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- Стр. 168/529
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As
his
eyes
adjusted
to
the
gloom
he
could
see
Tony
just
ahead
of
him
,
a
silhouette
.
Tony
was
looking
at
something
and
Danny
strained
his
eyes
to
see
what
it
was
.
(
Your
daddy
.
See
your
daddy
?
)
Of
course
he
did
.
How
could
he
have
missed
him
,
even
in
the
basement
light
’
s
feeble
glow
?
Daddy
was
kneeling
on
the
floor
,
casting
the
beam
of
a
flashlight
over
old
cardboard
boxes
and
wooden
crates
.
The
cardboard
boxes
were
mushy
and
old
;
some
of
them
had
split
open
and
spilled
drifts
of
paper
onto
the
floor
.
Newspapers
,
books
,
printed
pieces
of
paper
that
looked
like
bills
.
His
daddy
was
examining
them
with
great
interest
.
And
then
Daddy
looked
up
and
shone
his
flashlight
in
another
direction
.
Its
beam
of
light
impaled
another
book
,
a
large
white
one
bound
with
gold
string
.
The
cover
looked
like
white
leather
.
It
was
a
scrapbook
.
Danny
suddenly
needed
to
cry
out
to
his
daddy
,
to
tell
him
to
leave
that
book
alone
,
that
some
books
should
not
be
opened
.
But
his
daddy
was
climbing
toward
it
.
The
mechanical
roaring
sound
,
which
he
now
recognized
as
the
boiler
at
the
Overlook
which
Daddy
checked
three
or
four
times
every
day
,
had
developed
an
ominous
,
rhythmic
hitching
.
It
began
to
sound
like
…
like
pounding
.
And
the
smell
of
mildew
and
wet
,
rotting
paper
was
changing
to
something
else
-
the
high
,
junipery
smell
of
the
Bad
Stuff
.
It
hung
around
his
daddy
like
a
vapor
as
he
reached
for
the
book
…
and
grasped
it
.
Tony
was
somewhere
in
the
darkness
(
This
inhuman
place
makes
human
monsters
.
This
inhuman
place
)
repeating
the
same
incomprehensible
thing
over
and
over
.
(
makes
human
monsters
.
)
Falling
through
darkness
again
,
now
accompanied
by
the
heavy
,
pounding
thunder
that
was
no
longer
the
boiler
but
the
sound
of
a
whistling
mallet
striking
silkpapered
walls
,
knocking
out
whiffs
of
plaster
dust
.
Crouching
helplessly
on
the
blue
-
black
woven
jungle
rug
.
(
Come
out
)
