sk.theshining-第65部分

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　　〃I　called　Tony；〃　Danny　said。　〃In　the　ballroom。　I　guess　I　fell　off　the　chair。
　　It　doesn't　hurt　anymore。　Just　feels　。　。　。　like　my　lip's　too　big。〃
　　〃Is　that　what　really　happened？〃　she　asked；　looking　at　him；　troubled。
　　〃Daddy　didn't　do　it；〃　he　answered。　〃Not　today。〃　She　gazed　at　him；　feeling　eerie。　The　ball　traveled　from　one　band　to　the　other。
　　He　had　read　her　mind。　Her　son　had　read　her　mind。
　　〃What　。　。　。　what　did　Tony　tell　you；　Danny？〃
　　〃It　doesn't　matter。〃　His　face　was　calm；　his　voice　chillingly　indifferent。
　　〃Danny…〃　She　gripped　his　shoulder；　harder　than　she　had　intended。　But　he　didn't　wince；　or　even　try　to　shake　her　off。
　　（Oh　we　are　wrecking　this　boy。　It's　not　just　Jack；　it's　me　too；　and　maybe　it's　not　even　just　us；　Jack's　father；　my　mother；　are　they　here　too？　Sure；　why　not？
　　The　place　is　lousy　with　ghosts　anyway；　why　not　a　couple　more？　Oh　Lord　in　heaven　he's　like　one　of　those　suitcases　they　show　on　TV；　run　over；　dropped　from　planes；　going　through　factory　crushers。　Or　a　Timex　watch。　Takes　a　licking　and　keeps　on　ticking。　Oh　Danny　I'm　so　sorry）
　　〃It　doesn't　matter；〃　he　said　again。　The　ball　went　from　hand　to　hand。　〃Tony　can't　e　anymore。　They　won't　let　him。　He's　licked。〃
　　〃Who　won't？〃
　　〃The　people　in　the　hotel；〃　he　said。　He　looked　at　her　then；　and　his　eyes　weren't　indifferent　at　all。　They　were　deep　and　scared。　〃And　the　。　。　。　the　things　in　the　hotel。　There's　all　kinds　of　them。　The　hotel　is　stuffed　with　them。〃
　　〃You　can　see…〃
　　〃I　don't　want　to　see；〃　he　said　low；　and　then　looked　back　at　the　rubber　ball；　arcing　from　hand　to　hand。　〃But　I　can　hear　them　sometimes；　late　at　night。　They're　like　the　wind；　all　sighing　together。　In　the　attic。　The　basement。　The　rooms。　All　over。　I　thought　it　was　my　fault；　because　of　the　way　I　am。　The　key。　The　little　silver　key。〃
　　〃Danny；　don't　。　。　。　don't　upset　yourself　this　way。〃
　　〃But　it's　him　too；〃　Danny　said。　〃It's　Daddy。　And　it's　you。　It　wants　all　of　us。
　　It's　tricking　Daddy；　it's　fooling　him；　trying　to　make　him　think　it　wants　him　the　most。　It　wants　me　the　most；　but　it　will　take　all　of　us。〃
　　〃If　only　that　snowmobile…〃
　　〃They　wouldn't　let　him；〃　Danny　said　in　that　same　low　voice。　〃They　made　him　throw　part　of　it　away　into　the　snow。　Far　away。　I　dreamed　it。　And　he　knows　that　woman　really　is　in　217。〃　He　looked　at　her　with　his　dark；　frightened　eyes。　〃It　doesn't　matter　whether　you　believe　me　or　not。〃　She　slipped　an　arm　around　him。
　　〃I　believe　you；　Danny；　tell　me　the　truth。　Is　Jack　。　。　。　is　he　going　to　try　to　hurt　us？〃
　　〃They'll　try　to　make　him；〃　Danny　said。　〃I've　been　calling　for　Mr。　Hallorann。
　　He　said　if　I　ever　needed　him　to　just　call。　And　I　have　been。　But　it's　awful　hard。
　　It　makes　me　tired。　And　the　worst　part　is　I　don't　know　if　he's　hearing　me　or　not。
　　I　don't　think　he　can　call　back　because　it's　too　far　for　him。　And　I　don't　know　if　it's　too　far　for　me　or　not。　Tomorrow…〃
　　〃What　about　tomorrow？〃　He　shook　his　head。　〃Nothing。〃
　　〃Where　is　he　now？〃　she　asked。　〃'Four　daddy？〃
　　〃He's　in　the　basement。　I　don't　think　he'll　be　up　tonight。〃　She　stood　up　suddenly。　〃Wait　right　here　for　me。　Five　minutes。〃
　　
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　　The　kitchen　was　cold　and　deserted　under　the　overhead　fluorescent　bars。　She　went　to　the　rack　where　the　carving　knives　hung　from　their　magnetized　strips。　She　took　the　longest　and　sharpest；　wrapped　it　in　a　dish　towel；　and　left　the　kitchen；　turning　off　the　lights　as　she　went。
　　
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　　Danny　sat　on　the　stairs；　his　eyes　following　the　course　of　his　red　rubber　ball　from　hand　to　hand。　He　sang：　〃She　lives　on　the　twentieth　floor　uptown；　the　elevator　is　broken　down。　So　I　walk　one…two　flight　three　flight　four。　。　：'　（…Lou；　Lou；　skip　to　m'　Lou…）　His　singing　broke　off。　He　listened。
　　（…Skip　to　m'　Lou　my　darlin'…）　The　voice　was　in　his　head；　so　much　a　part　of　him　；　so　frighteningly　close　that　it　might　have　been　a　part　of　his　own　thoughts。　It　was　soft　and　infinitely　sly。
　　Mocking　him。　Seeming　to　say：　（Oh　yes；　you'll　like　it　here。　Try　it；　you'll　like　it。　Try　it；　you'll　liiiiike　it…）　Now　his　ears　were　open　and　he　could　hear　them　again；　the　gathering；　ghosts　or　spirits　or　maybe　the　hotel　itself；　a　dreadful　funhouse　where　all　the　sideshows　ended　in　death；　where　all　the　specially　painted　boogies　were　really　alive；　where　hedges　walked；　where　a　small　silver　key　could　start　the　obscenity。　Soft　and　sighing；　rustling　like　the　endless　winter　wind　that　played　under　the　eaves　at　night；　the　deadly　lulling　wind　the　summer　tourists　never　heard。　It　was　like　the　somnolent　hum　of　summer　wasps　in　a　ground　nest；　sleepy；　deadly；　beginning　to　wake　up。　They　were　ten　thousand　feet　high。
　　（Why　is　a　raven　like　a　writing　desk？　The　higher　the　fewer；　of　course！　Have　another　cup　of　tea！）　It　was　a　living　sound；　but　not　voices；　not　breath。　A　man　of　a　philosophical　bent　might　have　called　it　the　sound　of　souls。　Dick　Hallorann's　Nana；　who　had　grown　up　on　southern　roads　in　the　years　before　the　turn　of　the　century；　would　have　called　it　ha'ants。　A　psychic　investigator　might　have　had　a　long　name　for　it…psychic　echo；　psychokinesis；　a　telesmic　sport。　But　to　Danny　it　was　only　the　sound　of　the　hotel；　the　old　monster；　creaking　steadily　and　ever　more　closely　around　them：　halls　that　now　stretched　back　through　time　as　well　as　distance；　hungry　shadows；　unquiet　guests　who　did　not　rest　easy。
　　In　the　darkened　ballroom　the　clock　under　glass　struck　seven…thirty　with　a　single　musical　note。
　　A　hoarse　voice；　made　brutal　with　drink；　shouted：　〃Unmask　and　let's　fuck！〃　Wendy；　halfway　across　the　lobby；　jerked　to　a　standstill。
　　She　looked　at　Danny　on　the　stairs；　still　tossing　the　ball　from　hand　to　hand。
　　〃Did　you　bear　something？〃　Danny　only　looked　at　her　and　continued　to　toss　the　ball　from　hand　to　hand。
　　There　would　be　little　sleep　for　them　that　night；　although　they　slept　together　behind　a　locked　door。
　　And　in　the　dark；　his　eyes　open；　Danny　thought：　（He　wants　to　be　one　of　them　and　live　forever。　That's　what　he　wants。）　Wendy　thought：　（If　I　have　to；　I'll　take　him　further　up。　If　we're　going　to　die　I'd　rather　do　it　in　the　mountains。）　She　had　left　the　butcher　knife；　still　wrapped　in　the　towel；　under　the　bed。　She　kept　her　hand　close　to　it。　They　dozed　off　and　on。　The　hotel　creaked　around　them。
　　Outside　snow　had　begun　to　spit　down　from　a　sky　like　lead。
　　　
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　　IN　THE　BASEMENT
　　
　　（！！！　The　boiler　the　goddam　boiler　！！！）　The　thought　came　into　Jack　Torrance's　mind　full…blown；　edged　in　bright；　warning　red。　On　its　heels；　the　voice　of　Watson：　（If　you　forget　it'll　just　creep　an　creep　and　like　as　not　you　an　your　fambly　wilt　end　up　on　the　fuckin　moon　。　。　。　she's　rated　for　two…fifty　but　she'd　blow　long　before　that　now　。　。　。　I'd　be　scared　to　e　down　and　stand　next　to　her　at　a　hundred　and　eighty。）　He'd　been　down　here　all　night；　poring　over　the　boxes　of　old　records；　possessed　by　a　frantic　feeling　that　time　was　getting　short　and　he　would　have　to　hurry。
　　Still　the　vital　clues；　the　connections　that　would　make　everything　clear；　eluded　him。　His　fingers　were　yellow　and　grimy　with　crumbling　old　paper。　And　he'd　bee　so　absorbed　he　hadn't　checked　the　boiler　once。　He'd　dumped　it　the　previous　evening　around　six　o'clock；　when　he　first　came　down。　It　was　now。　。　。
　　He　looked　at　his　watch　and　jumped　up；　kicking　over　e　stack　of　old　invoices。
　　Christ；　it　was　quarter　of　five　in　the　morning。
　　Behind　him；　the　furnace　kicked　on。　The　boiler　was　making　a　groaning；　whistling　sound。
　　He　ran　to　it。　His　face；　which　had　bee　thinner　in　the　last　month　or　so；　was　now　heavily　shadowed　with　beardstubble　and　he　had　a　hollow　concentration…camp　look。
　　The　boiler　pressure　gauge　stood　at　two　hundred　and　ten　pounds　per　square　inch。
　　He　fancied　he　could　almost　see　the　sides　of　the　old　patched　and　welded　boiler　heaving　out　with　the　lethal　strain。
　　（She　creeps　。　。　。　I'd　be　scared　to　e　down　and　stand　next　to　her　at　a　hundred　and　eighty　。　。　。）　Suddenly　a　cold　and　tempting　inner　voice　spoke　to　him。
　　（Let　it　go。　Go　get　Wendy　and　Danny　and　get　the　fuck　out　of　here。　Let　it　blow　sky…high。）　He　could　visualize　the　explosion。　A　double　thunderclap　that　would　first　rip　the　heart　from　this　place；　then　the　soul。　The　boiler　would　go　with　an　orange…　violet　flash　that　would　rain　hot　and　burning　shrapnel　all　over　the　cellar。　In　his　mind　he　could　see　the　redhot　trinkets　of　metal　careening　from　floor　to　walls　to　ceiling　like　strange　billiard　balls；　whistling　jagged　death　through　the　air。
　　Some　of　them；　surely；　would　whizz　right　through　that　stone　arch；　light　on　the　old　papers　on　the　other　side；　and　they　would　burn　merry　hell。　Destroy　the　secrets；　burn　the　clues；　it's　a　mystery　no　living　hand　will　ever　solve。　Then　the　gas　explosion；　a　great　rumbling　crackle　of　flame；　a　giant　pilot　light　that　would　turn　the　whole　center　of　the　hotel　into　a　broiler。　Stairs　and　hallways　and　ceilings　and　rooms　aflame　like　the　castle　in　the　last　reel　of　a　Frankenstein　movie。　The　flame　spreading　into　the　wings；　hurrying　up　the　black…and…blue…twined　carpets　like　eager　guests。　The　silk　wallpaper　charring　and　curling。　There　were　no　sprinklers；　only　those　outmoded　hoses　and　no　one　to　use　them。　And　there　wasn't　a　fire　engine　in　the　world　that　could　get　here　before　late　March。　Burn；　baby；　burn。　In　twelve　hours　there　would　be　nothing　left　but　the　bare　bones。
　　The　needle　on　the　gauge　had　moved　up　to　two…twelve。　The　boiler　was　creaking　and　groaning　like　an　old　woman　trying　to　get　out　of　bed。　Hissing　jets　of　steam　had　begun　to　play　around　the　edges　of　old　patches；　beads　of　solder　had　begun　to　sizzle。
　　He　didn't　see；　he　didn't　hear。　Frozen　with　his　hand　on　the　valve　that　would　dump　off　the　pressure　and　damp　the　fire；　Jack's　eyes　glittered　from　their　sockets　like　sapphires。
　　（It's　my　last　chance。）　The　only　thing　not　cashed　in　now　was　the　life…insurance　policy　he　had　taken　out　jointly　with　Wendy　in　the　summer　between　his　first　and　second　years　at　Stovington。　Forty…thousand…dollar　death　benefit；　double　indemnity　if　he　or　she　died　in　a　train　crash；　a　plane　crash；　or　a　fire。　Seven…e…eleven；　die　the　secret　death　and　win　a　hundred　dollars。
　　（A　fire　。　。　。　eighty　thousand　dollars。）　They　would　have　time　to　get　out。　Even　if　they　were　sleeping；　they　would　have　time　to　get　out。　He