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t some things 。 。 。 are hard to get over。 You have to understand that。〃
〃Do you mean his arm？〃 His lips had thinned。
〃Yes；〃 Wendy said； and then she rushed on： 〃But it's not just you。 I worry when he goes out to play。 I worry about him wanting a two…wheeler next year； even one with training wheels。 I worry about his teeth and his eyesight and about this thing； what he calls his shine。 I worry。 Because he's little and he seems very fragile and because 。 。 。 because something in this hotel seems to want him。 And it will go through us to get him if it has to。 That's why we must get him out； Jack。 I know that！ I feel that！ We must get him out！〃 Her hand had tightened painfully on his shoulder in her agitation； but he didn't move away。 One hand found the firm weight of her left breast and he began to stroke it through her shirt。
〃Wendy；〃 he said； and stopped。 She waited for him to rearrange whatever he had to say。 His strong hand on her breast felt good； soothing。 〃I could maybe snowshoe him down。 He could walk part of the way himself； but I would mostly have to carry him。 It would mean camping out one； two； maybe three nights。 That would mean building a travois to carry supplies and bedrolls on。 We have the AM/FM radio； so we could pick a day when the weather forecast called for a three…day spell of good weather。 But if the forecast was wrong；〃 he finished； his voice soft and measured； 〃I think we might die。〃 Her face had paled。 It looked shiny； almost ghostly。 He continued to stroke her breast； rubbing the ball of his thumb gently over the nipple。
She made a soft sound…from his words or in reaction to his gentle pressure on her breast； he couldn't tell。 He raised his hand slightly and undid the top button of her shirt。 Wendy shifted her legs slightly。 All at once her jeans seemed too tight； slightly irritating in a pleasant sort of way。
〃It would mean leaving you alone because you can't snowshoe worth beans。 It would be maybe three days of not knowing。 Would you want that？〃 His hand dropped to the second button； slipped it； and the beginning of her cleavage was exposed。
〃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 interaction between the mind and the body…study it； I mean； no one un