huge apartment； but
of course you'll have the rest of the hotel to spread out in。 The lobby
fireplace is in good working order； or so Watson tells me； and you must feel
free to eat in the dining room if the spirit moves you to do so。〃 He spoke in
the tone of a man conferring a great favor。
〃All right；〃 Jack said。
〃Shall we go down？〃 Mr。 Ullman asked。
〃Fine；〃 Wendy said。
They went downstairs in the elevator； and now the lobby was wholly deserted
except for Watson； who was leaning against the main doors in a rawhide jacket； a
toothpick between his lips。
〃I would have thought you'd be miles from here by now；〃 Mr。 Ullman said； his
voice slightly chill。
〃Just stuck around to remind Mr。 Torrance here about the boiler；〃 Watson said；
straightening up。 〃Keep your good weather eye on her； fella； and she'll be fine。
Knock the press down a couple of times a day。 She creeps。〃
She creeps； Danny thought； and the words echoed down a long and silent
corridor in his mind； a corridor lined with mirrors where people seldom looked。
〃I will；〃 his daddy said。
〃You'll be fine；〃 Watson said； and offered Jack his hand。 Jack shook it。
Watson turned to Wendy and inclined his head。 〃Ma'am；〃 he said。
〃I'm pleased；〃 Wendy said； and thought it would sound absurd。 It didn't。 She
had e out here from New England； where she had spent her life； and it seemed
to her that in a few short sentences this man Watson； with his fluffy fringe of
hair； had epitomized what the West was supposed to be all about。 And never mind
the lecherous wink earlier。
〃Young master Torrance；〃 Watson said gravely； and put out his hand。 Danny； who
had known all about handshaking for almost a year now； put his own hand out
gingerly and felt it swallowed up。 〃You take good care of em； Dan。〃
〃Yes； sir。〃
Watson let go of Danny's hand and straightened up fully。 He looked at Ullman。
〃Until next year； I guess；〃 he said； and held his hand out。
Ullman touched it bloodlessly。 His pinky ring caught the lobby's electric
lights in a baleful sort of wink。
〃May twelfth； Watson；〃 he said。 〃Not a day earlier or later。〃
〃Yes； sir；〃 Watson said； and Jack could almost read the codicil in Watson's
mind： 。。。 you fucking little faggot。
〃Have a good winter； Mr。 Ullman。〃
〃Oh； I doubt it；〃 Ullman said remotely。
Watson opened one of the two big main doors； the wind whined louder and began
to flutter the collar of his jacket。 〃You folks take care now；〃 he said。
It was Danny who answered。 〃Yes； sir； we will。〃
Watson； whose not…so…distant ancestor had owned this place； slipped humbly
through the door。 It closed behind him； muffling the wind。 Together they watched
him clop down the porch's broad front steps in his battered black cowboy boots。
Brittle yellow aspen leaves tumbled around his heels as he crossed the lot to
his International Harvester pickup and climbed in。 Blue smoke jetted from the
rusted exhaust pipe as he started it up。 The spell of silence held among them as
he backed； then pulled out of the parking lot。 His truck disappeared over the
brow of the hill and then reappeared； smaller； on the main road； heading west。
For a moment Danny felt more lonely than he ever had in his life。
》
THE FRONT PORCH
The Torrance family stood together on the long front porch of the Overlook
Hotel as if posing for a family portrait； Danny in the middle； zippered into
last year's fall jacket which was now too small and starting to e out at the
elbow； Wendy behind him with one hand on his shoulder； and Jack to his left； his
own hand resting lightly on his son's head。
Mr。 Ullman was a step below them； buttoned into an expensive…looking brown
mohair overcoat。 The sun was entirely behind the mountains now； edging them with
gold fire； making the shadows around things look long and purple。 The only three
vehicles left in the parking lots were the hotel truck； Ullman's Lincoln
Continental； and the battered Torrance VW。
〃You've got your keys； then；〃 Ullman said to Jack； 〃and you understand fully
about the furnace and the boiler？〃
Jack nodded； feeling some real sympathy for Ullman。 Everything was done for
the season； the ball of string was neatly wrapped up until next May 12 — not a
day earlier or later — and Ullman； who was responsible for all of it and who
referred to the hotel in the unmistakable tones of infatuation； could not help
looking for loose ends。
〃I think everything is well in hand；〃 Jack said。
〃Good。 I'll be in touch。〃 But he still lingered for a moment； as if waiting
for the wind to take a hand and perhaps gust him down to his car。 He sighed。
〃All right。 Have a good winter； Mr。 Torrance； Mrs。 Torrance。 You too； Danny。〃
〃Thank you； sir；〃 Danny said。 〃I hope you do； too。〃
〃I doubt it；〃 Ullman repeated； and he sounded sad。 〃The place in Florida is a
dump； if the out…and…out truth is to be spoken。 Busywork。 The Overlook is my
real job。 Take good care of it for me； Mr。 Torrance。〃
〃I think it will be here when you get back next spring；〃 Jack said； and a
thought flashed through Danny's mind
（but will we？）
and was gone。
〃Of course。 Of course it will。〃
Ullman looked out toward the playground where the hedge animals were
clattering in the wind。 Then he nodded once more in a businesslike way。
〃Good…by； then。〃
He walked quickly and prissily across to his car—a ridiculously big one for
such a little man and tucked himself into it。 The Lincoln's motor purred into
life and the taillights flashed as he pulled out of his parking stall。 As the
car moved away； Jack could read the small sign at the head of the stall：
RESERVED FOR MR。 ULLMAN； MGR。
〃Right；〃 Jack said softly。
They watched until the car was out of sight； headed down the eastern slope。
When it was gone； the three of them looked at each other for a silent； almost
frightened moment。 They were alone。 Aspen leaves whirled and skittered in
aimless packs across the lawn that was now neatly mowed and tended for no
guest's eyes。 There was no one to see the autumn leaves steal across the grass
but the three of them。 It gave Jack a curious shrinking feeling； as if his life
force had dwindled to a mere spark while the hotel and the grounds had suddenly
doubled in size and bee sinister； dwarfing them with sullen； inanimate power。
Then Wendy said： 〃Look at you； doc。 Your nose is running like a fire hose。
Let's get inside。〃
And they did； closing the door firmly behind them against the restless whine
of the wind。
P A R T T H R E E
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
The Wasps' Nest
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
》
UP ON THE ROOF
〃Oh you goddam fucking son of a bitch！〃
Jack Torrance cried these words out in both surprise and agony as he slapped
his right hand against his blue chambray workshirt； dislodging the big； slow…
moving wasp that had stung him。 Then he was scrambling up the roof as fast as he
could； looking back over his shoulder to see if the wasp's brothers and sisters
were rising from the nest he had uncovered to do battle。 If they were； it could
be bad； the nest was between him and his ladder； and the trapdoor leading down
into the attic was locked from the inside。 The drop was seventy feet from the
roof to the cement patio between the hotel and the lawn。
The clear air above the nest was still and undisturbed。
Jack whistled disgustedly between his teeth； sat straddling the peak of the
roof； and examined his right index finger。 It was swelling already； and he
supposed he would have to try and creep past that nest to his ladder so he could
go down and put some ice on it。
It was October 20。 Wendy and Danny had gone down to Sidewinder in the hotel
truck （an elderly； rattling Dodge that was still more trustworthy than the VW；
which was now wheezing gravely and seemed terminal） to get three gallons of milk
and do some Christmas shopping。 It was early to shop； but there was no telling
when the snow would e to stay。 There had already been flurries； and in some
places the road down from the Overlook was slick with patch ice。
So far the fall had been almost preternaturally beautiful。 In the three weeks
they had been here； golden day had followed golden day。 Crisp； thirty…degree
mornings gave way to afternoon temperatures in the low sixties； the perfect
temperature for climbing around on the Overlook's gently sloping western roof
and doing the shingling。 Jack had admitted freely to Wendy that he could have
finished the job four days ago； but he felt no real urge to hurry。 The view from
up here was spectacular； even putting the vista from the Presidential Suite in
the shade。 More important； the work itself was soothing。 On the roof he felt
himself healing from the troubled wounds of the last three years。 On the roof he
felt at peace。 Those three years began to seem like a turbulent nightmare。
The shingles had been badly rotted； some of them blown entirely away by last
winter's storms。 He had ripped them all up； yelling 〃Bombs away！〃 as he dropped
them over the side； not wanting Danny to get hit in case he had wandered over。
He had been pulling out bad flashing when the wasp had gotten him。
The ironic part was that he warned himself each time he climbed onto the roof
to keep an eye out for nests； he had gotten that bug bomb just in case。 But this
morning the stillness and peace had been so plete that his watchfulness had
lapsed。 He had been back in the world of the play he was slowly creating；
roughing out whatever scene he would be working on that evening in his head。 The
play was going very well； and although Wendy had said little； he knew she was
pleased。 He had been roadblocked on the crucial scene between Denker； the
sadistic headmaster； and Gary Benson； his young hero； during the last unhappy
six months at Stovington； months when the craving for a drink had been so bad
that he could barely concentrate on his in…class lectures； let alone his
extracurricular literary ambitions。
But in the last twelve evenings； as he actually sat down in front of the
office…model Underwood he had borrowed from the main office downstairs； the
roadblock had disappeared under his fingers as magically as cotton candy
dissolves on the lips。 He had e up almost effortlessly with the insights into
Denker's character that had always been lacking； and he had rewritten most of
the second act accordingly； making it revolve around the new scene。 And the
progress of the third act； which he had been turning over in his mind when the
wasp put an end to cogitation； was ing clearer all the time。 He thought he
could rough it out in two weeks； and have a clean copy of the whole damned play
by New Year's。
He had an agent in New York； a tough red…headed woman named Phyllis Sandler
who smoked Herbert Tareytons； drank Jim Beam from a paper cup； and thought the
literary sun rose and set on Sean O'Casey。 She had marketed three of Jack's
short stories； including the Esquire piece。 He had written her about the play；
which was called The Little School； describing the basic conflict between