sk.theshining-第33部分

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　　Below　the　clipping；　in　heavy　strokes　of　a　ball…point　pen；　someone　had　written：　They　took　his　balls　along　with　them。　Jack　stared　at　that　for　a　long　time；　feeling　cold。　Whose　book　was　this？
　　He　turned　the　page　at　last；　swallowing　a　click　in　his　throat。　Another　column　from　Josh　Brannigar；　this　one　dated　early　1967。　He　only　read　the　headline：　NOTORIOUS　HOTEL　SOLD　FOLLOWING　MURDER　OF　UNDERWORLD　FIGURE。
　　The　sheets　following　that　clipping　were　blank。
　　（They　took　his　balls　along　with　them。）　He　flipped　back　to　the　beginning；　looking　for　a　name　or　address。　Even　a　room　number。　Because　he　felt　quite　sure　that　whoever　had　kept　this　little　book　of　memories　had　stayed　at　the　hotel。　But　there　was　nothing。
　　He　was　getting　ready　to　go　through　all　the　clippings；　more　closely　this　time；　when　a　voice　called　down　the　stairs：　〃Jack？　Hon？〃　Wendy。
　　He　started；　almost　guiltily；　as　if　he　had　been　drinking　secretly　and　she　would　smell　the　fumes　on　him。　Ridiculous。　He　scrubbed　his　lips　with　his　hand　and　called　back；　〃Yeah；　babe。　Lookin　for　rats。〃　She　was　ing　down。　He　heard　her　on　the　stairs；　then　crossing　the　boiler　room。　Quickly；　without　thinking　why　he　might　be　doing　it；　be　stuffed　the　scrapbook　under　a　pile　of　bills　and　invoices。　He　stood　up　as　she　came　through　the　arch。
　　〃What　in　the　world　have　you　been　doing　down　here？　It's　almost　three　o'clock！〃　He　smiled。　〃Is　it　that　late？　I　got　rooting　around　through　all　this　stuff。
　　Trying　to　find　out　where　the　bodies　are　buried；　I　guess。〃　The　words　clanged　back　viciously　in　his　mind。
　　She　came　closer；　looking　at　him；　and　he　unconsciously　retreated　a　step；　unable　to　help　himself。　He　knew　what　she　was　doing。　She　was　trying　to　smell　liquor　on　him。　Probably　she　wasn't　even　aware　of　it　herself；　but　he　was；　and　it　made　him　feel　both　guilty　and　angry。
　　〃Your　mouth　is　bleeding；〃　she　said　in　a　curiously　flat　tone。
　　〃Huh？〃　He　put　his　hand　to　his　lips　and　winced　at　the　thin　stinging。　His　index　finger　came　away　bloody。　His　guilt　increased。
　　〃You've　been　rubbing　your　mouth　again；〃　she　said。
　　He　looked　down　and　shrugged。　〃Yeah；　I　guess　I　have。〃
　　〃It's　been　hell　for　you；　hasn't　it？〃
　　〃No；　not　so　bad。〃
　　〃Has　it　gotten　any　easier？〃　He　looked　up　at　her　and　made　his　feet　start　moving。　Once　they　were　actually　in　motion　it　was　easier。　He　crossed　to　his　wife　and　slipped　an　arm　around　her　waist。　He　brushed　aside　a　sheaf　of　her　blond　hair　and　kissed　her　neck。　〃Yes；〃　he　said。　〃Where's　Danny？〃
　　〃Oh；　he's　around　somewhere。　It's　started　to　cloud　up　outside。　Hungry？〃　He　slipped　a　hand　over　her　taut；　jeans…clad　bottom　with　counterfeit　lechery。
　　〃Like　ze　bear；　madame。〃
　　〃Watch　out；　slugger。　Don't　start　something　you　can't　finish。〃
　　〃Fig…fig；　madame？〃　he　asked；　still　rubbing。　〃Dirty　peeotures？　Unnatural　positions？〃　As　they　went　through　the　arch；　he　threw　one　glance　back　at　the　box　where　the　scrapbook　（whose？）　was　hidden。　With　the　light　out　it　was　only　a　shadow。　He　was　relieved　that　he　had　gotten　Wendy　away。　His　lust　became　less　acted；　more　natural；　as　they　approached　the　stairs。
　　〃Maybe；〃　she　said。　〃After　we　get　you　a　sandwich…yeek！〃　She　twisted　away　from　him；　giggling。　〃That　tickles！〃
　　〃It　teekles　nozzing　like　Jock　Torrance　would　like　to　teekle　you；　madame。〃
　　〃Lay　off；　Jock。　How　about　a　ham　and　cheese　。　。　。　for　the　first　course？〃　They　went　up　the　stairs　together；　and　Jack　didn't　look　over　his　shoulder　again。　But　he　thought　of　Watson's　words：　Every　big　hotel　has　got　a　ghost。　Why？　Hell；　people　e　and　go　。　。　。　
　　Then　Wendy　shut　the　basement　door　behind　them；　closing　it　into　darkness。
　　　
　　　》
　　OUTSIDE　217
　　
　　Danny　was　remembering　the　words　of　someone　else　who　had　worked　at　the　Overlook　during　the　season：　Her　saying　she'd　seen　something　in　one　of　the　rooms　where　。　。　。　a　bad　thing　happened。　That　was　in　Room　217　and　I　want　you　to　promise　me　you　won't　go　in　there；　Danny　。　。　。　steer　right　clear　。　。　。
　　It　was　a　perfectly　ordinary　door；　no　different　from　any　other　door　on　the　first　two　floors　of　the　hotel。　It　was　dark　gray；　halfway　down　a　corridor　that　ran　at　right　angles　to　the　main　second…floor　hallway。　The　numbers　on　the　door　looked　no　different　from　the　house　numbers　on　the　Boulder　apartment　building　they　had　lived　in。　A　2；　a　1；　and　a　7。　Big　deal。　Just　below　them　was　a　tiny　glass　circle；　a　peephole。　Danny　had　tried　several　of　them。　From　the　inside　you　got　a　wide；　fish…eye　view　of　the　corridor。　From　outside　you　could　screw　up　your　eye　seven　ways　to　Sunday　and　still　not　see　a　thing。　A　dirty　gyp：　（Why　are　you　here？）　After　the　walk　behind　the　Overlook；　he　and　Mommy　had　e　back　and　she　had　fixed　him　his　favorite　lunch；　a　cheese　and　bologna　sandwich　plus　Campbell's　Bean　Soup。　They　ate　in　Dick's　kitchen　and　talked。　The　radio　was　on；　getting　thin　and　crackly　music　from　the　Estes　Park　station。　The　kitchen　was　his　favorite　place　in　the　hotel；　and　he　guessed　that　Mommy　and　Daddy　must　feel　the　same　way；　because　after　trying　their　meals　in　the　dining　room　for　three　days　or　so；　they　had　begun　eating　in　the　kitchen　by　mutual　consent；　setting　up　chairs　around　Dick　Hallorann's　butcher　block；　which　was　almost　as　big　as　their　dining　room　table　back　in　Stovington；　anyway。　The　dining　room　had　been　too　depressing；　even　with　the　lights　on　and　the　music　playing　from　the　tape　cassette　system　in　the　ofce。
　　You　were　still　just　one　of　three　people　sitting　at　a　table　surrounded　by　dozens　of　other　tables；　all　empty；　all　covered　with　those　transparent　plastic　dustcloths。　Mommy　said　it　was　like　having　dinner　in　the　middle　of　a　Horace　Walpole　novel；　and　Daddy　had　laughed　and　agreed。　Danny　had　no　idea　who　Horace　Walpole　was；　but　he　did　know　that　Mommy's　cooking　had　begun　to　taste　better　as　soon　as　they　began　to　eat　it　in　the　kitchen。　He　kept　discovering　little　flashes　of　Dick　Hallorann's　personality　lying　around；　and　they　reassured　him　like　a　warm　touch。
　　Mommy　bad　eaten　half　a　sandwich；　no　soup。　She　said　Daddy　must　have　gone　out　for　a　walk　of　his　own　since　both　the　VW　and　the　hotel　truck　were　in　the　parking　lot。　She　said　she　was　tired　and　might　lie　down　for　an　hour　or　so；　if　he　thought　he　could　amuse　himself　and　not　get　into　trouble。　Danny　told　her　around　a　mouthful　of　cheese　and　bologna　that　he　thought　he　could。
　　〃Why　don't　you　go　out　into　the　playground？〃　she　asked　him。　〃I　thought　you'd　love　that　place；　with　a　sandbox　for　your　trucks　and　all。〃　He　swallowed　and　the　food　went　down　his　throat　in　a　lump　that　was　dry　and　hard。　〃Maybe　I　will；〃　he　said；　turning　to　the　radio　and　fiddling　with　it。
　　〃And　all　those　neat　hedge　animals；〃　she　said；　taking　his　empty　plate。　〃Your　father's　got　to　get　out　and　trim　them　pretty　soon。〃
　　〃Yeah；〃　he　said。
　　（Just　nasty　things　。　。　。　once　it　had　to　do　with　those　damn　hedges　clipped　to　look　like　animals　。　。　。）
　　〃If　you　see　your　father　before　I　do；　tell　him　I'm　lying　down。〃
　　〃Sure；　Mom。〃　She　put　the　dirty　dishes　in　the　sink　and　came　back　over　to　him。　〃Are　you　happy　here；　Danny？〃　He　looked　at　her　guilelessly；　a　milk　mustache　on　his　lip。　〃Uh…huh。〃
　　〃No　more　bad　dreams？〃
　　〃No。〃　Tony　had　e　to　him　once；　one　night　while　he　was　lying　in　bed；　calling　his　name　faintly　and　from　far　away。　Danny　had　squeezed　his　eyes　tightly　shut　until　Tony　had　gone。
　　〃You　sure？〃
　　〃Yes；　Mom。〃　She　seemed　satisfied。　〃How's　your　hand？〃　He　flexed　it　for　her。　〃All　better。〃　She　nodded。　Jack　had　taken　the　nest　under　the　Pyrex　bowl；　full　of　frozen　wasps；　out　to　the　incinerator　in　back　of　the　equipment　shed　and　burned　it。　They　had　seen　no　more　wasps　since。　He　had　written　to　a　lawyer　in　Boulder；　enclosing　the　snaps　of　Danny's　hand；　and　the　lawyer　had　called　back　two　days　ago…that　had　put　Jack　in　a　foul　temper　all　afternoon。　The　lawyer　doubted　if　the　pany　that　had　manufactured　the　bug　bomb　could　be　sued　successfully　because　there　was　only　Jack　to　testify　that　he　had　followed　directions　printed　on　the　package。　Jack　had　asked　the　lawyer　if　they　couldn't　purchase　some　others　and　test　them　for　the　same　defect。　Yes；　the　lawyer　said；　but　the　results　were　highly　doubtful　even　if　all　the　test　bombs　malfunctioned。　He　told　Jack　of　a　case　that　involved　an　extension　ladder　pany　and　a　man　who　had　broken　his　back。　Wendy　had　miserated　with　Jack；　but　privately　she　had　just　been　glad　that　Danny　had　gotten　off　as　cheaply　as　he　had。　It　was　best　to　leave　lawsuits　to　people　who　understood　them；　and　that　did　not　include　the　Torrances。　And　they　had　seen　no　more　wasps　since。
　　〃Go　and　play；　doc。　Have　fun。〃　But　he　hadn't　had　fun。　He　had　wandered　aimlessly　around　the　hotel；　poking　into　the　maids'　closets　and　the　janitor's　rooms；　looking　for　something　interesting；　not　finding　it；　a　small　boy　padding　along　a　dark　blue　carpet　woven　with　twisting　black　lines。　He　had　tried　a　room　door　from　time　to　time；　but　of　course　they　were　all　locked。　The　passkey　was　hanging　down　in　the　office；　he　knew　where；　but　Daddy　had　told　him　he　shouldn't　touch　that。　And　he　didn't　want　to。　Did　be？
　　（Why　are　you　here？）　There　was　nothing　aimless　about　it　after　all。　He　had　been　drawn　to　Room　217　by　a　morbid　kind　of　curiosity。　He　remembered　a　story　Daddy　had　read　to　him　once　when　he　was　drunk。　That　had　been　a　long　time　ago；　but　the　story　was　just　as　vivid　now　as　when　Daddy　had　read　it　to　him。　Mommy　had　scolded　Daddy　and　asked　what　he　was　doing；　reading　a　three…year…old　baby　something　so　horrible。　The　name　of　the　story　was　Bluebeard。　That　was　clear　in　his　mind　too；　because　he　had　thought　at　first　Daddy　was　saying　Bluebird；　and　there　were　no　bluebirds　in　the　story；　or　birds　of　any　kind　for　that　matter。　Actually　the　story　was　about　Bluebeard's　wife；　a　pretty　lady　that　had　corn…colored　hair　like　Mommy。　After　Bluebeard　married　her；　they　lived　in　a　big　and　ominous　castle　that　was　not　unlike　the　Overlook。　And　every　day　Bluebeard　went　off　to　work　and　every　day　he　would　tell　his　pretty　little　wife　not　to　look　in　a　certain　room；　although　the　key　to　that　room　was　hanging　right　on　a　hook；　just　like　the　passkey　was　hanging　on　the　office　wall　downstairs。　Bluebeard's　wife　had　gotten　more　and　more　curious　about　the　locked　room。　She　tried　to　peep　through　the　keyhole　the　way　Danny　had　tried　to　look　through　Room　217's　peephole　with　similar　unsatisfying　results。
　　There　was　even　a　picture　of　her　getting　down