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Wendy was only scared of the boogeyman summoned up by a single hysterical little boy。 Now suddenly； he could see her side。 It was like his play； his damnable play。 He no longer knew which side he was on； or how things should e out。
Once you saw the face of a god in those jumbled blacks and whites； it was everybody out of the pool…you could never unsee it。 Others might laugh and say it's nothing； just a lot of splotches with no meaning； give me a good old Craft… master paint…by…the…numbers any day； but you would always see the face of Christ…Our…Lord looking out at you。 You had seen it in one gestalt leap； the conscious and unconscious melding in that one shocking moment of understanding。
You would always see it。 You were damned to always see it。
（I've been sleepwalking again； my dear 。 。 。） It had been all right until he had seen Danny playing in the snow。 It was Danny's fault。 Everything had been Danny's fault。 He was the one with the shining； or whatever it was。 It wasn't a shining。 It was a curse。 If he and Wendy had been here alone； they could have passed the winter quite nicely。 No pain； no strain on the brain。
（Don't want to leave。 ？Can't？） The Overlook didn't want them to go and he didn't want them to go either。 Not even Danny。 Maybe he was a part of it； now。 Perhaps the Overlook； large and rambling Samuel Johnson that it was； had picked him to be its Boswell。 You say the new caretaker writes？ Very good； sign him on。 Time we told our side。 Let's get rid of the woman and his snotnosed kid first； however。 We don't want him to be distracted。 We don't… He was standing by the snowmobile's cockpit； his head starting to ache again。
What did it e down to？ Go or stay。 Very simple。 Keep it simple。 Shall we go or shall we stay？
If we go； how long will it be before you find the local hole in Sidewinder？ a voice inside him asked。 The dark place with the lousy color TV that unshaven and unemployed men spend the day watching game shows on？ Where the piss in the men's room smells two thousand years old and there's always a sodden Camel butt unraveling in the toilet bowl？ Where the beer is thirty cents a glass and you cut it with salt and the jukebox is loaded with seventy country oldies？
How long？ Oh Christ； he was so afraid it wouldn't be long at all。
〃I can't win；〃 he said； very softly。 That was it。 It was like trying to play solitaire with one of the aces missing from the deck。
Abruptly he leaned over the Skidoo's motor partment and yanked off the magneto。 It came off with sickening ease。 He looked at it for a moment； then went to the equipment shed's back door and opened it。
From here the view of the mountains was unobstructed； picture…postcard beautiful in the twinkling brightness of morning。 An unbroken field of snow rose to the first pines about a mile distant。 He flung the magneto as far out into the snow as he could。 It went much further than it should have。 There was a light puff of snow when it fell。 The light breeze carried the snow granules away to fresh resting places。 Disperse there； I say。 There's nothing to see。 It's all over。 Disperse。
He felt at peace。
He stood in the doorway for a long time； breathing the good mountain air； and then he closed it firmly and went back out the other door to tell Wendy they would be staying。 On the way； he stopped and had a snowball fight with Danny。
》
THE HEDGES
It was November 29； three days after Thanksgiving。 The last week had been a good one； the Thanksgiving dinner the best they'd ever had as a family。 Wendy had cooked Dick Hallorann's turkey to a turn and they had all eaten to bursting without even ing close to demolishing the jolly bird。 Jack had groaned that they would be eating turkey for the rest of the winter…creamed turkey； turkey sandwiches； turkey and noodles； turkey surprise。
No； Wendy told him with a little smile。 Only until Christmas。 Then we have the capon。
Jack and Danny groaned together。
The bruises on Danny's neck had faded； and their fears seemed to have faded with them。 On Thanksgiving afternoon Wendy had been pulling Danny around on his sled while Jack worked on the play； which was now almost done。
〃Are you still afraid； doe？〃 she had asked； not knowing bow to put the question less baldly。
〃Yes；〃 he answered simply。 〃But now I stay in the safe places。〃
〃Your daddy says that sooner or later the forest rangers will wonder why we're not checking in on the CB radio。 They'll e to see if anything is wrong。 We might go down then。 You and I。 And let your daddy finish the winter。 He has good reasons for wanting to。 In a way； doe 。 。 。 I know this is hard for you to understand 。 。 。 our backs are against the wall。〃
〃Yes；〃 he had answered nonmittally。
On this sparkling afternoon the two of them were upstairs； and Danny knew that they had been making love。 They were dozing now。 They were happy； he knew。 His mother was still a little bit afraid； but his father's attitude was strange。 It was a feeling that he had done something that was very hard and had done it 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 it at 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 some