Moments later the elevator crashed into life.
Suddenly the shining was on him
(mommy mr. hallorann dick to my friends together alive they're alive got to get out it's going to blow going to blow sky-high)
like a fierce and glaring sunrise and he ran. One foot kicked the bloody, misshapen roque mallet aside. He didn't notice.
Crying, he ran for the stairs.
They bad to get out.
Chapter 56. The Explosion
Hallorann could never be sure of the progression of things after that. He remembered that the elevator had gone down and past them without stopping, and something had been inside. But he made no attempt to try to see in through the small diamond-shaped window, because what was in there did not sound human. A moment later there were running footsteps on the stairs. Wendy Torrance at first shrank back against him and then began to stumble down the main corridor to the stairs as fast as she could.
"Danny! Danny! Oh, thank God! Thank God!"
She swept him into a hug, groaning with joy as well as her pain.
(Danny.)
Danny looked at him from his mother's arms, and Hallorann saw how the boy had changed. His face was pale and pinched, his eyes dark and fathomless. He looked as if he had lost weight. Looking at the two of them together, Hallorann thought it was the mother who looked younger, in spite of the terrible beating she had taken.
(Dick-we have to go-run-the place-it's going to)
Picture of the Overlook, flames leaping out of its roof. Bricks raining down on the snow. Clang of firebells... not that any fire truck would be able to get up here much before the end of March. Most of all what came through in Danny's thought was a sense of urgent immediacy, a feeling that it was going to happen at any time.
"All right," Hallorann said. He began to move toward the two of them and at first it was like swimming through deep water. His sense of balance was screwed, and the eye on the right side of his face didn't want to focus. His jaw was sending giant throbbing bursts of pain up to his temple and down his neck, and his cheek felt as large as a cabbage. But the boy's urgency had gotten him going, and it got a little easier.
"All right?" Wendy asked. She looked from Hallorann to her son and back to Hallorann. "What do you mean, all right?"
"We have to go," Hallorann said.
"I'm not dressed... my clothes..."
Danny darted out of her arms then and raced down the corridor. She looked after him, and as he vanished around the corner, back at Hallorann. "What if he comes back?"
"Your husband?"
"He's not Jack," she muttered. "Jack's dead. This place killed hire. This damned place." She struck at the wall with her fist and cried out at the pain in her cut fingers. "It's the boiler, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am. Danny says it's going to explode."
"Good." The word was uttered with dead finality. "I don't know if I can get down those stairs again. My ribs... he broke my ribs. And something in my back. It hurts."
"You'll make it," Hallorann said. "We'll all make it." But suddenly he remembered the hedge animals, and wondered what they would do if they were guarding the way out...
Then Danny was coming back. He had Wendy's boots and coat and gloves, also his own coat and gloves.
"Danny," she said. "Your boots."
"It's too late," he said. His eyes stared at them with a desperate kind of madness. He looked at Dick and suddenly Hallorann's mind was fixed with an image of a clock under a glass dome, the clock in the ballroom that had been donated by a Swiss diplomat in 1949. The hands of the clock were standing at a minute to midnight.
"Oh my God," Hallorann said. "Oh my dear God."
He clapped an arm around Wendy and picked her up. He clapped his other arm around Danny. He ran for the stairs.
Wendy shrieked in pain as he squeezed the bad ribs, as something in her back ground together, but Hallorann did not slow. He plunged down the stairs with them in his arms. One eye wide and desperate, the other puffed shut to a slit. He looked like a one-eyed pirate abducting hostages to be ransomed later.
Suddenly the shine was on him, and he understood what Danny had meant when he said it was too late. He could feel the explosion getting ready to rumble up from the basement and tear the guts out of this horrid place.
He ran faster, bolting headlong across the lobby toward the double doors.
It hurried across the basement and into the feeble yellow glow of the furnace room's only light. It was slobbering with fear. It had been so close, so close to having the boy and the boy's remarkable power. It could not lose now. It must not happen. It would dump the boiler and then chastise the boy harshly.
"Mustn't happen!" it cried. "Oh no, mustn't happen!"
It stumbled across the floor to the boiler, which glowed a dull red halfway up its long tubular body. It was huffing and rattling and hissing off plumes of steam in a hundred directions, like a monster calliope. The pressure needle stood at the far end of the dial.