Cambodian Red just waiting in a terminal locker in New York City。 I love this
piece of road just outside the airport。 Even as a kid； story hour was my
favorite part of school。〃
〃Listen； officer； my son is — 〃
〃The only part of the story I can never figure out until the end；〃 the officer
said； finding the right page in his citation book； 〃is the driver's…license
number of the offending motorist/storyteller and his registration information…
So be a nice guy。 Let me peek。〃
Hallorann looked into the cop's calm blue eyes； debated telling his my…son…is…
in…critical…condition story anyway； and decided that would make things worse。
This Smokey was no Queems。 He dug out his wallet。
〃Wonderful；〃 the cop said。 〃Would you take them out for me； please？ I just
have to see how it's all going to e out in the end。〃
Silently； Hallorann took out his driver's license and his Florida registration
and gave them to the traffic cop。
〃That's very good。 That's so good you win a present。〃
〃What？〃 Hallorann asked hopefully。
〃When I finish writing down these numbers； I'm going to let you blow up a
little balloon for me。〃
〃Oh； Jeeeesus！〃 Hallorann moaned。 〃Officer； my flight — 〃
〃Shhhh；〃 the traffic cop said。 〃Don't be naughty。〃
Hallorann closed his eyes。
* * *
He got to the United desk at 6：49； hoping against hope that the flight had
been delayed。 He didn't even have to ask。 The departure monitor over the
ining passengers desk told the story。 Flight 901 for Denver； due out at 6：36
EST； had left at 6：40。 Nine minutes before。
〃Oh shit；〃 Dick Hallorann said。
And suddenly the smell of oranges； heavy and cloying； he had just time to
reach the men's room before it came； deafening； terrified：
（！！！ E PLEASE E DICK PLEASE PLEASE
E ！！！）
》
ON THE STAIRS
One of the things they had sold to swell their liquid assets a little before
moving from Vermont to Colorado was Jack's collection of two hundred old rock
'n' roll and r & b albums； they had gone at the yard sale for a dollar apiece。
One of these albums； Danny's personal favorite； had been an Eddie Cochran
double…record set with four pages of bound…in liner notes by Lenny Kaye。 Wendy
had often been struck by Danny's fascination for this one particular album by a
manboy who had lived fast and died young 。。。 had died； in fact； when she
herself had only been ten years old。
Now； at quarter past seven （mountain time）； as Dick Hallorann was telling
Queems about his ex…wife's white boyfriend； she came upon Danny sitting halfway
up the stairs between the lobby and the first floor； tossing a red rubber ball
from hand to band and singing one of the songs from that album。 His voice was
low and tuneless。
〃So I climb one…two flight three flight four；〃 Danny sang； 〃five flight six
flight seven flight more 。。。 when I get to the top； I'm too tired to rock 。。。。〃
She came around him； sat down on one of the stair risers； and saw that his
lower lip had swelled to twice its size and that there was dried blood on his
chin。 Her heart took a frightened leap in her chest； but she managed to speak
neutrally。
〃What happened； doc？〃 she asked； although she was sure she knew。 Jack had hit
him。 Well； of course。 That came next； didn't it？ The wheels of progress； sooner
or later they took you back to where you started from。
〃I called Tony；〃 Danny said。 〃In the ballroom。 I guess I fell off the chair。
It doesn't hurt anymore。 Just feels 。。。 like my lip's too big。〃
〃Is that what really happened？〃 she asked； looking at him； troubled。
〃Daddy didn't do it；〃 he answered。 〃Not today。〃
She gazed at him； feeling eerie。 The ball traveled from one band to the other。
He had read her mind。 Her son had read her mind。
〃What 。。。 what did Tony tell you； Danny？〃
〃It doesn't matter。〃 His face was calm； his voice chillingly indifferent。
〃Danny — 〃 She gripped his shoulder； harder than she had intended。 But he
didn't wince； or even try to shake her off。
（Oh we are wrecking this boy。 It's not just Jack； it's me too； and maybe it's
not even just us； Jack's father； my mother； are they here too？ Sure； why not？
The place is lousy with ghosts anyway； why not a couple more？ Oh Lord in heaven
he's like one of those suitcases they show on TV； run over； dropped from planes；
going through factory crushers。 Or a Timex watch。 Takes a licking and keeps on
ticking。 Oh Danny I'm so sorry）
〃It doesn't matter；〃 he said again。 The ball went from hand to hand。 〃Tony
can't e anymore。 They won't let him。 He's licked。〃
〃Who won't？〃
〃The people in the hotel；〃 he said。 He looked at her then； and his eyes
weren't indifferent at all。 They were deep and scared。 〃And the 。。。 the things
in the hotel。 There's all kinds of them。 The hotel is stuffed with them。〃
〃You can see — 〃
〃I don't want to see；〃 he said low； and then looked back at the rubber ball；
arcing from hand to hand。 〃But I can hear them sometimes； late at night。 They're
like the wind； all sighing together。 In the attic。 The basement。 The rooms。 All
over。 I thought it was my fault； because of the way I am。 The key。 The little
silver key。〃
〃Danny； don't 。。。 don't upset yourself this way。〃
〃But it's him too；〃 Danny said。 〃It's Daddy。 And it's you。 It wants all of us。
It's tricking Daddy； it's fooling him； trying to make him think it wants him the
most。 It wants me the most； but it will take all of us。〃
〃If only that snowmobile — 〃
〃They wouldn't let him；〃 Danny said in that same low voice。 〃They made him
throw part of it away into the snow。 Far away。 I dreamed it。 And he knows that
woman really is in 217。〃 He looked at her with his dark； frightened eyes。 〃It
doesn't matter whether you believe me or not。〃
She slipped an arm around him。
〃I believe you； Danny； tell me the truth。 Is Jack 。。。 is he going to try to
hurt us？〃
〃They'll try to make him；〃 Danny said。 〃I've been calling for Mr。 Hallorann。
He said if I ever needed him to just call。 And I have been。 But it's awful hard。
It makes me tired。 And the worst part is I don't know if he's hearing me or not。
I don't think he can call back because it's too far for him。 And I don't know if
it's too far for me or not。 Tomorrow — 〃
〃What about tomorrow？〃
He shook his head。 〃Nothing。〃
〃Where is he now？〃 she asked。 〃Your daddy？〃
〃He's in the basement。 I don't think he'll be up tonight。〃
She stood up suddenly。 〃Wait right here for me。 Five minutes。〃
* * *
The kitchen was cold and deserted under the overhead fluorescent bars。 She
went to the rack where the carving knives hung from their magnetized strips。 She
took the longest and sharpest； wrapped it in a dish towel； and left the kitchen；
turning off the lights as she went。
* * *
Danny sat on the stairs； his eyes following the course of his red rubber ball
from hand to hand。 He sang： 〃She lives on the twentieth floor uptown； the
elevator is broken down。 So I walk one…two flight three flight four。 。 ：'
（ — Lou； Lou； skip to m' Lou — ）
His singing broke off。 He listened。
（ — Skip to m' Lou my darlin' — ）
The voice was in his head； so much a part of him； so frighteningly close that
it might have been a part of his own thoughts。 It was soft and infinitely sly。
Mocking him。 Seeming to say：
（Oh yes； you'll like it here。 Try it； you'll like it。 Try it； you'll liiiiike
it — ）
Now his ears were open and he could hear them again； the gathering； ghosts or
spirits or maybe the hotel itself； a dreadful funhouse where all the sideshows
ended in death； where all the specially painted boogies were really alive； where
hedges walked； where a small silver key could start the obscenity。 Soft and
sighing； rustling like the endless winter wind that played under the eaves at
night； the deadly lulling wind the summer tourists never heard。 It was like the
somnolent hum of summer wasps in a ground nest； sleepy； deadly； beginning to
wake up。 They were ten thousand feet high。
（Why is a raven like a writing desk？ The higher the fewer； of course！ Have
another cup of tea！）
It was a living sound； but not voices； not breath。 A man of a philosophical
bent might have called it the sound of souls。 Dick Hallorann's Nana； who had
grown up on southern roads in the years before the turn of the century； would
have called it ha'ants。 A psychic investigator might have had a long name for
it — psychic echo； psychokinesis； a telesmic sport。 But to Danny it was only the
sound of the hotel； the old monster； creaking steadily and ever more closely
around them： halls that now stretched back through time as well as distance；
hungry shadows； unquiet guests who did not rest easy。
In the darkened ballroom the clock under glass struck seven…thirty with a
single musical note。
A hoarse voice； made brutal with drink； shouted： 〃Unmask and let's fuck！〃
Wendy； halfway acros