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Never in his life had he been willfully vicious when he was sober。
(Except when you almost killed George Hatfield。)
〃No!〃 he cried into the darkness。 He brought both fists crashing down on his
legs; again and again and again。
* * *
Wendy sat in the overstuffed chair by the window with Danny on her lap;
holding him; crooning the old meaningless words; the ones you never remember
afterward no matter how a thing turns out。 He had folded onto her lap with
neither protest nor gladness; like a paper cutout of himself; and his eyes
didnt even shift toward the door when Jack cried out 〃No!〃 somewhere in the
hallway。
The confusion had receded a little bit in her mind; but she now discovered
something even worse behind it。 Panic。
Jack had done this; she had no doubt of it。 His denials meant nothing to her。
She thought it was perfectly possible that Jack had tried to throttle Danny in
his sleep just as he had smashed the CB radio in his sleep。 He was having a
breakdown of some kind。 But what was she going to do about it? She couldnt stay
locked in here forever。 They would have to eat。
There was really only one question; and it was asked in a mental voice of
utter coldness and pragmatism; the voice of her maternity; a cold and
passionless voice once it was directed away from the closed circle of mother and
child and out toward Jack。 It was a voice that spoke of self…preservation only
after son…preservation and its question was:
(Exactly how dangerous is he?)
He had denied doing it。 He had been horrified at the bruises; at Dannys soft
and implacable disconnection。 If he had done it; a separate section of himself
had been responsible。 The fact that he had done it when he was asleep was in a
terrible; twisted way encouraging。 Wasnt it possible that he could be trusted
to get them out of here? To get them down and away。 And after that 。。。
But she could see no further than she and Danny arriving safe at Dr。 Edmondss
office in Sidewinder。 She had no particular need to see further。 The present
cris
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