按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
into a scream — ）
But he didn't think it would blow now。 The press was down to one…sixty。
（ — they found him in the wreck with his hand on the throttle； he was scalded
to death by the steam。）
He stepped away from the boiler； breathing hard； trembling。 He looked at his
hands and saw that blisters were already rising on his palms。 Hell with the
blisters； he thought； and laughed shakily。 He had almost died with his hand on
the throttle； like Casey the engineer in 〃The Wreck of the Old 97。〃 Worse still；
he would have killed the Overlook。 The final crashing failure。 He had failed as
a teacher； a writer； a husband； and a father。 He had even failed as a drunk。 But
you couldn't do much better in the old failure category than to blow up the
building you were supposed to be taking care of。 And this was no ordinary
building。
By no means。
Christ； but he needed a drink。
The press had dropped down to eighty psi。 Cautiously； wincing a little at the
pain in his hands； he closed the dump valve again。 But from now on the boiler
would have to be watched more closely than ever。 It might have been seriously
weakened。 He wouldn't trust it at more than one hundred psi for the rest of the
winter。 And if they were a little chilly； they would just have to grin and bear
it。
He had broken two of the blisters。 His hands throbbed like rotten teeth。
A drink。 A drink would fix him up； and there wasn't a thing in the goddamn
house besides cooking sherry。 At this point a drink would be medicinal。 That was
just it； by God。 An anesthetic。 He had done his duty and now he could use a
little anesthetic — something stronger than Excedrin。 But there was nothing。
He remembered bottles glittering in the shadows。
He had saved the hotel。 The hotel would want to reward him。 He felt sure of
it。 He took his handkerchief out of his back pocket and went to the stairs。 He
rubbed at his mouth。 Just a little drink。 Just one。 To ease the pain。
He had served the Overlook； and now the Overlook would serve him。 He was sure
of it。 His feet on the stair risers were quick and eager； the hurrying steps of
a man who has e home from a long and bitter war。 It was 5：20 A。M。； MST。
》
DAYLIGHT
Danny awoke with a muffled gasp from a terrible dream。 There had been an
explosion。 A fire。 The Overlook was burning up。 He and his mommy were watching
it from the front lawn。
Mommy had said： 〃Look； Danny； look at the hedges。〃
He looked at them and they were all dead。 Their leaves had turned a suffocant
brown。 The tightly packed branches showed through like the skeletons of half…
dismembered corpses。 And then his daddy had burst out of the Overlook's big
double doors； and he was burning like a torch。 His clothes were in flames； his
skin had acquired a dark and sinister tan that was growing darker by the moment；
his hair was a burning bush。
That was when he woke up； his throat tight with fear； his hands clutching at
the sheet and blankets。 Had he screamed？ He looked over at his mother。 Wendy lay
on her side； the blankets up to her chin； a sheaf of straw…colored hair lying
against her cheek。 She looked like a child herself。 No； he hadn't screamed。
Lying in bed； looking upward； the nightmare began to drain away。 He had a
curious feeling that some great tragedy
（fire？ explosion？）
had been averted by inches。 He let his mind drift out； searching for his
daddy； and found him standing somewhere below。 In the lobby。 Danny pushed a
little harder； trying to get inside his father。 It was not good。 Because Daddy
was thinking about the Bad Thing。 He was thinking how
（good just one or two would be i don't care sun's over the yardarm somewhere
in the world remember how we used to say that al？ gin and tonic bourbon with
just a dash of bitters scotch and soda rum and coke tweedledum and tweedledee a
drink for me and a drink for thee the martians have landed somewhere in the
world princeton or houston or stokely on carmichael some fucking place after all
tis the season and none of us are）
（GET OUT OF HIS MIND； YOU LITTLE SHIT！）
He recoiled in terror from that mental voice； his eyes widening； his hands
tightening into claws on the counterpane。 It hadn't been the voice of his father
but a clever mimic。 A voice he knew。 Hoarse； brutal； yet underpointed with a
vacuous sort of humor。
Was it so near； then？
He threw the covers back and swung his feet out onto the floor。 He kicked his
slippers out from under the bed and put them on。 He went to the door and pulled
it open and hurried up to the main corridor； his slippered feet whispering on
the nap of the carpet runner。 He turned the corner。
There was a man on all fours halfway down the corridor； between him and the
stairs。
Danny froze。
The man looked up at him。 His eyes were tiny and red。 He was dressed in some
sort of silvery； spangled costume。 A dog costume； Danny realized。 Protruding
from the rump of this strange creation was a long and floppy tail with a puff on
the end。 A zipper ran up the back of the costume to the neck。 To the left of him
was a dog's or wolf's head； blank eyesockets above the muzzle； the mouth open in
a meaningless snarl that showed the rug's black and blue pattern between fangs
that appeared to be papier…mache。
The man's mouth and chin and cheeks were smeared with blood。
He began to growl at Danny。 He was grinning； but the growl was real。 It was
deep in his throat； a chilling primitive sound。 Then he began to bark。 His teeth
were also stained red。 He began to crawl toward Danny； dragging his boneless
tail behind him。 The costume dog's head lay unheeded on the carpet； glaring
vacantly over Danny's shoulder。
〃Let me by；〃 Danny said。
〃I'm going to eat you； little boy；〃 the dogman answered； and suddenly a
fusillade of barks came from his grinning mouth。 They were human imitations； but
the savagery in them was real。 The man's hair was dark； greased with sweat from
his confining costume。 There was a mixture of scotch and champagne on his
breath。
Danny flinched back but didn't run。 〃Let me by。〃
〃Not by the hair of my chinny…chin…chin；〃 the dogman replied。 His small red
eyes were fixed attentively on Danny's face。 He continued to grin。 〃I'm going to
eat you up； little boy。 And I think I'll start with your plump little cock。〃
He began to prance skittishly forward； making little leaps and snarling。
Danny's nerve broke。 He fled back into the short hallway that led to their
quarters； looking back over his shoulder。 There was a series of mixed howls and
barks and growls； broken by slurred mutterings and giggles。
Danny stood in the hallway； trembling。
〃Get it up！〃 the drunken dogman cried out from around the corner。 His voice
was both violent and despairing。 〃Get it up； Harry you bitch…bastard！ I don't
care how many casinos and airlines and movie panies you own！ I know what you
like in the privacy of your own h…home！ Get it up！ I'll huff。。。 and I'll puff
。。。 until Harry Derwent's all bloown down！〃 He ended with a long； chilling
howl that seemed to turn into a scream of rage and pain just before it dwindled
off。
Danny turned apprehensively to the closed bedroom door at the end of the
hallway and walked quietly down to it。 He opened it and poked his head through。
His mommy was sleeping in exactly the same position。 No one was hearing this but
him。
He closed the door softly and went back up to the intersection of their
corridor and the main hall； hoping the dogman would be gone； the way the blood
on the walls of the Presidential Suite had been gone。 He peeked around the
corner carefully。
The man in the dog costume was still there。 He had put his head back on and
was now prancing on all fours by the stairwell； chasing his tail。 He
occasionally leaped off the rug and came down making dog grunts in his throat。
〃Woof！ Woof！ Bowwowwow！ Grrrrrr！〃
These sounds came hollowly out of the mask's stylized snarling mouth； and
among them were sounds that might have been sobs or laughter。
Danny went back to the bedroom and sat down on his cot； covering his eyes with
his hands。 The hotel was running things now。 Maybe at first the things that had
happened had only been accidents。 Maybe at first the things he had seen really
were like scary pictures that couldn't hurt him。 But now the hotel was
controlling those things and they could hurt。 The Overlook hadn't wanted him to
go to his father。 That might spoil all the fun。 So it had put the dogman in his
way； just as it had put the hedge animals between them and the road。
But his daddy could e here。 And sooner or later his daddy would。
He began to cry； the tears rolling silently down his cheeks。 It was too late。
They were going to die； all three of them； and when the Overlook opened next
late spring； they would be right here to greet the guests along with the rest of
the spooks。 The woman in the tub。 The dogman。 The horrible dark thing that had
been in the cement tunnel。 They would be —
（Stop！ Stop that now！）
He knuckled the tears furiously from his eyes。 He would try as hard as he
could to keep that from happening。 Not to himself； not to his daddy and mommy。
He would try as hard as he could。
He closed his eyes and sent his mind out in a high； hard crystal bolt。
（！！！ DICK PLEASE E QUICK WE'RE IN BAD
TROUBLE DICK WE NEED）
And suddenly； in the darkness behind his eyes the thing that chased him down
the Overlook's dark halls in his dreams was there； right there； a huge creature
dressed in white； its prehistoric club raised over its head：
〃I'll make you stop it！ You goddam puppy！ I'll make you stop it because I am
your FATHER！〃
〃No！〃 He jerked back to the reality of the bedroom； his eyes wide and staring；
the screams tumbling helplessly from his mouth as his mother bolted awake；
clutching the sheet to her breasts。
〃No Daddy no no no — 〃
And they both heard the vicious； descending swing of the invisible club；
cutting the air somewhere very close； then fading away to silence as he ran to
his mother and hugged her； trembling like a rabbit in a snare。
The Overlook was not going to let him call Dick。 That might spoil the fun；
too。
They were alone。
Outside the snow came harder； curtaining them off from the world。
》
MID…AIR
Dick Hallorann's flight was called at 6：45 A。M。； EST； and the boarding clerk
held him by Gate 31； shifting his flight bag nervously from hand to hand； until
the last call at 6：55。 They were both looking for a man named Carlton Vecker；
the only passenger on TWA's flight 196 from Miami to Denver who hadn't checked
in。
〃Okay；〃 the clerk said； and issued Hallorann a blue firstclass boarding pass。
〃You lucked out。 You can board； sir。〃
Hallorann hurried up the enclosed boarding ramp and let the mechanically
grinning stewardess tear his pass off and give him the stub。
〃We're serving breakfast on the flight；〃 the stew said。 〃If you'd like — 〃
〃Just coffee； babe；〃 he said； and went down the aisle to a seat in the smoking
section。 He kept expecting the no…show Vecker to pop through the door like a
jack…in…the…box at the last second。 The woman in the seat by the window was
reading You Can Be Your Own Best Friend with a sour； unbelieving expression on
her face。 Hallorann buckled his seat belt and then wrapped his large black hands
around the seat's armrests and promised the absent Carlton Vecker that it would
take him and five strong TWA flight attendants to drag him out of his seat。 He
kept his eye on his watch。 It dragged off the minutes to the 7：00 takeoff time
with maddening slowness。
At 7：05 the stewardess informed them that there would be a slight delay while
the ground crew rechecked one of the latches on the cargo door。
〃Shit for brains；〃 Dick Hallorann muttered。
The sharp…faced woman turned her sour； unbelieving expression on him and then
went back to her book。
He had spent the night at the airport； going from counter to counter — United；
American； TWA； Continental； Braniff — haunting the ticket clerks。 Sometime after
midnight； drinking his eighth or ninth cup of coffee in the canteen； he had
decided he was being an asshole to have taken this whole thing on his own
shoulders。 There were authorities。 He had gone down to the nearest bank of
telephones； and after talking to three different operators； he had gotten the
emergency number of the Rocky Mountain National Park Authority。
The man who answered the telephone sounded utterly worn out。 Hallorann had
given a false name and said there was trouble at the Overlook Hotel； west of
Sidewinder。 Bad trouble。
He was put on hold。
The ranger （Hallorann assumed he was a ranger） came back on in about five
minutes。
〃They've got a CB；〃 the ranger said。
〃Sure they've got a CB；〃 Hallorann said。
〃We haven't had a Mayday call from them。〃
〃Man； that don't matter。 They — 〃
〃Exactly what kind of trouble are they in； Mr。 Ha