〃No；〃 she said in a voice that was slightly thick。 She glanced over at Danny。
He had stopped twisting and turning。 His thumb had crept back into his mouth。 So
that was all right。 But Jack was leaving something out of the picture。 It was
too bleak。 There was something else 。。。 what？
〃If we stay put；〃 Jack said； unbuttoning the third and fourth buttons with
that same deliberate slowness； 〃a ranger from the park or a game warden is going
to poke in here just to find out how we're doing。 At that point we simply tell
him we want down。 He'll see to it。〃 He slipped her naked breasts into the wide V
of the open shirt； bent； and molded his lips around the stem of a nipple。 It was
hard and erect。 He slipped his tongue slowly back and forth across it in a way
he knew she liked。 Wendy moaned a little and arched her back。
（？Something I've forgotten？）
〃Honey？〃 she asked。 On their own her hands sought the back of his head so that
when he answered his voice was muffled against her flesh。
〃How would the ranger take us out？〃
He raised his head slightly to answer and then settled his mouth against the
other nipple。
〃If the helicopter was spoken for I guess it would have to be by snowmobile。〃
（！！！）
〃But we have one of those！ Ullman said so！〃
His mouth froze against her breast for a moment； and then he sat up。 Her own
face was slightly flushed； her eyes overbright。 Jack's on the other hand； was
calm； as if he had been reading a rather dull book instead of engaging in
foreplay with his wife。
〃If there's a snowmobile there's no problem；〃 she said excitedly。 〃We can all
three go down together。〃
〃Wendy； I've never driven a snowmobile in my life。〃
〃It can't be that hard to learn。 Back in Vermont you see ten…year…olds driving
them in the fields 。。。 although what their parents can be thinking of I don't
know。 And you had a motorcycle when we met。〃 He had； a Honda 350cc。 He had
traded it in on a Saab shortly after he and Wendy took up residence together。
〃I suppose I could；〃 he said slowly。 〃But I wonder how well it's been
maintained。 Ullman and Watson 。。。 they run this place from May to October。
They have summertime minds。 I know it won't have gas in it。 There may not be
plugs or a battery； either。 I don't want you to get your hopes up over your
head； Wendy。〃
She was totally excited now； leaning over him； her breasts tumbling out of her
shirt。 He had a sudden impulse to seize one and twist it until she shrieked。
Maybe that would teach her to shut up。
〃The gas is no problem；〃 she said。 〃The VW and the hotel truck are both full。
There's gas for the emergency generator downstairs； too。 And there must be a
gascan out in that shed so you could carry extra。〃
〃Yes；〃 he said。 〃There is。〃 Actually there were three of them； two five…gallons
and a two…gallon。
〃I'll bet the sparkplugs and the battery are out there too。 Nobody would store
their snowmobile in one place and the plugs and battery someplace else； would
they？〃
〃Doesn't seem likely； does it？〃 He got up and walked over to where Danny lay
sleeping。 A spill of hair had fallen across his forehead and Jack brushed it
away gently。 Danny didn't stir。
〃And if you can get it running you'll take us out？〃 she asked from behind him。
〃On the first day the radio says good weather？〃
For a moment he didn't answer。 He stood looking down at his son； and his mixed
feelings dissolved in a wave of love。 He was the way she had said； vulnerable；
fragile。 The marks on his neck were very prominent。
〃Yes；〃 he said。 〃I'll get it running and we'll get out as quick as we can。〃
〃Thank God！〃
He turned around。 She had taken off her shirt and lay on the bed； her belly
flat； her breasts aimed perkily at the ceiling。 She was playing with them
lazily； flicking at the nipples。 〃Hurry up； gentlemen；〃 she said softly； 〃time。〃
* * *
After； with no light burning in the room but the night light that Danny had
brought with him from his room； she lay in the crook of his arm； feeling
deliciously at peace。 She found it hard to believe they could be sharing the
Overlook with a murderous stowaway。
〃Jack？〃
〃Hmmmm？〃
〃What got at him？〃
He didn't answer her directly。 〃He does have something。 Some talent the rest
of us are missing。 The most of us； beg pardon。 And maybe the Overlook has
something； too。〃
〃Ghosts？〃
〃I don't know。 Not in the Algernon Blackwood sense； that's for sure。 More like
the residues of the feelings of the people who have stayed here。 Good things and
bad things。 In that sense； I suppose that every big hotel has got its ghosts。
Especially the old ones。〃
〃But a dead woman in the tub 。。。 Jack； he's not losing his mind； is he？〃
He gave her a brief squeeze。 〃We know he goes into 。。。 well； trances； for
want of a better word 。。。 from time to time。 We know that when he's in them he
sometimes 。。。 sees？ 。。。 things he doesn't understand。 If precognitive
trances are possible； they're probably functions of the subconscious mind。 Freud
said that the subconscious never speaks to us in literal language。 Only in
symbols。 If you dream about being in a bakery where no one speaks English； you
may be worried about your ability to support your family。 Or maybe just that no
one understands you。 I've read that the falling dream is a standard outlet for
feelings of insecurity。 Games； little games。 Conscious on one side of the net；
subconscious on the other； serving some cockamamie image back and forth。 Same
with mental illness； with hunches； all of that。 Why should precognition be any
different？ Maybe Danny really did see blood all over the walls of the
Presidential Suite。 To a kid his age； the image of blood and the concept of
death are nearly interchangeable。 To kids； the image is always more accessible
than the concept； anyway。 William Carlos Williams knew that； he was a
pediatrician。 When we grow up； concepts gradually get easier and we leave the
images to the poets 。。。 and I'm just rambling on。〃
〃I like to hear you ramble。〃
〃She said it； folks。 She said it。 You all heard it。〃
〃The marks on his neck； Jack。 Those are real。〃
〃Yes。〃
There was nothing else for a long time。 She had begun to think he must have
gone to sleep and she was slipping into a drowse herself when he said：
〃I can think of two explanations for those。 And neither of them involves a
fourth party in the hotel。〃
〃What？〃 She came up on one elbow。
〃Stigmata； maybe；〃 he said。
〃Stigmata？ Isn't that when people bleed on Good Friday or something？〃
〃Yes。 Sometimes people who believe deeply in Christ's divinity exhibit
bleeding marks on their hands and feet during the Holy Week。 It was more mon
in the Middle Ages than now。 In those days such people were considered blessed
by God。 I don't think the Catholic Church proclaimed any of it as out…and…out
miracles； which was pretty smart of them。 Stigmata isn't much different from
some of the things the yogis can do。 It's better understood now； that's all。 The
people who understand the int