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- Стр. 472/529
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Hallorann
nodded
and
twisted
the
throttle
slowly
.
The
snowmobile
purred
forward
,
the
headlamp
cutting
a
clean
cone
of
light
through
the
thickly
falling
snow
.
He
saw
Durkin
’
s
upraised
hand
in
the
rearview
mirror
,
and
raised
his
own
in
return
.
Then
he
nudged
the
handlebars
to
the
left
and
was
traveling
up
Main
Street
,
the
snowmobile
coursing
smoothly
through
the
white
light
thrown
by
the
streetlamps
.
The
speedometer
stood
at
thirty
miles
an
hour
.
It
was
ten
past
seven
.
At
the
Overlook
,
Wendy
and
Danny
were
sleeping
and
Jack
Torrance
was
discussing
matters
of
life
and
death
with
the
previous
caretaker
.
Five
blocks
up
Main
,
the
streetlamps
ended
.
For
half
a
mile
there
were
small
houses
,
all
buttoned
tightly
up
against
the
storm
,
and
then
only
wind
-
howling
darkness
…
In
the
black
again
with
no
light
but
the
thin
spear
of
the
snowmobile
’
s
headlamp
,
terror
closed
in
on
him
again
,
a
childlike
fear
,
dismal
and
disheartening
.
He
had
never
felt
so
alone
.
For
several
minutes
,
as
the
few
lights
of
Sidewinder
dwindled
away
and
disappeared
in
the
rearview
,
the
urge
to
turn
around
and
go
back
was
almost
insurmountable
.
He
reflected
that
for
all
of
Durkin
’
s
concern
for
Jack
Torrance
’
s
boy
,
he
had
not
offered
to
take
the
other
snowmobile
and
come
with
him
.
(
That
place
has
got
a
bad
reputation
around
here
.
)
Clenching
his
teeth
,
he
turned
the
throttle
higher
and
watched
the
needle
on
the
speedometer
climb
past
forty
and
settle
at
forty
-
five
.
He
seemed
to
be
going
horribly
fast
and
yet
he
was
afraid
it
wasn
’
t
fast
enough
.
At
this
speed
it
would
take
him
almost
an
hour
to
get
to
the
Overlook
.
But
at
a
higher
speed
he
might
not
get
there
at
all
.
He
kept
his
eyes
glued
to
the
passing
guardrails
and
the
dime
-
sized
reflectors
mounted
on
top
of
each
one
.
Many
of
them
were
buried
under
drifts
.
Twice
he
saw
curve
signs
dangerously
late
and
felt
the
snowmobile
riding
up
the
drifts
that
masked
the
dropoff
before
turning
back
onto
where
the
road
was
in
the
summertime
.
The
odometer
counted
off
the
miles
at
a
maddeningly
slow
clip
-
five
,
ten
,
finally
fifteen
.
Even
behind
the
knitted
ski
mask
his
face
was
beginning
to
stiffen
up
and
his
legs
were
growing
numb
.
(
Guess
I
’
d
give
a
hundred
bucks
for
a
pair
of
ski
pants
.
)
As
each
mile
turned
over
,
his
terror
grew
-
as
if
the
place
had
a
poison
atmosphere
that
thickened
as
you
neared
it
.
Had
it
ever
been
like
this
before
?
He
had
never
really
liked
the
Overlook
,
and
there
had
been
others
who
shared
his
feeling
,
but
it
had
never
been
like
this
.
He
could
feel
the
voice
that
had
almost
wrecked
him
outside
of
Sidewinder
still
trying
to
get
in
,
to
get
past
his
defenses
to
the
soft
meat
inside
.
If
it
had
been
strong
twenty
-
five
miles
back
,
how
much
stronger
would
it
be
now
?
He
couldn
’
t
keep
it
out
entirely
.
Some
of
it
was
slipping
through
,
flooding
his
brain
with
sinister
subliminal
images
.
More
and
more
he
got
the
image
of
a
badly
hurt
woman
in
a
bathroom
,
holding
her
hands
up
uselessly
to
ward
off
a
blow
,
and
he
felt
more
and
more
that
the
woman
must
be
-
(
Jesus
,
watch
out
!
)
