Сияние

Tony

           Lockeddoorsfrowneddownathimastheyhaddoneinthedreams,thevisions,onlynowhewasintheworldofrealthings,wherethegamewasplayedforkeeps.

           Heturnedtotherightandcametoahalt,hisheartthuddingheavilyinhischest.Heatwasblowingaroundhisankles.Fromtheregisters,ofcourse.ThismusthavebeenDaddy’sdaytoheatthewestwingand

           (Youwillrememberwhatyourfatherforgot.)

           Whatwasit?Healmostknew.SomethingthatmightsavehimandMommy?ButTonyhadsaidhewouldhavetodoithimself.Whatwasit?

           Hesankdownagainstthewall,tryingdesperatelytothink.Itwassohard…thehotelkepttryingtogetintohishead…theimageofthatdarkandslumpedformswingingthemalletfromsidetoside,gougingthewallpaper…sendingoutpuffsofplasterdust.

           "Helpme,"hemuttered."Tony,helpme."

           Andsuddenlyhebecameawarethatthehotelhadgrowndeathlysilent.Thewhiningsoundofthemotorhadstopped

           (mustnothavebeenreal)

           andthesoundsofthepartyhadstoppedandtherewasonlythewind,howlingandwhoopingendlessly.

           Theelevatorwhirredintosuddenlife.

           Itwascomingup.

           AndDannyknewwho-what-wasinit.

           Heboltedtohisfeet,eyesstaringwildly.Panicclutchedaroundhisheart.WhyhadTonysenthimtothethirdfloor?Hewastrappeduphere.Allthedoorswerelocked.

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