right。 But Danny could not seem to see exactly what the something was。 His
father was guarding that carefully； even in his own mind。 Was it possible； Danny
wondered； to be glad you had done something and still be so ashamed of that
something that you tried not to think of it？ The question was a disturbing one。
He didn't think such a thing was possible 。。。 in a normal mind。 His hardest
probings at his father had only brought him a dim picture of something like an
octopus； whirling up into the hard blue sky。 And on both occasions that he had
concentrated hard enough to get this； Daddy had suddenly been staring at him in
a sharp and frightening way； as if he knew what Danny was doing。
Now he was in the lobby； getting ready to go out。 He went out a lot； taking
his sled or wearing his snowshoes。 He liked to get out of the hotel。 When he was
out in the sunshine； it seemed like a weight had slipped from his shoulders。
He pulled a chair over； stood on it； and got his parka and snow pants out of
the ballroom closet； and then sat down on the chair to put them on。 His boots
were in the boot box and he pulled them on； his tongue creeping out into the
corner of his mouth in concentration as he laced them and tied the rawhide into
careful granny knots。 He pulled on his mittens and his ski mask and was ready。
He tramped out through the kitchen to the back door； then paused。 He was tired
of playing out back； and at this time of day the hotel's shadow would be cast
over his play area。 He didn't even like being in the Overlook's shadow。 He
decided be would put on his snowshoes and go down to the playground instead。
Dick Hallorann had told him to stay away from the topiary； but the thought of
the hedge animals did not bother him much。 They were buried under snowdrifts
now； nothing showing but a vague hump that was the rabbit's head and the lions'
tails。 Sticking out of the snow the way they were； the tails looked more absurd
than frightening。
Danny opened the back door and got his snowshoes from the milk platform。 Five
minutes later he was strapping them to his feet on the front porch。 His daddy
had told him that he （Danny） had the hang of using the snowshoes — the lazy；
shuffling stride； the twist of ankle that shook the powdery snow from the
lacings just before the boot came back down — and all that remained was for him to
build up the necessary muscles in his thighs and calves and ankles。 Danny found
that his ankles got tired the fastest。 Snowshoeing was almost as hard on your
ankles as skating； because you had to keep clearing the lacings。 Every five
minutes or so he had to stop with his legs spread and the snowshoes fat on the
snow to rest them。
But he didn't have to rest on his way down to the playground because it was
all downhill。 Less than ten minutes after he struggled up and over the monstrous
snow…dune that had drifted in on the Overlook's front porch he was standing with
his mittened hand on the playground slide。 He wasn't even breathing hard。
The playground seemed much nicer in the deep snow than it ever had during the
autumn。 It looked like a fairyland sculpture。 The swing chains had been frozen
in strange positions； the seats of the big kids' swings resting flush against
the snow。 The jungle gym was an ice…cave guarded by dripping icicle teeth。 Only
the chimneys of the play…Overlook stuck up over the snow
（wish the other one was buried that way only not with us in it）
and the tops of the cement rings protruded in two places like Eskimo igloos。
Danny tramped over there； squatted； and began to dig。 Before long he had
uncovered the dark mouth of one of them and he slipped into the cold tunnel。 In
his mind he was Patrick McGoohan； the Secret Agent Man （they had shown the
reruns of that program twice on the Burlington TV channel and his daddy never
missed them； he would skip a party to stay home and watch 〃Secret Agent〃 or 〃The
Avengers〃 and Danny had always watched with him）； on the run from KGB agents in
the mountains of Switzerland。 There had been avalanches in the area and the
notorious KGB agent Slobbo had killed his girlfriend with a poison dart； but
somewhere near was the Russian antigravity machine。 Perhaps at the end of this
very tunnel。 He drew his automatic and went along the concrete tunnel； his eyes
wide and alert； his breath pluming out。
The far end of the concrete ring was solidly blocked with snow。 He tried
digging through it and was amazed （and a little uneasy） to see how solid it was；
almost like ice from the cold and the constant weight of more snow on top of it。
His make…believe game collapsed around him and he was suddenly aware that he
felt closed in and extremely nervous in this tight ring of cement。 He could hear
his breathing； it sounded dank and quick and hollow。 He was under the snow； and
hardly any light filtered down the hole he had dug to get in here。 Suddenly he
wanted to be out in the sunlight more than anything； suddenly he remembered his
daddy and mommy were sleeping and didn't know there he was； that if the hole he
dug caved in he would be trapped； and the Overlook didn't like him。
Danny got turned around with some difficulty and crawled back along the length
of the concrete ring； his snowshoes clacking woodenly together behind him； his
palms crackling in last fall's dead aspen leaves beneath him。 He had just
reached the end and the cold spill of light ing down from above when the snow
did give in； a minor fall； but enough to powder his face and clog the opening he
had wriggled down through and leave him in darkness。
For a moment his brain froze in utter panic and he could not think。 Then； as
if from far off； he heard his daddy telling him that he must never play at the
Stovington dump； because sometimes stupid people hauled old refrigerators off to
the dump without removing the doors and if you got in one and the door happened
to shut on you； there was no way to get out。 You would die in the darkness。
（You wouldn't want a thing like that to happen to you； would you； doc？）
（No； Daddy。）
But it had happened； his frenzied mind told him； it had happened； he was in
the dark； he was closed in； and it was as cold as a refrigerator。 And —
（something is in here with me。）
His breath stopped in a gasp。 An almost drowsy terror stole through his veins。
Yes。 Yes。 There was something in here with him； some awful thing the Overlook
had saved for just such a chance as this。 Maybe a huge spider that had burrowed
down under the dead leaves； or a rat 。。。 or maybe the corpse of some little
kid that had died here on the playground。 Had that ever happened？ Yes； he
thought maybe it had。 He thought of the woman in the tub。 The blood and brains
on the wall of the Presidential Sweet。 Of some little kid； its head split open
from a fall from the monkey bars or a swing； crawling after him in the dark；
grinning； looking for one final playmate in its endless playground。 Forever。 In
a moment he would hear it ing。
At the far end of the concrete ring； Danny heard the stealthy crackle of dead