e signals must have worked after all。
It wasn't fair。
Goddammit； it just wasn't fair。
Something — luck； fate； providence — had been trying to save him。 Some other
luck； white luck。 And at the last moment bad old Jack Torrance luck had stepped
back in。 The lousy run of cards wasn't over yet。
Resentment； a gray； sullen wave of it； pushed up his throat。 His hands had
clenched into fists again。
（Not fair； goddammit； not fair！）
Why couldn't he have looked someplace else？ Anyplace！ Why hadn't he had a
crick in his neck or an itch in his nose or the need to blink？ Just one of those
little things。 He never would have seen it。
Well； he hadn't。 That was all。 It was an hallucination； no different from what
had happened yesterday outside that room on the second floor or the goddam hedge
menagerie。 A momentary strain； that was all。 Fancy； I thought I saw a snowmobile
battery in that corner。 Nothing there now。 bat fatigue； I guess； sir。 Sorry。
Keep your pecker up； son。 It happens to all of us sooner or later。
He yanked the door open almost hard enough to snap the hinges and pulled his
snowshoes inside。 They were clotted with snow and he slapped them down hard
enough on the floor to raise a cloud of it。 He put his left foot on the left
shoe 。。。 and paused。
Danny was out there； by the milk platform。 Trying to make a snowman； by the
looks。 Not much luck； the snow was too cold to stick together。 Still； he was
giving it the old college try； out there in the flashing morning； a speck of a
bundled…up boy above the brilliant snow and below the brilliant sky。 Wearing his
hat turned around backward like Carlton Fiske。