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〃We haven't had a Mayday call from them。〃
〃Man； that don't matter。 They — 〃
〃Exactly what kind of trouble are they in； Mr。 Hall？〃
〃Well； there's a family。 The caretaker and his family。 I think maybe he's gone
a little nuts； you know。 I think maybe he might hurt his wife and his little
boy。〃
〃May I ask how you've e by this information； sir？〃
Hallorann closed his eyes。 〃What's your name； fellow？〃
〃Tom Staunton； sir。〃
〃Well； Tom； I know。 Now I'll be just as straight with you as I can be。 There's
bad trouble up there。 Maybe killin bad； do you dig what I'm sayin？〃
〃Mr。 Hall； I really have to know how you — 〃
〃Look；〃 Hallorann had said。 〃I'm telling you I know。 A few years back there
was a fellow up there name of Grady。 He killed his wife and his two daughters
and then pulled the string on himself。 I'm telling you it's going to happen
again if you guys don't haul your asses out there and stop it！〃
〃Mr。 Hall； you're not calling from Colorado。〃
〃No。 But what difference — 〃
〃If you're not in Colorado； you're not in CB range of the Overlook Hotel。 If
you're not in CB range you can't possibly have been in contact with the； uh 。。。〃
Faint rattle of papers。 〃The Torrance family。 While I had you on hold I tried
to telephone。 It's out； which is nothing unusual。 There are still twenty…five
miles of aboveground telephone lines between the hotel and the Sidewinder
switching station。 My conclusion is that you must be some sort of crank。〃
〃Oh man； you stupid 。。。〃 But his despair was too great to find a noun to go
with the adjective。 Suddenly； illumination。 〃Call them！〃 he cried。
〃Sir？〃
〃You got the CB； they got the CB。 So call them！ Call them and ask them what's
up！〃
There was a brief silence； and the humming of long…distance wires。
〃You tried that too； didn't you？〃 Hallorann asked。 〃That's why you had me on
hold so long。 You tried the phone and then you tried the CB and you didn't get
nothing but you don't think nothing's wrong 。。。 what are you guys doing up
there？ Sitting on your asses and playing gin rummy？〃
〃No； we are not；〃 Staunton said angrily。 Hallorann was relieved at the sound
of anger in the voice。 For the first time he felt he was speaking to a man and
not to a recording。 〃I'm the only man here； sir。 Every other ranger in the park；
plus game wardens； plus volunteers； are up in Hasty Notch； risking their lives
because three stupid assholes with six months' experience decided to try the
north face of King's Ram。 They're stuck halfway up there and maybe they'll get
down and maybe they won't。 There are two choppers up there and the men who are
flying them are risking their lives because it's night here and it's starting to
snow。 So if you're still having trouble putting it all together； I'll give you a
hand with it。 Number one； I don't have anybody to send to the Overlook。 Number
two； the Overlook isn't a priority here — what happens in the park is a priority。
Number three； by daybreak neither one of those choppers will be able to fly
because it's going to snow like crazy； according to the National Weather
Service。 Do you understand the situation？〃
〃Yeah；〃 Hallorann had said softly。 〃I understand。〃
〃Now my guess as to why I couldn't raise them on the CB is very simple。 I
don't know what time it is where you are； but out here it's nine…thirty。 I think
they may have turned it off and gone to bed。 Now if you — 〃
〃Good luck with your climbers； man；〃 Hallorann said。 〃But I want you to know
that they are not the only ones who are stuck up high because they didn't know
what they were getting into。〃
He had hung up the phone。
* * *
At 7：20 A。M。 the TWA 747 backed lumberingly out of its stall； turned； and
rolled out toward the runway。 Hallorann let out a long； soundless exhale。
Carlton Vecker； wherever you are； eat your heart out。
Flight 196 parted pany with the ground at 7：28； and at 7：31； as it gained
altitude； the thought…pistol went off in Dick Hallorann's head again。 His
shoulders hunched uselessly against the smell of oranges and then jerked
spasmodically。 His forehead wrinkled； his mouth drew down in a grimace of pain。
（！！！ DICK PLEASE E QUICK WE'RE IN BAD
TROUBLE DICK WE NEED）
And that was all。 It was suddenly gone。 No fading out this time。 The
munication had been chopped off cleanly； as if with a knife。 It scared him。
His hands； still clutching the seat rests； had gone almost white。 His mouth was
dry。 Something had happened to the boy。 He was sure of it。 If anyone had hurt
that little child —
〃Do you always react so violently to takeoffs？〃
He looked around。 It was the woman in the horn…rimmed glasses。
〃It wasn't that；〃 Hallorann said。 〃I've got a steel plate in my head。 From
Korea。 Every now and then it gives me a twinge。 Vibrates； don't you know。
Scrambles the signal。〃
〃Is that so？〃
〃Yes； ma'am。〃
〃It is the line soldier who ultimately pays for any foreign intervention；〃 the
sharp…faced woman said grimly。
〃Is that so？〃
〃It is。 This country must swear off its dirty little wars。 The CIA has been at
the root of every dirty little war America has fought in this century。 The CIA
and dollar diplomacy。〃
She opened her book and began to read。 The No SMOKING sign went off。 Hallorann
watched the receding land and wondered if the boy was all right。 He had
developed an affectionate feeling for that boy； although his folks hadn't seemed
all that much。
He hoped to God they were watching out for Danny。
》
DRINKS ON THE HOUSE
Jack stood in the dining room just outside the batwing doors leading into the
Colorado Lounge； his head cocked； listening。 He was smiling faintly。
Around him； he could hear the Overlook Hotel ing to life。
It was hard to say just how he knew； but he guessed it wasn't greatly
different from the perceptions Danny had from time to time 。。。 like father；
like son。 Wasn't that how it was popularly expressed？
It wasn't a perception of sight or sound； although it was very near to those
things； separated from those senses by the filmiest of perceptual curtains。 It
was as if another Overlook now lay scant inches beyond this one； separated from
the real world （if there is such a thing as a 〃real world；〃 Jack thought） but
gradually ing into balance with it。 He was reminded of the 3…D movies he'd
seen as a kid。 If you looked at the screen without the special glasses； you saw
a double image — the sort of thing he was feeling now。 But when you put the
glasses on； it made sense。
All the hotel's eras were together now； all but this current one； the Torrance
Era。 And this would be together with the rest very soon now。 That was good。 That
was very good。
He could almost hear the self…important ding！ding！ of the silver…plated bell
on the registration desk； summoning bellboys to the front as men in the
fashionable flannels of the 1920s checked in and men in fashionable 1940s
double…breasted pinstripes checked out。 There would be three nuns sitting in
front of the fireplace as they waited for the check…out line to thin； and
standing behind them； nattily dressed with diamond stickpins holding their blue…
and…white…figured ties； Charles Grondin and Vito Gienelli discussed profit and
loss； life and death。 There were a dozen trucks in the loading bays out back；
some laid one over the other like bad time exposures。 In the east…wing ballroom；
a dozen different business conventions were going on at the same time within
temporal centimeters of each other。 There was a costume ball going on。 There
were soirees； wedding receptions； birthday and anniversary parties。 Men talking
about Neville Chamberlain and the Archduke of Austria。 Music。 Laughter。
Drunkenness。 Hysteria。 Little love； not here； but a steady undercurrent of
sensuousness。 And he could almost hear all of them together； drifting through
the hotel and making a graceful cacophony。 In the dining room where he stood；
breakfast； lunch； and dinner for seventy years were all being served
simultaneously just behind him。 He could almost 。。。 no； strike the almost。 He
could hear them； faintly as yet； but clearly — the way one can hear thunder miles
off on a hot summer's day。 He could hear all of them； the beautiful strangers。
He was being aware of them as they must have been aware of him from the very
start。
All the rooms of the Overlook were occupied this morning。
A full house。
And beyond the batwings； a low murmur of conversation drifted and swirled like
lazy cigarette smoke。 More sophisticated； more private。 Low； throaty female
laughter； the kind that seems to vibrate in a fairy ring around the viscera and
the genitals。 The sound of a cash register； its window softly lighted in the
warm halfdark； ringing up the price of a gin rickey； a Manhattan； a depression
bomber； a sloe gin fizz； a zombie。 The jukebox； pouring out its drinkers'
melodies； each one overlapping the other in time。
He pushed the batwings open and stepped through
〃Hello； boys；〃 Jack Torrance said softly。 〃I've been away but now I'm back。〃
〃Good evening； Mr。 Torrance；〃 Lloyd said； genuinely pleased。 〃It's good to see
you。〃
〃It's good to be back； Lloyd；〃 he said gravely； and hooked his leg over a
stool between a man in a sharp blue suit and a bleary…eyed woman in a black
dress who was peering into the depths of a singapore sling。
〃What will it be； Mr。 Torrance？〃
〃Martini；〃 he said with great pleasure。 He looked at the backbar with its rows
of dimly gleaming bottles； capped with their silver siphons。 Jim Beam。 Wild
Turkey。 Gilby's。 Sharrod's Private Label。 Toro。 Seagram's。 And home again。
〃One large martian； if you please；〃 he said。 〃They've landed somewhere in the
world； Lloyd。〃 He took his wallet out and laid a twenty carefully on the bar。
As Lloyd made his drink； Jack looked over his shoulder。 Every booth was
occupied。 Some of the occupants were dressed in costumes 。。。 a woman in gauzy
harem pants and a rhinestone…sparkled brassiere； a man with a foxhead rising
slyly out of his evening dress； a man in a silvery dog outfit who was tickling
the nose of a woman in a sarong with the puff on the end of his long tail； to
the general amusement of all。
〃No charge to you； Mr。 Torrance；〃 Lloyd said； putting the drink down on Jack's
twenty。 〃Your money is no good here。 Orders from the manager。〃
〃Manager？〃
A faint unease came over him； nevertheless he picked up the martini glass and
swirled it； watching the olive at the bottom bob slightly in the drink's chilly
depths。
〃Of course。 The manager。〃 Lloyd's smile broadened； but his eyes were socketed
in shadow and his skin was horribly white； like the skin of a corpse。 〃Later he
expects to see to your son's well…being himself。 He is very interested in your
son。 Danny is a talented boy。〃
The juniper fumes of the gin were pleasantly maddening； but they also seemed
to be blurring his reason。 Danny？ What was all of this about Danny？ And what was
he doing in a bar with a drink in his hand？
He had TAKEN THE PLEDGE。 He had GONE ON THE WAGON。 He had SWORN OFF。
What could they want with his son？ What could they want with Danny？ Wendy and
Danny weren't in it。 He tried to see into Lloyd's shadowed eyes； but it was too
dark； too dark； it was like trying to read emotion into the empty orbs of a
skull。
（It's me they must want 。。。 isn't it？ I am the one。 Not Danny； not Wendy。
I'm the one who loves it here。 They wanted to leave。 I'm the one who took care
of the snowmobile 。。。 went through the old records 。。。 dumped the press on
the boiler 。。。 lied 。。。 practically sold my soul 。。。 what can they want
with him？）
〃Where is the manager？〃 He tried to ask it casually but his words seemed to
e out between lips already numbed by the first drink； like words from a
nightmare rather than those in a sweet dream。
Lloyd only smiled。
〃What do you want with my son？ Danny's not in this 。。。 is he？〃 He heard the
naked plea in his own voice。
Lloyd's face seemed to be running； changing； being something pestilent。 The
white skin being a hepatitic yellow； cracking。 Red sores erupting on the
skin； bleeding foul smelling liquid。 Droplets of blood sprang out on Lloyd's
forehead like sweat and somewhere a silver chime was striking the quarter…hour。
（Unmask； unmask！）
〃Drink your drink； Mr。 Torrance；〃 Lloyd said softly。 〃It isn't a matter that
concerns you。 Not at this point。〃
He picked his drink up again； raised it to his lips； and hesitated。 He heard
the hard； horrible snap as Danny's arm broke。 He saw the bicycle flying brokenly
up over the hood of Al's car； starring the windshield。 He saw a single wheel
lying in the road； twisted spokes pointing into the sky like jags of piano wire。
He became aware that all conversation had stopped。
He looked back over his shoulder。 They were all looking at him expectantly；
silently。 The man beside the woman in the sarong had removed his