The elevator whirred into sudden life. It was coming up. And Danny knew whowhatwas in it. He bolted to his feet, eyes staring wildly. Panic clutched around his heart. Why had Tony sent him to the third floor? He was trapped up here. All the doors were locked. The attic! There was an attic, he knew. He had come up here with Daddy the day he had salted the rattraps around up there. He hadnt allowed Danny to come up with him because of the rats. He was afraid Danny might be bitten. But the trapdoor which led to the attic was set into the ceiling of the last short corridor in this wing. There was a pole leaning against the wall. Daddy had pushed the trapdoor open with the pole, there had been a ratcheting whir of counterweights as the door went up and a ladder had swung down. If he could get up there and pull the ladder after him  Somewhere in the maze of corridors behind him, the elevator came to a stop. There was a metallic, rattling crash as the gate was thrown back. And then a voicenot in his head now but terribly realcalled out Danny? Danny, come here a minute, will you? Youve done something wrong and I want you to come and take your medicine like a man. Danny? Danny! Obedience was so strongly ingrained in him that he actually took two automatic steps toward the sound of that voice before stopping. His hands curled into fists at his sides. (Not real! False face! I know what you are! Take off your mask!) Danny! it roared. Come here, you pup! Come here and take it like a man! A loud, hollow boom as the mallet struck the wall. When the voice roared out his name again it had changed location. It had come closer. In the world of real things, the hunt was beginning. Danny ran. Feet silent on the heavy carpet, he ran past the closed doors, past the silk figured wallpaper, past the fire extinguisher bolted to the corner of the wall. He hesitated, and then plunged down the final corridor. Nothing at the end but a bolted door, and nowhere left to run. But the pole was still there, still leaning against the wall where Daddy had left it. Danny snatched it up. He craned his neck to stare up at the trapdoor. There was a hook on the end of the pole and you had to catch it on a ring set into the trapdoor. You had to There was a brandnew Yale padlock dangling from the trapdoor. The lock Jack Torrance had clipped around the hasp after laying his traps, just in case his son should take the notion into his head to go exploring up there someday. Locked. Terror swept him. Behind him it was coming, blundering and staggering past the Presidential Suite, the mallet whistling viciously through the air. Danny backed up against the last closed door and waited for it. CHAPTER FIFTYFIVE THAT WHICH WAS FORGOTTEN Wendy came to a little at a time, the grayness draining away, pain replacing it her back, her leg, her side  she didnt think she would be able to move. Even her fingers hurt, and at first she didnt know why. (The razor blade, thats why.) Her blond hair, now dank and matted, hung in her eyes. She brushed it away and her ribs stabbed inside, making her groan. Now she saw a field of blue and white mattress, spotted with blood. Her blood, or maybe Jacks. Either way it was still fresh. She hadnt been out long. And that was important because (?Why?) Because It was the insectile, buzzing sound of the motor that she remembered first. For a moment she fixed stupidly on the memory, and then in a single vertiginous and nauseating swoop, her mind seemed to pan back, showing her everything at once. Hallorann. It must have been Hallorann. Why else would Jack have left so suddenly, without finishing it  without finishing her? Because he was no longer at leisure. He had to find Danny quickly and  and do it before Hallorann could put a stop to it. Or had it happened already? She could hear the whine of the elevator rising up the shaft. (No God please no the blood the bloods still fresh dont let it have happened already) Somehow she was able to find her feet and stagger through the bedroom and across the ruins of the living room to the shattered front door. She pushed it open and made it out into the hall. Danny! she cried, wincing at the pain in her chest. Mr. Hallorann! Is anybody there? Anybody? The elevator had been running again and now it came to a stop. She heard the metallic crash of the gate being thrown back and then thought she heard a speaking voice. It might have been her imagination. The wind was too loud to really be able to tell. Leaning against the wall, she made her way up to the corner of the short hallway. She was about to turn the corner when the scream froze her, floating down the stairwell and the elevator shaft Danny! Come here, you pup! Come here and take it like a man! Jack. On the second or third floor. Looking for Danny. She got around the corner, stumbled, almost fell. Her breath caught in her throat. Something (someone?) huddled against the wall about a quarter of the way down from the stairwell. She began to hurry faster, wincing every time her weight came down on her hurt leg. It was a man, she saw, and as she drew closer, she understood the meaning of that buzzing motor. It was Mr. Hallorann. He had come after all. She eased to her knees beside him, offering up an incoherent prayer that he was not dead. His nose was bleeding, and a terrible gout of blood had spilled out of his mouth. The side of his face was a puffed purple bruise. But he was breathing, thank God for that. It was coming in long, harsh draws that shook his whole frame. Looking at him more closely, Wendys eyes widened. One arm of the parka he was wearing was blackened and singed. One side of it had been ripped open. There was blood in his hair and a shallow but ugly scratch down the back of his neck. (My God, whats happened to him?) Danny! the hoarse, petulant voice roared from above them. Get out here, goddammit! There was no time to wonder about it now. She began to shake him, her face twisting at the flare of agony in her ribs. Her side felt hot and massive and swollen. (What if theyre poking my lung whenever I move?) There was no help for that, either. If Jack found Danny, he would kill him, beat him to death with that mallet as he had tried to do to her. So she shook Hallorann, and then began to slap the unbruised side of his face lightly. Wake up, she said. Mr. Hallorann, youve got to wake up. Please  please  From overhead, the restless booming sounds of the mallet as Jack Torrance looked for his son. Danny stood with his back against the door, looking at the right angle where the hallways joined. The steady, irregular booming sound of the mallet against the walls grew louder. The thing that was after him screamed and howled and cursed. Dream and reality had joined together without a seam. It came around the corner. In a way, what Danny felt was relief. It was not his father. The mask of face and body had been ripped and shredded and made into a bad joke. It was not his daddy, not this Saturday Night Shock Show horror with its rolling eyes and hunched and hulking shoulders and blooddrenched shirt. It was not his daddy. Now, by God, it breathed. It wiped its lips with a shaking hand. Now youll find out who is the boss around here. Youll see. Its not you they want. Its me. Me. Me! It slashed out with the scarred hammer, its double head now shapeless and splintered with countless impacts. It struck the wall, cutting a circle in the silk paper. Plaster dust puffed out. It began to grin. Lets see you pull any of your fancy tricks now, it muttered. I wasnt born yesterday, you know. Didnt just fall off the hay truck, by God. Im going to do my fatherly duty by you, boy. Danny said Youre not my daddy. It stopped. For a moment it actually looked uncertain, as if not sure who or what it was. Then it began to walk again. The hammer whistled out, struck a door panel and made it boom hollowly. Youre a liar, it said. Who else would I be? I have the two birthmarks, I have the cupped navel, even the pecker, my boy. Ask your mother. Youre a mask, Danny said. Just a false face. The only reason the hotel needs to use you is that you arent as dead as the others. But when its done with you, you wont be anything at all. You dont scare me. Ill scare you! it howled. The mallet whistled fiercely down, smashing into the rug between Dannys feet. Danny didnt flinch. You lied about me! You connived with her! You plotted against me! And you cheated! You copied that final exam! The eyes glared out at him from beneath the furred brows. There was an expression of lunatic cunning in them. Ill find it, too. Its down in the basement somewhere. Ill find it. They promised me I could look all I want. It raised the mallet again. Yes, they promise, Danny said, but they lie. The mallet hesitated at the top of its swing. Hallorann had begun to come around, but Wendy had stopped patting his cheeks. A moment ago the words You cheated! You copied that final exam! had floated down through the elevator shaft, dim, barely audible over the wind. From somewhere deep in the west wing. She was nearly convinced they were on the third floor and that Jackwhatever had taken possession of Jackhad found Danny. There was nothing she or Hallorann could do now. Oh doc, she murmured. Tears blurred her eyes. Son of a bitch broke my jaw, Hallorann muttered thickly, and my head  He worked to sit up. His right eye was purpling rapidly and swelling shut. Still, he saw Wendy. Missus Torrance Shhhh, she said. Where is the boy, Missus Torrance? On the third floor, she said. With his father. They lie, Danny said again. Something had gone through his mind, flashing like a meteor, too quick, too bright to catch and hold. Only the tail of the thought remained. (its down in the basement somewhere) (you will remember what your father forgot) You  you shouldnt speak that way to your father, it said hoarsely. The mallet trembled, came down. Youll only make things worse for yourself. Your  your punishment. Worse. It staggered drunkenly and stared at him with maudlin selfpity that began to turn to hate. The mallet began to rise again. Youre not my daddy, Danny told it again. And if theres a little bit of my daddy left inside you, he knows they lie here. Everything is a lie and a cheat. Like the loaded dice my daddy got for my Christmas stocking last Christmas, like the presents they put in the store windows and my daddy says theres nothing in them, no presents, theyre just empty boxes. Just for show, my daddy says. Youre it, not my daddy. Youre the hotel. And when you get what you want, you wont give my daddy anything because youre selfish. And my daddy knows that. You had to make him drink the Bad Stuff. Thats the only way you could get him, you lying false face. Liar! Liar! The words came in a thin shriek. The mallet wavered wildly in the air. Go on and hit me. But youll never get what you want from me. The face in front of him changed. It was hard to say how; there was no melting or merging of the features. The body trembled slightly, and then the bloody hands opened like broken claws. The mallet fell from them and thumped to the rug. That was all. But suddenly his daddy was there, looking at him in mortal agony, and a sorrow so great that Dannys heart flamed within his chest. The mouth drew down in a quivering bow. Doc, Jack Torrance said. Run away. Quick. And remember how much I love you. No, Danny said. Oh Danny, for Gods sake No, Danny said. He took one of his fathers bloody hands and kissed it. Its almost over. Hallorann got to his feet by propping his back against the wall and pushing himself up. He and Wendy stared at each other like nightmare survivors from a bombed hospital. We got to get up there, he said. We have to help him. Her haunted eyes stared into his from her chalkpale face. Its too late, Wendy said. Now he can only help himself. A minute passed, then two. Three. And they heard it above them, screaming, not in anger or triumph now, but in mortal terror. Dear God, Hallorann whispered. Whats happening? I dont know, she said. Has it killed him? I dont know. The elevator clashed into life and began to descend with the screaming, raving thing penned up inside. Danny stood without moving. There was no place he could run where the Overlook was not. He recognized it suddenly, fully, painlessly. For the first time in his life he had an adult thought, an adult feeling, the essence of his experience in this bad placea sorrowful distillation (Mommy and Daddy cant help me and Im alone.) Go away, he said to the bloody stranger in front of him. Go on. Get out of here. It bent over, exposing the knife handle in its back. Its hands closed around the mallet again, but instead of aiming at Danny, it reversed the handle, aiming the hard side of the roque mallet at its own face. Understanding rushed through Danny. Then the mallet began to rise and descend, destroying the last of Jack Torrances image. The thing in the hall danced an eerie, shuffling polka, the beat counterpointed by the hideous sound of the mallet head striking again and again. Blood splattered across the wallpaper. Shards of bone leaped into the air like broken piano keys. It was impossible to say just how long it went on. But when it turned its attention back to Danny, his father was gone forever. What remained of the face became a strange, shifting composite, many faces mixed imperfectly into one. Danny saw the woman in 217; the dogman; the hungry boything that had been in the concrete ring. Masks off, then, it whispered. No more interruptions. The mallet rose for the final time. A ticking sound filled Dannys ears. Anything else to say? it inquired. Are you sure you wouldnt like to run? A game of tag, perhaps? All we have is time, you know. An eternity of time. Or shall we end it? Might as well. After all were missing the party. It grinned with brokentoothed greed. And it came to him. What his father had forgotten. Sudden triumph filled his face; the thing saw it and hesitated, puzzled. The boiler! Danny screamed. It hasnt been dumped since this morning! Its going up! Its going to explode! An expression of grotesque terror and dawning realization swept across the broken features of the thing in front of him. The mallet dropped from its fisted hands and bounced harmlessly on the blackandblue rug. The boiler! it cried. Oh no! That cant be allowed! Certainly not! No! You goddamned little pup! Certainly not! Oh, oh, oh It is! Danny cried back at it fiercely. He began to shuffle and shake his fists at the ruined thing before him. Any minute now! I know it! The boiler, Daddy forgot the boiler! And you forgot it, too! No, oh no, it musnt, it cant, you dirty little boy, Ill make you take your medicine, Ill make you take every drop, oh no, oh no It suddenly turned tail and began to shamble away. For a moment its shadow bobbed on the wall, waxing and waning. It trailed cries behind itself like wornout party streamers. Moments later the elevator crashed into life. Suddenly the shining was on him. (mommy mr. hallorann dick to my friends together alive theyre alive got to get out its going to blow going to blow skyhigh) like a fierce and glaring sunrise and he ran. One foot kicked the bloody, misshapen roque mallet aside. He didnt notice. Crying, he ran for the stairs. They had to get out. CHAPTER FIFTYSIX THE EXPLOSION Hallorann could never be sure of the progression of things after that. He remembered that the elevator had gone down and past them without stopping, and something had been inside. But he made no attempt to try to see in through the small diamondshaped window, because what was in there did not sound human. A moment later there were running footsteps on the stairs. Wendy Torrance at first shrank back against him and then began to stumble down the main corridor to the stairs as fast as she could. Danny! Danny! Oh, thank God! Thank God! She swept him into a hug, groaning with joy as well as her pain. (Danny.) Danny looked at him from his mothers arms, and Hallorann saw how the boy had changed. His face was pale and pinched, his eyes dark and fathomless. He looked as if he had lost weight. Looking at the two of them together, Hallorann thought it was the mother who looked younger, in spite of the terrible beating she had taken. (Dickwe have to gorunthe placeits going to) Picture of the Overlook, flames leaping out of its roof. Bricks raining down on the snow. Clang of firebells  not that any fire truck would be able to get up here much before the end of March. Most of all what came through in Dannys thought was a sense of urgent immediacy, a feeling that it was going to happen at any time. All right, Hallorann said. He began to move toward the two of them and at first it was like swimming through deep water. His sense of balance was screwed, and the eye on the right side of his face didnt want to focus. His jaw was sending giant throbbing bursts of pain up to his temple and down his neck, and his cheek felt as large as a cabbage. But the boys urgency had gotten him going, and it got a little easier. All right? Wendy asked. She looked from Hallorann to her son and back to Hallorann. What do you mean, all right? We have to go, Hallorann said. Im not dressed  my clothes  Danny darted out of her arms then and raced down the corridor. She looked after him and, as he vanished around the corner, back at Hallorann. What if he comes back? Your husband? Hes not Jack, she muttered. Jacks dead. This place killed him. This damned place. She struck at the wall with her fist and cried out at the pain in her cut fingers. Its the boiler, isnt it? Yes, maam. Danny says its going to explode. Good. The word was uttered with dead finality. I dont know if I can get down those stairs again. My ribs  he broke my ribs. And something in my back. It hurts. Youll make it, Hallorann said. Well all make it. But suddenly he remembered the hedge animals and wondered what they would do if they were guarding the way out. Then Danny was coming back. He had Wendys boots and coat and gloves, also his own coat and gloves. Danny, she said. Your boots. Its too late, he said. His eyes stared at them with a desperate kind of madness. He looked at Dick and suddenly Halloranns mind was fixed with an image of a clock under a glass dome, the clock in the ballroom that had been donated by a Swiss diplomat in 1949. The hands of the clock were standing at a minute to midnight. Oh my God, Hallorann said. Oh my dear God. He clapped an arm around Wendy and picked her up. He clapped his other arm around Danny. He ran for the stairs. Wendy shrieked in pain as he squeezed the bad ribs, as something in her back ground together, but Hallorann did not slow. He plunged down the stairs with them in his arms. One eye wide and desperate, the other puffed shut to a slit. He looked like a oneeyed pirate abducting hostages to be ransomed later. Suddenly the shine was on him, and he understood what Danny had meant when he said it was too late. He could feel the explosion getting ready to rumble up from the basement and tear the guts out of this horrid place. He ran faster, bolting headlong across the lobby toward the double doors. It hurried across the basement and into the feeble yellow glow of the furnace rooms only light. It was slobbering with fear. It had been so close, so close to having the boy and the boys remarkable power. It could not lose now. It must not happen. It would dump the boiler and then chastise the boy harshly. Mustnt happen! it cried. Oh no, mustnt happen! It stumbled across the floor to the boiler, which glowed a dull red halfway up its long tubular body. It was huffing and rattling and hissing off plumes of steam in a hundred directions, like a monster calliope. The pressure needle stood at the far end of the dial. No, it wont be allowed! the managercaretaker cried. It laid its Jack Torrance hands on the valve, unmindful of the burning smell which arose or the searing of the flesh as the redhot wheel sank in, as if into a mudrut. The wheel gave, and with a triumphant scream, the thing spun it wide open. A giant roar of escaping steam bellowed out of the boiler, a dozen dragons hissing in concert. But before the steam obscured the pressure needle entirely, the needle had visibly begun to swing back. I WIN! it cried. It capered obscenely in the hot, rising mist, waving its flaming hands over its head. NOT TOO LATE! I WIN! NOT TOO LATE! NOT TOO LATE! NOT Words turned into a shriek of triumph, and the shriek was swallowed in a shattering roar as the Overlooks boiler exploded. Hallorann burst out through the double doors and carried the two of them through the trench in the big snowdrift on the porch. He saw the hedge animals clearly, more clearly than before, and even as he realized his worst fears were true, that they were between the porch and the snowmobile, the hotel exploded. It seemed to him that it happened all at once, although later he knew that couldnt have been the way it happened. There was a flat explosion, a sound that seemed to exist on one low allpervasive note (WHUMMMMMMMMM) and then there was a blast of warm air at their backs that seemed to push gently at them. They were thrown from the porch on its breath, the three of them, and a confused thought (this is what superman must feel like) slipped through Halloranns mind as they flew through the air. He lost his hold on them and then he struck the snow in a soft billow. It was down his shirt and up his nose and he was dimly aware that it felt good on his hurt cheek. Then he struggled to the top of it, for that moment not thinking about the hedge animals, or Wendy Torrance, or even the boy. He rolled over on his back so he could watch it die. The Overlooks windows shattered. In the ballroom, the dome over the mantelpiece clock cracked, split in two pieces, and fell to the floor. The clock stopped ticking cogs and gears and balance wheel all became motionless. There was a whispered, sighing noise, and a great billow of dust. In 217 the bathtub suddenly split in two, letting out a small flood of greenish, noxioussmelling water. In the Presidential Suite the wallpaper suddenly burst into flames. The batwing doors of the Colorado Lounge suddenly snapped their hinges and fell to the dining room floor. Beyond the basement arch, the great piles and stacks of old papers caught fire and went up with a blowtorch hiss. Boiling water rolled over the flames but did not quench them. Like burning autumn leaves below a wasps nest, they whirled and blackened. The furnace exploded, shattering the basements roofbeams, sending them crashing down like the bones of a dinosaur. The gasjet which had fed the furnace, unstoppered now, rose up in a bellowing pylon of flame through the riven floor of the lobby. The carpeting on the stair risers caught, racing up to the firstfloor level as if to tell dreadful good news. A fusillade of explosions ripped the place. The chandelier in the dining room, a twohundredpound crystal bomb, fell with a splintering crash, knocking tables every which way. Flame belched out of the Overlooks five chimneys at the breaking clouds. (No! Mustnt! Mustnt! MUSTNT!) It shrieked; it shrieked but now it was voiceless and it was only screaming panic and doom and damnation in its own ear, dissolving, losing thought and will, the webbing falling apart, searching, not finding, going out, going out to, fleeing, going out to emptiness, notness, crumbling. The party was over. CHAPTER FIFTYSEVEN EXIT The roar shook the whole faade of the hotel. Glass belched out onto the snow and twinkled there like jagged diamonds. The hedge dog, which had been approaching Danny and his mother, recoiled away from it, its green and shadowmarbled ears flattening, its tail coming down between its legs as its haunches flattened abjectly. In his head, Hallorann heard it whine fearfully, and mixed with that sound was the fearful, confused yowling of the big cats. He struggled to his feet to go to the other two and help them, and as he did so he saw something more nightmarish than all the rest the hedge rabbit, still coated with snow, was battering itself crazily at the chainlink fence at the far end of the playground, and the steel mesh was jingling with a kind of nightmare music, like a spectral zither. Even from here he could hear the sounds of the closeset twigs and branches which made up its body cracking and crunching like breaking bones. Dick! Dick! Danny cried out. He was trying to support his mother, help her over to the snowmobile. The clothes he had carried out for the two of them were scattered between where they had fallen and where they now stood. Hallorann was suddenly aware that the woman was in her nightclothes, Danny jacketless, and it was no more than ten above zero. (my god shes in her bare feet) He struggled back through the snow, picking up her coat, her boots, Dannys coat, odd gloves. Then he ran back to them, plunging hipdeep in the snow from time to time, having to flounder his way out. Wendy was horribly pale, the side of her neck coated with blood, blood that was now freezing, I cant, she muttered. She was no more than semiconscious. No, I  cant. Sorry. Danny looked up at Hallorann pleadingly. Gonna be okay, Hallorann said, and gripped her again. Come on. The three of them made it to where the snowmobile had slewed around and stalled out. Hallorann sat the woman down on the passenger seat and put her coat on. He lifted her feet upthey were very cold but not frozen yetand rubbed them briskly with Dannys jacket before putting on her boots. Wendys face was alabaster pale, her eyes halflidded and dazed, but she had begun to shiver. Hallorann thought that was a good sign. Behind them, a series of three explosions rocked the hotel. Orange flashes lit the snow. Danny put his mouth close to Halloranns ear and screamed something. What? I said do you need that? The boy was pointing at the red gascan that leaned at an angle in the snow. I guess we do. He picked it up and sloshed it. Still gas in there, he couldnt tell how much. He attached the can to the back of the snowmobile, fumbling the job several times before getting it right because his fingers were going numb. For the first time he became aware that hed lost Howard Cottrells mittens. (i get out of this i gonna have my sister knit you a dozen pair, howie) Get on! Hallorann shouted at the boy. Danny shrank back. Well freeze! We have to go around to the equipment shed! Theres stuff in there  blankets  stuff like that. Get on behind your mother! Danny got on, and Hallorann twisted his head so he could shout into Wendys face. Missus Torrance! Hold on to me! You understand? Hold on! She put her arms around him and rested her cheek against his back. Hallorann started the snowmobile and turned the throttle delicately so they would start up without a jerk. The woman had the weakest sort of grip on him, and if she shifted backward, her weight would tumble both her and the boy off. They began to move. He brought the snowmobile around in a circle and then they were traveling west parallel to the hotel. Hallorann cut in more to circle around behind it to the equipment shed. They had a momentarily clear view into the Overlooks lobby. The gasflame coming up through the shattered floor was like a giant birthday candle, fierce yellow at its heart and blue around its flickering edges. In that moment it seemed only to be lighting, not destroying. They could see the registration desk with its silver bell, the credit card decals, the oldfashioned, scrolled cash register, the small figured throw rugs, the highbacked chairs, horsehair hassocks. Danny could see the small sofa by the fireplace where the three nuns had sat on the day they had come upclosing day. But this was the real closing day. Then the drift on the porch blotted the view out. A moment later they were skirting the west side of the hotel. It was still light enough to see without the snowmobiles headlight. Both upper stories were flaming now, and pennants of flame shot out the windows. The gleaming white paint had begun to blacken and peel. The shutters which had covered the Presidential Suites picture windowshutters Jack had carefully fastened as per instructions in midOctobernow hung in flaming brands, exposing the wide and shattered darkness behind them, like a toothless mouth yawing in a final, silent deathrattle. Wendy had pressed her face against Halloranns back to cut out the wind, and Danny had likewise pressed his face against his mothers back, and so it was only Hallorann who saw the final thing, and he never spoke of it. From the window of the Presidential Suite he thought he saw a huge dark shape issue, blotting out the snowfield behind it. For a moment it assumed the shape of a huge, obscene manta, and then the wind seemed to catch it, to tear it and shred it like old dark paper. It fragmented, was caught in a whirling eddy of smoke, and a moment later it was gone as if it had never been. But in those few seconds as it whirled blackly, dancing like negative motes of light, he remembered something from his childhood  fifty years ago, or more. He and his brother had come upon a huge nest of ground wasps just north of their farm. It had been tucked into a hollow between the earth and an old lightningblasted tree. His brother had had a big old niggerchaser in the band of his hat, saved all the way from the Fourth of July. He had lighted it and tossed it at the nest. It had exploded with a loud bang, and an angry, rising humalmost a low shriekhad risen from the blasted nest. They had run away as if demons had been at their heels. In a way, Hallorann supposed that demons had been. And looking back over his shoulder, as he was now, he had on that day seen a large dark cloud of hornets rising in the hot air, swirling together, breaking apart, looking for whatever enemy had done this to their home so that theythe single group intelligencecould sting it to death. Then the thing in the sky was gone and it might only have been smoke or a great flapping swatch of wallpaper after all, and there was only the Overlook, a flaming pyre in the roaring throat of the night. There was a key to the equipment sheds padlock on his key ring, but Hallorann saw there would be no need to use it. The door was ajar, the padlock hanging open on its hasp. I cant go in there, Danny whispered. Thats okay. You stay with your mom. There used to be a pile of old horseblankets. Probably all motheaten by now, but better than freezin to death. Missus Torrance, you still with us? I dont know, the wan voice answered. I think so. Good. Ill be just a second. Come back as quick as you can, Danny whispered. Please. Hallorann nodded. He had trained the headlamp on the door and now he floundered through the snow, casting a long shadow in front of himself. He pushed the equipment shed door open and stepped in. The horseblankets were still in the corner, by the roque set. He picked up four of themthey smelled musty and old and the moths certainly had been having a free lunchand then he paused. One of the roque mallets was gone. (Was that what he hit me with?) Well, it didnt matter what hed been hit with, did it? Still, his fingers went to the side of his face and began to explore the huge lump there. Six hundred dollars worth of dental work undone at a single blow. And after all (maybe he didnt hit me with one of those. Maybe one got lost. Or stolen. Or took for a souvenier. After all) it didnt really matter. No one was going to be playing roque here next summer. Or any summer in the forseeable future. No, it didnt really matter, except that looking at the racked mallets with the single missing member had a kind of fascination. He found himself thinking of the hard wooden whack! of the mallet head striking the round wooden ball. A nice summery sound. Watching it skitter across the (bone. blood.) gravel. It conjured up images of (bone. blood.


) iced tea, porch swings, ladies in white straw hats, the hum of mosquitoes, and (bad little boys who dont play by the rules.) all that stuff. Sure. Nice game. Out of style now, but  nice. Dick? The voice was thin, frantic, and, he thought, rather unpleasant. Are you all right, Dick? Come out now. Please! (Come on out now nigguh de massa callin youall.) His hand closed tightly around one of the mallet handles, liking its feel. (Spare the rod, spoil the child.) His eyes went blank in the flickering, fireshot darkness. Really, it would be doing them both a favor. She was messed up  in pain  and most of it (all of it) was that damn boys fault. Sure. He had left his own daddy in there to burn. When you thought of it, it was damn close to murder. Patricide was what they called it. Pretty goddam low. Mr. Hallorann? Her voice was low, weak, querulous. He didnt much like the sound of it. Dick! The boy was sobbing now, in terror. Hallorann drew the mallet from the rack and turned toward the flood of white light from the snowmobile headlamp. His feet scratched unevenly over the boards of the equipment shed, like the feet of a clockwork toy that has been wound up and set in motion. Suddenly he stopped, looked wonderingly at the mallet in his hands, and asked himself with rising horror what it was he had been thinking of doing. Murder? Had he been thinking of murder? For a moment his entire mind seemed filled with an angry, weakly hectoring voice (Do it! Do it, you weakkneed noballs nigger! Kill them! KILL THEM BOTH!) Then he flung the mallet behind him with a whispered, terrified cry. It clattered into the corner where the horseblankets had been, one of the two heads pointed toward him in an unspeakable invitation. He fled. Danny was sitting on the snowmobile seat and Wendy was holding him weakly. His face was shiny with tears, and he was shaking as if with ague. Between his clicking teeth he said Where were you? We were scared? Its a good place to be scared of, Hallorann said slowly. Even if that place burns flat to the foundation, youll never get me within a hundred miles of here again. Here, Missus Torrance, wrap these around you. Ill help. You too, Danny. Get yourself looking like an Arab. He swirled two of the blankets around Wendy, fashioning one of them into a hood to cover her head, and helped Danny tie his so they wouldnt fall off. Now hold on for dear life, he said. We got a long way to go, but the worst is behind us now. He circled the equipment shed and then pointed the snowmobile back along their trail. The Overlook was a torch now, flaming at the sky. Great holes had been eaten into its sides, and there was a red hell inside, waxing and waning. Snowmelt ran down the charred gutters in steaming waterfalls. They purred down the front lawn, their way well lit. The snowdunes glowed scarlet. Look! Danny shouted as Hallorann slowed for the front gate. He was pointing toward the playground. The hedge creatures were all in their original positions, but they were denuded, blackened, seared. Their dead branches were a stark interlacing network in the fireglow, their small leaves scattered around their feet like fallen petals. Theyre dead! Danny screamed in hysterical triumph. Dead! Theyre dead! Shhh, Wendy said. All right, honey. Its all right. Hey, doc, Hallorann said. Lets get to someplace warm. You ready? Yes, Danny whispered. Ive been ready for so long Hallorann edged through the gap between gate and post. A moment later they were on the road, pointed back toward Sidewinder. The sound of the snowmobiles engine dwindled until it was lost in the ceaseless roar of the wind. It rattled through the denuded branches of the hedge animals with a low, beating, desolate sound. The fire waxed and waned. Sometime after the sound of the snowmobiles engine had disappeared, the Overlooks roof caved infirst the west wing, then the east, and seconds later the central roof. A huge spiraling gout of sparks and flaming debris rushed up into the howling winter night. A bundle of flaming shingles and a wad of hot flashing were wafted in through the open equipment shed door by the wind. After a while the shed began to burn, too. They were still twenty miles from Sidewinder when Hallorann stopped to pour the rest of the gas into the snowmobiles tank. He was getting very worried about Wendy Torrance, who seemed to be drifting away from them. It was still so far to go. Dick! Danny cried. He was standing up on the seat, pointing. Dick, look! Look there! The snow had stopped and a silverdollar moon had peeked out through the raftering clouds. Far down the road but coming toward them, coming upward through a series of Sshaped switchbacks, was a pearly chain of lights. The wind dropped for a moment and Hallorann heard the faraway buzzing snarl of snowmobile engines. Hallorann and Danny and Wendy reached them fifteen minutes later. They had brought extra clothes and brandy and Dr. Edmonds. And the long darkness was over. CHAPTER FIFTYEIGHT EPILOGUE  SUMMER After he had finished checking over the salads his understudy had made and peeked in on the homebaked beans they were using as appetizers this week, Hallorann untied his apron, hung it on a hook, and slipped out the back door. He had maybe fortyfive minutes before he had to crank up for dinner in earnest. The name of this place was the Red Arrow Lodge, and it was buried in the western Maine mountains, thirty miles from the town of Rangely. It was a good gig, Hallorann thought. The trade wasnt too heavy, it tipped well, and so far there hadnt been a single meal sent back. Not bad at all, considering the season was nearly half over. He threaded his way between the outdoor bar and the swimming pool (although why anyone would want to use the pool with the lake so handy he would never know), crossed a greensward where a party of four was playing croquet and laughing, and crested a mild ridge. Pines took over here, and the wind soughed pleasantly in them, carrying the aroma of fir and sweet resin. On the other side, a number of cabins with views of the lake were placed discreetly among the trees. The last one was the nicest, and Hallorann had reserved it for a party of two back in April when he had gotten this gig. The woman was sitting on the porch in a rocking chair, a book in her hands. Hallorann was struck again by the change in her. Part of it was the stiff, almost formal way she sat, in spite of her informal surroundingsthat was the back brace, of course. Shed had a shattered vertebra as well as three broken ribs and some internal injuries. The back was the slowest healing, and she was still in the brace  hence the formal posture. But the change was more than that. She looked older, and some of the laughter had gone out of her face. Now, as she sat reading her book, Hallorann saw a grave sort of beauty there that had been missing on the day he had first met her, some nine months ago. Then she had still been mostly girl. Now she was a woman, a human being who had been dragged around to the dark side of the moon and had come back able to put the pieces back together. But those pieces, Hallorann thought, they never fit just the same way again. Never in this world. She heard his step and looked up, closing her book. Dick! Hi! She started to rise, and a little grimace of pain crossed her face. Nope, dont get up, he said. I dont stand on no ceremony unless its white tie and tails. She smiled as he came up the steps and sat down next to her on the porch. How is it going? Pretty fair, he admitted. You try the shrimp creole tonight. You gonna like it. Thats a deal. Wheres Danny? Right down there. She pointed, and Hallorann saw a small figure sitting at the end of the dock. He was wearing jeans rolled up to the knee and a redstriped shirt. Farther out on the calm water, a bobber floated. Every now and then Danny would reel it in, examine the sinker and hook below it, and then toss it out again. Hes gettin brown, Hallorann said. Yes. Very brown. She looked at him fondly. He took out a cigarette, tamped it, lit it. The smoke raftered away lazily in the sunny afternoon. What about those dreams hes been havin? Better, Wendy said. Only one this week. It used to be every night, sometimes two and three times. The explosions. The hedges. And most of all  you know. Yeah. Hes going to be okay, Wendy. She looked at him. Will he? I wonder. Hallorann nodded. You and him, youre coming back. Different, maybe, but okay. You aint what you were, you two, but that isnt necessarily bad. They were silent for a while, Wendy moving the rocking chair back and forth a little, Hallorann with his feet up on the porch rail, smoking. A little breeze came up, pushing its secret way through the pines but barely ruffling Wendys hair. She had cut it short. Ive decided to take AlMr. Shockleyup on his offer, she said. Hallorann nodded. It sounds like a good job. Something you could get interested in. When do you start? Right after Labor Day. When Danny and I leave here, well be going right on to Maryland to look for a place. It was really the Chamber of Commerce brochure that convinced me, you know. It looks like a nice town to raise a kid in. And Id like to be working again before we dig too deeply into the insurance money Jack left. Theres still over forty thousand dollars. Enough to send Danny to college with enough left over to get him a start, if its invested right. Hallorann nodded. Your mom? She looked at him and smiled wanly. I think Maryland is far enough. You wont forget old friends, will you? Danny wouldnt let me. Go on down and see him, hes been waiting all day. Well, so have I. He stood up and hitched his cooks whites at the hips. The two of you are going to be okay, he repeated. Cant you feel it? She looked up at him and this time her smile was warmer. Yes, she said. She took his hand and kissed it. Sometimes I think I can. The shrimp creole, he said, moving to the steps. Dont forget. I wont. He walked down the sloping, graveled path that led to the dock and then out along the weatherbeaten boards to the end, where Danny sat with his feet in the clear water. Beyond, the lake widened out, mirroring the pines along its verge. The terrain was mountainous around here, but the mountains were old, rounded and humbled by time. Hallorann liked them just fine. Catchin much? Hallorann said, sitting down next to him. He took off one shoe, then the other. With a sigh, he let his hot feet down into the cool water. No. But I had a nibble a little while ago. Well take a boat out tomorrow morning. Got to get out in the middle if you want to catch an eatin fish, my boy. Out yonder is where the big ones lay. How big? Hallorann shrugged. Oh  sharks, marlin, whales, that sort of thing. There arent any whales! No blue whales, no. Of course not. These ones here run to no more than eighty feet. Pink whales. How could they get here from the ocean? Hallorann put a hand on the boys reddishgold hair and rumpled it. They swim upstream, my boy. Thats how. Really? Really. They were silent for a time, looking out over the stillness of the lake, Hallorann just thinking. When he looked back at Danny, he saw that his eyes had filled with tears. Putting an arm around him, he said, Whats this? Nothing, Danny whispered. Youre missin your dad, arent you? Danny nodded. You always know. One of the tears spilled from the corner of his right eye and trickled slowly down his cheek. We cant have any secrets, Hallorann agreed. Thats just how it is. Looking at his pole, Danny said Sometimes I wish it had been me. It was my fault. All my fault. Hallorann said, You dont like to talk about it around your mom, do you? No. She wants to forget it ever happened. So do I, but But you cant. No. Do you need to cry? The boy tried to answer, but the words were swallowed in a sob. He leaned his head against Halloranns shoulder and wept, the tears now flooding down his face. Hallorann held him and said nothing. The boy would have to shed his tears again and again, he knew, and it was Dannys luck that he was still young enough to be able to do that. The tears that heal are also the tears that scald and scourge. When he had quieted a little, Hallorann said, Youre gonna get over this. You dont think you are right now, but you will. You got the shi I wish I didnt! Danny choked, his voice still thick with tears. I wish I didnt have it! But you do, Hallorann said quietly. For better or worse. You didnt get no say, little boy. But the worst is over. You can use it to talk to me when things get rough. And if they get too rough, you just call me and Ill come. Even if Im down in Maryland? Even there. They were quiet, watching Dannys bobber drift around thirty feet out from the end of the dock. Then Danny said, almost too low to be heard, Youll be my friend? As long as you want me. The boy held him tight and Hallorann hugged him. Danny? You listen to me. Im going to talk to you about it this once and never again this same way. Theres some things no sixyearold boy in the world should have to be told, but the way things should be and the way things are hardly ever get together. The worlds a hard place, Danny. It dont care. It dont hate you and me, but it dont love us, either. Terrible things happen in the world, and theyre things no one can explain. Good people die in bad, painful ways and leave the folks that love them all alone. Sometimes it seems like its only the bad people who stay healthy and prosper. The world dont love you, but your momma does and so do I. Youre a good boy. You grieve for your daddy, and when you feel you have to cry over what happened to him, you go into a closet or under your covers and cry until its all out of you again. Thats what a good son has to do. But see that you get on. Thats your job in this hard world, to keep your love alive and see that you get on, no matter what. Pull your act together and just go on. All right, Danny whispered. Ill come see you again next summer if you want  if you dont mind. Next summer Im going to be seven. And Ill be sixtytwo. And Im gonna hug your brains out your ears. But lets finish one summer before we get on to the next. Okay. He looked at Hallorann. Dick? Hmm? You wont die for a long time, will you? Im sure not studyin on it. Are you? No, sir. I You got a bite, sonny. He pointed. The redandwhite bobber had ducked under. It came up again glistening, and then went under again. Hey! Danny gulped. Wendy had come down and now joined them, standing in back of Danny. What is it? she asked. Pickerel? No, maam, Hallorann said, I believe thats pink whale. The tip of the fishing rod bent. Danny pulled it back and a long fish, rainbowcolored, flashed up in a sunny, winking parabola, and disappeared again. Danny reeled frantically, gulping. Help me, Dick! I got him! I got him! Help me! Hallorann laughed. Youre doin fine all by yourself, little man. I dont know if its a pink whale or a trout, but itll do. Itll do just fine. He put an arm around Dannys shoulders and the boy reeled the fish in, little by little. Wendy sat down on Dannys other side and the three of them sat on the end of the dock in the afternoon sun. Every now and then somebody would ask, Whatever happened to Danny from The Shining? When the [sequel] idea would pop up in my mind I would think, Now Dannys 20, or now hes 25  I wonder if hes drinking like his father?  Finally I decided Okay, why dont I use that in the story and just revisit that whole issue? Like father, like son. Stephen King, February 2013 The following are excerpts from Prefatory Matters and Chapter One of Doctor Sleep, Stephen Kings sequel to The Shining LOCKBOX 1 On the second day of December in a year when a Georgia peanut farmer was doing business in the White House, one of Colorados great resort hotels burned to the ground. The Overlook was declared a total loss. After an investigation, the fire marshal of Jicarilla County ruled the cause had been a defective boiler. The hotel was closed for the winter when the accident occurred, and only four people were present. Three survived. The hotels offseason caretaker, John Torrance, was killed during an unsuccessful (and heroic) effort to dump the boilers steam pressure, which had mounted to disastrously high levels due to an inoperative relief valve. Two of the survivors were the caretakers wife and young son. The third was the Overlooks chef, Richard Hallorann, who had left his seasonal job in Florida and come to check on the Torrances because of what he called a powerful hunch that the family was in trouble. Both surviving adults were quite badly injured in the explosion. Only the child was unhurt. Physically, at least. 2 Wendy Torrance and her son received a settlement from the corporation that owned the Overlook. It wasnt huge, but enough to get them by for the three years she was unable to work because of back injuries. A lawyer she consulted told her that if she were willing to hold out and play tough, she might get a great deal more, because the corporation was anxious to avoid a court case. But she, like the corporation, wanted only to put that disastrous winter in Colorado behind her. She would convalesce, she said, and she did, although back injuries plagued her until the end of her life. Shattered vertebrae and broken ribs heal, but they never cease crying out. Winifred and Daniel Torrance lived in the midSouth for awhile, then drifted down to Tampa. Sometimes Dick Hallorann (he of the powerful hunches) came up from Key West to visit with them. To visit with young Danny especially. They shared a bond. One early morning in March of 1981, Wendy called Dick and asked if he could come. Danny, she said, had awakened her in the night and told her not to go in the bathroom. After that, he refused to talk at all. 3 He woke up needing to pee. Outside, a strong wind was blowing. It was warmin Florida it almost always wasbut he did not like that sound, and supposed he never would. It reminded him of the Overlook, where the defective boiler had been the very least of the dangers. He and his mother lived in a cramped secondfloor tenement apartment. Danny left the little room next to his mothers and crossed the hall. The wind gusted and a dying palm tree beside the building clattered its leaves. The sound was skeletal. They always left the bathroom door open when no one was using the shower or the toilet, because the lock was broken. Tonight the door was closed. Not because his mother was in there, however. Thanks to facial injuries shed suffered at the Overlook, she now snoreda soft queepqueep soundand he could hear it coming from her bedroom. Well, she closed it by accident, thats all. He knew better, even then (he was possessed of powerful hunches and intuitions himself), but sometimes you had to know. Sometimes you had to see. This was something he had found out at the Overlook, in a room on the second floor. Reaching with an arm that seemed too long, too stretchy, too boneless, he turned the knob and opened the door. The woman from Room 217 was there, as he had known she would be. She was sitting naked on the toilet with her legs spread and her pallid thighs bulging. Her greenish breasts hung down like deflated balloons. The patch of hair below her stomach was gray. Her eyes were also gray, like steel mirrors. She saw him, and her lips stretched back in a grin. Close your eyes, Dick Hallorann had told him once upon a time. If you see something bad, close your eyes and tell yourself its not there and when you open them again, it will be gone. But it hadnt worked in Room 217 when he was five, and it wouldnt work now. He knew it. He could smell her. She was decaying. The womanhe knew her name, it was Mrs. Masseylumbered to her purple feet, holding out her hands to him. The flesh on her arms hung down, almost dripping. She was smiling the way you do when you see an old friend. Or, perhaps, something good to eat. With an expression that could have been mistaken for calmness, Danny closed the door softly and stepped back. He watched as the knob turned right  left  right again  then stilled. He was eight now, and capable of at least some rational thought even in his horror. Partly because, in a deep part of his mind, he had been expecting this. Although he had always thought it would be Horace Derwent who would eventually show up. Or perhaps the bartender, the one his father had called Lloyd. He supposed he should have known it would be Mrs. Massey, though, even before it finally happened. Because of all the undead things in the Overlook, she had been the worst. The rational part of his mind told him she was just a fragment of unremembered bad dream that had followed him out of sleep and across the hall to the bathroom. That part insisted that if he opened the door again, there would be nothing there. Surely there wouldnt be, now that he was awake. But another part of him, a part that shone, knew better. The Overlook wasnt done with him. At least one of its vengeful spirits had followed him all the way to Florida. Once he had come upon that woman sprawled in a bathtub. She had gotten out and tried to choke him with her fishy (but terribly strong) fingers. If he opened the bathroom door now, she would finish the job. He compromised by putting his ear against the door. At first there was nothing. Then he heard a faint sound. Dead fingernails scratching on wood. Danny walked into the kitchen on notthere legs, stood on a chair, and peed into the sink. Then he woke his mother and told her not to go into the bathroom because there was a bad thing there. Once that was done, he went back to bed and sank deep beneath the covers. He wanted to stay there forever, only getting up to pee in the sink. Now that he had warned his mother, he had no interest in talking to her. His mother knew about the notalking thing. It had happened after Danny had ventured into Room 217 at the Overlook. Will you talk to Dick? Lying in his bed, looking up at her, he nodded. His mother called, even though it was four in the morning. Late the next day, Dick came. He brought something with him. A present. 4 After Wendy called Dickshe made sure Danny heard her doing itDanny went back to sleep. Although he was now eight and in the third grade, he was sucking his thumb. It hurt her to see him do that. She went to the bathroom door and stood looking at it. She was afraidDanny had made her afraidbut she had to go, and she had no intention of using the sink as he had. The image of how she would look teetering on the edge of the counter with her butt hanging over the porcelain (even if there was no one there to see) made her wrinkle her nose. In one hand she had the hammer from her little box of widows tools. As she turned the knob and pushed the bathroom door open, she raised it. The bathroom was empty, of course, but the ring of the toilet seat was down. She never left it that way before going to bed, because she knew if Danny wandered in, only ten percent awake, he was apt to forget to put it up and piss all over it. Also, there was a smell. A bad one. As if a rat had died in the walls. She took a step in, then two. She saw movement and whirled, hammer upraised, to hit whoever (whatever) was hiding behind the door. But it was only her shadow. Scared of her own shadow, people sometimes sneered, but who had a better right than Wendy Torrance? After the things she had seen and been through, she knew that shadows could be dangerous. They could have teeth. No one was in the bathroom, but there was a discolored smear on the toilet seat and another on the shower curtain. Excrement was her first thought, but shit wasnt yellowishpurple. She looked more closely and saw bits of flesh and decayed skin. There was more on the bathmat, in the shape of footprints. She thought them too smalltoo daintyto be a mans. Oh God, she whispered. She ended up using the sink after all. CHAPTER ONE WELCOME TO TEENYTOWN 1 After Wilmington, the daily drinking stopped. Hed go a week, sometimes two, without anything stronger than diet soda. Hed wake up without a hangover, which was good. Hed wake up thirsty and miserablewantingwhich wasnt. Then there would come a night. Or a weekend. Sometimes it was a Budweiser ad on TV that set him offfreshfaced young people with nary a beergut among them, having cold ones after a vigorous volleyball game. Sometimes it was seeing a couple of nicelooking women having afterwork drinks outside some pleasant little caf, the kind of place with a French name and lots of hanging plants. The drinks were almost always the kind that came with little umbrellas. Sometimes it was a song on the radio. Once it was Styx, singing Mr. Roboto. When he was dry, he was completely dry. When he drank, he got drunk. If he woke up next to a woman, he thought of Deenie and the kid in the Braves tshirt. He thought of the seventy dollars. He even thought of the stolen blanket, which he had left in the stormdrain. Maybe it was still there. If so, it would be moldy now. Sometimes he got drunk and missed work. Theyd keep him on for awhilehe was good at what he didbut then would come a day. When it did, he would say thank you very much and board a bus. Wilmington became Albany and Albany became Utica. Utica became New Paltz. New Paltz gave way to Sturbridge, where he got drunk at an outdoor folk concert and woke up the next day in jail with a broken wrist. Next up was Weston, after that came a nursing home on Marthas Vineyard, and boy, that gig didnt last long. On his third day the head nurse smelled booze on his breath and it was seeya, wouldnt want to beva. Once he crossed the path of the True Knot without realizing it. Not in the top part of his mind, anyway, although lower downin the part that shonethere was something. A smell, fading and unpleasant, like the smell of burned rubber on a stretch of turnpike where there has been a bad accident not long before. From Marthas Vineyard he took MassLines to Newburyport. There he found work in a dontgivemuchofashit veterans home, the kind of place where old soldiers were sometimes left in wheelchairs outside empty consulting rooms until their peebags overflowed onto the floor. A lousy place for patients, a better one for frequent fuckups like himself, although Dan and a few others did as well by the old soldiers as they could. He even helped a couple get over when their time came. That job lasted awhile, long enough for the Saxophone President to turn the White House keys over to the Cowboy President. Dan had a few wet nights in Newburyport, but always with the next day off, so it was okay. After one of these minisprees, he woke up thinking at least I left the food stamps. That brought on the old psychotic gameshow duo. Sorry, Deenie, you lose, but nobody leaves emptyhanded. What have we got for her. Johnny? Well. Bob, Deenie didnt win any money, but shes leaving with our new home game, several grams of cocaine, and a great big wad of FOOD STAMPS! What Dan got was a whole month without booze. He did it, he guessed, as a weird kind of penance. It occurred to him more than once that if hed had Deenies address, he would have sent her that crappy seventy bucks long ago. He would have sent her twice that much if it could have ended the memories of the kid in the Braves tshirt and the reaching starfish hand. But he didnt have the address, so he stayed sober instead. Scourging himself with whips. Dry ones. Then one night he passed a drinking establishment called the Fishermans Rest and through the window spied a goodlooking blonde sitting alone at the bar. She was wearing a tartan skirt that ended at midthigh and she looked lonely and he went in and it turned out she was newly divorced and wow, that was a shame, maybe shed like some company, and three days later he woke up with that same old black hole in his memory. He went to the veterans center where he had been mopping floors and changing lightbulbs, hoping for a break, but no dice. Dontgivemuchofashit wasnt quite the same as dontgiveanyshit; close but no cigar. Leaving with the few items that had been in his locker, he recalled an old Bobcat Goldthwait line My job was still there, but somebody else was doing it. So he boarded another bus, this one headed for New Hampshire, and before he got on, he bought a glass container of intoxicating liquid. He sat all the way in back in the Drunk Seat, the one by the toilet. Experience had taught him that if you intended to spend a bus trip getting smashed, that was the seat to take. He reached into the brown paper sack, loosened the cap on the glass container of intoxicating liquid, and smelled the brown smell. That smell could talk, although it only had one thing to say Hello, old friend. He thought Canny. He thought Mama. He thought of Tommy going to school by now. Always assuming good old Uncle Randy hadnt killed him. He thought, The only one who can put on the brakes is you. This thought had come to him many times before, but now it was followed by a new one. You dont have to live this way if you dont want to. You can, of course  but you dont have to. That voice was so strange, so unlike any of his usual mental dialogues, that he thought at first he must be picking it up from someone elsehe could do that, but he rarely got uninvited transmissions anymore. He had learned to shut them off. Nevertheless he looked up the aisle, almost positive he would see someone looking back at him. No one was. Everyone was sleeping, talking with their seatmates, or staring out at the gray New England day. You dont have to live this way if you dont want to. If only that were true. Nevertheless, he tightened the cap on the bottle and put it on the seat beside him. Twice he picked it up. The first time he put it down. The second time he reached into the bag and unscrewed the cap again, but as he did, the bus pulled into the New Hampshire welcome area just across the state line. Dan filed into the Burger King with the rest of the passengers, pausing only long enough to toss the paper bag into one of the trash containers. Stenciled on the side of the tall green can were the words IF YOU NO LONGER NEED IT, LEAVE IT HERE. Wouldnt that be nice, Dan thought, hearing the clink as it landed. Oh God, wouldnt that be nice. Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reprint previously published material Alfred Publishing Co., Inc Excerpt from Twenty Flight Rock, words and music by Ned Fairchild and Eddie Cochran. Copyright  1957 renewed by Unichappell Music Inc. and Elvis Presley Music Inc. All rights on behalf of Elvis Presley Music Inc. administered by Unichappell Music Inc. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of Alfred Publishing Co., Inc. Hal Leonard Corporation Excerpt from Bad Moon Rising, words and music by John Fogerty. Copyright  1969 by Jondora Music, copyright renewed. International copyright secured; excerpt from Call Me (Come Back Home), words and music by Willie Mitchell, Al Green and Al Jackson, Jr. Copyright  1973 by Irving Music, Inc., Al Green Music, Inc. and Al Jackson, Jr. Music. Copyright renewed. All rights for Al Green Music, Inc. controlled and administered by Irving Music, Inc. All rights for Al Jackson Jr. Music administered by Bug Music. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of Hal Leonard Corporation. SonyATV Music Publishing LLC Excerpt from Your Cheatin Heart by Hank Williams, Sr. Copyright  1951 by SonyATV Music Publishing LLC. All rights administered by SonyATV Music Publishing LLC, 8 Music Square West, Nashville, TN 37203. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of SonyATV Music Publishing LLC. STEPHEN KING THE SHINING Stephen King is the author of more than fifty books, all of them worldwide bestsellers.


Among his most recent are 112263; Full Dark, No Stars; Under the Dome; Just After Sunset; Duma Key; Liseys Story; Cell; and the concluding novels in the Dark Tower saga Wolves of the Calla, Song of Susannah, and The Dark Tower. His acclaimed nonfiction book, On Writing, is also a bestseller. He was the recipient of the 2003 National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, and in 2007, he received the Grand Master Award from the Mystery Writers of America. He lives in Maine with his wife, novelist Tabitha King. www.stephenking.com BOOKS BY STEPHEN KING NOVELS Carrie Salems Lot The Shining The Stand The Dead Zone Firestarter Cujo The Dark Tower The Gunslinger Christine Pet Sematary The Talisman (with Peter Straub) It The Eyes of the Dragon Misery The Tommyknockers The Dark Tower II Drawing of the Three The Dark Half The Stand The Complete and Uncut Edition The Dark Tower III The Waste Lands Needful Things Geralds Game Dolores Claiborne Insomnia Rose Madder Desperation The Green Mile The Dark Tower IV Wizard and Glass Bag of Bones The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon Dreamcatcher Black House (with Peter Straub) From a Buick 8 The Dark Tower V Wolves of the Calla The Dark Tower VI Song of Susannah The Dark Tower VII The Dark Tower The Colorado Kid Cell Liseys Story Duma Key Under the Dome 112263 AS RICHARD BACHMAN Rage The Long Walk Roadwork The Running Man Thinner The Regulators Blaze STORY COLLECTIONS AND NOVELLAS Night Shift Different Seasons Skeleton Crew Four Past Midnight Nightmares and Dreamscapes Hearts in Atlantis Everythings Eventual Just After Sunset Blockade Billy Full Dark, No Stars NONFICTION Danse Macabre On Writing (with Stewart ONan) Faithful SCREENPLAYS Creepshow Cats Eye Silver Bullet Maximum Overdrive Pet Sematary Golden Years Sleepwalkers The Stand The Shining Storm of the Century Rose Red ALSO BY STEPHEN KING THE STAND When a man escapes from a biological testing facility, he sets in motion a deadly domino effect, spreading a mutated strain of the flu that will wipe out 99 percent of humanity within a few weeks. The survivors who remain are scared, bewildered, and in need of a leader. Two emergeMother Abagail, the benevolent 108yearold woman who urges them to build a community in Boulder, Colorado; and Randall Flagg, the nefarious Dark Man, who delights in chaos and violence. Often considered Kings signature classic, The Stand presents a battle between good and evil at once terrifying and thought provoking. FictionHorror CARRIE Carrie may be picked on by her classmates, but she has a gift. She can move things with her mind. Doors lock. Candles fall. This is her power and her problem. Then, an act of kindness, as spontaneous as the vicious taunts of her classmates, offers Carrie a chance to be a normal  until an unexpected cruelty turns her gift into a weapon of horror and destruction that no one will ever forget. FictionHorror SALEMS LOT Ben Mears has returned to Jerusalems Lot in the hopes that living in an old mansion, long the subject of town lore, will help him cast out his own devils and provide inspiration for his new book. But when two young boys venture into the woods and only one comes out alive, Mears begins to realize that there may be something sinister at work and that his hometown is under siege by forces of darkness far beyond his control. FictionHorror THE SHINING Jack Torrances new job at the Overlook Hotel is the perfect chance for a fresh start. As the offseason caretaker at the atmospheric old hotel, hell have plenty of time to spend reconnecting with his family and working on his writing. But as the harsh winter weather sets in, the idyllic location feels ever more remote  and more sinister. And the only one to notice the strange and terrible forces gathering around the Overlook is Danny Torrance, a uniquely gifted fiveyearold. FictionHorror ANCHOR BOOKS Available wherever books are sold. www.randomhouse.com


When I was playing my primitive brand of rhythm guitar with a group called the Rock Bottom Remainders, Warren Zevon used to gig with us. Warren loved gray tshirts and movies like Kingdom of the Spiders. He insisted I sing lead on his signature tune, Werewolves of London, during the encore portion of our shows. I said I was not worthy. He insisted that I was. Key of G, Warren told me, and howl like you mean it. Most important of all, play like Keith. Ill never be able to play like Keith Richards, but I always did my best, and with Warren beside me, matching me note for note and laughing his fool head off, I always had a blast. Warren, this howl is for you, wherever you are. I miss you, buddy. We stood at the turning point. Halfmeasures availed us nothing. The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous If we were to live, we had to be free of anger. [It is] the dubious luxury of normal men and women. The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous PREFATORY MATTERS FEAR stands for fuck everything and run. Old AA saying LOCKBOX 1 On the second day of December in a year when a Georgia peanut farmer was doing business in the White House, one of Colorados great resort hotels burned to the ground. The Overlook was declared a total loss. After an investigation, the fire marshal of Jicarilla County ruled the cause had been a defective boiler. The hotel was closed for the winter when the accident occurred, and only four people were present. Three survived. The hotels offseason caretaker, John Torrance, was killed during an unsuccessful (and heroic) effort to dump the boilers steam pressure, which had mounted to disastrously high levels due to an inoperative relief valve. Two of the survivors were the caretakers wife and young son. The third was the Overlooks chef, Richard Hallorann, who had left his seasonal job in Florida and come to check on the Torrances because of what he called a powerful hunch that the family was in trouble. Both surviving adults were quite badly injured in the explosion. Only the child was unhurt. Physically, at least. 2 Wendy Torrance and her son received a settlement from the corporation that owned the Overlook. It wasnt huge, but enough to get them by for the three years she was unable to work because of back injuries. A lawyer she consulted told her that if she were willing to hold out and play tough, she might get a great deal more, because the corporation was anxious to avoid a court case. But she, like the corporation, wanted only to put that disastrous winter in Colorado behind her. She would convalesce, she said, and she did, although back injuries plagued her until the end of her life. Shattered vertebrae and broken ribs heal, but they never cease crying out. Winifred and Daniel Torrance lived in the midSouth for awhile, then drifted down to Tampa. Sometimes Dick Hallorann (he of the powerful hunches) came up from Key West to visit with them. To visit with young Danny especially. They shared a bond. One early morning in March of 1981, Wendy called Dick and asked if he could come. Danny, she said, had awakened her in the night and told her not to go in the bathroom. After that, he refused to talk at all. 3 He woke up needing to pee. Outside, a strong wind was blowing. It was warmin Florida it almost always wasbut he did not like that sound, and supposed he never would. It reminded him of the Overlook, where the defective boiler had been the very least of the dangers. He and his mother lived in a cramped secondfloor tenement apartment. Danny left the little room next to his mothers and crossed the hall. The wind gusted and a dying palm tree beside the building clattered its leaves. The sound was skeletal. They always left the bathroom door open when no one was using the shower or the toilet, because the lock was broken. Tonight the door was closed. Not because his mother was in there, however. Thanks to facial injuries shed suffered at the Overlook, she now snoreda soft queepqueep soundand he could hear it coming from her bedroom. Well, she closed it by accident, thats all. He knew better, even then (he was possessed of powerful hunches and intuitions himself ), but sometimes you had to know. Sometimes you had to see. This was something he had found out at the Overlook, in a room on the second floor. Reaching with an arm that seemed too long, too stretchy, too boneless, he turned the knob and opened the door. The woman from Room 217 was there, as he had known she would be. She was sitting naked on the toilet with her legs spread and her pallid thighs bulging. Her greenish breasts hung down like deflated balloons. The patch of hair below her stomach was gray. Her eyes were also gray, like steel mirrors. She saw him, and her lips stretched back in a grin. Close your eyes, Dick Hallorann had told him once upon a time. If you see something bad, close your eyes and tell yourself its not there and when you open them again, it will be gone. But it hadnt worked in Room 217 when he was five, and it wouldnt work now. He knew it. He could smell her. She was decaying. The womanhe knew her name, it was Mrs. Masseylumbered to her purple feet, holding out her hands to him. The flesh on her arms hung down, almost dripping. She was smiling the way you do when you see an old friend. Or, perhaps, something good to eat. With an expression that could have been mistaken for calmness, Danny closed the door softly and stepped back. He watched as the knob turned right . . . left . . . right again . . . then stilled. He was eight now, and capable of at least some rational thought even in his horror. Partly because, in a deep part of his mind, he had been expecting this. Although he had always thought it would be Horace Derwent who would eventually show up. Or perhaps the bartender, the one his father had called Lloyd. He supposed he should have known it would be Mrs. Massey, though, even before it finally happened. Because of all the undead things in the Overlook, she had been the worst. The rational part of his mind told him she was just a fragment of unremembered bad dream that had followed him out of sleep and across the hall to the bathroom. That part insisted that if he opened the door again, there would be nothing there. Surely there wouldnt be, now that he was awake. But another part of him, a part that shone, knew better. The Overlook wasnt done with him. At least one of its vengeful spirits had followed him all the way to Florida. Once he had come upon that woman sprawled in a bathtub. She had gotten out and tried to choke him with her fishy (but terribly strong) fingers. If he opened the bathroom door now, she would finish the job. He compromised by putting his ear against the door. At first there was nothing. Then he heard a faint sound. Dead fingernails scratching on wood. Danny walked into the kitchen on notthere legs, stood on a chair, and peed into the sink. Then he woke his mother and told her not to go into the bathroom because there was a bad thing there. Once that was done, he went back to bed and sank deep beneath the covers. He wanted to stay there forever, only getting up to pee in the sink. Now that he had warned his mother, he had no interest in talking to her. His mother knew about the notalking thing. It had happened after Danny had ventured into Room 217 at the Overlook. Will you talk to Dick? Lying in his bed, looking up at her, he nodded. His mother called, even though it was four in the morning. Late the next day, Dick came. He brought something with him. A present. 4 After Wendy called Dickshe made sure Danny heard her doing itDanny went back to sleep. Although he was now eight and in the third grade, he was sucking his thumb. It hurt her to see him do that. She went to the bathroom door and stood looking at it. She was afraidDanny had made her afraidbut she had to go, and she had no intention of using the sink as he had. The image of how she would look teetering on the edge of the counter with her butt hanging over the porcelain (even if there was no one there to see) made her wrinkle her nose. In one hand she had the hammer from her little box of widows tools. As she turned the knob and pushed the bathroom door open, she raised it. The bathroom was empty, of course, but the ring of the toilet seat was down. She never left it that way before going to bed, because she knew if Danny wandered in, only ten percent awake, he was apt to forget to put it up and piss all over it. Also, there was a smell. A bad one. As if a rat had died in the walls. She took a step in, then two. She saw movement and whirled, hammer upraised, to hit whoever (whatever) was hiding behind the door. But it was only her shadow. Scared of her own shadow, people sometimes sneered, but who had a better right than Wendy Torrance? After the things she had seen and been through, she knew that shadows could be dangerous. They could have teeth. No one was in the bathroom, but there was a discolored smear on the toilet seat and another on the shower curtain. Excrement was her first thought, but shit wasnt yellowishpurple. She looked more closely and saw bits of flesh and decayed skin. There was more on the bathmat, in the shape of footprints. She thought them too smalltoo daintyto be a mans. Oh God, she whispered. She ended up using the sink after all. 5 Wendy nagged her son out of bed at noon. She managed to get a little soup and half a peanut butter sandwich into him, but then he went back to bed. He still wouldnt speak. Hallorann arrived shortly after five in the afternoon, behind the wheel of his now ancient (but perfectly maintained and blindingly polished) red Cadillac. Wendy had been standing at the window, waiting and watching as she had once waited and watched for her husband, hoping Jack would come home in a good mood. And sober. She rushed down the stairs and opened the door just as Dick was about to ring the bell marked TORRANCE 2A. He held out his arms and she rushed into them at once, wishing she could be enfolded there for at least an hour. Maybe two. He let go and held her at arms length by her shoulders. Youre lookin fine, Wendy. Hows the little man? He talkin again? No, but hell talk to you. Even if he wont do it out loud to start with, you can Instead of finishing, she made a fingergun and pointed it at his forehead. Not necessarily, Dick said. His smile revealed a bright new pair of false teeth. The Overlook had taken most of the last set on the night the boiler blew. Jack Torrance swung the mallet that took Dicks dentures and Wendys ability to walk without a hitch in her stride, but they both understood it had really been the Overlook. Hes very powerful, Wendy. If he wants to block me out, he will. I know from my own experience. Besides, itd be better if we talk with our mouths. Better for him. Now tell me everything that happened. After she did that, Wendy took him into the bathroom. She had left the stains for him to see, like a beat cop preserving the scene of a crime for the forensic team. And there had been a crime. One against her boy. Dick looked for a long time, not touching, then nodded. Lets see if Dannys up and in the doins. He wasnt, but Wendys heart was lightened by the look of gladness that came into her sons face when he saw who was sitting beside him on the bed and shaking his shoulder. (hey Danny I brought you a present) (its not my birthday) Wendy watched them, knowing they were speaking but not knowing what it was about. Dick said, Get on up, honey. Were gonna take a walk on the beach. (Dick she came back Mrs. Massey from Room 217 came back) Dick gave his shoulder another shake. Talk out loud, Dan. Youre scarin your ma. Danny said, Whats my present? Dick smiled. Thats better. I like to hear you, and Wendy does, too. Yes. It was all she dared say. Otherwise theyd hear the tremble in her voice and be concerned. She didnt want that. While were gone, you might want to give the bathroom a cleaning, Dick said to her. Have you got kitchen gloves? She nodded. Good. Wear them. 6 The beach was two miles away. The parking lot was surrounded by tawdry beachfront attractionsfunnel cake concessions, hotdog stands, souvenir shopsbut this was the tag end of the season, and none were doing much business. They had the beach itself almost entirely to themselves. On the ride from the apartment, Danny had held his presentan oblong package, quite heavy, wrapped in silver paperon his lap. You can open it after we talk a bit, Dick said. They walked just above the waves, where the sand was hard and gleaming. Danny walked slowly, because Dick was pretty old. Someday hed die. Maybe even soon. Im good to go another few years, Dick said. Dont you worry about that. Now tell me about last night. Dont leave anything out. It didnt take long. The hard part would have been finding words to explain the terror he now felt, and how it was mingled with a suffocating sense of certainty now that shed found him, shed never leave. But because it was Dick, he didnt need words, although he found some. Shell come back. I know she will. Shell come back and come back until she gets me. Do you remember when we met? Although surprised at the change of direction, Danny nodded. It had been Hallorann who gave him and his parents the guided tour on their first day at the Overlook. Very long ago, that seemed. And do you remember the first time I spoke up inside your head? I sure do. What did I say? You asked me if I wanted to go to Florida with you. Thats right. And how did it make you feel, to know you wasnt alone anymore? That you wasnt the only one? It was great, Danny said. It was so great. Yeah, Hallorann said. Yeah, course it was. They walked in silence for a bit. Little birdspeeps, Dannys mother called themran in and out of the waves. Did it ever strike you funny, how I showed up when you needed me? He looked down at Danny and smiled. No. It didnt. Why would it? You was just a child, but youre a little older now. A lot older in some ways. Listen to me, Danny. The world has a way of keeping things in balance. I believe that. Theres a saying When the pupil is ready, the teacher will appear. I was your teacher. You were a lot more than that, Danny said. He took Dicks hand. You were my friend. You saved us. Dick ignored this . . . or seemed to. My gramma also had the shiningdo you remember me telling you that? Yeah. You said you and her could have long conversations without even opening your mouths. Thats right. She taught me. And it was her greatgramma that taught her, way back in the slave days. Someday, Danny, it will be your turn to be the teacher. The pupil will come. If Mrs. Massey doesnt get me first, Danny said morosely. They came to a bench. Dick sat down. I dont dare go any further; I might not make it back. Sit beside me. I want to tell you a story. I dont want stories, Danny said. Shell come back, dont you get it? Shell come back and come back and come back. Shut your mouth and open your ears. Take some instruction. Then Dick grinned, displaying his gleaming new dentures. I think youll get the point. Youre far from stupid, honey. 7 Dicks mothers motherthe one with the shininglived in Clearwater. She was the White Gramma. Not because she was Caucasian, of course, but because she was good. His fathers father lived in Dunbrie, Mississippi, a rural community not far from Oxford. His wife had died long before Dick was born. For a man of color in that place and time, he was wealthy. He owned a funeral parlor. Dick and his parents visited four times a year, and young Dick Hallorann hated those visits. He was terrified of Andy Hallorann, and called himonly in his own mind, to speak it aloud would have earned him a smack across the chopsthe Black Grampa. You know about kiddiefiddlers? Dick asked Danny. Guys who want children for sex? Sort of, Danny said cautiously. Certainly he knew not to talk to strangers, and never to get into a car with one. Because they might do stuff to you. Well, old Andy was more than a kiddiefiddler. He was a damn sadist, as well. Whats that? Someone who enjoys giving pain. Danny nodded in immediate understanding. Like Frankie Listrone at school. He gives kids Indian burns and Dutch rubs. If he cant make you cry, he stops. If he can, he never stops. Thats bad, but this was worse. Dick lapsed into what would have looked like silence to a passerby, but the story went forward in a series of pictures and connecting phrases. Danny saw the Black Grampa, a tall man in a suit as black as he was, who wore a special kind of ( fedora) hat on his head. He saw how there were always little buds of spittle at the corners of his mouth, and how his eyes were redrimmed, like he was tired or had just gotten over crying. He saw how he would take Dickyounger than Danny was now, probably the same age hed been that winter at the Overlookon his lap. If they werent alone, he might only tickle. If they were, hed put his hand between Dicks legs and squeeze his balls until Dick thought hed faint with the pain. Do you like that? Grampa Andy would pant in his ear. He smelled of cigarettes and White Horse scotch. Coss you do, every boy likes that. But even if you dont, you dassnt tell. If you do, Ill hurt you. Ill burn you. Holy shit, Danny said. Thats gross. There were other things, too, Dick said, but Ill just tell you one. Grampy hired a woman to help out around the house after his wife died. She cleaned and cooked. At dinnertime, shed slat out everything on the table at once, from salad to dessert, because thats the way ole Black Grampa liked it. Dessert was always cake or puddin. It was put down on a little plate or in a little dish next to your dinnerplate so you could look at it and want it while you plowed through the other muck. Grampas hard and fast rule was you could look at dessert but you couldnt eat dessert unless you finished every bite of fried meat and boiled greens and mashed potatoes. You even had to clean up the gravy, which was lumpy and didnt have much taste. If it wasnt all gone, Black Grampad hand me a hunk of bread and say Sop er up with that, DickieBird, make that plate shine like the dog licked it. Thats what he called me, DickieBird. Sometimes I couldnt finish no matter what, and then I didnt get the cake or the puddin. Hed take it and eat it himself. And sometimes when I could finish all my dinner, Id find hed smashed a cigarette butt into my piece of cake or my vanilla puddin. He could do that because he always sat next to me. Hed make like it was a big joke. Whoops, missed the ashtray, hed say. My ma and pa never put a stop to it, although they must have known that even if it was a joke, it wasnt a fair one to play on a child. They just made out like it was a joke, too. Thats really bad, Danny said. Your folks should have stood up for you. My mom does. My daddy would, too. They were scairt of him. And they were right to be scairt. Andy Hallorann was a bad, bad motorcycle. Hed say, Go on, Dickie, eat around it, that wont poison ya. If I took a bite, hed have Nonniethat was his housekeepers namebring me a fresh dessert. If I wouldnt, it just sat there. It got so I could never finish my meal, because my stomach would get all upset. You should have moved your cake or puddin to the other side of your plate, Danny said. I tried that, sure, I wasnt born foolish. Hed just move it back, saying dessert went on the right. Dick paused, looking out at the water, where a long white boat was trundling slowly across the dividing line between the sky and the Gulf of Mexico. Sometimes when he got me alone he bit me. And once, when I said Id tell my pa if he didnt leave me alone, he put a cigarette out on my bare foot. He said, Tell him that, too, and see what good it does you. Your daddy knows my ways already and hell never say a word, because he yella and because he wants the money I got in the bank when I die, which I aint fixing to do soon.  Danny listened in wideeyed fascination. He had always thought the story of Bluebeard was the scariest of all time, the scariest there ever could be, but this one was worse. Because it was true. Sometimes he said that he knew a bad man named Charlie Manx, and if I didnt do what he wanted, hed call Charlie Manx on the longdistance and hed come in his fancy car and take me away to a place for bad children. Then Grampa would put his hand between my legs and commence squeezing. So you aint gonna say a thing, DickieBird. If you do, ole Charlie will come and keep you with the other children he done stole until you die. And when you do, youll go to hell and your body will burn forever. Because you peached. It dont matter if anybody believes you or not, peaching is peaching. For a long time I believed the old bastard. I didnt even tell my White Gramma, the one with the shining, because I was afraid shed think it was my fault. If Id been older I wouldve known better, but I was just a kid. He paused. There was something else, too. Do you know what it was, Danny? Danny looked into Dicks face for a long time, probing the thoughts and images behind his forehead. At last he said, You wanted your father to get the money. But he never did. No. Black Grampa left it all to a home for Negro orphans in Alabama, and I bet I know why, too. But thats neither here nor there. And your good gramma never knew? She never guessed? She knew there was something, but I kep it blocked away, and she left me alone about it. Just told me that when I was ready to talk, she was ready to listen. Danny, when Andy Hallorann diedit was a strokeI was the happiest boy on earth. My ma said I didnt have to go to the funeral, that I could stay with Gramma Rosemy White Grammaif I wanted to, but I wanted to go. You bet I did. I wanted to make sure old Black Grampa was really dead. It rained that day. Everybody stood around the grave under black umbrellas. I watched his coffinthe biggest and best one in his shop, I have no doubtgo into the ground, and I thought about all the times hed twisted my balls and all the cigarette butts in my cake and the one he put out on my foot and how he ruled the dinner table like the crazy old king in that Shakespeare play. But most of all I thought about Charlie Manxwho Grampa had no doubt made up out of whole clothand how Black Grampa could never call Charlie Manx on the longdistance to come in the night and take me away in his fancy car to live with the other stolen boys and girls. I peeped over the edge of the graveLet the boy see, my pa said when my ma tried to pull me backand I scoped the coffin down in that wet hole and I thought, Down there youre six feet closer to hell, Black Grampa, and pretty soon youll be all the way, and I hope the devil gives you a thousand with a hand thats on fire.  Dick reached into his pants pocket and brought out a pack of Marlboros with a book of matches tucked under the cellophane. He put a cigarette in his mouth and then had to chase it with the match because his hand was trembling and his lips were trembling, too. Danny was astounded to see tears standing in Dicks eyes. Now knowing where this story was headed, Danny asked When did he come back? Dick dragged deep on his cigarette and exhaled smoke through a smile. You didnt need to peek inside my head to get that, did you? Nope. Six months later. I came home from school one day and he was laying naked on my bed with his halfrotted prick all rared up. He said, You come on and sit on this, DickieBird. You give me a thousand and Ill give you two thousand. I screamed but there was no one there to hear it. My ma and pa, they was both working, my ma in a restaurant and my dad at a printing press. I ran out and slammed the door. And I heard Black Grampa get up . . . thump . . . and cross the room . . . thumpthumpthump . . . and what I heard next . . . Fingernails, Danny said in a voice that was hardly there. Scratching on the door. Thats right. I didnt go in again until that night, when my ma and pa were both home. He was gone, but there were . . . leavings. Sure. Like in our bathroom. Because he was going bad. Thats right. I changed the bed myself, which I could do because my ma showed me how two years before. She said I was too old to need a housekeeper anymore, that housekeepers were for little white boys and girls like the ones she took care of before she got her hostessing job at Berkins Steak House. About a week later, I see ole Black Grampa in the park, asettin in a swing. He had his suit on, but it was all covered with gray stuffthe mold that was growing on it down in his coffin, I think. Yeah, Danny said. He spoke in a glassy whisper. It was all he could manage. His fly was open, though, with his works stickin out. Im sorry to tell you all this, Danny, youre too young to hear about such things, but you need to know. Did you go to the White Gramma then? Had to. Because I knew what you know hed just keep comin back. Not like . . . Danny, have you ever seen dead people? Regular dead people, I mean. He laughed because that sounded funny. It did to Danny, too. Ghosts. A few times. Once there were three of them standing around a railroad crossing. Two boys and a girl. Teenagers. I think . . . maybe they got killed there. Dick nodded. Mostly they stick close to where they crossed over until they finally get used to bein dead and move on. Some of the folks you saw in the Overlook were like that. I know. The relief in being able to talk about these thingsto someone who knewwas indescribable. And this one time there was a woman at a restaurant. The kind, you know, where they have tables outside? Dick nodded again. I couldnt see through that one, but no one else saw her, and when a waitress pushed in the chair she was sitting in, the ghost lady disappeared. Do you see them sometimes? Not for years, but youre stronger in the shining than I was. It goes back some as you get older Good, Danny said fervently. but youll have plenty left even when youre grown up, I think, because you started with so much. Regular ghosts arent like the woman you saw in Room 217 and again in your bathroom. Thats right, isnt it? Yes, Danny said. Mrs. Masseys real. She leaves pieces of herself. You saw them. So did Mom . . . and she doesnt shine. Lets walk back, Dick said. Its time you saw what I brought you. 8 The return to the parking lot was even slower, because Dick was winded. Cigarettes, he said. Dont ever start, Danny. Mom smokes. She doesnt think I know, but I do. Dick, what did your White Gramma do? She must have done something, because your Black Grampa never got you. She gave me a present, same like Im gonna give you. Thats what a teacher does when the pupil is ready. Learning itself is a present, you know. The best one anybody can give or get. She wouldnt call Grampa Andy by his name, she just called himDick grinnedthe preevert. I said what you said, that he wasnt a ghost, he was real. And she said yes, that was true, because I was making him real. With the shining. She said that some spiritsangry spirits, mostlywont go on from this world, because they know whats waiting for them is even worse. Most eventually starve away to nothing, but some of them find food. Thats what the shining is to them, Dick, she told me. Food. Youre feeding that preevert. You dont mean to, but you are. Hes like a mosquito wholl keep circling and then landing for more blood. Cant do nothing about that. What you can do is turn what he came for against him. They were back at the Cadillac. Dick unlocked the doors, then slid behind the steering wheel with a sigh of relief. Once upon a time I couldve walked ten miles and run another five. Nowadays, a little walk down the beach and my back feels like a hoss kicked it. Go on, Danny. Open your present. Danny stripped off the silver paper and discovered a box made of greenpainted metal. On the front, below the latch, was a little keypad. Hey, neat! Yeah? You like it? Good. I got it at the Western Auto. Pure American steel. The one White Gramma Rose gave me had a padlock, with a little key I wore around my neck, but that was long ago. This is the nineteen eighties, the modern age. See the number pad? What you do is put in five numbers youre sure you wont forget, then push the little button that says SET. Then, anytime you want to open the box, you punch your code. Danny was delighted. Thanks, Dick! Ill keep my special things in it! These would include his best baseball cards, his Cub Scouts Compass Badge, his lucky green rock, and a picture of him and his father, taken on the front lawn of the apartment building where theyd lived in Boulder, before the Overlook. Before things turned bad. Thats fine, Danny, I want you to do that, but I want you to do something else. What? I want you to know this box, inside and out. Dont just look at it; touch it. Feel it all over. Then stick your nose inside and see if theres a smell. It needs to be your closest friend, at least for awhile. Why? Because youre going to put another one just like it in your mind. One thats even more special. And the next time that Massey bitch comes around, youll be ready for her. Ill tell you how, just like ole White Gramma told me. Danny didnt talk much on the ride back to the apartment. He had a lot to think about. He held his presenta lockbox made of strong metalon his lap. 9 Mrs. Massey returned a week later. She was in the bathroom again, this time in the tub. Danny wasnt surprised. A tub was where she had died, after all. This time he didnt run. This time he went inside and closed the door. She beckoned him forward, smiling. Danny came, also smiling. In the other room, he could hear the television. His mother was watching Threes Company. Hello, Mrs. Massey, Danny said. I brought you something. At the last moment she understood and began to scream. 10 Moments later, his mom was knocking at the bathroom door. Danny? Are you all right? Fine, Mom. The tub was empty. There was some goo in it, but Danny thought he could clean that up. A little water would send it right down the drain. Do you have to go? Ill be out pretty soon. No. I just . . . I thought I heard you call. Danny grabbed his toothbrush and opened the door. Im a hundred percent cool. See? He gave her a big smile. It wasnt hard, now that Mrs. Massey was gone. The troubled look left her face. Good. Make sure you brush the back ones. Thats where the food goes to hide. I will, Mom. From inside his head, far inside, where the twin of his special lockbox was stored on a special shelf, Danny could hear muffled screaming. He didnt mind. He thought it would stop soon enough, and he was right. 11 Two years later, on the day before the Thanksgiving break, halfway up a deserted stairwell in Alafia Elementary, Horace Derwent appeared to Danny Torrance. There was confetti on the shoulders of his suit. A little black mask hung from one decaying hand. He reeked of the grave. Great party, isnt it? he asked. Danny turned and walked away, very quickly. When school was over, he called Dick longdistance at the restaurant where Dick worked in Key West. Another one of the Overlook People found me. How many boxes can I have, Dick? In my head, I mean. Dick chuckled. As many as you need, honey. Thats the beauty of the shining. You think my Black Grampas the only one I ever had to lock away? Do they die in there? This time there was no chuckle. This time there was a coldness in Dicks voice the boy had never heard before. Do you care? Danny didnt. When the onetime owner of the Overlook showed up again shortly after New Yearsthis time in Dannys bedroom closetDanny was ready. He went into the closet and closed the door. Shortly afterward, a second mental lockbox went up on the high mental shelf beside the one that held Mrs. Massey. There was more pounding, and some inventive cursing that Danny saved for his own later use. Pretty soon it stopped. There was silence from the Derwent lockbox as well as the Massey lockbox. Whether or not they were alive (in their undead fashion) no longer mattered.