breaking pencil lead or a small piece of kindling when you brought it down over
your knee。 A moment of utter silence on the other side； in respect to the
beginning future maybe； all the rest of his life。 Seeing Danny's face drain of
color until it was like cheese； seeing his eyes； always large； grow larger
still； and glassy； Jack sure the boy was going to faint dead away into the
puddle of beer and papers； his own voice； weak and drunk； slurry； trying to take
it all back； to find a way around that not too loud sound of bone cracking and
into the past — is there a status quo in the house？ — saying： Danny； are you all
right？ Danny's answering shriek； then Wendy's shocked gasp as she came around
them and saw the peculiar angle Danny's forearm had to his elbow； no arm was
meant to hang quite that way in a world of normal families。 Her own scream as
she swept him into her arms； and a nonsense babble： Oh God Danny oh dear God oh
sweet God your poor sweet arm； and Jack was standing there； stunned and stupid；
trying to understand how a thing like this could have happened。 He was standing
there and his eyes met the eyes of his wife and he saw that Wendy hated him。 It
did not occur to him what the hate might mean in practical terms； it was only
later that he realized she might have left him that night； gone to a motel；
gotten a divorce lawyer in the morning； or called the police。 He saw only that
his wife hated him and he felt staggered by it； all alone。 He felt awful。 This
was what oning death felt like。 Then she fled for the telephone and dialed
the hospital with their screaming boy wedged in the crook of her arm and Jack
did not go after her； he only stood in the ruins of his office； smelling beer
and thinking — ）
You lost your temper。
He rubbed his hand harshly across his lips and followed Watson into the boiler
room。 It was humid in here； but it was more than the humidity that brought the
sick and slimy sweat onto his brow and stomach and legs。 The remembering did
that； it was a total thing that made that night two years ago seem like two
hours ago。 There was no lag。 It brought the shame and revulsion back； the sense
of having no worth at all； and that feeling always made him want to have a
drink； and the wanting of a drink brought still blacker despair — would he ever
have an hour； not a week or even a day； mind you； but just one waking hour when
the craving for a drink wouldn't surprise him like this？
〃The boiler；〃 Watson announced。 He pulled a red and blue bandanna from his
back pocket； blew his nose with a decisive honk； and thrust it back out of sight
after a short peek into it to see if he had gotten anything interesting。
The boiler stood on four cement blocks； a long and cylindrical metal tank；
copper…jacketed and often patched。 It squatted beneath a confusion of pipes and
ducts which zigzagged upward into the high； cobweb…festooned basement ceiling。
To Jack's right； two large heating pipes came through the wall from the furnace
in the adjoining room。
〃Pressure gauge is here。〃 Watson tapped it。 〃Pounds per square inch； psi。 I
guess you'd know that。 I got her up to a hundred now； and the rooms get a little
chilly at night。 Few guests plain； what the fuck。 They're crazy to e up
here in September anyway。 Besides； this is an old baby。 Got more patches on her
than a pair of welfare overalls。〃 Out came the bandanna。 A honk。 A peek。 Back it
went。
〃I got me a fuckin cold；〃 Watson said conversationally。 〃I get one every
September。 I be tinkering down here with this old whore； then I be out cuttin
the grass or rakin that rogue court。 Get a chill and catch a cold； my old mum
used to say。 God bless her； she been dead six year。 The cancer got her。 Once the
cancer gets you； you might as well make your will。
〃You'll want to keep your press up to no more than fifty； maybe sixty。 Mr。
Ullman； he says to heat the west wing one day； central wing the next； east wing
the day after that。 Ain't he a crazyman？ I hate that little fucker。 Yap…yap…yap
all the livelong day； he's just like one a those little dogs that bites you on
the ankle then run around an pee all over the rug。 If brains was black powder he
couldn't blow his own nose。 It's a pity the things you see when you ain't got a
gun。
〃Look here。 You open an close these ducts by pullin these rings。 I got em all
marked for you。 The blue tags all go to the rooms in the east wing。 Red tags is
the middle。 Yellow is the west wing。 When you go to heat the west wing； you got
to remember that's the side of the hotel that really catches the weather。 When
it whoops； those rooms get as cold as a frigid woman with an ice cube up her
works。 You can run your press all the way to eighty on west wing days。 I would；
anyway。〃
〃The thermostats upstairs — 〃 Jack began。
Watson shook his bead vehemently； making his fluffy hair bounce on his skull。
〃They ain't hooked up。 They're just there for show。 Some of these people from
California； they don't think things is right unless they got it hot enough to
grow a palm tree in their fuckin bedroom。 All the heat es from down here。 Got
to watch the press； though。 See her creep？〃
He tapped the main dial； which had crept from a hundred pounds per square inch
to a hundred and two as Watson soliloquized。 Jack felt a sudden shiver cross his
back in a hurry and thought： The goose just walked over my grave。 Then Watson
gave the pressure wheel a spin and dumped the boiler off： There was a great
hissing； and the needle dropped back to ninety…one。 Watson twisted the valve
shut and the hissing died reluctantly。
〃She creeps；〃 Watson said。 〃You tell that fat little peckerwood Ullman； he
drags out the account books and spends three hours showing how he can't afford a
new one until 1982。 I tell you； this whole place is gonna go sky…high someday；
and I just hope that fat fuck's here to ride the rocket。 God； I wish I could be
as charitable as my mother was。 She could see the good in everyone。 Me； I'm just
as mean as a snake with the shingles。 What the fuck； a man can't help his
nature。
〃Now you got to remember to e down here twice a day and once at night
before you rack in。 You got to check the press。 If you forget； it'll just creep
and creep and like as not you an your fambly'll wake up on the fuckin moon。 You
just dump her off a little and you'll have no trouble。〃
〃What's top end？〃
〃Oh； she's rated for two…fifty； but she'd blow long before that now。 You
couldn't get me to e down an stand next to her when that dial was up to one
hundred and eighty。〃
〃There's no automatic shutdown？〃
〃No； there ain't。 This was built before such things were required。 Federal
government's into everything these days； ain't it？ FBI openin mail； CIA buggin
the goddam phones 。。。 and look what happened to that Nixon。 Wasn't that a
sorry sight？
〃But if you just e down here regular an check the press； you'll be fine。 An
remember to switch those ducks around like he wants。 Won't none of the rooms get
much above forty…five unless we have an amazin warm winter。 And you'll have your
own apartment just as warm as you like it。〃
〃What about the plumbing？〃
〃Okay； I was just getting to that。 Over here through this arch。〃
They walked into a long； rectangular room that seemed to stretch for miles。
Watson pulled a cord and a single seventyfive…watt bulb cast a sickish； swinging
glow over the area they were standing in。 Straight ahead was the bottom of the
elevator shaft； heavy greased cables descending to pulleys twenty feet in
diameter and a huge； grease…clogged motor。 Newspapers were everywhere； bundled
and banded and boxed。 Other cartons were marked Records or Invoices or Receipts…
SAV1 The smell was yellow and moldy。 Some of the cartons were falling apart；
spilling yellow flimsy sheets that might have been twenty years old out onto the
floor。 Jack stared around； fascinated。 The Overlook's entire history might be
here； buried in these rotting cartons。
〃That elevator's a bitch to keep runnin；〃 Watson said； jerking his thumb at
it。 〃I know Ullman's buying the state elevator inspector a few fancy dinners to
keep the repairman away from that fucker。
〃Now； here's your central plumbin core。〃 In front of them five large pipes；
each of them wrapped in insulation and cinched with steel bands； rose into the
shadows and out of sight。
Watson pointed to a cobwebby shelf beside the utility shaft。 There were a
number of greasy rags on it； and a looseleaf binder。 〃That there is all your
plumbin schematics；〃 he said。 〃I don't think you'll have any trouble with
leaks — never has been — but sometimes the pipes freeze up。 Only way to stop that
is to run the faucets a little bit durin the nights； but there's over four
hundred taps in this fuckin palace。 That fat fairy upstairs would scream all the
way to Denver when he saw the water bill。 Ain't that right？〃
〃I'd say that's a remarkably astute analysis。〃
Watson looked at him admiringly。 〃Say； you really are a college fella aren't
you？ Talk just like a book。 I admire that； as long as the fella ain't one of
those fairy…boys。 Lots of em are。 You know who stirred up all those college
riots a few years ago？ The hommasexshuls； that's who。 They get frustrated an
have to cut loose。 in out of the closet； they call it。 Holy shit； I don't
know what the world's in to。
〃Now； if she freezes； she most likely gonna freeze right up in this shaft。 No
heat； you see。 If it happens； use this。〃 He reached into a broken orange crate
and produced a small gas torch。
〃You just unstrap the insulation when you find the ice plug and put the heat
right to her。 Get it？〃
〃Yes。 But what if a pipe freezes outside the utility core？〃
〃That won't happen if you're doin your job and keepin the place heated。 You
can't get to the other pipes anyway。 Don't you fret about it。 You'll have no
trouble。 Beastly place down here。 Cobwebby。 Gives me the horrors； it does。〃
〃Ullman said the first winter caretaker killed his family and himself。〃
〃Yeah； that guy Grady。 He was a bad actor； I knew that the minute I saw him。
Always grinnin like an egg…suck dog。 That was when they were just startin out
here and that fat fuck Ullman； he woulda hired the Boston Strangler if he'd've
worked for minimum wage。 Was a ranger from the National Park that found em； the
phone was out。 All of em up in the west wing on the third floor； froze solid。
Too bad about the little girls。 Eight and six； they was。 Cute as cut…buttons。
Oh； that was a hell of a mess。 That Ullman； he manages some honky…tonky resort
place down in Florida in the off…season； and he caught a plane up to Denver and
hired a sleigh to take him up here from Sidewinder because the roads were
closed — a sleigh； can you believe that？ He about split a gut tryin to keep it
out of the papers。 Did pretty well； I got to give him that。 There was an item in
the Denver Post； and of course the bituary in that pissant little rag they have
down in Estes Park； but that was just about all。 Pretty good； considerin the
re