sk.theshining-第85部分

快捷操作: 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! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

they　could　have　the　father？…but　employers　often　had　foolish　ideas　and　that　was　the　condition　that　had　been　made。
　　He　wasn't　going　to　be　able　to　reason　with　her；　he　could　see　that　now。　He　had　tried　to　reason　with　her　in　the　Colorado　Lounge；　and　she　had　refused　to　listen；　had　hit　him　over　the　head　with　a　bottle　for　his　pains。　But　there　would　be　another　time；　and　soon。　He　would　get　out　of　here。
　　He　suddenly　held　his　breath　and　cocked　his　head。　Somewhere　a　piano　was　playing　boogie…woogie　and　people　were　laughing　and　clapping　along。　The　sound　was　muffled　through　the　heavy　wooden　door；　but　audible。　The　song　was　〃There'll　Be　a　Hot　Time　in　the　Old　Town　Tonight。〃　His　hands　curled　helplessly　into　fists；　he　had　to　restrain　himself　from　battering　at　the　door　with　them。　The　party　had　begun　again。　The　liquor　would　be　flowing　freely。　Somewhere；　dancing　with　someone　else；　would　be　the　girl　who　had　felt　so　maddeningly　nude　under　her　white　silk　gown。
　　〃You'll　pay　for　this！〃　he　howled。　〃Goddam　you　two；　you'll　pay！　You'll　take　your　goddam　medicine　for　this；　I　promise　you！　You…〃
　　〃Here；　here；　now；〃　a　mild　voice　said　just　outside　the　door；　〃No　need　to　shout；　old　fellow。　I　can　hear　you　perfectly　well。〃　Jack　lurched　to　his　feet
　　〃Grady？　Is　that　you？〃
　　〃Yes；　sir。　Indeed　it　is。　You　appear　to　have　been　locked　in。〃
　　〃Let　me　out；　Grady。　Quickly。〃
　　〃I　see　you　can　hardly　have　taken　care　of　the　business　we　discussed；　sir。　The　correction　of　your　wife　and　son。〃
　　〃They're　the　ones　who　locked　me　in。　Pull　the　bolt；　for　God's　sake！〃
　　〃You　let　them　lock　you　in？〃　Grady's　voice　registered　wellbred　surprise。　〃Oh；　dear。　A　woman　half　your　size　and　a　little　boy？　Hardly　sets　you　off　as　being　of　top　managerial　timber；　does　it？〃　A　pulse　began　to　beat　in　the　clockspring　of　veins　at　Jack's　right　temple。　〃Let　me　out；　Grady。　I'll　take　care　of　them。〃
　　〃Will　you　indeed；　sir？　I　wonder。〃　Well…bred　surprise　was　replaced　by　well…bred　regret。　〃I'm　pained　to　say　that　I　doubt　it。　I…and　others…have　really　e　to　believe　that　your　heart　is　not　in　this；　sir。　That　you　haven't　the　。　。　。　the　belly　for　it〃
　　〃I　do！〃　Jack　shouted。　〃I　do；　I　swear　it！〃
　　〃You　would　bring　us　your　son？〃
　　〃Yes！　Yes！〃
　　〃Your　wife　would　object　to　that　very　strongly；　Mr。　Torrance。　And　she　appears　to　be　。　。　。　somewhat　stronger　than　we　had　imagined。　Somewhat　more　resourceful。
　　She　certainly　seems　to　have　gotten　the　better　of　you。〃　Grady　tittered。
　　〃Perhaps；　Mr。　Torrance；　we　should　have　been　dealing　with　her　all　along。〃
　　〃I'll　bring　him；　I　swear　it；〃　Jack　said。　His　face　was　against　the　door　now。　He　was　sweating。　〃She　won't　object。　I　swear　she　won't。　She　won't　be　able　to。〃
　　〃You　would　have　to　kill　her；　I　fear；〃　Grady　said　coldly。
　　〃I'll　do　what　I　have　to　do。　Just　let　me　out。〃
　　〃You'll　give　your　word　on　it；　sir？〃　Grady　persisted。
　　〃My　word；　my　promise；　my　sacred　vow；　whatever　in　hell　you　want。　If　you…〃　There　was　a　flat　snap　as　the　bolt　was　drawn　back。　The　door　shivered　open　a　quarter　of　an　inch。　Jack's　words　and　breath　halted。　For　a　moment　he　felt　that　death　itself　was　outside　that　door。
　　The　feeling　passed。
　　He　whispered：　〃Thank　you；　Grady。　I　swear　you　won't　regret　it。　I　swear　you　won't。〃　There　was　no　answer。　He　became　aware　that　all　sounds　had　stopped　except　for　the　cold　swooping　of　the　wind　outside。
　　He　pushed　the　pantry　door　open；　the　hinges　squealed　faintly。
　　The　kitchen　was　empty。　Grady　was　gone。　Everything　was　still　and　frozen　beneath　the　cold　white　glare　of　the　fluorescent　bars。　His　eyes　caught　on　the　large　chopping　block　where　the　three　of　them　had　eaten　their　meals。
　　Standing　on　top　of　it　was　a　martini　glass；　a　fifth　of　gin；　and　a　plastic　dish　filled　with　olives。
　　Leaning　against　it　was　one　of　the　roque　mallets　from　the　equipment　shed。
　　He　looked　at　it　for　a　long　time。
　　Then　a　voice　much　deeper　and　much　more　powerful　than　Grady's；　spoke　from　somewhere；　everywhere　。　。　。　from　inside　him。
　　（Keep　your　promise；　Mr。　Torrance。）
　　〃I　will；〃　he　said。　He　heard　the　fawning　servility　in　his　own　voice　but　was　unable　to　control　it。　〃I　will。〃　He　walked　to　the　chopping　block　and　put　his　hand　on　the　handle　of　the　mallet。
　　He　hefted　it。
　　Swung　it。
　　It　hissed　viciously　through　the　air。
　　Jack　Torrance　began　to　smile。
　　　
　　　》
　　HALLORANN；　GOING　UP　THE　COUNTRY
　　
　　It　was　quarter　of　two　in　the　afternoon　and　according　to　the　snow…clotted　signs　and　the　Hertz　Buick's　odometer；　he　was　less　than　three　miles　from　Estes　Park　when　he　finally　went　off　the　road。
　　In　the　hills；　the　snow　was　falling　faster　and　more　furiously　than　Hallorann　had　ever　seen　（which　was；　perhaps；　not　to　say　a　great　deal；　since　Hallorann　had　seen　as　little　snow　as　he　could　manage　in　his　lifetime）；　and　the　wind　was　blowing　a　capricious　gale…now　from　the　west；　now　backing　around　to　the　north；　sending　clouds　of　powdery　snow　across　his　field　of　vision；　making　him　coldly　aware　again　and　again　that　if　he　missed　a　turn　he　might　well　plunge　two　hundred　feet　off　the　road；　the　Electra　cartwheeling　ass　over　teapot　as　it　went　down。
　　Making　it　worse　was　his　own　amateur　status　as　a　winter　driver。　It　scared　him　to　have　the　yellow　center　line　buried　under　swirling；　drifting　snow；　and　it　scared　him　when　the　heavy　gusts　of　wind　came　unimpeded　through　the　notches　in　the　hills　and　actually　made　the　heavy　Buick　slew　around。　It　scared　him　that　the　road　information　signs　were　mostly　masked　with　snow　and　you　could　flip　a　coin　as　to　whether　the　road　was　going　to　break　right　or　left　up　ahead　in　the　white　drive…in　movie　screen　he　seemed　to　be　driving　through。　He　was　scared；　all　right。　He　had　driven　in　a　cold　sweat　since　climbing　into　the　hills　west　of　Boulder　and　Lyons；　handling　the　accelerator　and　brake　as　if　they　were　Ming　vases。　Between　rock　'n'　roll　tunes　on　the　radio；　the　disc　jockey　constantly　adjured　motorists　to　stay　off　the　main　highways　and　under　no　conditions　to　go　into　the　mountains；　because　many　roads　were　impassable　and　all　of　them　were　dangerous。　Scores　of　minor　accidents　had　been　reported；　and　two　serious　ones：　a　party　of　skiers　in　a　VW　microbus　and　a　family　that　had　been　bound　for　Albuquerque　through　the　Sangre　de　Cristo　Mountains。　The　bined　score　on　both　was　four　dead　and　five　wounded。　〃So　stay　off　those　roads　and　get　into　the　good　music　here　at　KTLK；〃　the　jock　concluded　cheerily；　and　then　pounded　Hallorann's　misery　by　playing　〃Seasons　in　the　Sun。〃　〃We　had　joy；　we　had　fun；　we　had…〃　Terry　Jacks　gibbered　happily；　and　Hallorann　snapped　the　radio　off　viciously；　knowing　he　would　have　it　back　on　in　five　minutes。　No　matter　how　bad　it　was；　it　was　better　than　riding　alone　through　this　white　madness。
　　（Admit　it。　Dis　heap　black　boy　has　got　at　least　one　long　stripe　of　yaller　。　。　。
　　and　it　runs　rant　up　his　ebberlubbin　back！）　It　wasn't　even　funny。　He　would　have　backed　off　before　he　even　cleared　Boulder　if　it　hadn't　been　for　his　pulsion　that　the　boy　was　in　terrible　trouble。　Even　now　a　small　voice　in　the　back　of　his　skull…more　the　voice　of　reason　than　of　cowardice；　he　thought…was　telling　him　to　hole　up　in　an　Estes　Park　motel　for　the　night　and　wait　for　the　plows　to　at　least　expose　the　center　stripe　again。　That　voice　kept　reminding　him　of　the　jet's　shaky　landing　at　Stapleton；　of　that　sinking　feeling　that　it　was　going　to　e　in　nose…first；　delivering　its　passengers　to　the　gates　of　hell　rather　than　at　Gate　39；　Concourse　B。　But　reason　would　not　stand　against　the　pulsion。　It　had　to　be　today。　The　snowstorm　was　his　own　bad　luck。　He　would　have　to　cope　with　it。　He　was　afraid　that　if　he　didn't；　he　might　have　something　much　worse　to　cope　with　in　his　dreams。
　　The　wind　gusted　again；　this　time　from　the　northeast；　a　little　English　on　the　ball　if　you　please；　and　he　was　again　cut　off　from　the　vague　shapes　of　the　hills　and　even　from　the　embankments　on　either　side　of　the　road。　He　was　driving　through　white　null。
　　And　then　the　high　sodium　lights　of　the　snowplow　loomed　out　of　the　soup；　bearing　down；　and　to　his　horror　he　saw　that　instead　of　being　to　one　side；　the　Buick's　nose　was　pointed　directly　between　those　headlamps。　The　plow　was　being　none　too　choosy　about　keeping　its　own　side　of　the　road；　and　Hallorann　had　allowed　the　Buick　to　drift。
　　The　grinding　roar　of　the　plow's　diesel　engine　intruded　over　the　bellow　of　the　wind；　and　then　the　sound　of　its　airhorn；　hard；　long；　almost　deafening。
　　Hallorann's　testicles　turned　into　two　small　wrinkled　sacs　filled　with　shaved　ice。　His　guts　seemed　to　have　been　transformed　into　a　large　mass　of　Silly　Putty。
　　Color　was　materializing　out　of　the　white　now；　snow…clotted　orange。　He　could　see　the　high　cab；　even　the　gesticulating　figure　of　the　driver　behind　the　single　long　wiper　blade。　He　could　see　the　V　shape　of　the　plow's　wing　blades；　spewing　more　snow　up　onto　the　road's　left…hand　embankment　like　pallid；　smoking　exhaust。
　　WHAAAAAAAAA！　the　airhorn　bellowed　indignantly。
　　He　squeezed　the　accelerator　like　the　breast　of　a　muchloved　woman　and　the　Buick　scooted　forward　and　toward　the　right。　There　was　no　embankment　over　here；　the　plows　headed　up　instead　of　down　had　only　to　push　the　snow　directly　over　the　drop。
　　（The　drop；　ah　yes；　the　drop…）　The　wingblades　on　Hallorann's　left；　fully　four　feet　higher　than　the　E