Every key typed closed it a little more.
每一次击键都把门推上了一点。
Down the hall, in the bedroom, Wendy could hear the typewriter Jack had carried up from downstairs burst into life for thirty seconds, fall silent for a minute or two, and then rattle briefly again. It was like listening to machine-gun fire from an isolated pillbox. The sound was music to her ears; Jack had not been writing so steadily since the second year of their marriage, when he wrote the story that Esquire had purchased. He said he thought the play would be done by the end of the year, for better or worse, and he would be moving on to something new. He said he didn't care if The Little School stirred any excitement when Phyllis showed it around, didn't care if it sank without a trace, and Wendy believed that, too. The actual act of his writing made her immensely hopeful, not because she expected great things from the play but because her husband seemed to be slowly closing a huge door on a roomful of monsters. He had had his shoulder to that door for a long time now, but at last it was swinging shut.
客厅那一端，卧室里，杰克从楼下搬上来的打字机噼噼啪啪地响了30秒钟，沉寂一两分钟，然后又响起来，好像一座孤零零的碉堡里正打着机关枪。这声音温迪听起来如音乐一般美妙。他们婚后的第二年起，也就是杰克写出《绅士》杂志买去的那个短篇小说之后，杰克的写作就没有这么稳定过了。他说，无论是好是坏，这个剧本年底就会写完，然后他要写点别的东西。他说，不管是菲利丝推销成功，《小学校》引起什么轰动，还是剧本石沉大海，他都不会在乎，温迪也相信他会这样。“他在写作”这一事实本身就给了她莫大的希望，不是因为她指望剧本会带来好处，而是因为她丈夫似乎正在关上一扇大门——一间挤满妖魔鬼怪的屋子的大门。很久以来，他一直用肩膀顶着那扇门抗拒着，现在，门终于快关上了。
Danny was hunched over the first of the five battered primers Jack had dug up by culling mercilessly through Boulder's myriad secondhand bookshops. They would take Danny right up to the second-grade reading level, a program she had told Jack she thought was much too ambitious. Their son was intelligent, they knew that, but it would be a mistake to push him too far too fast. Jack had agreed. There would be no pushing involved. But if the kid caught on fast, they would be prepared. And now she wondered if Jack hadn't been right about that, too.
丹尼正埋头读识字课本的第一册——杰克搜遍博尔德大大小小的旧书店才找来了这套旧书，总共五册。读完这些书，丹尼就能达到二年级的阅读水平了。她曾对杰克说，她认为这个目标太高了。他们知道儿子很聪明，但是谁都知道，欲速则不达。杰克同意她的看法，他说，他们肯定不会揠苗助长，但是，如果孩子理解得快，他们也应该有所准备。现在温迪怀疑，杰克的这些话是不是也错了。
"Look, Dick, look."
“瞧，蒂克，瞧。”
Danny, prepared by four years of "Sesame Street" and three years of "Electric Company," seemed to be catching on with almost scary speed. It bothered her. He hunched over the innocuous little books, his crystal radio and balsa glider on the shelf above him, as though his life depended on learning to read. His small face was more tense and paler than she liked in the close and cozy glow of the goosenecked lamp they had put in his room. He was taking it very seriously, both the reading and the workbook pages his father made up for him every afternoon.
丹尼看过四年的《芝麻街》和三年的《电动公司》，他的理解力提高的速度之快着实吓人，这让她感到不安。他伏在那几本并不有趣的小书上，收音机和滑翔机摆在上前方的架子上，仿佛他的生命全维系于学会阅读似的。在舒适的台灯光线下，他的小脸蛋紧张、苍白得让她生厌。无论是阅读，还是爸爸每天下午为他出的练习题，他都非常认真地对待。
And their son would stare from the word to the pictures, his lips moving, sounding out, actually sweating it out, And with his double-sized red pencil curled into his pudgy right fist, he could now write about three dozen words on his own.
丹尼从单词看到图画，嘴里读出单词，费力地在画上打个圈。现在，他可以用那支大号红铅笔独自写出三四十个单词来。
Picture of an apple and a peach. The word apple written beneath in Jack's large, neatly made printing. Circle the right picture, the one that went with the word.
图画上有一只苹果和一个桃子，杰克在画下端端正正地写着“苹果”。圈出正确的图画——与单词相符的画。
His finger traced slowly under the words in the reader. Above them was a picture Wendy half-remembered from her own grammar school days, nineteen years before. A laughing boy with brown curly hair. A girl in a short dress, her hair in blond ringlets one hand holding a jump rope. A prancing dog running after a large red rubber ball. The first-grade trinity. Dick, Jane, and Jip.
丹尼的手指指着课本里的单词慢慢移动着。温迪对这一页的那幅图画还有些印象——19年前她上小学时就在那儿了：一个满头棕色卷发的男孩，正张嘴大笑；一个穿短裙的女孩，她有一头亚麻色的长卷发，手里拿着一根跳绳；一条狗，正跳起来追一个大大的红色橡皮球。一年级的三个搭档：蒂克、简和基普。
"See Jip run," Danny read slowly. "Run, Jip, run. Run, run, run." He paused, dropping his finger down a line. "See the…" He bent closer, his nose almost touching the page now. "See the…"
“看基普跑，”丹尼慢慢读着。“快跑，基普，快跑，跑，”他停了停，手指移到下一行。“看…”他趴得太近，鼻子都快挨着书了。
"Not so close, doc," Wendy said quietly. "You'll hurt your eyes. It's --"
“博士，别凑这么近，”温迪和颜悦色地说。“这样会看坏眼睛的。这个词是——”
"A couple more pages, Mommy? Please?"
“妈妈，让我再读几页，好吗？”
"See the… buh. Aw. El. El. See the buhaw-el-el? See the buhawl. Ball!" Suddenly triumphant. Fierce. The fierceness in his voice scared her. "See the ball!"
“看…嘘。哦。埃。埃。看到布哈伊尔了吗？看布哈尔。球！”突然大声了。猛烈。他那凶狠的声音把她吓坏了。“看球！”
"Please?"
“求求你，好吗？”
"Go kiss your father and then wash up. Don't forget to brush."
“去吻吻爸爸，然后洗漱。别忘了刷牙。”
"All right, honey," she said. "But it's not a big thing. Really it's not." Unheeding, Danny bent forward again. On his face was an expression that might be more commonly seen hovering over a graduate record exam in a college gym somewhere. She liked it less and less.
“好吧，亲爱的，”她说。“但这没什么大不了的，真的。”一不小心，丹尼又趴下去了，脸上带着大考考场里常见的那种表情。温迪越来越不喜欢他这个样子。
"Don't tell me!" he said, sitting up with a jerk. His voice was alarmed. "Don't tell me, Mommy, I can get it!"
“不要告诉我！”他腾地一下站起来，声音里带着惊恐。“不要告诉我，妈妈，我能认出来！”
"That's right," she said. "Honey, I think that's enough for tonight."
“好了，亲爱的，”她说。“我看今天晚上已经够了。”
"No, doc." She closed the red-bound book firmly. "It's bedtime."
“不行，博士。”她毫不退让地合上了那本红皮书。“该睡觉了。”
"Don't tease me about it, Danny. Mommy's tired."
“别缠我，丹尼。妈妈累了。”
"Yeah."
“好吧。”
"Okay." But he looked longingly at the primer.
“好吧。”可他看着课本，舍不得离开。
He slouched out, a small boy in pajama bottoms with feet and a large flannel top with a football on the front and NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS written on the back.
他闷闷不乐地出去了，穿着一条睡裤和一件宽松的法兰绒上衣，上衣胸前印着一个足球，背后印着“新英格兰爱国者”。
"Goodnight, doc. How'd you do?"
“晚安，博士。读得怎么样？”
Jack's typewriter stopped, and she heard Danny's hearty smack. "Night, Daddy."
杰克的打字声停了下来，她听见丹尼给了杰克一个热烈的响吻。“晚安，爸爸。”
"Okay, I guess. Mommy made me stop."
“我想不错。妈妈让我别读了。”
"Mommy was right. It's past eight-thirty. Going to the bathroom?"
“妈妈做得对。已经过了八点半了，去浴室吗？”
He was private about his bathroom functions, while both she and Jack were pretty much catch-as-catch-can. Another sign -- and they were multiplying all the time -- that there was another human being in the place, not just a carbon copy of one of them or a combination of both. It made her a little sad. Someday her child would be a stranger to her, and she would be strange to him… but not as strange as her own mother had become to her. Please don't let it be that way, God. Let him grow up and still love his mother.
他不想让别人看到他在浴室里的活动，而她和杰克却相当随便。另一种迹象也越来越为他俩所感觉到：家里还有一个人，既非他们两人中的哪一个的复制品，也非两人结合起来的复制品，这让她感到有些难过。有一天，她的孩子会变成一个陌生人，她在他眼里也会陌生起来的…但是不及她自自己的母亲在她眼里那样陌生。上帝，请别让这样的事发生，让他长大成人，让他永远爱他的母亲吧。
Jack's typewriter began its irregular bursts again.
杰克的打字机又开始毫无规律地响起来。
"Yeah."
“是的。”
"Good. There's potatoes growing out of your ears. And onions and carrots and chives and --" Danny's giggle, fading, then cut off by the firm click of the bathroom door.
“很好。你的耳朵里正长出土豆来，还有洋葱、胡萝卜、香葱——”丹尼咯咯地笑着，笑声逐渐远去，最后被浴室门的咔嗒声隔断了。
Still sitting in the chair beside Danny's reading table, she let her eyes wander around her son's room. The glider's wing had been neatly mended. His desk was piled high with picture books, coloring books, old Spiderman comic books with the covers half torn off, Crayolas, and an untidy pile of Lincoln Logs. The VW model was neatly placed above these lesser things, its shrink-wrap still undisturbed. He and his father would be putting it together tomorrow night or the night after if Danny went on at this rate, and never mind the end of the week. His pictures of Pooh and Eyore and Christopher Robin were tacked neatly to the wall, soon enough to be replaced with pin-ups and photographs of dope-smoking rock singers, she supposed. Innocence to experience. Human nature, baby. Grab it and growl. Still it made her sad. Next year he would be in school and she would lose at least half of him, maybe more, to his friends. She and Jack had tried to have another one for a while when things had seemed to be going well at Stovington, but she was on the pill again now.
温迪坐在丹尼的书桌旁，打量着儿子的房间。滑翔机的机翼已经修好了，书桌上高高地堆着小人书、彩图本、故事书，还有一堆凌乱的《林肯日志》。那辆大众模型车规规矩矩地摆在这些不那么重要的东西上面。如果丹尼照这个速度读下去，明天或后天晚上，父子俩就可以把它组装起来了，根本用不着等到周末。墙壁上整整齐齐地钉着普赫、埃约尔和克里斯托弗—罗宾的画，她想，这些画很快就会被美女照和吸毒的摇滚歌星的照片所取代。从天真到成熟，亲爱的，人的本性，生存法则。可是，这仍然让她感到难受。明年他就要上学了，她至少得让出他的一半给他的朋友。在斯托文顿，日子还好的时候，她和杰克有一阵子曾试过再要一个，但是，现在她又在吃避孕药了。
Things were too uncertain. God knew where they would be in nine months.
生活没有着落，天知道九个月后他们会在哪里。
Her eyes fell on the wasps' nest.
她的目光落到蜂窝上。
It held the ultimate high place in Danny's room, resting on a large plastic plate on the table by his bed. She didn't like it, even if it was empty. She wondered vaguely if it might have germs, thought to ask Jack, then decided he would laugh at her. But she would ask the doctor tomorrow, if she could catch him with Jack out of the room. She didn't like the idea of that thing, constructed from the chewings and saliva of so many alien creatures, lying within a foot of her sleeping son's head.
蜂窝呆在床边那张桌子上的一个大塑料盘子里，是房间里最显眼的东西。她不喜欢它，即使里面没有黄蜂也罢。她心里有些犯嘀咕，蜂窝会不会带有细菌？她想问问杰克，可转念又想，杰克会笑话她的。但是，明天她要问问大夫，如果杰克不在屋子里的时候她能和他联系上的话。她讨厌这个东西——它是许多虫子吐出的咀嚼物和唾液聚成的，离儿子的枕头边又那么近。
"Danny?"
“丹尼？”
The water in the bathroom was still running, and she got up and went into the big bedroom to make sure everything was okay. Jack didn't look up; he was lost in the world he was making, staring at the typewriter, a filter cigarette clamped in his teeth.
浴室的水还在流着，她站起身来，走进他们的大卧室，看看是不是还有什么事要做。杰克没有抬头，他沉浸在自己正在创造的世界里，盯着打字机，嘴上叼着一支过滤嘴香烟。
She knocked lightly on the closed bathroom room. "You okay, doc? You awake?" No answer.
她轻轻地敲了敲浴室的门。“博士，洗漱好了吗？听见没有？”没人答应。
"Danny?" She was worried now. The lack of any sound beneath the steadily running water made her uneasy. "Danny? Open the door, honey."
“丹尼？”她开始担心起来。水不断地淌着，此外没有别的声音，这使她感到十分不安。“丹尼？亲爱的，开门。”
No answer. She tried the door. It was locked.
还是没人答应。她推了推门。门锁上了。
"Break it," she said, and suddenly it was hard to talk. "Quick." He raised one foot and brought it down hard against the door to the right of the knob. The lock was a poor thing; it gave immediately and the door shuddered open, banging the tiled bathroom wall and rebounding halfway.
“撞开它，”她说，突然间，她感到说话很困难。“快！”杰克抬起一只腿，照门把手右侧狠狠地踹了一脚。锁很不结实，一下子就开了；门飞过去，砰！反弹回来，最后停在半开的位置上。
"Jesus Christ, Wendy, I can't think if you're going to pound on the door all night."
“天哪，温迪，你这样敲下去，还让不让我用脑子啊？”
He's losing his temper, she thought, and was more afraid. He had not touched Danny in anger since that evening two years ago, but at this moment he sounded angry enough to do it.
他在发脾气，温迪想，于是更加担心了。两年前的那个晚上之后，他还没碰过丹尼一个指头，可是这会儿他怒气冲冲的，完全可能做出这种事来。
Nothing.
毫无反应。
No answer.
没人答应。
No answer.
仍然没人答应。
Jack came around the desk, looking put out. He knocked on the door once, hard. "Open up, Danny. No games."
杰克心烦意乱地走过来，在门上重重地敲了一下。“开门，丹尼。别开玩笑。”
"Danny!"
“丹尼！”
No answer. Only running water.
没人回答，只有淌水的声音。
"Danny, if you make me break this lock I can guarantee you you'll spend the night sleeping on your belly," Jack warned.
“丹尼，要是你逼得我搞坏这把锁，我担保你今晚得趴着睡。”杰克警告说。
"Danny's locked himself in the bathroom and he doesn't answer me!"
“丹尼把自己反锁上了，叫不答应！”
Jack knocked harder. "Stop fooling, doc. Bedtime's bedtime. Spanking if you don't open up."
他又敲门，这次更重。“别胡闹，博士。到时间就该睡觉，再不开门，小心我揍你屁股。”
"Danny, honey --" she began.
“宝贝儿，丹尼——”她叫道。
"Danny!" she screamed.
“丹尼！”温迪尖声叫道。
"Danny," he said. "Danny, Danny!" He snapped his fingers in front of Danny's blank eyes.
“丹尼，”他叫道。“丹尼，丹尼！”他在孩子失神的眼睛前弹了弹手指。
The water was running full force in the basin. Beside it, a tube of Crest with the cap off. Danny was sitting on the rim of the bathtub across the room, his toothbrush clasped limply in his left hand, a thin foam of toothpaste around his mouth. He was staring, trancelike, into the mirror on the front of the medicine cabinet above the washbasin. The expression on his face was one of drugged horror, and her first thought was that he was having some sort of epileptic seizure, that he might have swallowed his tongue.
洗脸池中的水尽情流淌着，池边，一管牙膏的帽儿已经打开。丹尼坐在浴缸边缘上，牙刷无力地抓在左手里，嘴巴周围有少许牙膏泡沫。他恍恍惚惚地盯着药柜上的镜子——药柜在洗脸池的上方，神情呆滞，惊恐万分。她的第一个反应是：丹尼正在发羊癫疯。
"Danny!"
“丹尼！”
Danny didn't answer. Guttural sounds came from his throat.
丹尼没有答应，喉咙里发出了咕咕的响声。
"Oh Jack my God what's wrong with him?"
“噢！杰克，天哪！他怎么啦？”
Then she was pushed aside so hard that she crashed into the towel rack, and Jack was kneeling in front of the boy.
接着她被猛力推到一边，这时，杰克跪到了孩子面前。
"Danny --"
“丹尼——”
"Ah -- sure," Danny said. "Tournament play. Stroke. Nurrrrr…"
“啊，是的，”丹尼说。“联赛，击球。不——”
"Roque!" Danny said, his voice suddenly deep, almost manlike. "Roque. Stroke. The roque mallet… has two sides. Gaaaaaa --"
“短柄槌球！”丹尼说，声音突然低沉起来，很像成人在说话。“短柄槌球。击球。槌头…有两面。去——”
"Roque. Stroke. Redrum."
“短柄槌球，击球，Redrum。”
Jack shook him again, and Danny's eyes suddenly cleared. His toothbrush fell out of his hand and onto the tiled floor with a small click.
杰克又摇了摇，丹尼的眼睛一下子回过神来。牙刷从他手中滑出去，随着一小声咔嗒掉在了地板砖上。
"What?" he asked, looking around. He saw his father kneeling before him, Wendy standing by the wall. "What?" Danny asked again, with rising alarm. "W-W-Wuh- What's wr-r-r-"
“怎么啦？”他问，眼睛往四下里看了看。爸爸跪在他面前，妈妈靠墙站着。“怎么啦？”他又问了一遍，声音里带着更多的惊恐。“怎…怎…怎么——”
The water ran ceaselessly in the basin, and Wendy felt that she had suddenly stepped into some grinding nightmare where time ran backward, backward to the time when her drunken husband had broken her son's arm and had then mewled over him in almost the exact same words.
洗脸池的水还在哗哗地淌着，温迪觉得自己突然踏进了一场恶梦里。梦中，时光倒流到从前，当时，醉醺醺的丈夫折断了儿子的胳膊，然后用同样的话在儿子面前哀求着。
Jack grabbed the boy's elbows and shook him hard. Danny's head rolled limply backward and then snapped forward like a balloon on a stick.
杰克抓着孩子的胳膊肘使劲地摇晃起来。丹尼的头后仰着摆来摆去，软绵绵的，然后像顶在棍子上的气球一样猛地向前耷拉下来。
"Don't stutter!" Jack suddenly screamed into his face. Danny cried out in shock, his body going tense, trying to draw away from his father, and then he collapsed into tears. Stricken, Jack pulled him close. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, doc. Please. Don't cry. I'm sorry. Everything's okay."
“不要结巴！”杰克突然对着丹尼吼道。丹尼被吓得大叫起来，他身子往回缩，想挣开杰克，这时，他的眼泪唰唰地流了下来。杰克十分惭愧，紧紧搂着他，说：“噢，宝贝，对不起。对不起，博士。求求你，别哭。对不起，一切都好好的。”
She sat down on Danny's bed and rocked him back and forth, soothing him with nonsensical words repeated over and over. She looked up at Jack and there was only worry in his eyes now. He raised questioning eyebrows at her. She shook her head faintly.
温迪抱着丹尼坐在床上不停地摇着，嘴里重复着没有意义的话安慰他。她抬头看着杰克，现在，他的眼中只有担忧了。他扬了扬眉毛，询问现在的情况，温迪轻轻地摇了摇头。
She ran to them both, pried Danny out of Jack's arms somehow (she saw the look of angry reproach on his face but filed it away for later consideration), and lifted him up. She walked him back into the small bedroom, Danny's arms clasped around her neck, Jack trailing them.
她跑到他们身边，从杰克手里抢过丹尼（她看见了杰克恼火的神色，但她眼前顾不上这些了）。她抱起丹尼往小卧室走去，丹尼紧紧地搂着她的脖子，杰克跟在他们后面。
(Oh honey. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, doc. Please. So sorry.)
（噢，宝贝。对不起。对不起，博士。求求你。真的对不起。）
"Danny," she said. "Danny, Danny, Danny. 'S okay, doc. 'S fine." At last Danny was quiet, only faintly trembling in her arms. Yet it was Jack he spoke to first, Jack who was now sitting beside them on the bed, and she felt the old faint pang (It's him first and it's always been him first) of jealousy. Jack had shouted at him, she had comforted him, yet it was to his father that Danny said, "I'm sorry if I was bad."
“丹尼，”她喃喃地说。“丹尼，丹尼，丹尼。没事了，丹尼。没事了。”丹尼终于平静下来了，他偎在她怀里，只是微微地颤抖着。可是，他一开口却先对杰克说了话——杰克现在跟他们并排坐在床上。她不禁感到一阵隐隐的嫉妒。（他优先，总是他优先。）杰克刚才在唬他，她在诓他，然而丹尼还是先对爸爸说：“对不起，要是我调皮了的话。”
"Nothing to be sorry for, doc." Jack ruffled his hair. "What the hell happened in there?"
“没什么对不起的，博士，”杰克拔弄着他的头发。“刚才究竟是怎么回事？”
"Nothing," Jack muttered. He took his handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his mouth with it. Wendy had a moment of that sickening time-is-running -- backward feeling again. It was a gesture she remembered well from his drinking days.
“没什么，”杰克咕哝道。他从裤子后兜抽出手帕擦了擦嘴。这时，那种时光倒流的难受感觉又揪住了温迪的心。在他酗酒的日子里，这个动作给她留下了抹不去的记忆。
"I don't know, I don't know," Danny was saying to his father. "What… what did I say, Daddy?"
“我不知道，我不知道，”丹尼对爸爸说。“爸爸，我…我说什么了？”
"Jack, you're scaring him!" she said, and her voice was high, accusatory. It suddenly came to her that they were all scared. But of what?
“杰克，你吓着他了！”温迪大声责备道。她突然意识到，他们三个都很害怕，怕的是什么？
They exchanged a glance over the top of his head.
他们在丹尼头顶上交换了一下眼色。
"Of course not," Jack said heartily, but Wendy felt a cold finger touch her heart.
“当然不，”杰克热情地说，但温迪却感到一只冰冷的手指碰到了她的心。
"Why did you lock the door, Danny?" she asked gently. "Why did you do that?"
“丹尼，你为什么要把门锁上？”她柔声问道。“为什么那样做？”
"What?" Jack was leaning forward, and Danny flinched in her arms.
“什么事？”杰克向前凑上去，吓得丹尼在妈妈怀里直往后缩。
Jack suddenly looked scared, as if he'd seen something that might just have been a ghost.
杰克突然显出了一脸惧色，好像他刚刚看见的什么东西原来是鬼魂。
Danny shook his head slowly, dazedly. "I… I don't know. Why did you tell me to stop stuttering, Daddy? I don't stutter."
丹尼缓缓地摇着头，显得有些茫然。“我…我不知道。爸爸，你为什么叫我不要结巴？我不结巴。”
"Tony," he said. "Tony told me to."
“托尼，”他说。“是托尼让我关的。”
"Something about the timer…" Danny muttered.
“是什么计时器的事…”丹尼咕哝道。
"Shh," Wendy said, alarmed. She began to rock him again. "It's all right if you don't remember, bon. Sure it is."
“嘘——”温迪慌了，又摇起来。“宝贝儿，记不得也没关系，真的没关系。”
"Yes."
“是的。”
"No, doc," he said quietly.
“你没调皮，博士，”杰克平静地说。
"Do you want me to stay a little while? Read you a story?"
“想让我再陪你一会儿吗？给你读一个故事？”
"Tony told you to lock the door?" Wendy asked, brushing his hair.
“是托尼叫你锁的门？”温迪问，一边用手梳着他的头发。
"No, he was in the mirror." Danny was very emphatic on this point. "Way down deep. And then I went through the mirror. The next thing I remember Daddy was shaking me and I thought I was being bad again." Jack winced as if struck.
“不，他在镜子里面，”丹尼加重语气说。“在很深很深的地方。接着我就穿过了镜子，再下来就只记得爸爸在摇我，还有我想我又调皮了。”杰克一惊，像挨了一棒似的。
"You mean he was behind you?" Wendy asked.
“你是说，他在你背后？”温迪问。
"I was brushing my teeth and I was thinking about my reading," Danny said. "Thinking real bard. And… and I saw Tony way down in the mirror. He said he had to show me again."
“我正在刷牙，心里想着我的功课，”丹尼说。“想得很专心。这时…这时我就在镜子里看见了托尼，他说他必须再让我看看。”
"And what did he want to show you?"
“那么，他想给你看什么呢？”
Danny tensed in her arms; it was as if the muscles in his body had turned into something like piano wire. "I don't remember," he said, distraught. "I don't remember. Don't ask me. I… I don't remember nothing!"
丹尼紧张起来，身体变得硬梆梆的。“我记不起来了，”他心烦意乱地说。“记不起来了。别问我，我…我什么都记不起来了！”
At last Danny began to relax again.
丹尼终于又放松下来。
"Did Tony say why, son?" Jack asked quietly.
“儿子，托尼说过为什么要关吗？”杰克平静地问。
"No…"
“不…”
"Okay."
“好的。”
Wendy sighed. "I'll be in the living room, Jack."
温迪叹了口气。“杰克，我去起居室等你。”
"Sure."
“好的。”
She got up and watched as Danny slid under the covers. He seemed very small.
她站起来，看着丹尼钻进被窝。他看上去多瘦小啊！
"I'm okay. Just plug in Snoopy, Mom."
“没事了。请插上斯努皮，妈妈。”
"Sure, doc."
“当然，博士。”
"Want a drink of water?"
“想喝杯水吗？”
She plugged in the night light, which showed Snoopy lying fast asleep on top of his doghouse. He had never wanted a night light until they moved into the Overlook, and then he had specifically requested one. She turned off the lamp and the overhead and looked back at them, the small white circle of Danny's face, and Jack's above it. She hesitated a moment (and then I went through the mirror) and then left them quietly.
她把夜灯插上，狗舍形的灯罩上蜷着酣睡的斯努皮狗。他以前从未要过夜灯，到远望饭店之后他才特意要了一只。她把台灯和吊灯关上，回头看着他们，看着丹尼那苍白的小脸，犹豫了片刻（接着我就穿过了镜子），然后不声不响地走了。
"No. Just the night light." He looked shyly at his father. "Would you stay, Daddy? For a minute?"
“不，只是请打开夜灯。”他不好意思地看着父亲。“爸爸，你能留下来吗，就一会儿？”
"Are you sure you're okay, Danny?"
“丹尼，你肯定没事了吗？”
There was silence for five minutes. Danny was still beneath his hand. Thinking the boy had dropped off, he was about to get up and leave quietly when Danny said from the brink of sleep. "Roque.,' Jack turned back, all zero at the bone.
沉寂了五分钟。杰克以为儿子入睡了，正准备站起来悄悄离开，这时，丹尼呓语般地说：“短柄槌球。”杰克回过头，吓得脊梁骨都凉了。
"Yeah."
“是的。”
"You sleepy?" Jack asked, brushing Danny's hair off his forehead.
“瞌睡了吗？”杰克问，一边用手梳开丹尼前额的头发。
"What's redrum?"
“什么是Redrum？”
"Did he, doc? What did he say?"
“是吗，博士？他说了些什么？”
"What?"
“什么事？”
"No."
“不会。”
"Daddy…?" He was almost asleep now.
“爸爸…？”他快睡着了。
"Yes." Jack's heart was thudding dully in his chest. How could the boy possibly know a thing like that? Roque was played by innings, not like baseball but like cricket.
“好玩。”杰克的心脏在胸膛里怦怦直跳。这孩子怎么可能知道这种东西呢？短柄槌球是分盘打的，但不是像棒球，而是像板球。
"Daddy?"
“爸爸？”
"I don't remember much. Except he said it was in innings. Like baseball. Isn't that funny?"
“好多我都记不起来了。只记得他说，是一盘一盘地玩的，像棒球那样。好玩吗？”
"Danny --?"
“丹尼——”
"You'd never hurt Mommy, would you, Daddy?"
“爸爸，你永远都不会伤害妈妈，是吗？”
"What?"
“什么事？”
"Tony came and told me about roque."
“托尼来给我讲了短柄槌球的事。”
"No."
“不会。”
Silence again, spinning out.
又沉寂下来，过了好长时间。
"Or me?"
“还有我？”
"Red drum? Sounds like something an Indian might take on the warpath." Silence.
“Red drum？听起来像印第安人打仗时带在身上的什么东西。”沉寂。
"Hey, doc?"
“喂，博士？”
But Danny was asleep, breathing in long, slow strokes. Jack sat looking down at him for a moment, and a rush of love pushed through him like tidal water. Why had he yelled at the boy like that? It was perfectly normal for him to stutter a little. He had been coming out of a daze or some weird kind of trance, and stuttering was perfectly normal under those circumstances. Perfectly. And he hadn't said timer at all. It had been something else, nonsense, gibberish.
但丹尼已经睡着了，呼吸又长又平缓。杰克低头看着他，一阵爱意像潮水一样袭过了他全身。为什么要那样对孩子大喊大叫？他有点结巴是完全正常的。他刚从迷糊中或某种神秘的出神状态中醒过来，这种情况下结巴是完全正常的，绝对正常。他根本就没说计时器。他说的是别的什么东西，是废话，是胡言乱语。
He looked down at his hands. They were made into tight, clenched fists of tension (god how i need a drink) and the nails were digging into his palms like tiny brands. Slowly he forced them to open.
杰克看着丹尼的手：两只手紧紧地攥成了拳头，指甲像小烙铁一样插进手掌里（天哪！我多么需要喝一杯啊！）。他慢慢把拳头掰开了。
"I love you, Danny," he whispered. "God knows I do."
“我爱你，丹尼，”他小声说。“我真的爱你。”
How had he known roque was played in innings? Had someone told him? Ullman? Hallorann?
可是，他怎么知道短柄槌球是分盘玩的呢？难道有人告诉过他？厄尔曼？哈洛伦？
He left the room. He had lost his temper again, only a little, but enough to make him feel sick and afraid. A drink would blunt that feeling, oh yes. It would blunt that (Something about the timer) and everything else. There was no mistake about those words at all. None. Each had come out clear as a bell. He paused in the hallway, looking back, and automatically wiped his lips with his handkerchief.
他离开了丹尼的房间。他又发脾气了，虽然只是一点点，但足以让他感到难受和害怕。一杯酒可以模糊这种感觉，啊，是的，它可以使那句话（是什么计时器的事）和其他一切都变得模糊起来的。他没听错这句话，绝对没有。每个词都像铃声一样清楚。他停下来，往后看了看，不自觉地抽出手帕擦了擦嘴唇。
"Is he feverish?"
“发烧吗？”
Their shapes were only dark silhouettes in the glow of the night light. Wendy, wearing only panties, went to his bed and tucked him in again; he had kicked the covers back. Jack stood in the doorway, watching as she put her inner wrist against his forehead.
昏暗的夜灯光线下，他们仅现出两个黑影。温迪身上只穿着内衣，她来到丹尼床边，又为他掖了掖被子——他刚才把被子踢开了。她用手腕内侧摸了摸丹尼的前额，杰克站在门口看着。
"No." She kissed his cheek.
“不。”她在丹尼的脸上吻了吻。
"Wendy, there's no place else I can send you. You know that."
“温迪，没有别的地方可以送你们去，你是知道的。”
"If there's something wrong, I'm going to send you and him to your mother's, Wendy."
“温迪，要是有什么问题，我就把你和丹尼送到你母亲那里去。”
"I know," he said, putting an arm around her, "how you feel."
“我知道你的想法，”他说，搂着她。
"If you came --"
“如果你也——”
"You don't know how I feel at all about her."
“你根本就不知道我对她有什么想法。”
"No."
“不行。”
"If the doctor says there's something wrong, I'll look for a job in Sidewinder," she said. "If I can't get one in Sidewinder, Danny and I will go to Boulder. I can't go to my mother, Jack. Not on those terms. Don't ask me. I… I just can't."
“要是大夫说有问题，我就在塞德温得找份工作，”她说。“要是在塞德温得找不到工作，我和丹尼就去博尔德。杰克，我不能到我母亲那里去，不是因为你知道的那些缘故。别问我，我…我就是不能去。”
"The checker said he was very good. That's all I know."
“那个收款员说他不错。我知道的就这些。”
"Without this job we're done," he said simply. "You know that." Her silhouette nodded slowly. She knew it.
“没有这个工作，我们就没指望了，”他说。“你是知道的。”她的影子点了点头。她确实知道。
"When I had that interview with Ullman, I thought he was just blowing off his bazoo. Now I'm not so sure. Maybe I really shouldn't have tried this with you two along. Forty miles from nowhere."
“我和厄尔曼面谈的时候，我以为他在瞎扯。现在我心里没那么踏实了。也许我真的不应该让你们俩跟着来吃苦，方圆40英里无人烟。”
"I love you," she said. "And Danny loves you even more, if that's possible. He would have been heartbroken, Jack. He will be, if you send us away."
“我爱你，”她说。“丹尼甚至更爱你，如果可能的话。杰克，他会伤心的，他会的，如果你把我们送走。”
"Don't make it sound that way."
“别这么说。”
"Thank God you made that appointment," he said as she came back to the doorway. "You think that guy knows his stuff?"
“幸好你约了大夫，”她回到门口时，他说。“你觉得那人懂行吗？”
Each time he heard the roque mallet smash into the wall somewhere behind him he wanted to scream aloud. But he mustn't. He mustn't. A scream would give him away and then (then REDRUM) (Come out here and take your medicine, you fucking crybaby!) Oh and he could hear the owner of that voice coming, coming for him, charging up the hall like a tiger in an alien blue-black jungle. A man-eater.
木槌在他身后的什么地方每击中一次墙壁，他都想大叫一声。但他不能叫，绝对不能，叫喊会暴露自己，然后——（然后是REDRUM）（出来挨揍，你这个臭小子！）天哪，他能听到这喊叫声的主人正在向他逼来，沿着走廊冲了上来，像这幽暗的丛林中蹿出的一头恶虎。一头吃人怪兽。
"I want to. But I think he'll sleep through now."
“好的。但我想，他会一觉睡到天亮的。”
Boom… boom… boom boom BOOM BOOM -- He fled the heavy, crashing, echoing sounds through twisting, mazelike corridors, his bare feet whispering over a deep-pile jungle of blue and black.
嘭…嘭…嘭嘭嘭——丹尼在迷宫似的走廊里穿行，想逃离那一声声沉重的撞击声；他赤脚踩在地毯蓝黑两色的丛林图案上，只发出了极细微的刷刷声。
"Let's leave the bedroom door open, Wendy."
“我们把卧室门开着吧。”
"Maybe."
“也许。”
But he didn't.
可是他没有。
"I guess I know that. Cheer up. Maybe it's nothing."
“我猜我知道。好吧，振作起来，也许没问题。”
(Come out here, you little son of a bitch!)
（滚出来，你这个婊子养的小杂种！）
"Yes."
“是的。”
If he could get to the stairs going down, if he could get off this third floor, he might be all right. Even the elevator. If he could remember what had been forgotten. But it was dark and in his terror he had lost his orientation.
要是能找到下去的楼梯，要是能离开四楼，他就有救了，甚至找到电梯也行。要是他能记起忘掉的那件事，那该多好啊！可是，四周黑漆漆的，惊慌之中他已分不清哪是东哪是西。
"The appointment's at two?"
“预约在两点，是吗？”
The booming was right behind him now, the awful hoarse shouting.
嘭嘭声就在他身后了，还有嘶哑的吼叫声。
He had turned down one corridor and then another, his heart leaping into his mouth like a hot' lump of ice, fearing that each turn would bring him face to face with the human tiger in these halls.
走过了一道走廊又一道走廊，转过了一个又一个拐角，他的心提到了嗓子眼上，生怕转过哪个拐角就迎面碰上那头人面虎。
(You will remember what was forgotten… but would he? What was it?)
（你会记起忘掉的那件事…可是他会吗？是什么事？）
He backed up against the wall, weeping with terror now, his heart racing like the heart of a rabbit caught in a snare. When his back was against the light blue silk wallpaper with the embossed pattern of wavy lines, his legs gave way and he collapsed to the carpet, hands splayed on the jungle of woven vines and creepers, the breath whistling in and out of his throat.
他背靠着墙壁，终于受不了恐惧的折磨，哭了；他的心脏急速地跳动着，就像一只掉进陷阱的野兔。他背抵着饰有波形凸纹的淡蓝色墙纸，腿一软，瘫倒在地毯上，双手抚在织满藤蔓的丛林上，喉咙里发出呼哧呼哧的喘气声。
He fled around another corner and saw with creeping, utter horror that he was in a cul-de-sac. Locked doors frowned down at him from three sides. The west wing. He was in the west wing and outside he could hear the storm whooping and screaming, seeming to choke on its own dark throat filled with snow.
转过又一个拐角，他惊恐万分地发现，前面是死路一条。三面墙上紧锁的门都虎视耽耽地瞪着他。西楼，他在西楼。暴风雪在楼外咆哮、尖啸，听上去就好像他自己幽暗的喉咙里呛满了积雪。
The whistle the head of the mallet made cutting through the air (roque… stroke… roque… stroke… REDRUM) before it crashed into the wall. The soft whisper of feet on the jungle carpet. Panic squirting in his mouth like bitter juice.
击中墙壁之前，木槌划破空气嗖嗖作响。（槌球…击球…槌球…击球…REDRUM）他自己细碎的脚步声。恐慌像苦涩的汁水一样涌进了他嘴里。
Something on one hand. Crawling.
一只手上有什么东西在爬。
Louder. Louder.
嘭嘭声越来越大，越来越大。
Wasps. Three of them.
黄蜂，三只。
They stung him then, seeming to needle all at once, and that was when all the images broke apart and fell on him in a dark flood and he began to shriek into the dark, the wasps clinging to his left hand, stinging again and again.
这时，黄蜂蜇了他，好像是一齐行动的。也就在这时，眼前的一切似乎都支离破碎了，继而像一阵黑雨似的泼在他身上，他在黑暗中惊叫起来。黄蜂爬在他左手上不走，狠狠地蜇啊蜇。
The lights went on and Daddy was standing there in his shorts, his eyes glaring. Mommy behind him, sleepy and scared.
灯亮了，爸爸穿着裤衩站在那里，瞪着双眼，妈妈跟在后面。
There was a tiger in the hall, and now the tiger was just around the corner, still crying out in that shrill and petulant and lunatic rage, the roque mallet slamming, because this tiger walked on two legs and it was -- He woke with a sudden indrawn gasp, sitting bolt upright in bed, eyes wide and staring into the darkness, hands crossed in front of his face.
现在，老虎已经到了拐角处，仍然在厉声尖叫着，发泄着疯狂和怨怒；它挥舞着木槌，因为这头老虎是两条腿的，而且它——丹尼惊醒了。他倒吸一口凉气，直挺挺地坐了起来，眼睛在黑暗中瞪得大大的，两只手交叉着捂在脸上。
"Jack, what's wrong with him? What's wrong?"
“杰克，他怎么啦？怎么啦？”
"Oh my God," Jack said. He saw.
“天哪。”杰克说。他已经看见了。
"Get them o$ me!" Danny screamed.
“把它们赶走！”丹尼尖叫道。
He didn't answer her. He ran to the bed, scooped up Danny's pillow, and slapped Danny's thrashing left hand with it. Again. Again. Wendy saw lumbering, insectile forms rise into the air, droning.
他没有回答她，径直冲到床边，抱起丹尼的枕头就往丹尼胡乱扑腾的左手上拍。一下，再一下。温迪看到，几只昆虫样的东西嗡嗡叫着飞进了空中。
"Wasps?" she said, and for a moment she was inside herself, almost detached in her realization. Then her mind crosspatched, and knowledge was connected to emotion. "Wasps, oh Jesus, Jack, you said --"
“黄蜂？”她问，接着陷入了自我之中，几乎忘记了周围的一切。她的意识交叉叠合起来，理智与感情接通了。“黄蜂，噢，天哪，杰克，你说——”
"Get a magazine!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Kill them!"
“拿本杂志来！”杰克扭头嚷道。“打死它们！”
"Shut the fuck up and kill them!" he roared. "Will you do what I say!"
“少废话，打死它们！”他吼道。“照我说的做！”
One of them had landed on Danny's reading desk. She took a coloring book off his worktable and slammed it down on the wasp. It left a viscous brown smear.
有一只停在了丹尼的书桌上。她从桌上拿起一本彩页书，啪地一声拍下去，黄蜂变成了一团棕色的肉泥，非常难看。
Jack ran back down the hall to the stairs. Behind him he heard the coloring book slap twice, and then his wife screamed in pain. He didn't slow but went down the stairs two by two into the darkened lobby. He went through Ullman's office into the kitchen, slamming the heavy part of his thigh into the corner of Ullman's oak desk, barely feeling it. He slapped on the kitchen overheads and crossed to the sink. The washed dishes from supper were still heaped up in the drainer, where Wendy had left them to drip-dry. He snatched the big Pyrex bowl off the top. A dish fell to the floor and exploded. Ignoring it, he turned and ran back through the office and up the stairs.
杰克在走廊上向楼梯跑去。身后传来了彩页书的两下噼啪声，紧接着是妻子痛苦的尖叫声。他没有慢下来，反而两步并作一步冲下楼梯，来到漆黑的门厅。他穿过办公室去厨房，大腿撞在了厄尔曼的橡木桌角上，他却浑然不觉。他“啪”地打开厨房的顶灯，向水池奔过去。温迪把晚上用的碗碟洗干净后堆在过滤器里，杰克抓走了最上面那只大玻璃碗。一只盘子掉到地上摔得粉碎，杰克没有理会。他转身穿过办公室，冲上楼梯。
"There's another one on the curtain," he said, and ran out past her with Danny in his arms.
“窗帘上还有一只，”他说，抱着丹尼从她身边跑出去了。
"That's my brave boy."
“这才是我勇敢的儿子。”
He took the boy into their bedroom and put him on Wendy's side of the makeshift double. "Lie right there, Danny. Don't come back until I tell you. Understand?" His face puffed and streaked with tears, Danny nodded.
他把孩子抱进他们卧室里，把他放在并起来的双人床上——温迪那一侧。“丹尼，好好躺在这儿。我没叫你，就别回去，明白吗？”丹尼的脸肿得圆乎乎的，上面还有泪痕，他点了点头。
"My… on my wrist."
“手…手腕上。”
"Let's see."
“让我看看。”
Danny was sitting on the foot of the bed, holding his left hand and looking at them. His eyes, circled with the white of shock, looked at Jack reproachfully.
丹尼坐在床尾，举着左手。他责备地看着杰克，目光里充满了未散的惊魂。
They went back into their bedroom.
他们回到自己的卧室。
"No," she said, more calmly. "I… I just hate them, that's all. Hate them."
“我不过敏，”她说，平静了一些。“我…我只是恨他们，没有别的，就是恨！”
He slipped past her without answering and carried the Pyrex bowl over to the nest by Danny's bed. It was still. Nothing there. On the outside, anyway. He slammed the bowl down over the nest.
他一阵风似的从她身边走过，没有答话，带着玻璃碗径直向丹尼床头的蜂窝奔去。蜂窝没什么动静，什么都没有。当然，是指蜂窝表面。他一下子将碗扣在了蜂窝上。
"Where did it get you?" he asked her.
“蜇你哪儿了？”他问。
"There," he said. "Come on."
“走，”他说。“快点。”
She showed it to him. Just above the bracelet of lines between wrist and palm, there was a small circular hole. The flesh around it was puffing up.
她把手伸给他。那是一个小小的圆孔，刚好在腕关节上。伤口周围眼看着在肿胀起来。
Wendy was standing outside Danny's door, breathing hard. Her face was the color of table linen. Her eyes were shiny and flat; her hair hung damply against her neck. "I got all of them," she said dully, "but one stung me. Jack, you said they were all dead." She began to cry.
温迪站在丹尼的房间外，喘着粗气，脸色刷白，目光无精打采，湿漉漉的头发垂在脖子上。“全被我打死了，”她干巴巴地说。“可有一只蜇了我。杰克，你说过它们全死了。”她开始哭起来。
"Are you allergic to stings?" he asked. "Think hard! If you are, Danny might be. The fucking little bastards got him five or six times."
“你对蜂毒过敏吗？”他问。“好好想想！如果是，那么丹尼也可能过敏。这些小杂种蜇了他五六下。”
"Wendy, go get that spray stuff in the bathroom," he said.
“温迪，去把浴室里的消肿喷剂拿来，”杰克说。
"Sure," Danny said. "But why are you going to take pictures?"
“好吧，”丹尼说。“可是，为什么要照相呢？”
"Daddy, you said you killed them all. My hand… it really hurts."
“爸爸，你说过你把它们全弄死了。我的手…好疼。”
"Let's see it, doe… no, I'm not going to touch it. That would make it hurt even more. Just hold it out." He did and Wendy moaned. "Oh Danny… oh, your poor hand!" Later the doctor would count eleven separate stings. Now all they saw was a dotting of small holes, as if his palm and fingers had been sprinkled with grains of red pepper. The swelling was bad. His hand had begun to look like one of those cartoon images where Bugs Bunny or Daffy Duck had just slammed himself with a hammer.
“让我看看，博士…不，我不碰，那样会更疼的。把手伸过来就行。”他伸出手，温迪呻吟起来。“噢，丹尼…噢，可怜的手！”后来，大夫数出了十一个小孔。现在他们看到的是一片密密麻麻的小孔，好像他的指头和手掌长满了红斑点。手肿得很厉害，看上去就像动画片里的顽皮鬼刚用锤子砸了自己的手似的。
"After we spray your hand, I want to take some Polaroids of it, doc. Then you sleep the rest of the night with us, Tay?"
“先给你的手喷上药，然后，博士，我想给它拍几张照片。今晚剩下的时间就和我们一起睡，好吗？”
Wendy came back with a spray tube in the shape of a chemical fire extinguisher.
温迪回来了，手里那瓶喷剂的形状像一具化学灭火器。
She went after it, and he sat down next to Danny and slipped an arm around his shoulders.
温迪去了。杰克坐在丹尼身边，伸出一只胳膊搂着他的肩膀。
"So maybe we can sue the ass out of some people."
“有了照片，我们就可以找人算他娘的账去。”
"This won't hurt, honey," she said, taking off the cap.
“宝贝儿，不会疼的，”她边说边揭开了瓶盖。
"Just a minute."
“稍等。”
"No. Feels better."
“不疼。好受些了。”
"Now these. Crunch them up." She held out five orange flavored baby aspirin. Danny took them and popped them into his mouth one by one.
“好，现在把这个嚼烂吞下去，”她拿出5粒桔香味的儿用阿斯匹林，丹尼接过去，一粒粒抛进了嘴里。
"What are you talking about?" Wendy nearly screamed.
“你在瞎说什么啊？”温迪差不多是在尖叫了。
"He's gonna take some pictures of my hand," Danny said gravely, "and then we're gonna sue the ass out of some people. Right, Dad?"
“爸爸要给我的手照几张相，”丹尼认认真真地说。“然后我们就找人算他娘的账去。对不对，爸爸？”
"Isn't that a lot of aspirin?" Jack asked.
“阿斯匹林是不是太多了？”杰克问。
"Jack, what are you doing?" she asked, a little hysterically.
“杰克，你到底在干什么？”她有些歇斯底里地问。
Danny held out his hand and she sprayed both sides until it gleamed. He let out a long, shuddery sigh.
丹尼伸出手，温迪开始喷药，直喷得他手心手背都发出了亮光才停下来。他战战兢兢地叹了一口长气。
He went to the dresser and took his Polaroid Square Shooter out of the top drawer. He rummaged deeper and found some flashcubes.
杰克来到衣柜前，从最上一层抽屉里取出他的宝丽来快照相机，又往里边翻了翻，找到几张一次成相胶片。
"Does it smart?" she asked.
“很疼吗？”她问。
"It's a lot of stings," she snapped at him angrily. "You go and get rid of that nest, John Torrance. Right now."
“他挨的蜇才多呢，”她生气地回敬道。“约翰—托兰斯，去把那个蜂窝收拾了，现在就去。”
"Right," Jack said grimly. He had found the flash attachment, and he jabbed it onto the camera. "Hold it out, son. I figure about five thousand dollars a sting."
“对，”杰克闷闷不乐地说。他找到闪光灯，把它装到照相机上。“儿子，把手伸出来。我想每一蜇他们得赔5000美元。”
"I'll tell you what," he said. "I followed the directions on that fucking bug bomb. We're going to sue them. The damn thing was defective. Had to have been. How else can you explain this?"
“我来告诉你是怎么回事，”他说。“该死的灭虫弹，我是按照使用说明来的。我们要告他们一状。这玩意儿有毛病，肯定有毛病，还能怎么解释呢？”
"Not unless he's really in pain," Jack said. "If a person has a strong allergy to wasp venom, it hits within thirty seconds."
“不用，除非他叫疼，”杰克说。“蜂毒过敏的人30秒钟内就会发作。”
He took four pictures, pulling out each covered print for Wendy to time on the small locket watch she wore around her neck. Danny, fascinated with the idea that his stung hand might be worth thousands and thousands of dollars, began to lose some of his fright and take an active interest. The hand throbbed dully, and he had a small headache.
杰克拍了四张照，他抽出像片，让温迪在封套上记上时间——她脖子上挂着一只小纪念表。啊，这只手可能会值成千上万美元，丹尼被这个想法迷住了，渐渐忘记了恐惧，配合得相当积极。手在隐隐作痛，头也有点疼。
"Oh. Oh my Jesus." She cupped her hands over her elbows and hugged herself, looking pale and wan.
“噢，噢，天哪。”她抱着胳膊，佝偻着身子，脸色煞白。
"Of course," Wendy said. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry."
“当然可以，”温迪说。“哦，宝贝儿，真的对不起。”
"A coma. Or convulsions."
“昏迷，或抽搐。”
When Jack had put the camera away and spread the prints out on top of the dresser to dry, Wendy said: "Should we take him to the doctor tonight?"
杰克收好相机，把湿像片摊在衣柜顶上，这时，温迪问：“我们是不是今晚就带他去看医生？”
"Hits? What do you --"
“发作，什么意——”
"If I can sleep with you."
“我可以跟你们一起睡吗？”
"How do you feel, son? Think you could sleep?"
“感觉怎么样，儿子？睡得着吗？”
Danny blinked at them. The nightmare had faded to a dull, featureless background in his mind, but he was still frightened.
丹尼向他们眨了眨眼睛。恶梦已经褪了色，只剩下一片模糊不清的背景，但他还是感到很害怕。
"Oh," she said in a small voice.
“喔，”她小声说。
He could hardly see the nest through the clear Pyrex bowl. The inside of the glass was crawling with wasps. It was hard to tell how many. Fifty at least. Maybe a hundred.
玻璃碗内侧爬满了黄蜂，他几乎看不见蜂窝了。很难说清有多少只，也许50只，也许100只。
He went to the dresser, got the camera and the last flashcube, and gave Danny a closed thumb-and-forefinger circle. Danny smiled and gave it back with his good hand.
他走到衣柜前，取出最后一盒胶片，向丹尼打了一个“OK”，手势。丹尼笑了，用自己没受伤的手回了一个。
The three of them got in bed together, and Jack was about to snap off the light over the bed when he paused and pushed the covers back instead. "Want a picture of the nest, too."
三人一起上了床，杰克正准备关灯，这时，他停下来，掀开被子。“也给蜂窝照一张。”
"I will."
“好的。”
She began to cry again, and Jack put his hands on her shoulders. "Wendy, I swear to you that I followed the directions."
她又哭起来。杰克两手扶着她的肩，说：“温迪，我向你发誓，我是照说明书来的。”
"It's okay, Mommy."
“我没事，妈妈。”
"Of course I will."
“一定。”
"Will you get rid of it in the morning? Please?"
“明天早上把它扔掉，好吗？”
The overhead was still on. Jack crossed to the bunk setup, and as he glanced at the table beside it, his skin crawled into goose flesh. The short hairs on his neck prickled and tried to stand erect.
吊灯还亮着。杰克向上下床走去，当他的目光落到床头的桌子上时，顿时起了一身鸡皮疙瘩，颈上的汗毛都竖起来了。
"Come right back."
“快点回来。”
Quite a kid he thought as he walked down to Danny's room. All of that and then some.
真是个好孩子，向丹尼的房间走去的时候，他想。
In his mind he heard himself screaming into his frightened, crying son's face: Don't stutter/ He wiped his lips again.
在脑海里，他听到自己对惊恐不已的儿子厉声吼道：不要结巴！他又抹了抹嘴唇。
His heart thudding slowly in his chest, he took his pictures and then set the camera down to wait for them to develop. He wiped his lips with the palm of his hand. One thought played over and over in his mind, echoing with (You lost your temper. You lost your temper. You lost your temper.) an almost superstitious dread. They had come back. He had killed the wasps but they had come back.
他的心脏沉缓地跳动着，他拍了照，然后放下相机等着胶片显影。他用手掌抹了抹嘴唇。有个想法在他脑子里一次又一次地打着转儿，回荡着一种近乎迷信的恐怖。（你发脾气了。你发脾气了。你发脾气了。）它们复活了。他杀死了那些黄蜂，可是它们复活了。
"Have to go downstairs for a minute," he said, making his voice light.
“我得先到楼下去一趟。”他装得很轻松地说。
"Coming to bed, Jack?" Wendy asked.
“睡觉吧，杰克，”温迪叫道。
He went to Danny's worktable, rummaged in its drawers, and came up with a big jigsaw puzzle with a fiberboard backing. He took it over to the bedtable and carefully slid the bowl and the nest onto it. The wasps buzzed angrily inside their prison. Then, putting his hand firmly on top of the bowl so it wouldn't slip, he went out into the hall.
他来到丹尼的书桌旁，在抽屉里翻寻，找出了一个带纤维板背衬的大七巧板。他来到床头桌边，小心翼翼地将碗和蜂窝移到板子上。黄蜂在碗里气恼得嗡嗡直叫。他紧紧按住玻璃碗，免得它滑动，然后端着蜂窝来到走廊。
"Coming to bed, Daddy?"
“爸爸，来睡觉吧。”
How had it happened? How in God's name?
这是怎么回事呢？老天，怎么会这样呢？
That was crazy. Seventeenth-century bullshit. Insects didn't regenerate. And even if wasp eggs could mature full-grown insects in twelve hours, this wasn't the season in which the queen laid. That happened in April or May. Fall was their dying time.
瞎扯。简直是17世纪的胡言乱语，成虫肯定没复活。就算蜂卵能在12小时内孵出来，可现在也不是蜂王产卵的季节——那得在四五月间。秋天是它们死亡的季节。
A living contradiction, the wasps buzzed furiously under the bowl.
一个活生生的悖谬：黄蜂在倒扣的玻璃碗里狂怒地嗡嗡叫着。
Then how? Spontaneous regeneration?
那么，究竟是怎么回事呢？难道是死而复活？
The bomb sure hadn't been a dud. He had seen the thick white smoke start to puff out of it when he had pulled the ring. And when he had gone up two hours later, he had shaken a drift of small dead bodies out of the hole in the top.
灭虫弹肯定不是颗哑弹。拉开上面的环的时候，他亲眼看到里面冒出了白色的浓烟。而且，两个小时后他又上了屋顶，从蜂窝顶上的窟窿里抖出了一堆死黄蜂。
He took them downstairs and through the kitchen. In back there was a door which gave on the outside. A cold night wind blew against his nearly naked body, and his feet went numb almost instantly against the cold concrete of the platform he was standing on, the platform where milk deliveries were made during the hotel's operating season. He put the puzzle and the bowl down carefully, and when he stood up he looked at the thermometer nailed outside the door. FRESH UP WITH 7-up, the thermometer said, and the mercury stood at an even twenty-five degrees. The cold would kill them by morning. He went in and shut the door firmly. After a moment's thought he locked it, too.
他端着蜂窝来到楼下，穿过厨房。这里有一道后门通往楼外。寒冷的夜风吹打着他近乎赤裸的身体，一踏上那个冰冷的水泥平台——旺季时饭店的牛奶就送到这个平台上来——他的脚就麻木了。他轻手轻脚地把七巧板和玻璃碗放下，站起来看了看钉在门外的温度计。水银柱停在华氏25度上，到天亮它们就会被冻死的。他回到屋里，把门关紧，想了想，又把门锁上了。
And suddenly he found that he didn't like the Overlook so well anymore, as if it wasn't wasps that had stung his son, wasps that had miraculously lived through the bug bomb assault, but the hotel itself.
突然，他发现自己不那么喜欢饭店了，好像蜇他儿子的不是黄蜂，不是在经受了灭虫弹的袭击后奇迹般地活下来的黄蜂，而是饭店本身。
He crossed the kitchen again and shut off the lights. He stood in the darkness for a moment, thinking, wanting a drink. Suddenly the hotel seemed full of a thousand stealthy sounds: creakings and groans and the sly sniff of the wind under the eaves where more wasps' nests might be hanging like deadly fruit.
他又穿过厨房，把灯关掉，然后在黑暗中站了一会儿，思考着，想喝杯酒。刹那间，饭店似乎响起了成百上千种鬼鬼祟祟的声音：嘎吱嘎吱声、呻吟声、屋檐下风的呜咽声。也许，屋檐上还吊着更多的像催命果一样的黄蜂窝。
They had come back.
它们复活了。
His last thought before going upstairs to his wife and son (from now on you will hold your temper. No Matter What.) was firm and hard and sure.
上楼回到妻儿身边之前，他毅然决然地告诫自己：从现在起，无论在什么情况下，你都要控制住你的脾气。
As he went down the hall to them he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
在他们房间外的走廊上，他用手背揩了揩嘴唇。