Сияние

Drinks on the House

           

           (It’smetheymustwant…isn’tit?Iamtheone.NotDanny,notWendy.I’mtheonewholovesithere.Theywantedtoleave.I’mtheonewhotookcareofthesnowmobile…wentthroughtheoldrecords…dumpedthepressontheboiler…lied…practicallysoldmysoul…whatcantheywantwithham?)

           "Whereisthemanager?"Hetriedtoaskitcasuallybuthiswordsseemedtocomeoutbetweenlipsalreadynumbedbythefirstdrink,likewordsfromanightmareratherthanthoseinasweetdream.

           Lloydonlysmiled.

           "Whatdoyouwantwithmyson?Danny’snotinthis.,.ishe?"Heheardthenakedpleainhisownvoice.

           Lloyd’sfaceseemedtoberunning,changing,becomingsomethingpestilent.Thewhiteskinbecomingahepatiticyellow,cracking.Redsoreseruptingontheskin,bleedingfoulsmellingliquid.DropletsofbloodsprangoutonLloyd’sforeheadlikesweatandsomewhereasilverchimewasstrikingthequarter-hour.

           (Unmask,unmask!)

           "Drinkyourdrink,Mr.Torrance,"Lloydsaidsoftly."Itisn’tamatterthatconcernsyou.Notatthispoint."

           Hepickedhisdrinkupagain,raisedittohislips,andhesitated.Heheardthehard,horriblesnapasDanny’sarmbroke.HesawthebicycleflyingbrokenlyupoverthehoodofAl’scar,starringthewindshield.Hesawasinglewheellyingintheroad,twistedspokespointingintotheskylikejagsofpianowire.

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