Brittle yellow aspen leaves tumbled around his heels as he crossed the lot to his International Harvester pickup and climbed in。 Blue smoke jetted from the rusted exhaust pipe as he started it up。 The spell of silence held among them as he backed； then pulled out of the parking lot。 His truck disappeared over the brow of the hill and then reappeared； smaller； on the main road； heading west。
For a moment Danny felt more lonely than he ever had in his life。
》
THE FRONT PORCH
The Torrance family stood together on the long front porch of the Overlook Hotel as if posing for a family portrait； Danny in the middle； zippered into last year's fall jacket which was now too small and starting to e out at the elbow； Wendy behind him with one hand on his shoulder； and Jack to his left； his own hand resting lightly on his son's head。
Mr。 Ullman was a step below them； buttoned into an expensive…looking brown mohair overcoat。 The sun was entirely behind the mountains now； edging them with gold fire； making the shadows around things look long and purple。 The only three vehicles left in the parking lots were the hotel truck； Ullman's Lincoln Continental； and the battered Torrance VW。
〃You've got your keys； then；〃 Ullman said to Jack； 〃and you understand fully about the furnace and the boiler？〃 Jack nodded； feeling some real sympathy for Ullman。 Everything was done for the season； the ball of string was neatly wrapped up until next May 12…not a day earlier or later…and Ullman； who was responsible for all of it and who referred to the hotel in the unmistakable tones of infatuation； could not help looking for loose ends。
〃I think everything is well in hand；〃 Jack said。
〃Good。 I'll be in touch。〃 But he still lingered for a moment； as if waiting for the wind to take a hand and perhaps gust him down to his car。 He sighed。
〃All right。 Have a good winter； Mr。 Torrance； Mrs。 Torrance。 You too； Danny。〃
〃Thank you； sir；〃 Danny said。 〃I hope you do； too。〃
〃I doubt it；〃 Ullman repeated； and he sounded sad。 〃The place in Florida is a dump； if the out…and…out truth is to be spoken。 Busywork。 The Overlook is my real job。 Take good care of it for me； Mr。 Torrance。〃
〃I think it will be here when you get back next spring；〃 Jack said； and a thought flashed through Danny's mind （but will we？） and was gone。
〃Of course。 Of course it will〃 Ullman looked out toward the playground where the hedge animals were clattering in the wind。 Then he nodded once more in a businesslike way。
〃Good…by； then。〃 He walked quickly and prissily across to his car…a ridiculously big one for such a little man…and tucked himself into it。 The Lincoln's motor purred into life and the taillights flashed as he pulled out of his parking stall。 As the car moved away； Jack could read the small sign at the head of the stall： RESERVED FOR MR。 ULLMAN； MGR。
〃Right；〃 Jack said softly。
They watched until the car was out of sight； headed down the eastern slope。
When it was gone； the three of them looked at each other for a silent； almost frightened moment。 They were alone。 Aspen leaves whirled and skittered in aimless packs across the lawn that was now neatly mowed and tended for no guest's eyes。 There was no one to see the autumn leaves steal across the grass but the three of them。 It gave Jack a curious shrinking feeling； as if his life force had dwindled to a mere spark while the hotel and the grounds bad suddenly doubled in size and bee sinister； dwarfing them with sullen； inanimate power。
Then Wendy said： 〃Look at you； doc。 Your nose is running like a fire hose。
Let's get inside。〃 And they did； closing the door firmly behind them against the restless whine of the wind。
P A R T T H R E E
The Wasps' Nest
》
UP ON THE ROOF
〃Oh you goddam fucking son of a bitch！〃 Jack Torrance cried these words out in both surprise and agony as he slapped his right hand against his blue chambray workshirt； dislodging the big； slow… moving wasp that had stung him。 Then he was scrambling up the roof as fast as he could； looking back over his shoulder to see if the wasp's brothers and sisters were rising from the nest he had uncovered to do battle。 If they were； it could be bad； the nest was between him and his ladder； and the trapdoor leading down into the attic was locked from the inside。 The drop was seventy feet from the roof to the cement patio between the hotel and the lawn。
The clear air above the nest was still and undisturbed。
Jack whistled disgustedly between his teeth； sat straddling the peak of the roof； and examined his right index finger。 It was swelling already； and he supposed he would have to try and creep past that nest to his ladder so he could go down and put some ice on it。
It was October 20。 Wendy and Danny had gone down to Sidewinder in the hotel truck （an elderly； rattling Dodge that was still more trustworthy than the VW； which was now wheezing gravely and seemed terminal） to get three gallons of milk and do some Christmas shopping。 It was early to shop； but there was no telling when the snow would e to stay。 There had already been flurries； and in some places the road down from the Overlook was slick with patch ice。
So far the fall had been almost preternaturally beautiful。 In the three weeks they had been here； golden day had followed golden day。 Crisp； thirty…degree mornings gave way to afternoon temperatures in the low sixties； the perfect temperature for climbing around on the Overlook's gently sloping western roof and doing the shingling。 Jack had admitted freely to Wendy that he could have finished the job four days ago； but he felt no real urge to hurry。 The view from up here was spectacular； even putting the vista from the Presidential Suite in the shade。 More important； the work itself was soothing。 On the roof he felt himself healing from the troubled wounds of the last three years。 On the roof he felt at peace。 Those three years began to seem like a turbulent nightmare。
The shingles had been badly rotted； some of them blown entirely away by last winter's storms。 He had ripped them all up； yelling 〃Bombs away！〃 as he dropped them over the side； not wanting Danny to get hit in case he had wandered over。
He had been pulling out bad flashing when the wasp had gotten him。
The ironic part was that he warned himself each time he climbed onto the roof to keep an eye out for nests； he had gotten that bug bomb just in case。 But this morning the stillness and peace had been so plete that his watchfulness had lapsed。 He had been back in the world of the play he was slowly creating； roughing out whatever scene he would be working on that evening in his head。 The play was going very well； and although Wendy had said little； he knew she was pleased。 He had been roadblocked on the crucial scene between Denker； the sadistic headmaster； and Gary Benson； his young hero； during the last unhappy six months at Stovington； months when the craving for a drink had been so bad that he could barely concentrate on his in…class lectures； let alone his extracurricular literary ambitions。
But in the last twelve evenings； as he actually sat down in front of the office…model Underwood he had borrowed from the main office downstairs； the roadblock had disappeared under his fingers as magically as cotton candy dissolves on the lips。 He had e up almost effortlessly with the insights into Denker's character that had always been lacking； and he had rewritten most of the second act accordingly； making it revolve around the new scene。 And the progress of the third act； which he had been turning over in his mind when the wasp put an end to cogitation； was ing clearer all the time。 He thought he could rough it out in two weeks； and have a clean copy of the whole damned play by New Year's。
He had an agent in New York； a tough red…headed woman named Phyllis Sandler who smoked Herbert Tareytons； drank Jim Beam from a paper cup； and thought the literary sun rose and set on Sean O'Casey。 She had marketed three of Jack's short stories； including the Esquire piece。 He had written her about the play； whi