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"
Al
,
"
he
said
.
"
He
called
to
ask
how
things
were
going
.
I
said
they
were
fine
.
"
"
Jack
,
you
look
terrible
.
Are
you
sick
?
"
"
Headache
’
s
back
.
I
’
m
going
to
bed
early
.
No
sense
trying
to
write
.
"
"
Can
I
get
you
some
warm
milk
?
"
He
smiled
wanly
.
"
That
would
be
nice
.
"
And
now
he
lay
beside
her
,
feeling
her
warm
and
sleeping
thigh
against
his
own
.
Thinking
of
the
conversation
with
Al
,
how
he
had
groveled
,
still
made
him
hot
and
cold
by
turns
.
Someday
there
would
be
a
reckoning
.
Someday
there
would
be
a
book
,
not
the
soft
and
thoughtful
thing
he
had
first
considered
,
but
a
gemhard
work
of
research
,
photo
section
and
all
,
and
he
would
pull
apart
the
entire
Overlook
history
,
nasty
,
incestuous
ownership
deals
and
all
.
He
would
spread
it
all
out
for
the
reader
like
a
dissected
crayfish
.
And
if
Al
Shockley
had
connections
with
the
Derwent
empire
,
then
God
help
him
.
Strung
up
like
piano
wire
,
he
lay
staring
into
the
dark
,
knowing
it
might
be
hours
yet
before
he
could
sleep
.
*
*
*
Wendy
Torrance
lay
on
her
back
,
eyes
closed
,
listening
to
the
sound
of
her
husband
’
s
slumber
-
the
long
inhale
,
the
brief
hold
,
the
slightly
guttural
exhale
.
Where
did
he
go
when
he
slept
,
she
wondered
.
To
some
amusement
park
,
a
Great
Barrington
of
dreams
where
all
the
rides
were
free
and
there
was
no
wifemother
along
to
tell
them
they
’
d
had
enough
hotdogs
or
that
they
’
d
better
be
going
if
they
wanted
to
get
home
by
dark
?
Or
was
it
some
fathoms
-
deep
bar
where
the
drinking
never
stopped
and
the
batwings
were
always
propped
open
and
all
the
old
companions
were
gathered
around
the
electronic
hockey
game
,
glasses
in
hand
,
Al
Shockley
prominent
among
them
with
his
tie
loosened
and
the
top
button
of
his
shirt
undone
?
A
place
where
both
she
and
Danny
were
excluded
and
the
boogie
went
on
endlessly
?
