together？ Was he blowing the whistle on himself？ Please God no； don't let it be
that way。 Please。
He closed his eyes and an image immediately arose on the darkened screen of
his inner lids： sticking his hand through that hole in the shingles to pull out
the rotted flashing； the sudden needling sting； his own agonized； startled cry
in the still and unheeding air： Oh you goddamn fucking son of a bitch 。。。
Replaced with an image two years earlier； himself stumbling into the house at
three in the morning； drunk； falling over a table and sprawling full…length on
the floor； cursing； waking Wendy up on the couch。 Wendy turning on the light；
seeing his clothes ripped and smeared from some cloudy parking…lot scuffle that
had occurred at a vaguely remembered honky…tonk just over the New Hampshire
border hours before； crusted blood under his nose； now looking up at his wife；
blinking stupidly in the light like a mole in the sunshine； and Wendy saying
dully； You son of a bitch； you woke Danny up。 If you don't care about yourself；
can't you care a little bit about us？ Oh； why do I even bother talking to you？
The telephone rang； making him jump。 He snatched it off the cradle；
illogically sure it must be either Ullman or Al Shockley。 〃What？〃 he barked。
〃Your overtime； sir。 Three dollars and fifty cents。〃
〃I'll have to break some ones；〃 he said。 〃Wait a minute。〃
He put the phone on the shelf； deposited his last six quarters； then went out
to the cashier to get more。 He performed the transaction automatically； his mind
running in a single closed circle like a squirrel on an exercise wheel。
Why had he called Ullman？
Because Ullman had embarrassed him？ He had been embarrassed before； and by
real masters the Grand Master； of course； being himself。 Simply to crow at the
man； expose his hypocrisy？ Jack didn't think he was that petty。 His mind tried
to seize on the scrapbook as a valid reason； but that wouldn't hold water
either。 The chances of Ullman knowing who the owner was were no more than two in
a thousand。 At the interview； he had treated the cellar as another country a
nasty underdeveloped one at that。 If he had really wanted to know； he would have
called Watson； whose winter number was also in the office notebook。 Even Watson
would not have been a sure thing but surer than Ullman。
And telling him about the book idea； that had been another stupid thing。
Incredibly stupid。 Besides jeopardizing his job； he could be closing off wide
channels of information once Ullman called around and told people to beware of
New Englanders bearing questions about the Overlook Hotel。 He could have done
his researches quietly； mailing off polite letters； perhaps even arranging some
interviews in the spring 。。。 and then laughed up his sleeve at Ullman's rage
when the book came out and he was safely away The Masked Author Strikes Again。
Instead he had made that damned senseless call； lost his temper； antagonized
Ullman； and brought out all of the hotel manager's Little Caesar tendencies。
Why？ If it wasn't an effort to get himself thrown out of the good job Al had
snagged for him； then what was it？
He deposited the rest of the money in the slots and hung up the phone。 It
really was the senseless kind of thing he might have done if he had been drunk。
But he had been sober； dead cold sober。
Walking out of the drugstore be crunched another Excedrin into his mouth；
grimacing yet relishing the bitter taste。
On the walk outside he met Wendy and Danny。
〃Hey； we were just ing after you；〃 Wendy said。 〃Snowing； don't you know。〃
Jack blinked up。 〃So it is。〃 It was snowing hard。 Sidewinder's main street was
already heavily powdered； the center line obscured。 Danny had his head tilted up
to the white sky； his mouth open and his tongue out to catch some of the fat
flakes drifting down。
〃Do you think this is it？〃 Wendy asked。
Jack shrugged。 〃I don't know。 I was hoping for another week or two of grace。
We still might get it。〃
Grace； that was it。
（I'm sorry； Al。 Grace； your mercy。 For your mercy。 One more chance。 I am
heartily sorry — ）
How many times； over how many years； had he — a grown man — asked for the mercy
of another chance？ He was suddenly so sick of himself； so revolted； that he
could have groaned aloud。
〃How's your headache？〃 she asked； studying him closely。
He put an arm around her and hugged her tight。 〃Better。 e on； you two；
let's go home while we still can。〃
They walked back to where the hotel truck was slantparked against the curb；
Jack in the middle； his left arm around Wendy's shoulders； his right hand
holding Danny's hand。 He had called it home for the first time； for better or
worse。
As he got behind the truck's wheel it occurred to him that while he was
fascinated by the Overlook； he didn't much like it。 He wasn't sure it was good
for either his wife or his son or himself。 Maybe that was why he had called
Ullman。
To be fired while there was still time。
He backed the truck out of its parking space and headed them out of town and
up into the mountains。
》
NIGHT THOUGHTS
It was ten o'clock。 Their quarters were filled with counterfeit sleep。
Jack lay on his side facing the wall； eyes open； listening to Wendy's slow and
regular breathing。 The taste of dissolved aspirin was still on his tongue；
making it feel rough and slightly numb。 Al Shockley had called at quarter of
six； quarter of eight back East。 Wendy had been downstairs with Danny； sitting
in front of the lobby fireplace and reading。
〃Person to person；〃 the operator said； 〃for Mr。 Jack Torrance。〃
〃Speaking。〃 He had switched the phone to his right hand； had dug his
handkerchief out of his back pocket with his left； and had wiped his tender lips
with it。 Then he lit a cigarette。
Al's voice then； strong in his ear： 〃Jacky…boy； what in the name of God are
you up to？〃
〃Hi； Al。〃 He snuffed the cigarette and groped for the Excedrin bottle。
〃What's going on； Jack？ I got this weird phone call from Stuart Ullman this
afternoon。 And when Stu Ullman calls long…distance out of his own pocket； you
know the shit has hit the fan。〃
〃Ullman has nothing to worry about； Al。 Neither do you。〃
〃What exactly is the nothing we don't have to worry about？ Stu made it sound
like a cross between blackmail and a National Enquirer feature on the Overlook。
Talk to me； boy。〃
〃I wanted to poke him a little；〃 Jack said。 〃When I came up here to be
interviewed； he had to drag out all my dirty laundry。 Drinking problem。 Lost
your last job for racking over a student。 Wonder if you're the right man for
this。 Et cetera。 The thing that bugged me was that he was bringing all this up
because he loved the goddamn hotel so much。 The beautiful Overlook。 The
traditional Overlook。 The bloody sacred Overlook。 Well； I found a scrapbook in
the basement。 Somebody had put together all the less savory aspects of Ullman's
cathedral； and it looked to me like a little black mass had been going on after
hours。〃
〃