for her。 But what she had seen in 217 had scared her badly enough so she was
more than glad to pick up the walking papers Ullman had issued her and go。
Why had she e to him？ A shine knows a shine； Hallorann thought； grinning at
the pun。
So he had gone up that night and had let himself into the room； which was to
be reoccupied the next day。 He had used the office passkey to get in； and if
Ullman had caught him with that key； he would have joined Delores Vickery on the
unemployment line。
The shower curtain around the tub had been drawn。 He had pushed it back； but
even before he did he'd had a premonition of what he was going to see。 Mrs。
Massey； swollen and purple； lay soggily in the tub； which was half…full of
water。 He had stood looking down at her； a pulse beating thickly in his throat。
There had been other things at the Overlook： a bad dream that recurred at
irregular intervals — some sort of costume party and he was catering it in the
Overlook's ballroom and at the shout to unmask； everybody exposed faces that
were those of rotting insects — and there had been the hedge animals。 Twice；
maybe three times； he had （or thought he had） seen them move； ever so slightly。
That dog would seem to change from his sitting…up posture to a slightly crouched
one； and the lions seemed to move forward； as if menacing the little tykes on
the playground。 Last year in May Ullman had sent him up to the attic to look for
the ornate set of firetools that now stood beside the lobby fireplace。 While he
had been up there the three lightbulbs strung overhead had gone out and he had
lost his way back to the trapdoor。 He had stumbled around for an unknown length
of time； closer and closer to panic； barking his shins on boxes and bumping into
things； with a stronger and stronger feeling that something was stalking him in
the dark。 Some great and frightening creature that had just oozed out of the
woodwork when the lights went out。 And when he had literally stumbled over the
trapdoor's ringbolt he had hurried down as fast as he could； leaving the trap
open； sooty and disheveled； with a feeling of disaster barely averted。 Later
Ullman had e down to the kitchen personally； to inform him he had left the
attic trapdoor open and the lights burning up there。 Did Hallorann think the
guests wanted to go up there and play treasure hunt？ Did he think electricity
was free？
And he suspected — no； was nearly positive — that several of the guests had seen
or heard things； too。 In the three years he had been there； the Presidential
Suite had been booked nineteen times。 Six of the guests who had put up there had
left the hotel early； some of them looking markedly ill。 Other guests had left
other rooms with the same abruptness。 One night in August of 1974； near dusk； a
man who had won the Bronze and Silver Stars in Korea （that man now sat on the
boards of three major corporations and was said to have personally pink…slipped
a famous TV news anchorman） unaccountably went into a fit of screaming hysterics
on the putting green。 And there had been dozens of children during Hallorann's
association with the Overlook who simply refused to go into the playground。 One
child had had a convulsion while playing in the concrete rings； but Hallorann
didn't know if that could be attributed to the Overlook's deadly siren song or
not — word had gone around among the help that the child； the only daughter of a
handsome movie actor； was a medically controlled epileptic who had simply
forgotten her medicine that day。
And so； staring down at the corpse of Mrs。 Massey； he had been frightened but
not pletely terrified。 It was not pletely unexpected。 Terror came when she
opened her eyes to disclose blank silver pupils and began to grin at him。 Horror
came when
（she had started to get out and e after him。）
He had fled； heart racing； and had not felt safe even with the door shut and
locked behind him。 In fact； he admitted to himself now as he zipped the
fiightbag shut； he had never felt safe anywhere in the Overlook again。
And now the boy — calling； screaming for help。
He looked at his watch。 It was 5：30 P。m。 He went to the apartment's door；
remembered it would be heavy winter now in Colorado； especially up in the
mountains； and went back to his closet。 He pulled his long； sheepskin…lined
overcoat out of its polyurethane dry…cleaning bag and put it over his arm。 It
was the only winter garment he owned。 He turned off all the lights and looked
around。 Had he forgotten anything？ Yes。 One thing。 He took the will out of his
breast pocket and slipped it into the margin of the dressing table mirror。 With
luck he would be back to get it。
Sure； with luck。
He left the apartment； locked the door behind him； put the key under the rush
mat； and ran down the outside steps to his converted Cadillac。
* * *
Halfway to Miami International； fortably away from the switchboard where
Queems or Queems's toadies were known to listen in； Hallorann stopped at a
shopping center Laundromat and called United Air Lines。 Flights to Denver？
There was one due out at 6：36 p。m。 Could the gentleman make that？
Hallorann looked at his watch； which showed 6：02； and said he could。 What
about vacancies on the flight？
Just let me check。
A clunking sound in his ear followed by saccharine Montavani； which was
supposed to make being on hold more pleasant。 It didn't。 Hallorann danced from
one foot to the other； alternating glances between his watch and a young girl
with a sleeping baby； in a hammock on her back unloading a coin…op Maytag。 She
was afraid she was going to get home later than she planned and the roast would
burn and her husband — Mark？ Mike？ Matt？ — would be mad。
A minute passed。 Two。 He had just about made up his mind to drive ahead and
take his chances when the cannedsounding voice of the flight reservations clerk
came back on。 There was an empty seat； a cancellation。 It was in first class。
Did that make any difference？
No。 He wanted it。
Would that be cash or credit card？
Cash； baby； cash。 I've got to fly。
And the name was — ？
Hallorann； two l's； two n's。 Catch you later。
He hung up and hurried toward the door。 The girl's simple thought； worry for
the roast； broadcast at him over and over until be thought he would go mad。
Sometimes it was like that； for no reason at all you would catch a thought；
pletely isolated； pletely pure and clear 。。。 and usually pletely
useless。
* * *
He almost made it。
He had the limo cranked up to eighty and the airport was actually in sight
when one of Florida's Finest pulled him over。
Hallorann unrolled the electric window and opened his mouth at the cop； who
was flipping up pages in his citation book。
〃I know；〃 the cop said fortingly。 〃It's a funeral in Cleveland。 Your
father。 It's a wedding in Seattle。 Your sister。
A fire in San Jose that wiped out your gramp's candy store。 Some really fine
Cambodian Red just waiting in a terminal locker in New York City。 I love this
piece of road just outside the airport。 Even as a kid； story hour was my
favorite part of school。〃
〃Listen； officer； my son is — 〃
〃The only part of the story I can never figure out until the end；〃 the officer
said； finding the right page in his citation book； 〃is the driver's…license
number of the offending motorist/storyteller and his registration information…
So be a nice guy。 Let me peek。〃
Hallorann looked into the cop's calm blue eyes； debated telling his my…son…is…
in…critical…condition story anyway； and decided that would make things worse。
This Smokey was no Queems。 He dug out his wallet。
〃Wonderful；〃 the cop said。 〃Would you take them out for me； please？ I just
have to see how it's all going to e out in the end。〃
Silently； Hallorann took out his driver's license and his Florida registration
and gave them to the traffic cop。
〃That's very good。 That's so good you win a present。〃
〃What？〃 Hallorann asked hopefully。
〃When I finish writing down these numbers； I'm going to let you blow up a
little balloon for me。〃
〃Oh； Jeeeesus！〃 Hallorann moaned。 〃Officer； my flight — 〃
〃Shhhh；〃 the traffic cop said。 〃Don't be naughty。〃
Hallorann closed his eyes。
* * *
He got to the United desk at 6：49； hoping against hope that the flight had
been delayed。 He didn't even have to ask。 The departure monitor over the
ining passengers desk told the story。 Flight 901 for Denver； due out at 6：36
EST； had left at 6：40。 Nine minutes before。
〃Oh shit；〃 Dick Hallorann said。
And suddenly the smell of oranges； heavy and cloying； he had just time to
reach the men's room before it came； deafening； terrified：
（！！！ E PLEASE E DICK PLEASE PLEASE
E ！！！）
》
ON THE STAIRS
One of the things they had sold to swell their liquid assets a little before
moving from Vermont to Colorado was Jack's collection of two hundred old rock
'n' roll and r & b albums； they had gone at the yard sale for a dollar apiece。
One of these albums； Danny's personal favorite； had been an Eddie Cochran
double…record set with four pages of bound…in liner notes by Lenny Kaye。 Wendy
had often been struck by Danny's fascination for this one particular album by a
manboy who had lived fast and died young 。。。 had died； in fact； when she
herself had only been ten years old。
Now； at quarter past seven （mountain time）； as Dick Hallorann was telling
Queems about his ex…wife's white boyfriend； she came upon Danny sitting halfway
up the stairs between the lobby and the first floor； tossing a red rubber ball
from hand to band and singing one of the songs from that album。 His voice was
low and tuneless。
〃So I climb one…two flight three flight four；〃 Danny sang； 〃five flight six
flight seven flight more 。。。 when I get to the top； I'm too tired to rock 。。。。〃
She came around him；