〃No；〃 he whimpered； hardly aware that he had been reduced to this； whimpering
with his eyes shut like a child。 〃Oh no； God。 Please； God； no。〃
But below the tumble of his chaotic thoughts； below the triphammer beat of his
heart； he could hear the soft and futile sound of the doorknob being turned to
and fro as something locked in tried helplessly to get out； something that
wanted to meet him； something that would like to be introduced to his family as
the storm shrieked around them and white daylight became black night。 If he
opened his eyes and saw that doorknob moving he would go mad。 So he kept them
shut； and after an unknowable time； there was stillness。
Jack forced himself to open his eyes； half…convinced that when he did； she
would be standing before him。 But the hall was empty。
He felt watched just the same。
He looked at the peephole in the center of the door and wondered what would
happen if he approached it； stared into it。 What would he be eyeball to eyeball
with？
His feet were moving
（feets don't fail me now）
before he realized it。 He turned them away from the door and walked down to
the main hall； his feet whispering on the blue…black jungle carpet。 He stopped
halfway to the stairs and looked at the fire extinguisher。 He thought that the
folds of canvas were arranged in a slightly different manner。 And he was quite
sure that the brass nozzle had been pointing toward the elevator when he came up
the hall。 Now it was pointing the other way。
〃I didn't see that at all；〃 Jack Torrance said quite clearly。 His face was
white and haggard and his mouth kept trying to grin。
But he didn't take the elevator back down。 It was too much like an open mouth。
Too much by half。 He took the stairs。
》
THE VERDICT
He stepped into the kitchen and looked at them； bouncing the passkey a few
inches up off his left hand； making the chain on the white metal tongue jingle；
then catching it again。 Danny was pallid and worn out。 Wendy had been crying； he
saw； her eyes were red and darkly circled。 He felt a sudden burst of gladness at
this。 He wasn't suffering alone； that was sure。
They looked at him without speaking。
〃Nothing there；〃 he said； astounded by the heartiness of his voice。 〃Not a
thing。〃
He bounced the passkey up and down； up and down； smiling reassuringly at them；
watching the relief spread over their faces； and thought he had never in his
life wanted a drink so badly as he did right now。
》
THE BEDROOM
Late that afternoon Jack got a cot from the first…floor storage room and put
it in the corner of their bedroom。 Wendy had expected that the boy would be half
the night getting to sleep； but Danny was nodding before 〃The Waltons〃 was half
over； and fifteen minutes after they had tucked him in he was far down in
sleep； moveless； one hand tucked under his cheek。 Wendy sat watching him；
holding her place in a fat paperback copy of Cashelmara with one finger。 Jack
sat at his desk； looking at his play。
〃Oh shit；〃 Jack said。
Wendy looked up from her contemplation of Danny。 〃What？〃
〃Nothing。〃
He looked down at the play with smoldering ill…temper。 How could he have
thought it was good？ It was puerile。 It had been done a thousand times。 Worse；
he had no idea how to finish it。 Once it had seemed simple enough。 Denker； in a
fit of rage； seizes the poker from beside the fireplace and beats saintly Gary
to death。 Then； standing spread…legged over the body； the bloody poker in one
hand； he screams at the audience： 〃It's here somewhere and I will find it！〃
Then； as the lights dim and the curtain is slowly drawn； the audience sees
Gary's body face down on the forestage as Denker strides to the upstage bookcase
and feverishly begins pulling books from the shelves； looking at them； throwing
them aside。 He had thought it was something old enough to be new； a play whose
novelty alone might be enough to see it through a successful Broadway run： a
tragedy in five acts。
But； in addition to his sudden diversion of interest to the Overlooks
history； something else had happened。 He had developed opposing feelings about
his characters。 This was something quite new。 Ordinarily he liked all of his
characters； the good and the bad。 He was glad he did。 It allowed him to try to
see all of their sides and understand their motivations more clearly。 His
favorite story； sold to a small southern Maine magazine called Contraband for
copies； had been a piece called 〃The Monkey Is Here； Paul DeLong。〃 It had been
about a child molester about to mit suicide in his furnished room。 The child
molester's name had been Paul DeLong； Monkey to his friends。 Jack had liked
Monkey very much。 He sympathized with Monkey's bizarre needs； knowing that
Monkey was not the only one to blame for the three rape…murders in his past。
There had been bad parents； the father a beater as his own father had been； the
mother a limp and silent dishrag as his mother had been。 A homosexual experience
in grammar school。 Public humiliation。 Worse experiences in high school and
college。 He had been arrested and sent to an institution after exposing himself
to a pair of little girls getting off a school bus。 Worst of all； he had been
dismissed from the institution； let back out onto the streets； because the man
in charge had decided he was all right。 This man's name had been Grimmer。
Grimmer had known that Monkey DeLong was exhibiting deviant symptoms； but he had
written the good； hopeful report and had let him go anyway。 Jack liked and
sympathized with Grimmer； too。 Grimmer had to run an understaffed and
underfunded institution and try to keep the whole thing together with spit；
baling wire； and nickle…and…dime appropriations from a state legislature who had
to go back and face the voters。 Grimmer knew that Monkey could interact with
other people； that he did not soil his pants or try to stab his fellow inmates
with the scissors。 He did not think he was Napoleon。 The staff psychiatrist in
charge of Monkey's case thought there was a better…than…even chance that Monkey
could make it on the street； and they both knew that the longer a man is in an
institution the more he es to need that closed environment； like a junkie
with his smack。 And meanwhile； people were knocking down the doors。 Paranoids；
schizoids； cycloids； semicatatonics； men who claimed to have gone to heaven in
flying saucers； women who had burned their children's sex organs off with Bic
lighters； alcoholics； pyromaniacs； kleptomaniacs； manic…depressives； suicidals。
Tough old world； baby。 If you're not bolted together tightly； you're gonna
shake； rattle； and roll before you turn thirty。 Jack could sympathize with
Grimmer's problem。 He could sympathize with the parents of the murder victims。
With the murdered children themselves； of course。 And with Monkey DeLong。 Let
the reader lay blame。 In those days he hadn't wanted to judge。 The cloak of the
moralist sat badly on his shoulders。
He had started The Little School in the same optimistic vein。 But lately he
had begun to choose up sides； and worse still； he had e to loathe his hero；
Gary Benson。 Originally conceived as a bright boy more cursed with money than
blessed with it； a boy who wanted more than anything to pile a good record so
he could go to a good university because he had earned admission and not because
his father had pulled strings； he had bee to Jack a kind of simpering Goody
Two…shoes； a postulant before the altar of knowledge rather than a sincere
acolyte； an outward paragon of Boy Scout virtues； inwardly cynical； filled not
with real brilliance （as he had first been conceived） but only with sly animal
cunning。 All through the play he unfailingly addressed Denker as 〃sir；〃 just as
Jack had taught his own son to address those older and those in authority as
〃sir。〃 He thought that Danny used the word quite sincerely； and Gary Benson as
originally conceived had too； but as he had begun Act V； it had e more and
more strongly to him that Gary was using the word satirically； outwardly
straight…faced while the Gary Benson inside was mugging and leering at Denker。
Denker； who had never had any of the things Gary had。 Denker； who had had to
work all his life just to bee head of a single little school。 Who was now
faced with ruin over this handsome； innocent…seeming rich boy who had cheated on
his Final position and had then cunningly covered his tracks。 Jack had seen
Denker the teacher as not much different from the strutting South American
little Caesars in their banana kingdoms； standing dissidents up against the wall
of the handiest squash or handball court； a super…zealot in a paratively
small puddle； a man whose every whim bees a crusade。 In the beginning he had
wanted to use his play as a microcosm to say something about the abuse of power。
Now he tended more and more to see Denker as a Mr。 Chips figure； and the tragedy
was not the intellectual racking of Gary Benson but rather the destruction of a
kindly old teacher and headmaster unable to see through the cynical wiles of
this monster masquerading as a boy。
He hadn't been able to finish the play。
Now he sat looking down at it； scowling； wondering if there was any way he
could salvage the situation。 He didn't really think there was。 He bad begun with
one play and it had somehow turned into another； presto…chango。 Well； what the
hell。 Either way it had been done before。 Either way it was a load of shit。 And
why was he driving himself crazy about it tonight anyway？ After the day just
gone by it was no wonder he couldn't think straight。
〃 — get him down？〃
He looked up； trying to blink the cobwebs away。 〃Huh？〃
〃I said； how are we going to get him down？ We've got to get him out of here；
Jack。〃
For a moment his wits were so scattered that he wasn't even sure what she was
talking about。 Then he realized and uttered a short； barking laugh。
〃You say that as if it were so easy。〃
〃I didn't mean — 〃
〃No problem； Wendy。 I'll just change clothes in that telephone booth down in
the lobby and fly him to Denver on my back。 Superman Jack Torrance； they called
me in my salad days。〃
Her face registered slow hurt。
〃I understand the problem； Jack。 The radio is broken。 The snow 。。。 but you
have to understand Danny's problem。 My God； don't you？ He was nearly catatonic；
Jack！ What if he hadn't e out of that？〃
〃But he did；〃 Jack said； a trifle shortly。 He had been frightened at Danny's
blank…eyed； slack…faced state too； of course he had。 At first。 But the more he
thought about it； the more he wondered if it hadn't been a piece of play…acting
put on to escape his punishment。 He had； after all； been trespassing。
〃All the same；〃 she said。 She came to him and sat on the end of the bed by his
desk。 Her face was both surprised and worried。 〃Jack； the bruises on his neck！
Something got at him！ And I want him away from it！〃
〃Don't shout；〃 he said。 〃My head aches； Wendy。 I'm as worried about th