sk.theshining-第8节

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out！　Came　out；　you　little　shit！　Take　your　medicine！
　　Crash。　Crash。　Crash。　Splintering　wood。　A　bellow　of　rage　and　satisfaction。
　　REDRUM。　ing。
　　Drifting　across　the　room。　Pictures　torn　off　the　walls。　A　record　player　（？Mommy's　record　player'！）　overturned　on　the　floor。　Her　records；　Grieg；　Handel；　the　Beatles；　Art　Garfunkel；　Bach；　Liszt；　thrown　everywhere。　Broken　into　jagged　black　pie　wedges。
　　A　shaft　of　light　ing　from　another　room；　the　bathroom；　harsh　white　light　and　a　word　flickering　on　and　off　in　the　medicine　cabinet　mirror　like　a　red　eye；　REDRUM；　REDRUM；　REDRUM…
　　〃No；〃　he　whispered。　〃No；　Tony　please…〃　And；　dangling　over　the　white　porcelain　lip　of　the　bathtub；　a　hand。　Limp。　A　slow　trickle　of　blood　（REDRUM）　trickling　down　one　of　the　fingers；　the　third；　dripping　onto　the　tile　from　the　carefully　shaped　nail…　No　oh　no　oh　no…　（oh　please；　Tony；　you're　scaring　me）　REDRUM　REDRUM　REDRUM　（stop　it；　Tony；　stop　it）　Fading。
　　In　the　darkness　the　booming　noises　grew　louder；　louder　still；　echoing；　everywhere；　all　around。
　　And　now　he　was　crouched　in　a　dark　hallway；　crouched　on　a　blue　rug　with　a　riot　of　twisting　black　shapes　woven　into　its　pile；　listening　to　the　booming　noises　approach；　and　now　a　Shape　turned　the　corner　and　began　to　e　toward　him；　lurching；　smelling　of　blood　and　doom。　It　had　a　mallet　in　one　hand　and　it　was　swinging　it　（REDRUM）　from　side　to　side　in　vicious　arcs；　slamming　it　into　the　walls；　cutting　the　silk　wallpaper　and　knocking　out　ghostly　bursts　of　plasterdust：　e　on　and　take　your　medicine！　Take　it　like　a　man！
　　The　Shape　advancing　on　him；　reeking　of　that　sweet…sour　odor；　gigantic；　the　mallet　head　cutting　across　the　air　with　a　wicked　hissing　whisper；　then　the　great　hollow　boom　as　it　crashed　into　the　wall；　sending　the　dust　out　in　a　puff　you　could　smell；　dry　and　itchy。　Tiny　red　eyes　glowed　in　the　dark。　The　monster　was　upon　him；　it　had　discovered　him；　cowering　here　with　a　blank　wall　at　his　back。
　　And　the　trapdoor　in　the　ceiling　was　locked。
　　Darkness。　Drifting。
　　〃Tony；　please　take　me　back；　please；　please…〃　And　he　was　back；　sitting　on　the　curb　of　Arapahoe　Street；　his　shirt　sticking　damply　to　his　back；　his　body　bathed　in　sweat。　In　his　ears　he　could　still　hear　that　huge；　contrapuntal　booming　sound　and　smell　his　own　urine　as　he　voided　himself　in　the　extremity　of　his　terror。　He　could　see　that　limp　hand　dangling　over　the　edge　of　the　tub　with　blood　running　down　one　finger；　the　third；　and　that　inexplicable　word　so　much　more　horrible　than　any　of　the　others：　REDRUM。
　　And　now　sunshine。　Real　things。　Except　for　Tony；　now　six　blocks　up；　only　a　speck；　standing　on　the　corner；　his　voice　faint　and　high　and　sweet。　〃Be　careful；　doc。　。　。〃　Then；　in　the　next　instant；　Tony　was　gone　and　Daddy's　battered　red　bug　was　turning　the　corner　and　chattering　up　the　street；　farting　blue　smoke　behind　it。
　　Danny　was　off　the　curb　in　a　second；　waving；　jiving　from　one　foot　to　the　other；　yelling：　〃Daddy！　Hey；　Dad！　Hi！　Hi！〃　His　daddy　swung　the　VW　into　the　curb；　killed　the　engine；　and　opened　the　door。
　　Danny　ran　toward　him　and　then　froze；　his　eyes　widening。　His　heart　crawled　up　into　the　middle　of　his　throat　and　froze　solid。　Beside　his　daddy；　in　the　other　front　seat；　was　a　short…handled　mallet；　its　head　clotted　with　blood　and　hair。
　　Then　it　was　just　a　bag　of　groceries。
　　〃Danny　。　。　。　you　okay；　doc？〃
　　〃Yeah。　I'm　okay。〃　He　went　to　his　daddy　and　buried　his　face　in　Daddy's　sheepskin…lined　denim　jacket　and　hugged　him　tight　tight　tight。　Jack　hugged　him　back；　slightly　bewildered。
　　〃Hey；　you　don't　want　to　sit　in　the　sun　like　that；　doc。　You're　drippin　sweat。〃
　　〃I　guess　I　fell　asleep　a　little。　I　love　you；　Daddy。　I　been　waiting。〃
　　〃I　love　you　too；　Dan。　I　brought　home　some　stuff。　Think　you're　big　enough　to　carry　it　upstairs？〃
　　〃Sure　am！〃
　　〃Doc　Torrance；　the　world's　stroneest　man；〃　Jack　said；　and　ruffled　his　hair。
　　〃Whose　hobby　is　falling　asleep　on　street　corners。〃　Then　they　were　walking　up　to　the　door　and　Mommy　had　e　down　to　the　porch　to　meet　them　and　he　stood　on　the　second　step　and　watched　them　kiss。　They　were　glad　to　see　each　other。　Love　came　out　of　them　the　way　love　had　e　out　of　the　boy　and　girl　walking　up　the　street　and　holding　hands。　Danny　was　glad。
　　The　bag　of　groceries…just　a　bag　of　groceries…crackled　in　his　arms。
　　Everything　was　all　right。　Daddy　was　home。　Mommy　was　loving　him。　There　were　no　bad　things。　And　not　everything　Tony　showed　him　always　happened。
　　But　fear　had　settled　around　his　heart；　deep　and　dreadful；　around　his　heart　and　around　that　indecipherable　word　he　had　seen　in　his　spirit's　mirror。
　　　
　　　》
　　PHONEBOOTH
　　
　　Jack　parked　the　VW　in　front　of　the　Rexall　in　the　Table　Mesa　shopping　center　and　let　the　engine　die。　He　wondered　again　if　he　shouldn't　go　ahead　and　get　the　fuel　pump　replaced；　and　told　himself　again　that　they　couldn't　afford　it。　If　the　little　car　could　keep　running　until　November；　it　could　retire　with　full　honors　anyway。　By　November　the　snow　up　there　in　the　mountains　would　be　higher　than　the　beetle's　roof　。　。　。　maybe　higher　than　three　beetles　stacked　on　top　of　each　other。
　　〃Want　you　to　stay　in　the　car；　doe。　I'll　bring　you　a　candy　bar。〃
　　〃Why　can't　I　e　in？〃
　　〃I　have　to　make　a　phone　call。　It's　private　stuff。〃
　　〃Is　that　why　you　didn't　make　it　at　home？〃
　　〃Check。〃　Wendy　had　insisted　on　a　phone　in　spite　of　their　unraveling　finances。　She　had　argued　that　with　a　small　child…especially　a　boy　like　Danny；　who　sometimes　suffered　from　fainting　spells…they　couldn't　afford　not　to　have　one。　So　Jack　had　forked　over　the　thirty…dollar　installation　fee；　bad　enough；　and　a　ninety…dollar　security　deposit；　which　really　hurt。　And　so　far　the　phone　had　been　mute　except　for　two　wrong　numbers。
　　〃Can　I　have　a　Baby　Ruth；　Daddy？〃
　　〃Yes。　You　sit　still　and　don't　play　with　the　gearshift；　right？〃
　　〃Right。　I'll　look　at　the　maps。〃
　　〃You　do　that。〃　As　Jack　got　out；　Danny　opened　the　bug's　glovebox　and　took　out　the　five　battered　gas　station　maps：　Colorado；　Nebraska；　Utah；　Wyoming；　New　Mexico。　He　loved　road　maps；　loved　to　trace　where　the　roads　went　with　his　finger。　As　far　as　he　was　concerned；　new　maps　were　the　best　part　of　moving　West。
　　Jack　went　to　the　drugstore　counter；　got　Danny's　candy　bar；　and　newspaper；　and　a　copy　of　the　October　Writer's　Digest。　He　gave　the　girl　a　five　and　asked　for　his　change　in　quarters。　With　the　silver　in　his　hand　he　walked　over　to　the　telephone　booth　by　the　keymaking　machine　and　slipped　inside。　From　here　he　could　see　Danny　in　the　bug　through　three　sets　of　glass。　The　boy's　head　was　bent　studiously　over　his　maps。　Jack　felt　a　wave　of　nearly　desperate　love　for　the　boy。　The　emotion　showed　on　his　face　as　a　stony　grimness。
　　He　supposed　he　could　have　made　his　obligatory　thank…you　call　to　Al　from　home；　he　certainly　wasn't　going　to　say　anything　Wendy　would　object　to。　It　was　his　pride　that　said　no。　These　days　he　almost　always　listened　to　what　his　pride　told　him　to　do；　because　along　with　his　wife　and　son；　six　hundred　dollars　in　a　checking　account；　and　one　weary　1968　Volkswagen；　his　pride　was　all　that　was　left。　The　only　thing　that　was　his。　Even　the　checking　account　was　joint。　A　year　ago　he　had　been　teaching　English　in　one　of　the　finest　prep　schools　in　New　England。　There　had　been　friends…although　not　exactly　the　same　ones　he'd　had　before　going　on　the　wagon…some　laughs；　fellow　faculty　members　who　admired　his　deft　touch　in　the　classroom　and　his　private　dedication　to　writing。　Things　had　been　very　good　six　months　ago。　All　at　once　there　was　enough　money　left　over　at　the　end　of　each　two…week　pay　period　to　start　a　little　savings　account。　In　his　drinking　days　there　had　never　been　a　penny　left　over；　even　though　Al　Shockley　had　stood　a　great　many　of　the　rounds。　He　and　Wendy　had　begun　to　talk　cautiously　about　finding　a　house　and　making　a　down　payment　in　a　year　or　so。　A　farmhouse　in　the　country；　take　six　or　eight　years　to　renovate　it　pletely；　what　the　hell；　they　were　young；　they　had　time。
　　Then　he　had　lost　his　temper。
　　George　Hatfield。
　　The　smell　of　hope　had　turned　to　the　smell　of　old　leather　in　Crommert's　office；　the　whole　thing　like　some　scene　from　his　own　play：　the　old　prints　of　previous　Stovington　headmasters　on　the　walls；　steel　engravings　of　the　school　as　it　had　been　in　1879；　when　it　was　first　built；　and　in　1895；　when　Vanderbilt　money　had　enabled　them　to　build　the　field　house　that　still　stood　at　the　west　end　of　the　soccer　field；　squat；　immense；　dressed　in　ivy。　April　ivy　had　been　rustling　outside　Crommert's　slit　window　and　the　drowsy　sound　of　steam　heat　came　from　the　radiator。　It　was　no　set；　he　remembered　thinking。　It　was　real。　His　life。　How　could　he　have　fucked　it　up　so　badly？
　　〃This　is　a　serious　situation；　Jack。　Terribly　serious。　The　Board　has　asked　me　to　convey　its　decision　to　you。〃　The　Board　wanted　lack's　resignation　and　Jack　had　given　it　to　them。　Under　different　circumstances；　he　would　have　gotten　tenure　that　June。
　　What　had　followed　that　interview　in　Crommert's　office　had　been　the　darkest；　most　dreadful　night　of　his　life。　The　wanting；　the　needing　to　get　drunk　had　never　been　so　bad。　His　hands　shook。　He　knocked　things　over。　And　he　kept　wanting　to　take　it　out　on　Wendy　and　Danny。　His　temper　was　like　a　vicious　animal　on　a　frayed　leash