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so much； Jack。 And there will be other books。 You just can't expect me to
subsidize you while you 。。。〃
〃All right； agreed。〃
〃I don't want you to think I'm trying to control your artistic life； Jack。 You
know me better than that。 It's just that 〃
〃What？〃
〃Is Derwent still involved with the Overlook？ Somehow？〃
〃I don't see how that can possibly be any concern of yours； Jack。〃
〃No；〃 he said distantly。 〃I suppose it isn't。 Listen； Al； I think I hear Wendy
calling me for something。 I'll get back to you。〃
〃Sure thing； Jacky…boy。 We'll have a good talk。 How are things？ Dry？〃
YOU'VE GOT YOUR POUND OF FLESH BLOOD AND ALL NOW CAN'T YOU LEAVE
ME ALONE？）
〃As a bone。〃
〃Here too。 I'm actually beginning to enjoy sobriety。 If — 〃
〃I'll get back； Al。 Wendy — 〃
〃Sure。 Okay。〃
And so he had hung up and that was when the cramps had e； hitting him like
lightning bolts； making him curl up in front of the telephone like a penitent；
hands over his belly； head throbbing like a monstrous bladder。
The moving wasp； having stung moves on 。。。
It had passed a little when Wendy came upstairs and asked him who had been on
the phone。
〃Al；〃 he said。 〃He called to ask how things were going。 I said they were
fine。〃
〃Jack； you look terrible。 Are you sick？〃
〃Headache's back。 I'm going to bed early。 No sense trying to write。〃
〃Can I get you some warm milk？〃
He smiled wanly。 〃That would be nice。〃
And now he lay beside her； feeling her warm and sleeping thigh against his
own。 Thinking of the conversation with Al； how he had groveled； still made him
hot and cold by turns。 Someday there would be a reckoning。 Someday there would
be a book； not the soft and thoughtful thing he had first considered； but a gem…
hard work of research； photo section and all； and he would pull apart the entire
Overlook history； nasty； incestuous ownership deals and all。 He would spread it
all out for the reader like a dissected crayfish。 And if Al Shockley had
connections with the Derwent empire； then God help him。
Strung up like piano wire； he lay staring into the dark； knowing it might be
hours yet before he could sleep。
* * *
Wendy Torrance lay on her back； eyes closed； listening to the sound of her
husband's slumber — the long inhale； the brief hold； the slightly guttural
exhale。 Where did he go when he slept； she wondered。 To some amusement park； a
Great Barrington of dreams where all the rides were free and there was no wife…
mother along to tell them they'd had enough hotdogs or that they'd better be
going if they wanted to get home by dark？ Or was it some fathoms…deep bar where
the drinking never stopped and the batwings were always propped open and all the
old panions were gathered around the electronic hockey game； glasses in hand；
Al Shockley prominent among them with his tie loosened and the top button of his
shirt undone？ A place where both she and Danny were excluded and the boogie went
on endlessly？
Wendy was worried about him； the old； helpless worry that she had hoped was
behind her forever in Vermont； as if worry could somehow not cross state lines。
She didn't like what the Overlook seemed to be doing to Jack and Danny。
The most frightening thing； vaporous and unmentioned； perhaps unmentionable；
was that all of Jack's drinking symptoms had e back； one by one 。。。 all but
the drink itself。 The constant wiping of the lips with hand or handkerchief； as
if to rid them of excess moisture。 Long pauses at the typewriter； more balls of
paper in the wastebasket。 There had been a bottle of Excedrin on the telephone
table tonight after Al had called him； but no water glass。 He had been chewing
them again。 He got irritated over little things。 He would unconsciously start
snapping his fingers in a nervous rhythm when things got too quiet。 Increased
profanity。 She had begun to worry about his temper； too。 It would almost e as
a relief if he would lose it； blow off steam； in much the same way that he went
down to the basement first thing in the morning and last thing at night to dump
the press on the boiler。 It would almost be good to see him curse and kick a
chair across the room or slam a door。 But those things； always an integral part
of his temperament； had almost wholly ceased。 Yet she had the feeling that Jack
was more and more often angry with her or Danny； but was refusing to let it out。
The boiler had a pressure gauge： old； cracked； clotted with grease； but still
workable。 Jack had none。 She had never been able to read him very well。 Danny
could； but Danny wasn't talking。
And the call from Al。 At about the same time it had e； Danny had lost all
interest in the story they had been reading。 He left her to sit by the fire and
crossed to the main desk where Jack had constructed a roadway for his matchbox
cars and trucks。 The Violent Violet Volkswagen was there and Danny had begun to
push it rapidly back and forth。 Pretending to read her own book but actually
looking at Danny over the top of it； she had seen an odd amalgam of the ways she
and Jack expressed anxiety。 The wiping of the lips。 Running both hands nervously
through his hair； as she had done while waiting for Jack to e home from his
round of the bars。 She couldn't believe Al had called just to 〃ask how things
were going。〃 If you wanted to shoot the bull； you called Al。 When Al called you；
that was business。
Later； when she had e back downstairs； she had found Danny curled up by the
fire again； reading the second…grade…primer adventures of Joe and Rachel at the
circus with their daddy in plete； absorbed attention。 The fidgety distraction
had pletely disappeared。 Watching him； she had been struck again by the eerie
certainty that Danny knew more and understood more than there was room for in
Dr。 （〃Just call me Bill〃） Edmonds's philosophy。
〃Hey； time for bed； doc；〃 she'd said。
〃Yeah； okay。〃 He marked his place in the book and stood up。
〃Wash up and brush your teeth。〃
〃Okay。〃
〃Don't forget to use the floss。〃
〃I won't。〃
They stood side by side for a moment； watching the wax and wane of the coals
of the fire。 Most of the lobby was chilly and drafty； but this circle around the
fireplace was magically warm； and hard to leave。
〃It was Uncle Al on the phone；〃 she said casually。
〃Oh yeah？〃 Totally unsurprised。
〃I wonder if Uncle Al was mad at Daddy；〃 she said； still casually。
〃Yeah； he sure was；〃 Danny said； still watching the fire。 〃He didn't want
Daddy to write the book。〃
〃What book； Danny？〃
〃About the hotel。〃
The question framed on her lips was one she and Jack had asked Danny a
thousand times： How do you know that？ She hadn't asked him。 She didn't want to
upset him before bed； or make him aware that they were casually discussing his
knowledge of things he had no way of knowing at all。 And he did know； she was
convinced of that。 Dr。 Edmonds's patter about inductive reasoning and
subconscious logic was just that： patter。 Her sister 。。。 how had Danny known
she was thinking about Aileen in the waiting room that day？ And
（I dreamed Daddy had an accident。）
She shook her head； as if to clear it。 〃Go wash up； doc。〃
〃Okay。〃 He ran up the stairs toward their quarters。 Frowning； she had gone
into the kitchen to warm Jack's milk in a saucepan。
And now； lying wakeful in her bed and listening to her husband's breathing and
the wind outside （miraculously； they'd had only another flurry that afternoon；
still no heavy snow）； she let her mind turn fully to her lovely； troubling son；
born with a caul over his face； a simple tissue of membrane that doctors saw
perhaps once in every seven hundred births； a tissue that the old wives' tales
said betokened the second sight。
She decided that it was time to talk to Danny about the Overlook 。。。 and
high time she tried to get Danny to talk to her。 Tomorrow。 For sure。 The two of
them would be going down to the Sidewinder Public Library to see if they could
get him some second…grade…level books on an extended loan thro