〃Don't shout；〃 he said。 〃My head aches； Wendy。 I'm as worried about this as
you are； so please 。。。 don't 。。。 shout。〃
〃All right；〃 she said； lowering her voice。 〃I won't shout。 But I don't
understand you； Jack。 Someone is in here with us。 And not a very nice someone；
either。 We have to get down to Sidewinder； not just Danny but all of us。
Quickly。 And you 。。。 you're sitting there reading your play！〃
〃 'We have to get down； we have to get down；' you keep saying that。 You must
think I really am Superman。〃
〃I think you're my husband；〃 she said softly； and looked down at her hands。
His temper flared。 He slammed the playscript down； knocking the edges of the
pile out of true again and crumpling the sheets on the bottom。
〃It's time you got some of the home truths into you； Wendy。 You don't seem to
have internalized them； as the sociologists say。 They're knocking around up in
your head like a bunch of loose cueballs。 You need to shoot them into the
pockets。 You need to understand that we are snowed in。〃
Danny had suddenly bee active in his bed。 Still sleeping； he had begun to
twist and turn。 The way he always did when we fought； Wendy thought dismally。
And we're doing it again。
〃Don't wake him up； Jack。 Please。〃
He glanced over at Danny and some of the flush went out of his cheeks。 〃Okay。
I'm sorry。 I'm sorry I sounded mad； Wendy。 It's not really for you。 But I broke
the radio。 If it's anybody's fault it's mine。 That was our big link to the
outside。 Olly…olly…in…for…free。 Please e get us； Mister Ranger。 We can't stay
out this late。〃
〃Don't；〃 she said； and put a hand on his shoulder。 He leaned his head against
it。 She brushed his hair with her other hand。 〃I guess you've got a right； after
what I accused you of。 Sometimes I am like my mother。 I can be a bitch。 But you
have to understand that 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。〃
* * *
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 m