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He
let
himself
down
to
the
edge
of
the
roof
,
dropped
one
leg
over
,
and
felt
around
until
his
foot
found
the
top
rung
of
the
ladder
just
below
the
overhang
.
He
would
go
down
to
the
equipment
shed
where
he
had
stored
the
bug
bomb
on
a
high
shelf
out
of
Danny
’
s
reach
.
He
would
get
it
,
come
back
up
,
and
then
they
would
be
the
ones
surprised
.
You
could
be
stung
,
but
you
could
also
sting
back
.
He
believed
that
sincerely
.
Two
hours
from
now
the
nest
would
be
just
so
much
chewed
paper
and
Danny
could
have
it
in
his
room
if
he
wanted
to
-
Jack
had
had
one
in
his
room
when
he
was
just
a
kid
,
it
had
always
smelled
faintly
of
woodsmoke
and
gasoline
.
He
could
have
it
right
by
the
head
of
his
bed
.
It
wouldn
’
t
hurt
him
.
"
I
’
m
getting
better
.
"
The
sound
of
his
own
voice
,
confident
in
the
silent
afternoon
,
reassured
him
even
though
he
hadn
’
t
meant
to
speak
aloud
.
He
was
getting
better
.
It
was
possible
to
graduate
from
passive
to
active
,
to
take
the
thing
that
had
once
driven
you
nearly
to
madness
as
a
neutral
prize
of
no
more
than
occasional
academic
interest
.
And
if
there
was
a
place
where
the
thing
could
be
done
,
this
was
surely
it
.
He
went
down
the
ladder
to
get
the
bug
bomb
.
They
would
pay
.
They
would
pay
for
stinging
him
.
Jack
had
found
a
huge
white
-
painted
wicker
chair
in
the
back
of
the
equipment
shed
two
weeks
ago
,
and
had
dragged
it
around
to
the
porch
over
Wendy
’
s
objections
that
it
was
really
the
ugliest
thing
she
had
ever
seen
in
her
whole
life
.
He
was
sitting
in
it
now
,
amusing
himself
with
a
copy
of
E
.
L
.
Doctorow
’
s
Welcome
to
Hard
Times
,
when
his
wife
and
son
rattled
up
the
driveway
in
the
hotel
truck
.
Wendy
parked
it
in
the
turn
-
around
,
raced
the
engine
sportily
,
and
then
turned
it
off
.
The
truck
’
s
single
taillight
died
.
The
engine
rumbled
grumpily
with
post
-
ignition
and
finally
stopped
.
Jack
got
out
of
his
chair
and
ambled
down
to
meet
them
.
"
Hi
,
Dad
!
"
Danny
called
,
and
raced
up
the
hill
.
He
had
a
box
in
one
hand
.
"
Look
what
Mommy
bought
me
!
"
Jack
picked
his
son
up
,
swung
him
around
twice
,
and
kissed
him
heartily
on
the
mouth
.
"
Jack
Torrance
,
the
Eugene
O
’
Neill
of
his
generation
,
the
American
Shakespeare
!
"
Wendy
said
,
smiling
.
"
Fancy
meeting
you
here
,
so
far
up
in
the
mountains
.
"
"
The
common
ruck
became
too
much
for
me
,
dear
lady
,
"
he
said
,
and
slipped
his
arms
around
her
.
They
kissed
.
"
How
was
your
trip
?
"
