The Shining

I see a bad moon a-rising.

I see trouble on the way.

I see earthquakes and lightnin'

I see bad times today.

Don't go 'round tonight,

It's bound to take your life,

There's a bad moon on the rise.

Someone had added a very old Buick car radio under the hotel truck's dashboard, and now, tinny and choked with static, the distinctive sound of John Fogerty's Creedence Clearwater Revival band came out of the speaker. Wendy and Danny were on their way down to Sidewinder. The day was clear and bright. Danny was turning Jack's orange library card over and over in his hands and seemed cheerful enough, but Wendy thought he looked drawn and tired, as if be hadn't been sleeping enough and was going on nervous energy alone.

The song ended and the disc jockey came on. "Yeah, that's Creedence. And speakin of bad moon, it looks like it may be risin over the KMTX listening area before long, hard as it is to believe with the beautiful, springlike weather we've enjoyed for the last couple-three days. The KMTX Fearless Forecaster says high pressure will give way by one o'clock this afternoon to a widespread lowpressure area which is just gonna grind to a stop in our KMTX area, up where the air is rare. Temperatures will fall rapidly, and precipitation should start around dusk. Elevations under seven thousand feet, including the metro-Denver area, can expect a mixture of sleet and snow, perhaps freezing on some roads, and nothin but snow up here, cuz. We're lookin at one to three inches below seven thousand and possible accumulations of six to ten inches in Central Colorado and on the Slope. The Highway Advisory Board says that if you're plannin to tour the mountains in your car this afternoon or tonight, you should remember that the chain law will be in effect. And don't go nowhere unless you have to. Remember," the announcer added jocularly, "that's how the Donners got into trouble. They just weren't as close to the nearest Seven-Eleven as they thought."

A Clairol commercial came on, and Wendy reached down and snapped the radio off. "You mind?"

"Huh-uh, that's okay." He glanced out at the sky, which was bright blue. "Guess Daddy picked just the right day to trim those hedge animals, didn't he?"

"I guess he did," Wendy said.

"Sure doesn't look much like snow, though," Danny added hopefully.

"Getting cold feet?" Wendy asked. She was still thinking about that crack the disc jockey had made about the Donner Party.

"Nah, I guess not."

Well, she thought, this is the time. If you're going to bring it up, do it now or forever hold your peace.

"Danny," she said, making her voice as casual as possible, "would you be happier if we went away from the Overlook? If we didn't stay the winter?"

Danny looked down at his hands. "I guess so," he said. "Yeah. But it's Daddy's job."

"Sometimes," she said carefully, "I get the idea that Daddy might be happier away from the Overlook, too." They passed a sign which read SIDEWINDER 18 mi. and then she took the truck cautiously around a hairpin and shifted up into second. She took no chances on these downgrades; they scared her silly.

"Do you really think so?" Danny asked. He looked at her with interest for a moment and then shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Because he's worried about us," Danny said, choosing his words carefully. It was hard to explain, he understood so little of it himself. He found himself harking back to an incident he had told Mr. Hallorann about, the big kid looking at department store TV sets and wanting to steal one. That had been distressing, but at least it had been clear what was going on, even to Danny, then little more than an infant. But grownups were always in a turmoil, every possible action muddied over by thoughts of the consequences, by self-doubt, by seIfimage, by feelings of love and responsibility. Every possible choice seemed to have drawbacks, and sometimes he didn't understand why the drawbacks were drawbacks. It was very hard.

"He thinks..." Danny began again, and then looked at his mother quickly. She was watching the road, not looking at him, and he felt he could go on.

"He thinks maybe we'll be lonely. And then he thinks that he likes it here and it's a good place for us. He loves us and doesn't want us to be lonely... or sad... but he thinks even if we are, it might be okay in the LONGRUN. Do you know LONGRUN?"

She nodded. "Yes, dear. I do."

"He's worried that if we left he couldn't get another job. That we'd have to beg, or something."

"Is that all?"

"No, but the rest is all mixed up. Because he's different now."

"Yes," she said, almost sighing. The grade eased a little and she shifted cautiously back to third gear.

"I'm not making this up, Mommy. Honest to God."

"I know that," she said, and smiled. "Did Tony tell you?"

"No," he said. "I just know. That doctor didn't believe in Tony, did he?"

"Never mind that doctor," she said. "I believe in Tony. I don't know what he is or who he is, if he's a part of you that's special or if he comes from... somewhere outside, but I do believe in him, Danny. And if you... he... think we should go, we will. The two of us will go and be together with Daddy again in the spring."

He looked at her with sharp hope. "Where? A motel?"

"Hon, we couldn't afford a motel. It would have to be at my mother's."

The hope in Danny's face died out. "I know-" he said, and stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing," he muttered.

She shifted back to second as the grade steepened again. "No, doc, please don't say that. This talk is something we should have had weeks ago, I think. So please. What is it you know? I won't be mad. I can't be mad, because this is too important. Talk straight to me."

"I know how you feel about her," Danny said, and sighed.

"How do I feel?"

"Bad," Danny said, and then rhyming, singsong, frightening her: "Bad. Sad. Mad. It's like she wasn't your mommy at all. Like she wanted to eat you." He looked at her, frightened. "And I don't like it there. She's always thinking about how she would be better for me than you. And how she could get me away from you. Mommy, I don't want to go there. I'd rather be at the Overlook than there."

Wendy was shaken. Was it that bad between her and hermother? God, what hell for the boy if it was and he could really read their thoughts for each other. She suddenly felt more naked than naked, as if she had been caught in an obscene act.

"All right," she said. "All right, Danny."

"You're mad at me," he said in a small, near-to-tears voice.

"No, I'm not. Really I'm not. I'm just sort of shook up." They were passing a SIDEWINDER 15 mi. sign, and Wendy relaxed a little. From here on in the road was better.

"I want to ask you one more question, Danny. I want you to answer it as truthfully as you can. Will you do that?"

"Yes, Mommy," he said, almost whispering.

"Has your daddy been drinking again?"

"No," he said, and smothered the two words that rose behind his lips after that simple negative: Not yet.

Wendy relaxed a little more. She put a hand on Danny's jeans-clad leg and squeezed it. "Your daddy has tried very hard," she said softly. "Because he loves us. And we love him, don't we?"

He nodded gravely.

Speaking almost to herself she went on: "He's not a perfect man, but he has tried... Danny, he's tried so hard! When he... stopped... he went through a kind of hell. He's still going through it. I think if it hadn't been for us, he would have just let go. I want to do what's right. And I don't know. Should we go? Stay? It's like a choice between the fat and the fire."

"I know."

"Would you do something for me, doc?"

"What?"

"Try to make Tony come. Right now. Ask him if we're safe at the Overlook."

"I already tried," Danny said slowly. "This morning."

"What happened?" Wendy asked. "What did he say?"

"He didn't come," Danny said. "Tony didn't come." And he suddenly burst into tears.

"Danny," she said, alarmed. "Honey, don't do that. Please-" The truck swerved across the double yellow line and she pulled it back, scared.

"Don't take me to Gramma's," Danny said through his tears. "Please, Mommy, I don't want to go there, I want to stay with Daddy-"

"All right," she said softly. "All right, that's what we'll do." She took a Kleenex out of the pocket of her Western-style shirt and handed it to him. "We'll stay. And everything will be fine. Just fine."

"Bad Moon Rising," by J. C. Fogerty, (c) 1969 Jondora Music, Berkeley, California. Used by permission. All rights reserved. International copyright secured.