oor open； the hinges squealed faintly。
The kitchen was empty。 Grady was gone。 Everything was still and frozen beneath
the cold white glare of the fluorescent bars。 His eyes caught on the large
chopping block where the three of them had eaten their meals。
Standing on top of it was a martini glass； a fifth of gin； and a plastic dish
filled with olives。
Leaning against it was one of the roque mallets from the equipment shed。
He looked at it for a long time。
Then a voice much deeper and much more powerful than Grady's； spoke from
somewhere； everywhere 。。。 from inside him。
（Keep your promise； Mr。 Torrance。）
〃I will；〃 he said。 He heard the fawning servility in his own voice but was
unable to control it。 〃I will。〃
He walked to the chopping block and put his hand on the handle of the mallet。
He hefted it。
Swung it。
It hissed viciously through the air。
Jack Torrance began to smile。
》
HALLORANN；
GOING UP THE COUNTRY
It was quarter of two in the afternoon and according to the snow…clotted signs
and the Hertz Buick's odometer； he was less than three miles from Estes Park
when he finally went off the road。
In the hills； the snow was falling faster and more furiously than Hallorann
had ever seen （which was； perhaps； not to say a great deal； since Hallorann had
seen as little snow as he could manage in his lifetime）； and the wind was
blowing a capricious gale — now from the west； now backing around to the north；
sending clouds of powdery snow across his field of vision； making him coldly
aware again and again that if he missed a turn he might well plunge two hundred
feet off the