Сияние

The Snowmobile

           

           Hewalkedbacktothesnowmobileandgavethesideofitagoodhealthykickashewentby.Well,thatwastheendofit.HewouldjusthavetotellWendysorry,baby,but-

           Therewasaboxsittinginthecornerbythedoor.Thestoolbadbeenrightoverit.Writtenonthetop,inpencil,wastheabbreviationSkid.

           Helookedatit,thesmiledryinguponhislips.Look,sir,it’sthecavalry.Lookslikeyoursmokesignalsmusthaveworkedafterall.

           Itwasn’tfair.

           Goddammit,itjustwasn’tfair.

           Something-luck,fate,providence-hadbeentryingtosavehim.Someotherluck,whiteluck.AndatthelastmomentbadoldJackTorranceluckhadsteppedbackin.Thelousyrunofcardswasn’toveryet.

           Resentment,agray,sullenwaveofit,pusheduphisthroat.Hishandshadclenchedintofistsagain.

           (Notfair,goddammit,notfair!)

           Whycouldn’thehavelookedsomeplaceelse?Anyplace!Whyhadn’thehadacrickinhisneckoranitchinhisnoseortheneedtoblink?Justoneofthoselittlethings.Heneverwouldhaveseenit.

           Well,hehadn’t.Thatwasall.Itwasanhallucination,nodifferentfromwhathadhappenedyesterdayoutsidethatroomonthesecondfloororthegoddamhedgemenagerie.Amomentarystrain,thatwasall.Fancy,IthoughtIsawasnowmobilebatteryinthatcorner.Nothingtherenow.Combatfatigue,Iguess,sir.Sorry.Keepyourpeckerup,son.

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