and became a giant； grinning skull over two crossed bones：
〃Poison；〃 Tony said from the floating darkness。 〃Poison。〃
Other signs flickered past his eyes； some in green letters； some of them on
boards stuck at leaning angles into the snowdrifts。 NO SWIMMING。 DANGER！ LIVE
WIRES。 THIS PROPERTY CONDEMNED。 HIGH VOLTAGE。 THIRD RAIL。 DANGER OF
DEATH。 KEEP
OFF。 KEEP OUT。 NO TRESPASSING。 VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT。 He
understood
none of them pletely — he couldn't read！ — but got a sense of all； and a dreamy
terror floated into the dark hollows of his body like light brown spores that
would die in sunlight。
They faded。 Now he was in a room filled with strange furniture； a room that
was dark。 Snow spattered against the windows like thrown sand。 His mouth was
dry； his eyes like hot marbles； his heart triphammering in his chest。 Outside
there was a hollow booming noise； like a dreadful door being thrown wide。
Footfalls。 Across the room was a mirror； and deep down in its silver bubble a
single word appeared in green fire and that word was： REDRUM。
The room faded。 Another room。 He knew
（would know）
this one。 An overturned chair。 A broken window with snow swirling in； already
it had frosted the edge of the rug。 The drapes had been pulled free and hung on
their broken rod at an angle。 A low cabinet lying on its face。
More hollow booming noises； steady； rhythmic； horrible。 Smashing glass。
Approaching destruction。 A hoarse voice； the voice of a madman； made the more
terrible by its familiarity：
e 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； doc。 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。 He had left the house in terror that he might strike them。 Had ended up
outside a bar； and the only thing that had kept him from going in was the
knowledge that if he did； Wendy would leave him at last； and take