The Shining 原版小说-第4部分

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breaking　pencil　lead　or　a　small　piece　of　kindling　when　you　brought　it　down　over　
your　knee。　A　moment　of　utter　silence　on　the　other　side；　in　respect　to　the　
beginning　future　maybe；　all　the　rest　of　his　life。　Seeing　Danny's　face　drain　of　
color　until　it　was　like　cheese；　seeing　his　eyes；　always　large；　grow　larger　
still；　and　glassy；　Jack　sure　the　boy　was　going　to　faint　dead　away　into　the　
puddle　of　beer　and　papers；　his　own　voice；　weak　and　drunk；　slurry；　trying　to　take　
it　all　back；　to　find　a　way　around　that　not　too　loud　sound　of　bone　cracking　and　
into　the　past　—　is　there　a　status　quo　in　the　house？　—　saying：　Danny；　are　you　all　
right？　Danny's　answering　shriek；　then　Wendy's　shocked　gasp　as　she　came　around　
them　and　saw　the　peculiar　angle　Danny's　forearm　had　to　his　elbow；　no　arm　was　
meant　to　hang　quite　that　way　in　a　world　of　normal　families。　Her　own　scream　as　
she　swept　him　into　her　arms；　and　a　nonsense　babble：　Oh　God　Danny　oh　dear　God　oh　
sweet　God　your　poor　sweet　arm；　and　Jack　was　standing　there；　stunned　and　stupid；　


　
　
trying　to　understand　how　a　thing　like　this　could　have　happened。　He　was　standing　
there　and　his　eyes　met　the　eyes　of　his　wife　and　he　saw　that　Wendy　hated　him。　It　
did　not　occur　to　him　what　the　hate　might　mean　in　practical　terms；　it　was　only　
later　that　he　realized　she　might　have　left　him　that　night；　gone　to　a　motel；　
gotten　a　divorce　lawyer　in　the　morning；　or　called　the　police。　He　saw　only　that　
his　wife　hated　him　and　he　felt　staggered　by　it；　all　alone。　He　felt　awful。　This　
was　what　oning　death　felt　like。　Then　she　fled　for　the　telephone　and　dialed　
the　hospital　with　their　screaming　boy　wedged　in　the　crook　of　her　arm　and　Jack　
did　not　go　after　her；　he　only　stood　in　the　ruins　of　his　office；　smelling　beer　
and　thinking　—　）　
　　You　lost　your　temper。　
　　He　rubbed　his　hand　harshly　across　his　lips　and　followed　Watson　into　the　boiler　
room。　It　was　humid　in　here；　but　it　was　more　than　the　humidity　that　brought　the　
sick　and　slimy　sweat　onto　his　brow　and　stomach　and　legs。　The　remembering　did　
that；　it　was　a　total　thing　that　made　that　night　two　years　ago　seem　like　two　
hours　ago。　There　was　no　lag。　It　brought　the　shame　and　revulsion　back；　the　sense　
of　having　no　worth　at　all；　and　that　feeling　always　made　him　want　to　have　a　
drink；　and　the　wanting　of　a　drink　brought　still　blacker　despair　—　would　he　ever　
have　an　hour；　not　a　week　or　even　a　day；　mind　you；　but　just　one　waking　hour　when　
the　craving　for　a　drink　wouldn't　surprise　him　like　this？　
　　〃The　boiler；〃　Watson　announced。　He　pulled　a　red　and　blue　bandanna　from　his　
back　pocket；　blew　his　nose　with　a　decisive　honk；　and　thrust　it　back　out　of　sight　
after　a　short　peek　into　it　to　see　if　he　had　gotten　anything　interesting。　
　　The　boiler　stood　on　four　cement　blocks；　a　long　and　cylindrical　metal　tank；　
copper…jacketed　and　often　patched。　It　squatted　beneath　a　confusion　of　pipes　and　
ducts　which　zigzagged　upward　into　the　high；　cobweb…festooned　basement　ceiling。　
To　Jack's　right；　two　large　heating　pipes　came　through　the　wall　from　the　furnace　
in　the　adjoining　room。　
　　〃Pressure　gauge　is　here。〃　Watson　tapped　it。　〃Pounds　per　square　inch；　psi。　I　
guess　you'd　know　that。　I　got　her　up　to　a　hundred　now；　and　the　rooms　get　a　little　
chilly　at　night。　Few　guests　plain；　what　the　fuck。　They're　crazy　to　e　up　
here　in　September　anyway。　Besides；　this　is　an　old　baby。　Got　more　patches　on　her　
than　a　pair　of　welfare　overalls。〃　Out　came　the　bandanna。　A　honk。　A　peek。　Back　it　
went。　
　　〃I　got　me　a　fuckin　cold；〃　Watson　said　conversationally。　〃I　get　one　every　
September。　I　be　tinkering　down　here　with　this　old　whore；　then　I　be　out　cuttin　
the　grass　or　rakin　that　rogue　court。　Get　a　chill　and　catch　a　cold；　my　old　mum　
used　to　say。　God　bless　her；　she　been　dead　six　year。　The　cancer　got　her。　Once　the　
cancer　gets　you；　you　might　as　well　make　your　will。　
　　〃You'll　want　to　keep　your　press　up　to　no　more　than　fifty；　maybe　sixty。　Mr。　
Ullman；　he　says　to　heat　the　west　wing　one　day；　central　wing　the　next；　east　wing　
the　day　after　that。　Ain't　he　a　crazyman？　I　hate　that　little　fucker。　Yap…yap…yap　
all　the　livelong　day；　he's　just　like　one　a　those　little　dogs　that　bites　you　on　
the　ankle　then　run　around　an　pee　all　over　the　rug。　If　brains　was　black　powder　he　
couldn't　blow　his　own　nose。　It's　a　pity　the　things　you　see　when　you　ain't　got　a　
gun。　
　　〃Look　here。　You　open　an　close　these　ducts　by　pullin　these　rings。　I　got　em　all　
marked　for　you。　The　blue　tags　all　go　to　the　rooms　in　the　east　wing。　Red　tags　is　


　
　
the　middle。　Yellow　is　the　west　wing。　When　you　go　to　heat　the　west　wing；　you　got　
to　remember　that's　the　side　of　the　hotel　that　really　catches　the　weather。　When　
it　whoops；　those　rooms　get　as　cold　as　a　frigid　woman　with　an　ice　cube　up　her　
works。　You　can　run　your　press　all　the　way　to　eighty　on　west　wing　days。　I　would；　
anyway。〃　
　　〃The　thermostats　upstairs　—　〃　Jack　began。　
　　Watson　shook　his　bead　vehemently；　making　his　fluffy　hair　bounce　on　his　skull。　
〃They　ain't　hooked　up。　They're　just　there　for　show。　Some　of　these　people　from　
California；　they　don't　think　things　is　right　unless　they　got　it　hot　enough　to　
grow　a　palm　tree　in　their　fuckin　bedroom。　All　the　heat　es　from　down　here。　Got　
to　watch　the　press；　though。　See　her　creep？〃　
　　He　tapped　the　main　dial；　which　had　crept　from　a　hundred　pounds　per　square　inch　
to　a　hundred　and　two　as　Watson　soliloquized。　Jack　felt　a　sudden　shiver　cross　his　
back　in　a　hurry　and　thought：　The　goose　just　walked　over　my　grave。　Then　Watson　
gave　the　pressure　wheel　a　spin　and　dumped　the　boiler　off：　There　was　a　great　
hissing；　and　the　needle　dropped　back　to　ninety…one。　Watson　twisted　the　valve　
shut　and　the　hissing　died　reluctantly。　
　　〃She　creeps；〃　Watson　said。　〃You　tell　that　fat　little　peckerwood　Ullman；　he　
drags　out　the　account　books　and　spends　three　hours　showing　how　he　can't　afford　a　
new　one　until　1982。　I　tell　you；　this　whole　place　is　gonna　go　sky…high　someday；　
and　I　just　hope　that　fat　fuck's　here　to　ride　the　rocket。　God；　I　wish　I　could　be　
as　charitable　as　my　mother　was。　She　could　see　the　good　in　everyone。　Me；　I'm　just　
as　mean　as　a　snake　with　the　shingles。　What　the　fuck；　a　man　can't　help　his　
nature。　
　　〃Now　you　got　to　remember　to　e　down　here　twice　a　day　and　once　at　night　
before　you　rack　in。　You　got　to　check　the　press。　If　you　forget；　it'll　just　creep　
and　creep　and　like　as　not　you　an　your　fambly'll　wake　up　on　the　fuckin　moon。　You　
just　dump　her　off　a　little　and　you'll　have　no　trouble。〃　
　　〃What's　top　end？〃　
　　〃Oh；　she's　rated　for　two…fifty；　but　she'd　blow　long　before　that　now。　You　
couldn't　get　me　to　e　down　an　stand　next　to　her　when　that　dial　was　up　to　one　
hundred　and　eighty。〃　
　　〃There's　no　automatic　shutdown？〃　
　　〃No；　there　ain't。　This　was　built　before　such　things　were　required。　Federal　
government's　into　everything　these　days；　ain't　it？　FBI　openin　mail；　CIA　buggin　
the　goddam　phones　。。。　and　look　what　happened　to　that　Nixon。　Wasn't　that　a　
sorry　sight？　
　　〃But　if　you　just　e　down　here　regular　an　check　the　press；　you'll　be　fine。　An　
remember　to　switch　those　ducks　around　like　he　wants。　Won't　none　of　the　rooms　get　
much　above　forty…five　unless　we　have　an　amazin　warm　winter。　And　you'll　have　your　
own　apartment　just　as　warm　as　you　like　it。〃　
　　〃What　about　the　plumbing？〃　
　　〃Okay；　I　was　just　getting　to　that。　Over　here　through　this　arch。〃　
　　They　walked　into　a　long；　rectangular　room　that　seemed　to　stretch　for　miles。　
Watson　pulled　a　cord　and　a　single　seventyfive…watt　bulb　cast　a　sickish；　swinging　
glow　over　the　area　they　were　standing　in。　Straight　ahead　was　the　bottom　of　the　
elevator　shaft；　heavy　greased　cables　descending　to　pulleys　twenty　feet　in　
diameter　and　a　huge；　grease…clogged　motor。　Newspapers　were　everywhere；　bundled　


　
　
and　banded　and　boxed。　Other　cartons　were　marked　Records　or　Invoices　or　Receipts…　
SAV1　The　smell　was　yellow　and　moldy。　Some　of　the　cartons　were　falling　apart；　
spilling　yellow　flimsy　sheets　that　might　have　been　twenty　years　old　out　onto　the　
floor。　Jack　stared　around；　fascinated。　The　Overlook's　entire　history　might　be　
here；　buried　in　these　rotting　cartons。　
　　〃That　elevator's　a　bitch　to　keep　runnin；〃　Watson　said；　jerking　his　thumb　at　
it。　〃I　know　Ullman's　buying　the　state　elevator　inspector　a　few　fancy　dinners　to　
keep　the　repairman　away　from　that　fucker。　
　　〃Now；　here's　your　central　plumbin　core。〃　In　front　of　them　five　large　pipes；　
each　of　them　wrapped　in　insulation　and　cinched　with　steel　bands；　rose　into　the　
shadows　and　out　of　sight。　
　　Watson　pointed　to　a　cobwebby　shelf　beside　the　utility　shaft。　There　were　a　
number　of　greasy　rags　on　it；　and　a　looseleaf　binder。　〃That　there　is　all　your　
plumbin　schematics；〃　he　said。　〃I　don't　think　you'll　have　any　trouble　with　
leaks　—　never　has　been　—　but　sometimes　the　pipes　freeze　up。　Only　way　to　stop　that　
is　to　run　the　faucets　a　little　bit　durin　the　nights；　but　there's　over　four　
hundred　taps　in　this　fuckin　palace。　That　fat　fairy　upstairs　would　scream　all　the　
way　to　Denver　when　he　saw　the　water　bill。　Ain't　that　right？〃　
　　〃I'd　say　that's　a　remarkably　astute　analysis。〃　
　　Watson　looked　at　him　admiringly。　〃Say；　you　really　are　a　college　fella　aren't　
you？　Talk　just　like　a　book。　I　admire　that；　as　long　as　the　fella　ain't　one　of　
those　fairy…boys。　Lots　of　em　are。　You　know　who　stirred　up　all　those　college　
riots　a　few　years　ago？　The　hommasexshuls；　that's　who。　They　get　frustrated　an　
have　to　cut　loose。　in　out　of　the　closet；　they　call　it。　Holy　shit；　I　don't　
know　what　the　world's　in　to。　
　　〃Now；　if　she　freezes；　she　most　likely　gonna　freeze　right　up　in　this　shaft。　No　
heat；　you　see。　If　it　happens；　use　this。〃　He　reached　into　a　broken　orange　crate　
and　produced　a　small　gas　torch。　
　　〃You　just　unstrap　the　insulation　when　you　find　the　ice　plug　and　put　the　heat　
right　to　her。　Get　it？〃　
　　〃Yes。　But　what　if　a　pipe　freezes　outside　the　utility　core？〃　
　　〃That　won't　happen　if　you're　doin　your　job　and　keepin　the　place　heated。　You　
can't　get　to　the　other　pipes　anyway。　Don't　you　fret　about　it。　You'll　have　no　
trouble。　Beastly　place　down　here。　Cobwebby。　Gives　me　the　horrors；　it　does。〃　
　　〃Ullman　said　the　first　winter　caretaker　killed　his　family　and　himself。〃　
　　〃Yeah；　that　guy　Grady。　He　was　a　bad　actor；　I　knew　that　the　minute　I　saw　him。　
Always　grinnin　like　an　egg…suck　dog。　That　was　when　they　were　just　startin　out　
here　and　that　fat　fuck　Ullman；　he　woulda　hired　the　Boston　Strangler　if　he'd've　
worked　for　minimum　wage。　Was　a　ranger　from　the　National　Park　that　found　em；　the　
phone　was　out。　All　of　em　up　in　the　west　wing　on　the　third　floor；　froze　solid。　
Too　bad　about　the　little　girls。　Eight　and　six；　they　was。　Cute　as　cut…buttons。　
Oh；　that　was　a　hell　of　a　mess。　That　Ullman；　he　manages　some　honky…tonky　resort　
place　down　in　Florida　in　the　off…season；　and　he　caught　a　plane　up　to　Denver　and　
hired　a　sleigh　to　take　him　up　here　from　Sidewinder　because　the　roads　were　
closed　—　a　sleigh；　can　you　believe　that？　He　about　split　a　gut　tryin　to　keep　it　
out　of　the　papers。　Did　pretty　well；　I　got　to　give　him　that。　There　was　an　item　in　
the　Denver　Post；　and　of　course　the　bituary　in　that　pissant　little　rag　they　have　
down　in　Estes　Park；　but　that　was　just　about　all。　Pretty　good；　considerin　the　


　
　
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