sk.theshining-第58章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


't　even　shift　toward　the　door　when　Jack　cried　out　〃No！〃　somewhere　in　the　hallway。
　　The　confusion　had　receded　a　little　bit　in　her　mind；　but　she　now　discovered　something　even　worse　behind　it。　Panic。
　　Jack　had　done　this；　she　had　no　doubt　of　it。　His　denials　meant　nothing　to　her。
　　She　thought　it　was　perfectly　possible　that　Jack　had　tried　to　throttle　Danny　in　his　sleep　just　as　he　had　smashed　the　CB　radio　in　his　sleep。　He　was　having　a　breakdown　of　some　kind。　But　what　was　she　going　to　do　about　it？　She　couldn't　stay　locked　in　here　forever。　They　would　have　to　eat。
　　There　was　really　only　one　question；　and　it　was　asked　in　a　mental　voice　of　utter　coldness　and　pragmatism；　the　voice　of　her　maternity；　a　cold　and　passionless　voice　once　it　was　directed　away　from　the　closed　circle　of　mother　and　child　and　out　toward　Jack。　It　was　a　voice　that　spoke　of　self…preservation　only　after　son…preservation　and　its　question　was：　（Exactly　how　dangerous　is　he？）　He　had　denied　doing　it。　He　had　been　horrified　at　the　bruises；　at　Danny's　soft　and　implacable　disconnection。　If　he　had　done　it；　a　separate　section　of　himself　had　been　responsible。　The　fact　that　he　had　done　it　when　he　was　asleep　was…in　a　terrible；　twisted　way…encouraging。　Wasn't　it　possible　that　he　could　be　trusted　to　get　them　out　of　here？　To　get　them　down　and　away。　And　after　that　。　。　。
　　But　she　could　see　no　further　than　she　and　Danny　arriving　safe　at　Dr。　Edmonds's　office　in　Sidewinder。　She　had　no　particular　need　to　see　further。　The　present　crisis　was　more　than　enough　to　keep　her　occupied。
　　She　crooned　to　Danny；　rocking　him　on　her　breasts。　Her　fingers；　on　his　shoulder；　had　noticed　that　his　T…shirt　was　damp；　but　they　had　not　bothered　reporting　the　information　to　her　brain　in　more　than　a　cursory　way。　If　it　had　been　reported；　she　might　have　remembered　that　Jack's　hands；　as　he　had　hugged　her　in　the　office　and　sobbed　against　her　neck；　bad　been　dry。　It　might　have　given　her　pause。　But　her　mind　was　still　on　other　things。　The　decision　had　to　be　made…to　approach　Jack　or　not？
　　Actually　it　was　not　much　of　a　decision。　There　was　nothing　she　could　do　alone；　not　even　carry　Danny　down　to　the　office　and　call　for　help　on　the　CB　radio。　He　had　suffered　a　great　shock。　He　ought　to　be　taken　out　quickly　before　any　permanent　damage　could　be　done。　She　refused　to　let　herself　believe　that　permanent　damage　might　already　have　been　done。
　　And　still　she　agonized　over　it；　looking　for　another　alternative。　She　did　not　want　to　put　Danny　back　within　Jack's　reach。　She　was　aware　now　that　she　had　made　one　bad　decision　when　she　had　gone　against　her　feelings　（and　Danny's）　and　allowed　the　snow　to　close　them　in　。　。　。　for　Jack's　sake。　Another　bad　decision　when　she　had　shelved　the　idea　of　divorce。　Now　she　was　nearly　paralyzed　by　the　idea　that　she　might　be　making　another　mistake；　one　she　would　regret　every　minute　of　every　day　of　the　rest　of　her　life。
　　There　was　not　a　gun　in　the　place。　There　were　knives　hanging　from　the　magnetized　runners　in　the　kitchen；　but　Jack　was　between　her　and　them。
　　In　her　striving　to　make　the　right　decision；　to　find　the　alternative；　the　bitter　irony　of　her　thoughts　did　not　occur：　an　hour　ago　she　had　been　asleep；　firmly　convinced　that　things　were　all　right　and　soon　would　be　even　better。　Now　she　was　considering　the　possibility　of　using　a　butcher　knife　on　her　husband　if　he　tried　to　interfere　with　her　and　her　son。
　　At　last　she　stood　up　with　Danny　in　her　arms；　her　legs　trembling。　There　was　no　other　way。　She　would　have　to　assume　that　Jack　awake　was　Jack　sane；　and　that　he　would　help　her　get　Danny　down　to　Sidewinder　and　Dr。　Edmonds。　And　if　Jack　tried　to　do　anything　but　help；　God　help　him。
　　She　went　to　the　door　and　unlocked　it。　Shifting　Danny　up　to　her　shoulder；　she　opened　it　and　went　out　into　the　hall。
　　〃Jack？〃　she　called　nervously；　and　got　no　answer。
　　With　growing　trepidation　she　walked　down　to　the　stairwell；　but　Jack　was　not　there。　And　as　she　stood　there　on　the　landing；　wondering　what　to　do　next；　the　singing　came　up　from　below；　rich；　angry；　bitterly　satiric：
　　
　　〃Roll　me　over　In　the　clo…ho…ver；　Roll　me　over；　lay　me　down　and　do　it　again。〃
　　
　　She　was　frightened　even　more　by　the　sound　of　him　than　she　had　been　by　his　silence；　but　there　was　still　no　alternative。　She　started　down　the　stairs。
　　　
　　　》
　　〃IT　WAS　HER！〃
　　
　　Jack　had　stood　on　the　stairs；　listening　to　the　crooning；　forting　sounds　ing　muffled　through　the　locked　door；　and　slowly　his　confusion　had　given　way　to　anger。　Things　had　never　really　changed。　Not　to　Wendy。　He　could　be　off　the　juice　for　twenty　years　and　still　when　he　came　home　at　night　and　she　embraced　him　at　the　door；　he　would　see/　sense　that　little　flare　of　her　nostrils　as　she　tried　to　divine　scotch　or　gin　fumes　riding　the　outbound　train　of　his　exhalation。　She　was　always　going　to　assume　the　worst；　if　he　and　Danny　got　in　a　car　accident　with　a　drunken　blindman　who　。had　had　a　stroke　just　before　the　collision；　she　would　silently　blame　Danny's　injuries　on　him　and　turn　away。
　　Her　face　as　she　had　snatched　Danny　away…it　rose　up　before　him　and　he　suddenly　wanted　to　wipe　the　anger　that　had　been　on　it　out　with　his　fist。
　　She　had　no　goddam　right！
　　Yes；　maybe　at　first。　He　had　been　a　lush；　he　had　done　terrible　things。　Breaking　Danny's　arm　had　been　a　terrible　thing。　But　if　a　man　reforms；　doesn't　he　deserve　to　have　his　reformation　credited　sooner　or　later？　And　if　he　doesn't　get　it；　doesn't　he　deserve　the　game　to　go　with　the　name？　If　a　father　constantly　accuses　his　virginal　daughter　of　screwing　every　boy　in　junior　high；　must　she　not　at　last　grow　weary　（enough）　of　it　to　earn　her　scoldings？　And　if　a　wife　secretly…and　not　so　secretly…continues　to　believe　that　her　teetotaling　husband　is　a　drunk　。　。　。
　　He　got　up；　walked　slowly　down　to　the　first…floor　landing；　and　stood　there　for　a　moment。　He　took　his　handkerchief　from　his　back　pocket；　wiped　his　lips　with　it；　and　considered　going　down　and　pounding　on　the　bedroom　door；　demanding　to　be　let　in　so　he　could　see　his　son。　She　had　no　right　to　be　so　goddam　highhanded。
　　Well；　sooner　or　later　she'd　have　to　e　out；　unless　she　planned　a　radical　sort　of　diet　for　the　two　of　them。　A　rather　ugly　grin　touched　his　lips　at　the　thought。　Let　her　e　to　him。　She　would　in　time。
　　He　went　downstairs　to　the　ground　floor；　stood　aimlessly　by　the　lobby　desk　for　a　moment；　then　turned　right。　He　went　into　the　dining　room　and　stood　just　inside　the　door。　The　empty　tables；　their　white　linen　cloths　neatly　cleaned　and　pressed　beneath　their　clear　plastic　covers；　glimmered　up　at　him。　All　was　deserted　now　but
　　
　　（Dinner　Will　Be　Served　at　8　P。M。
　　Unm　asking　and　Dancing　At　Midnight）
　　
　　Jack　walked　among　the　tables；　momentarily　forgetting　his　wife　and　son　upstairs；　forgetting　the　dream；　the　smashed　radio；　the　bruises。　He　trailed　his　fingers　over　the　slick　plastic　dustcovers；　trying　to　imagine　how　it　must　have　been　on　that　hot　August　night　in　1945；　the　war　won；　the　future　stretching　ahead　so　various　and　new；　like　a　land　of　dreams。　The　bright　and　particolored　Japanese　lanterns　hung　the　whole　length　of　the　circular　drive；　the　golden…yellow　light　spilling　from　these　high　windows　that　were　now　drifted　over　with　snow。　Men　and　women　in　costume；　here　a　glittering　princess；　there　a　high…booted　cavalier；　flashing　jewelry　and　flashing　wit　every　where；　dancing；　liquor　flowing　freely；　first　wine　and　then　cocktails　and　then　perhaps　boilermakers　the　level　of　conver　sation　going　up　and　up　and　up　until　the　jolly　cry　rang　out　from　the　bandmaster's　podium；　the　cry　of　〃Unmask！　Unmask！〃　（And　the　Red　Death　held　sway　。　。　。）　He　found　himself　standing　on　the　other　side　of　the　dining　room；　just　outside　the　stylized　batwing　doors　of　the　Colorado　Lounge　where；　on　that　night　in　1945；　all　the　booze　would　have　been　free。
　　（Belly　up　to　the　bar；　pardner；　the　drinks're　on　the　house。）　He　stepped　through　the　batwings　and　into　the　deep；　folded　shadows　of　the　bar。
　　And　a　strange　thing　occurred。　He　had　been　in　here　before；　once　to　check　the　inventory　sheet　Ullman　had　left；　and　he　knew　the　place　had　been　stripped　clean。
　　The　shelves　were　totally　bare。　But　now；　lit　only　murkily　by　the　light　which　filtered　through　from　the　dining　room　（which　was　its