sk.theshining-第58节

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t　some　things　。　。　。　are　hard　to　get　over。　You　have　to　understand　that。〃
　　〃Do　you　mean　his　arm？〃　His　lips　had　thinned。
　　〃Yes；〃　Wendy　said；　and　then　she　rushed　on：　〃But　it's　not　just　you。　I　worry　when　he　goes　out　to　play。　I　worry　about　him　wanting　a　two…wheeler　next　year；　even　one　with　training　wheels。　I　worry　about　his　teeth　and　his　eyesight　and　about　this　thing；　what　he　calls　his　shine。　I　worry。　Because　he's　little　and　he　seems　very　fragile　and　because　。　。　。　because　something　in　this　hotel　seems　to　want　him。　And　it　will　go　through　us　to　get　him　if　it　has　to。　That's　why　we　must　get　him　out；　Jack。　I　know　that！　I　feel　that！　We　must　get　him　out！〃　Her　hand　had　tightened　painfully　on　his　shoulder　in　her　agitation；　but　he　didn't　move　away。　One　hand　found　the　firm　weight　of　her　left　breast　and　he　began　to　stroke　it　through　her　shirt。
　　〃Wendy；〃　he　said；　and　stopped。　She　waited　for　him　to　rearrange　whatever　he　had　to　say。　His　strong　hand　on　her　breast　felt　good；　soothing。　〃I　could　maybe　snowshoe　him　down。　He　could　walk　part　of　the　way　himself；　but　I　would　mostly　have　to　carry　him。　It　would　mean　camping　out　one；　two；　maybe　three　nights。　That　would　mean　building　a　travois　to　carry　supplies　and　bedrolls　on。　We　have　the　AM/FM　radio；　so　we　could　pick　a　day　when　the　weather　forecast　called　for　a　three…day　spell　of　good　weather。　But　if　the　forecast　was　wrong；〃　he　finished；　his　voice　soft　and　measured；　〃I　think　we　might　die。〃　Her　face　had　paled。　It　looked　shiny；　almost　ghostly。　He　continued　to　stroke　her　breast；　rubbing　the　ball　of　his　thumb　gently　over　the　nipple。
　　She　made　a　soft　sound…from　his　words　or　in　reaction　to　his　gentle　pressure　on　her　breast；　he　couldn't　tell。　He　raised　his　hand　slightly　and　undid　the　top　button　of　her　shirt。　Wendy　shifted　her　legs　slightly。　All　at　once　her　jeans　seemed　too　tight；　slightly　irritating　in　a　pleasant　sort　of　way。
　　〃It　would　mean　leaving　you　alone　because　you　can't　snowshoe　worth　beans。　It　would　be　maybe　three　days　of　not　knowing。　Would　you　want　that？〃　His　hand　dropped　to　the　second　button；　slipped　it；　and　the　beginning　of　her　cleavage　was　exposed。
　　〃No；〃　she　said　in　a　voice　that　was　slightly　thick。　She　glanced　over　at　Danny。
　　He　had　stopped　twisting　and　turning。　His　thumb　had　crept　back　into　his　mouth。　So　that　was　all　right。　But　Jack　was　leaving　something　out　of　the　picture。　It　was　too　bleak。　There　was　something　else　。　。　。　what？
　　〃If　we　stay　put；〃　Jack　said；　unbuttoning　the　third　and　fourth　buttons　with　that　same　deliberate　slowness；　〃a　ranger　from　the　park　or　a　game　warden　is　going　to　poke　in　here　just　to　find　out　how　we're　doing。　At　that　point　we　simply　tell　him　we　want　down。　He'll　see　to　it。〃　He　slipped　her　naked　breasts　into　the　wide　V　of　the　open　shirt；　bent；　and　molded　his　lips　around　the　stem　of　a　nipple。　It　was　hard　and　erect。　He　slipped　his　tongue　slowly　back　and　forth　across　it　in　a　way　he　knew　she　liked。　Wendy　moaned　a　little　and　arched　her　back。
　　（？Something　I've　forgotten？）
　　〃Honey？〃　she　asked。　On　their　own　her　hands　sought　the　back　of　his　head　so　that　when　he　answered　his　voice　was　muffled　against　her　flesh。
　　〃How　would　the　ranger　take　us　out？〃　He　raised　his　head　slightly　to　answer　and　then　settled　his　mouth　against　the　other　nipple。
　　〃If　the　helicopter　was　spoken　for　I　guess　it　would　have　to　be　by　snowmobile。〃　（！！！）
　　〃But　we　have　one　of　those！　Ullman　said　so！〃　His　mouth　froze　against　her　breast　for　a　moment；　and　then　he　sat　up。　Her　own　face　was　slightly　flushed；　her　eyes　overbright。　Jack's　on　the　other　hand；　was　calm；　as　if　he　had　been　reading　a　rather　dull　book　instead　of　engaging　in　foreplay　with　his　wife。
　　〃If　there's　a　snowmobile　there's　no　problem；〃　she　said　excitedly。　〃We　can　all　three　go　down　together。〃
　　〃Wendy；　I've　never　driven　a　snowmobile　in　my　life。〃
　　〃It　can't　be　that　hard　to　learn。　Back　in　Vermont　you　see　ten…year…olds　driving　them　in　the　fields　。　。　。　although　what　their　parents　can　be　thinking　of　I　don't　know。　And　you　had　a　motorcycle　when　we　met。〃　He　had；　a　Honda　350cc。　He　had　traded　it　in　on　a　Saab　shortly　after　he　and　Wendy　took　up　residence　together。
　　〃I　suppose　I　could；〃　he　said　slowly。　〃But　I　wonder　how　well　it's　been　maintained。　Ullman　and　Watson　。　。　。　they　run　this　place　from　May　to　October。
　　They　have　summertime　minds。　I　know　it　won't　have　gas　in　it。　There　may　not　be　plugs　or　a　battery；　either。　I　don't　want　you　to　get　your　hopes　up　over　your　head；　Wendy。〃　She　was　totally　excited　now；　leaning　over　him；　her　breasts　tumbling　out　of　her　shirt。　He　had　a　sudden　impulse　to　seize　one　and　twist　it　until　she　shrieked。
　　Maybe　that　would　teach　her　to　shut　up。
　　〃The　gas　is　no　problem；〃　she　said。　〃The　VW‘　and　the　hotel　truck　are　both　full。
　　There's　gas　for　the　emergency　generator　downstairs；　too。　And　there　must　be　a　gascan　out　in　that　shed　so　you　could　carry　extra。〃
　　〃Yes；〃　he　said。　〃There　is〃　Actually　there　were　three　of　them；　two　five…gallons　and　a　two…gallon。
　　〃I'll　bet　the　sparkplugs　and　the　battery　are　out　there　too。　Nobody　would　store　their　snowmobile　in　one　place　and　the　plugs　and　battery　someplace　else；　would　they？〃
　　〃Doesn't　seem　likely；　does　it？〃　He　got　up　and　walked　over　to　where　Danny　lay　sleeping。　A　spill　of　hair　had　fallen　across　his　forehead　and　Jack　brushed　it　away　gently。　Danny　didn't　stir。
　　〃And　if　you　can　get　it　running　you'll　take　us　out？〃　she　asked　from　behind　him。
　　〃On　the　first　day　the　radio　says　good　weather？〃　For　a　moment　he　didn't　answer。　He　stood　looking　down　at　his　son；　and　his　mixed　feelings　dissolved　in　a　wave　of　love。　He　was　the　way　she　had　said；　vulnerable；　fragile。　The　marks　on　his　neck　were　very　prominent。
　　〃Yes；〃　he　said。　〃I'll　get　it　running　and　we'll　get　out　as　quick　as　we　can。〃
　　〃Thank　God！〃　He　turned　around。　She　had　taken　off　her　shirt　and　lay　on　the　bed；　her　belly　flat；　her　breasts　aimed　perkily　at　the　ceiling。　She　was　playing　with　them　lazily；　flicking　at　the　nipples。　〃Hurry　up；　gentlemen；〃　she　said　softly；　〃time。〃
　　
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　　After；　with　no　light　burning　in　the　room　but　the　night　light　that　Danny　had　brought　with　him　from　his　room；　she　lay　in　the　crook　of　his　arm；　feeling　deliciously　at　peace。　She　found　it　hard　to　believe　they　could　be　sharing　the　Overlook　with　a　murderous　stowaway。
　　〃Jack？〃
　　〃Hmmmm？〃
　　〃What　got　at　him？〃　He　didn't　answer　her　directly。　〃He　does　have　something。　Some　talent　the　rest　of　us　are　missing。　The　most　of　us；　beg　pardon。　And　maybe　the　Overlook　has　something；　too。〃
　　〃Ghosts？〃
　　〃I　don't　know。　Not　in　the　Algernon　Blackwood　sense；　that's　for　sure。　More　like　the　residues　of　the　feelings　of　the　people　who　have　stayed　here。　Good　things　and　bad　things。　In　that　sense；　I　suppose　that　every　big　hotel　has　got　its　ghosts。
　　Especially　the　old　ones。〃
　　〃But　a　dead　woman　in　the　tub　。　。　。　Jack；　he's　not　losing　his　mind；　is　he？〃　He　gave　her　a　brief　squeeze。　〃We　know　he　goes　into　。　。　。　well；　trances；　for　want　of　a　better　word　。　。　。　from　time　to　time。　We　know　that　when　he's　in　them　he　sometimes　。　。　。　sees？　。　。　。　things　he　doesn't　understand。　If　precognitive　trances　are　possible；　they're　probably　functions　of　the　subconscious　mind。　Freud　said　that　the　subconscious　never　speaks　to　us　in　literal　language。　Only　in　symbols。　If　you　dream　about　being　in　a　bakery　where　no　one　speaks　English；　you　may　be　worried　about　your　ability　to　support　your　family。　Or　maybe　just　that　no　one　understands　you。　I've　read　that　the　falling　dream　is　a　standard　outlet　for　feelings　of　insecurity。　Games；　little　games。　Conscious　on　one　side　of　the　net；　subconscious　on　the　other；　serving　some　cockamamie　image　back　and　forth。　Same　with　mental　illness；　with　hunches；　all　of　that。　Why　should　precognition　be　any　different？　Maybe　Danny　really　did　see　blood　all　over　the　walls　of　the　Presidential　Suite。　To　a　kid　his　age；　the　image　of　blood　and　the　concept　of　death　are　nearly　interchangeable。　To　kids；　the　image　is　always　more　accessible　than　the　concept；　anyway。　William　Carlos　Williams　knew　that；　he　was　a　pediatrician。　When　we　grow　up；　concepts　gradually　get　easier　and　we　leave　the　images　to　the　poets　。　。　。　and　I'm　just　rambling　on。〃
　　〃I　like　to　hear　you　ramble。〃
　　〃She　said　it；　folks。　She　said　it。　You　all　heard　it。〃
　　〃The　marks　on　his　neck；　Jack。　Those　are　real。〃
　　〃Yes。〃　There　was　nothing　else　for　a　long　time。　She　had　begun　to　think　he　must　have　gone　to　sleep　and　she　was　slipping　into　a　drowse　herself　when　he　said：
　　〃I　can　think　of　two　explanations　for　those。　And　neither　of　them　involves　a　fourth　party　in　the　hotel。〃
　　〃What？〃　She　came　up　on　one　elbow。
　　〃Stigmata；　maybe；〃　he　said。
　　〃Stigmata？　Isn't　that　when　people　bleed　on　Good　Friday　or　something？〃
　　〃Yes。　Sometimes　people　who　believe　deeply　in　Christ's　divinity　exhibit　bleeding　marks　on　their　hands　and　feet　during　the　Holy　Week。　It　was　more　mon　in　the　Middle　Ages　than　now。　In　those　days　such　people　were　considered　blessed　by　God。　I　don't　think　the　Catholic　Church　proclaimed　any　of　it　as　out…and…out　miracles；　which　was　pretty　smart　of　them。　Stigmata　isn't　much　different　from　some　of　the　things　the　yogis　can　do。　It's　better　understood　now；　that's　all。　The　people　who　understand　the　interaction　between　the　mind　and　the　body…study　it；　I　mean；　no　one　un