sk.theshining-第64节

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friend　with　a　poison　dart；　but　somewhere　near　was　the　Russian　antigravity　machine。　Perhaps　at　the　end　of　this　very　tunnel。　He　drew　his　automatic　and　went　along　the　concrete　tunnel；　his　eyes　wide　and　alert；　his　breath　pluming　out。
　　The　far　end　of　the　concrete　ring　was　solidly　blocked　with　snow。　He　tried　digging　through　it　and　was　amazed　（and　a　little　uneasy）　to　see　how　solid　it　was；　almost　like　ice　from　the　cold　and　the　constant　weight　of　more　snow　on　top　of　it。
　　His　make…believe　game　collapsed　around　him　and　he　was　suddenly　aware　that　he　felt　closed　in　and　extremely　nervous　in　this　tight　ring　of　cement。　He　could　hear　his　breathing；　it　sounded　dank　and　quick　and　hollow。　He　was　under　the　snow；　and　hardly　any　light　filtered　down　the　hole　he　had　dug　to　get　in　here。　Suddenly　he　wanted　to　be　out　in　the　sunlight　more　than　anything；　suddenly　he　remembered　his　daddy　and　mommy　were　sleeping　and　didn't　know　there　he　was；　that　if　the　hole　he　dug　caved　in　he　would　be　trapped；　and　the　Overlook　didn't　like　him。
　　Danny　got　turned　around　with　some　difficulty　and　crawled　back　along　the　length　of　the　concrete　ring；　his　snowshoes　clacking　woodenly　together　behind　him；　his　palms　crackling　in　last　fall's　dead　aspen　leaves　beneath　him。　He　had　just　reached　the　end　and　the　cold　spill　of　light　ing　down　from　above　when　the　snow　did　give　in；　a　minor　fall；　but　enough　to　powder　his　face　and　clog　the　opening　he　had　wriggled　down　through　and　leave　him　in　darkness。
　　For　a　moment　his　brain　froze　in　utter　panic　and　he　could　not　think。　Then；　as　if　from　far　off；　he　heard　his　daddy　telling　him　that　he　must　never　play　at　the　Stovington　dump；　because　sometimes　stupid　people　hauled　old　refrigerators　off　to　the　dump　without　removing　the　doors　and　if　you　got　in　one　and　the　door　happened　to　shut　on　you；　there　was　no　way　to　get　out。　You　would　die　in　the　darkness。
　　（You　wouldn't　want　a　thing　like　that　to　happen　to　you；　would　you；　doc？）　（No；　Daddy。）　But　it　had　happened；　his　frenzied　mind　told　him；　it　had　happened；　he　was　in　the　dark；　he　was　closed　in；　and　it　was　as　cold　as　a　refrigerator。　And…　（something　is　in　here　with　me。）　His　breath　stopped　in　a　gasp。　An　almost　drowsy　terror　stole　through　his　veins。
　　Yes。　Yes。　There　was　something　in　here　with　him；　some　awful　thing　the　Overlook　had　saved　for　just　such　a　chance　as　this。　Maybe　a　huge　spider　that　had　burrowed　down　under　the　dead　leaves；　or　a　rat　。　。　。　or　maybe　the　corpse　of　some　little　kid　that　had　died　here　on　the　playground。　Had　that　ever　happened？　Yes；　he　thought　maybe　it　had。　He　thought　of　the　woman　in　the　tub。　The　blood　and　brains　on　the　wall　of　the　Presidential　Sweet。　Of　some　little　kid；　its　head　split　open　from　a　fall　from　the　monkey　bars　or　a　swing；　crawling　after　him　in　the　dark；　grinning；　looking　for　one　final　playmate　in　its　endless　playground。　Forever。　In　a　moment　he　would　hear　it　ing。
　　At　the　far　end　of　the　concrete　ring；　Danny　heard　the　stealthy　crackle　of　dead　leaves　as　something　came　for　him　on　its　hands　and　knees。　At　any　moment　he　would　feel　its　cold　hand　close　over　his　ankle…　That　thought　broke　his　paralysis。　He　was　digging　at　the　loose　fall　of　snow　that　choked　the　end　of　the　concrete　ring；　throwing　it　back　between　his　legs　in　powdery　bursts　like　a　dog　digging　for　a　bone。　Blue　light　filtered　down　from　above　and　Danny　thrust　himself　up　at　it　like　a　diver　ing　out　of　deep　water。
　　He　scraped　his　back　on　the　lip　of　the　concrete　ring。　One　of　his　snowshoes　twisted　behind　the　other。　Snow　spilled　down　inside　his　ski　mask　and　into　the　collar　of　his　parka。　He　dug　at　the　snow；　clawed　at　it。　It　seemed　to　be　trying　to　hold　him；　to　suck　him　back　down；　back　into　the　concrete　ring　where　that　unseen；　leaf…crackling　thing　was；　and　keep　him　there。　Forever。
　　Then　he　was　out；　his　face　was　turned　up　to　the　sun；　and　he　was　crawling　through　the　snow；　crawling　away　from　the　half…buried　cement　ring；　gasping　harshly；　his　face　almost　ically　white　with　powdered　snow…a　living　fright…　mask。　He　hobbled　over　to　the　jungle　gym　and　sat　down　to　readjust　his　snowshoes　and　get　his　breath。　As　he　set　them　to　rights　and　tightened　the　straps　again；　he　never　took　his　eyes　from　the　hole　at　the　end　of　the　concrete　ring。　He　waited　to　see　if　something　would　e　out。　Nothing　did；　and　after　three　or　four　minutes；　Danny's　breathing　began　to　slow　down。　Whatever　it　was；　it　couldn't　stand　the　sunlight。　It　was　cooped　up　down　there；　maybe　only　able　to　e　out　when　it　was　dark。　。　。　or　when　both　ends　of　its　circular　prison　were　plugged　with　snow。
　　（but　i'm　safe　now　i'm　safe　i'll　just　go　back　because　now　i'm　）　Something　thumped　softly　behind　him。
　　He　turned　around；　toward　the　hotel；　and　looked。　But　even　before　he　looked　（Can　you　see　the　Indians　in　this　picture？）　he　knew　what　he　would　see；　because　he　knew　what　that　soft　thumping　sound　had　been。　It　was　the　sound　of　a　large　clump　of　snow　falling；　the　way　it　sounded　when　it　slid　off　the　roof　of　the　hotel　and　fell　to　the　ground。
　　（Can　you　see…？）　Yes。　He　could。　The　snow　had　fallen　off　the　hedge　dog。　When　he　came　down　it　had　only　been　a　harmless　lump　of　snow　outside　the　playground。　Now　it　stood　revealed；　an　incongruous　splash　of　green　in　all　the　eye…watering　whiteness。　It　was　sitting　up；　as　if　to　beg　a　sweet　or　a　scrap。
　　But　this　time　he　wouldn't　go　crazy；　he　wouldn't　blow　his　cool。　Because　at　least　he　wasn't　trapped　in　some　dark　old　hole。　He　was　in　the　sunlight。　And　it　was　just　a　dog。　It's　pretty　warm　out　today；　he　thought　hopefully。　Maybe　the　sun　just　melted　enough　snow　off　that　old　dog　so　the　rest　fell　off　in　a　bunch。　Maybe　that's　all　it　is。
　　（Don't　go　near　that　place　。　。　。　steer　right　clear。）　His　snowshoe　bindings　were　as　tight　as　they　were　ever　going　to　be。　He　stood　up　and　stared　back　at　the　concrete　ring；　almost　pletely　submerged　in　the　snow；　and　what　he　saw　at　the　end　he　had　exited　from　froze　his　heart。　There　was　a　circular　patch　of　darkness　at　the　end　of　it；　a　fold　of　shadow　that　marked　the　hole　he'd　dug　to　get　down　inside。　Now；　in　spite　of　the　snow…dazzle；　he　thought　he　could　see　something　there。　Something　moving。　A　hand。　The　waving　hand　of　some　desperately　unhappy　child；　waving　hand；　pleading　band；　drowning　hand。
　　（Save　me　O　please　save　me　If　you　can't　save　me　at　least　e　play　with　me　。　。
　　。　Forever。　And　Forever。　And　Forever。）
　　〃No；〃　Danny　whispered　huskily。　The　word　fell　dry　and　bare　from　his　mouth；　which　was　stripped　of　moisture。　He　could　feel　his　mind　wavering　now；　trying　to　go　away　the　way　it　had　when　the　woman　in　the　room　had　。　。　。　no；　better　not　think　of　that。
　　He　grasped　at　the　strings　of　reality　and　held　them　tightly。　He　had　to　get　out　of　here。　Concentrate　on　that。　Be　cool。　Be　like　the　Secret　Agent　Man。　Would　Patrick　McGoohan　be　crying　and　peeing　in　his　pants　like　a　little　baby？
　　Would　his　daddy？
　　That　calmed　him　somewhat。
　　From　behind　him；　that　soft　Hump　sound　of　falling　snow　came　again。　He　turned　around　and　the　head　of　one　of　the　hedge　lions　was　sticking　out　of　the　snow　now；　snarling　at　him。　It　was　closer　than　it　should　have　been；　almost　up　to　the　gate　of　the　playground。
　　Terror　tried　to　rise　up　and　he　quelled　it。　He　was　the　Secret　Agent　Man；　and　he　would　escape。
　　He　began　to　walk　out　of　the　playground；　taking　the　same　roundabout　course　his　father　had　taken　on　the　day　that　the　snow　flew。　He　concentrated　on　operating　the　snowshoes。　Slow；　flat　strides。　Don't　lift　your　foot　too　high　or　you'll　lose　your　balance。　Twist　your　ankle　and　spill　the　snow　off　the　crisscrossed　lacings。　It　seemed　so　slow。　He　reached　the　corner　of　the　playground。　The　snow　was　drifted　high　here　and　he　was　able　to　step　over　the　fence。　He　got　halfway　over　and　then　almost　fell　flat　when　the　snowshoe　on　his　behind　foot　caught　on　one　of　the　fence　posts。　He　leaned　on　the　outside　edge　of　gravity；　pinwheeling　his　arms；　remembering　how　bard　it　was　to　get　up　once　you　fell　down。
　　From　his　right；　that　soft　sound　again；　falling　clumps　of　snow。　He　looked　over　and　saw　the　other　two　lions；　clear　of　snow　now　down　to　their　forepaws；　side　by　side；　about　sixty　paces　away。　The　green　indentations　that　were　their　eyes　were　fixed　on　him。　The　dog　had　turned　its　head。
　　（It　only　happens　when　you're　not　looking。）
　　〃Oh！　Hey…〃　His　snowshoes　had　crossed　and　he　plunged　forward　into　the　snow；　arms　waving　uselessly。　More　snow　got　inside　his　hood　and　down　his　neck　and　into　the　tops　of　his　boots。　He　struggled　out　of　the　snow　and　tried　to　get　the　snowshoes　under　him；　heart　hammering　crazily　now　（Secret　Agent　Man　remember　you're　the　Secret　Agent）　and　overbalanced　backward。　For　a　moment　he　lay　there　looking　at　the　sky；　thinking　it　would　be　simpler　to　just　give　up。
　　Then　he　thought　of　the　thing　in　the　concrete　tunnel　and　knew　he　could　not。　He　gained　his　feet　and　stared　over　at　the　topiary。　All　three　lions　were　bunched　together　now；　not　forty　feet　away。　The　dog　had　ranged　off　to　their　left；　as　if　to　block　Danny's　retreat。　They　were　bare　of　snow　except　for　powdery　ruffs　around　their　necks　and　muzzles。　They　were　all　staring　at　him。
　　His　breath　was　racing　now；　and　the　panic　was　like　a　rat　behind　his　forehead；　twisting　and　gnawing。　He　fought　the　panic　and　he　fought　the　snowshoes。
　　（Daddy's　voice：　No；　don't　fight　them；　doc。　Walk　on　them　like　they　were　your　own　feet。　Walk　with　them。