The Shining 原版小说-第61部分

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twinkling　mutedly　behind　the　bar；　and　syphons；　and　even　beer　dripping　from　the　
spigots　of　all　three　highly　polished　taps。　Yes；　he　could　even　smell　beer；　that　
damp　and　fermented　and　yeasty　odor；　no　different　from　the　smell　that　had　hung　
finely　misted　around　his　father's　face　every　night　when　he　came　home　from　work。　
　　Eyes　widening；　he　fumbled　for　the　wall　switch；　and　the　low；　intimate　bar…　
lighting　came　on；　circles　of　twenty…watt　bulbs　emplanted　on　the　tops　of　the　
three　wagon…wheel　chandeliers　overhead。　


　
　
　　The　shelves　were　all　empty。　They　had　not　even　as　yet　gathered　a　good　coat　of　
dust。　The　beer　taps　were　dry；　as　were　the　chrome　drains　beneath　them。　To　his　
left　and　right；　the　velvet…upholstered　booths　stood　like　men　with　high　backs；　
each　one　designed　to　give　a　maximum　of　privacy　to　the　couple　inside。　Straight　
ahead；　across　the　red…carpeted　floor；　forty　barstools　stood　around　the　
horseshoe…shaped　bar。　Each　stool　was　upholstered　in　leather　and　embossed　with　
cattle　brands　—　Circle　H；　Bar　D　Bar　（that　was　fitting）；　Rocking　W；　Lazy　B。　
　　He　approached　it；　giving　his　head　a　little　shake　of　bewilderment　as　he　did　so。　
It　was　like　that　day　on　the　playground　when　。。。　but　there　was　no　sense　in　
thinking　about　that。　Still　he　could　have　sworn　he　had　seen　those　bottles；　
vaguely；　it　was　true；　the　way　you　see　the　darkened　shapes　of　furniture　in　a　room　
where　the　curtains　have　been　drawn。　Mild　glints　on　glass。　The　only　thing　that　
remained　was　that　smell　of　beer；　and　Jack　knew　that　was　a　smell　that　faded　into　
the　woodwork　of　every　bar　in　the　world　after　a　certain　period　of　time；　not　to　be　
eradicated　by　any　cleaner　invented。　Yet　the　smell　here　seemed　sharp　。。。　almost　
fresh。　
　　He　sat　down　on　one　of　the　stools　and　propped　his　elbows　on　the　bar's　leather…　
cushioned　edge。　At　his　left　hand　was　a　bowl　for　peanuts　　now　empty；　of　course。　
The　first　bar　he'd　been　in　for　nineteen　months　and　the　damned　thing　was　dry　　just　
his　luck。　All　the　same；　a　bitterly　powerful　wave　of　nostalgia　swept　over　him；　
and　the　physical　craving　for　a　drink　seemed　to　work　itself　up　from　his　belly　to　
his　throat　to　his　mouth　and　nose；　shriveling　and　wrinkling　the　tissues　as　it　
went；　making　them　cry　out　for　something　wet　and　long　and　cold。　
　　He　glanced　at　the　shelves　again　in　wild；　irrational　hope　but　the　shelves　were　
just　as　empty　as　before。　He　grinned　in　pain　and　frustration。　His　fists；　
clenching　slowly；　made　minute　scratchings　on　the　bar's　leather…padded　edge。　
　　〃Hi；　Lloyd；〃　he　said。　〃A　little　slow　tonight；　isn't　it？〃　
　　Lloyd　said　it　was。　Lloyd　asked　him　what　it　would　be。　
　　〃Now　I'm　really　glad　you　asked　me　that；〃　Jack　said；　〃really　glad。　Because　I　
happen　to　have　two　twenties　and　two　tens　in　my　wallet　and　I　was　afraid　they'd　be　
sitting　there　until　sometime　next　April。　There　isn't　a　Seven…Eleven　around　here；　
would　you　believe　it？　And　I　thought　they　had　Seven…Elevens　on　the　fucking　moon。〃　
　　Lloyd　sympathized。　
　　〃So　here's　what；〃　Jack　said。　〃You　set　me　up　an　even　twenty　martinis。　An　even　
twenty；　just　like　that；　kazang。　One　for　every　month　I've　been　on　the　wagon　and　
one　to　grow　on。　You　can　do　that；　can't　you？　You　aren't　too　busy？〃　
　　Lloyd　said　he　wasn't　busy　at　all。　
　　〃Good　man。　You　line　those　martians　up　right　along　the　bar　and　I'm　going　to　
take　them　down；　one　by　one。　White　man's　burden；　Lloyd　my　man。〃　
　　Lloyd　turned　to　do　the　job。　Jack　reached　into　his　pocket　for　his　money　clip　
and　came　out　with　an　Excedrin　bottle　instead。　His　money　clip　was　on　the　bedroom　
bureau；　and　of　course　his　skinny…shanks　wife　had　locked　him　out　of　the　bedroom。　
Nice　going；　Wendy。　You　bleeding　bitch。　
　　〃I　seem　to　be　momentarily　light；〃　Jack　said。　〃How's　my　credit　in　this　joint；　
anyhow？〃　
　　Lloyd　said　his　credit　was　fine。　
　　〃That's　super。　I　like　you；　Lloyd。　You　were　always　the　best　of　them。　Best　
damned　barkeep　between　Barre　and　Portland；　Maine。　Portland；　Oregon；　for　that　


　
　
matter。〃　
　　Lloyd　thanked　him　for　saying　so。　
　　Jack　thumped　the　cap　from　his　Excedrin　bottle；　shook　two　tablets　out；　and　
flipped　them　into　his　mouth。　The　familiar　acid…pelling　taste　flooded　in。　
　　He　had　a　sudden　sensation　that　people　were　watching　him；　curiously　and　with　
some　contempt。　The　booths　behind　him　were　full　　there　were　graying；　distinguished　
men　and　beautiful　young　girls；　all　of　them　in　costume；　watching　this　sad　
exercise　in　the　dramatic　arts　with　cold　amusement。　
　　Jack　whirled　on　his　stool。　
　　The　booths　were　all　empty；　stretching　away　from　the　lounge　door　to　the　left　
and　right；　the　line　on　his　left　cornering　to　flank　the　bar's　horseshoe　curve　
down　the　short　length　of　the　room。　Padded　leather　seats　and　backs。　Gleaming　dark　
Formica　tables；　an　ashtray　on　each　one；　a　book　of　matches　in　each　ashtray；　the　
words　Colorado　Lounge　stamped　on　each　in　gold　leaf　above　the　batwing…door　logo。　
　　He　turned　back；　swallowing　the　rest　of　the　dissolving　Excedrin　with　a　grimace。　
　　〃Lloyd；　you're　a　wonder；〃　he　said。　〃Set　up　already。　Your　speed　is　only　
exceeded　by　the　soulful　beauty　of　your　Neapolitan　eyes。　Salud。〃　
　　Jack　contemplated　the　twenty　imaginary　drinks；　the　martini　glasses　blushing　
droplets　of　condensation；　each　with　a　swizzle　poked　through　a　plump　green　olive。　
He　could　almost　smell　gin　on　the　air。　
　　〃The　wagon；〃　he　said。　〃Have　you　ever　been　acquainted　with　a　gentleman　who　has　
hopped　up　on　the　wagon？〃　
　　Lloyd　allowed　as　how　he　had　met　such　men　from　time　to　time。　
　　〃Have　you　ever　renewed　acquaintances　with　such　a　man　after　he　hopped　back　off？〃　　
　　Lloyd　could　not；　in　all　honesty；　recall。　
　　〃You　never　did；　then；〃　Jack　said。　He　curled　his　hand　around　the　first　drink；　
carried　his　fist　to　his　mouth；　which　was　open；　and　turned　his　fist　up。　He　
swallowed　and　then　tossed　the　imaginary　glass　over　his　shoulder。　The　people　were　
back　again；　fresh　from　their　costume　ball；　studying　him；　laughing　behind　their　
hands。　He　could　feel　them。　If　the　backbar　had　featured　a　mirror　instead　of　those　
damn　stupid　empty　shelves；　he　could　have　seen　them。　Let　them　stare。　Fuck　them。　
Let　anybody　stare　who　wanted　to　stare。　
　　〃No；　you　never　did；〃　he　told　Lloyd。　〃Few　men　ever　return　from　the　fabled　
Wagon；　but　those　who　do　e　with　a　fearful　tale　to　tell。　When　you　jump　on；　it　
seems　like　the　brightest；　cleanest　Wagon　you　ever　saw；　with　ten…foot　wheels　to　
keep　the　bed　of　it　high　out　of　the　gutter　where　all　the　drunks　are　laying　around　
with　their　brown　bags　and　their　Thunderbird　and　their　Granddad　Flash's　Popskull　
Bourbon。　You're　away　from　all　the　people　who　throw　you　nasty　looks　and　tell　you　
to　clean　up　your　act　or　go　put　it　on　in　another　town。　From　the　gutter；　that's　
the　finest…lookin　Wagon　you　ever　saw；　Lloyd　my　boy。　All　hung　with　bunting　and　a　
brass　band　in　front　and　three　majorettes　to　each　side；　twirling　their　batons　and　
flashing　their　panties　at　you。　Man；　you　got　to　get　on　that　Wagon　and　away　from　
the　juicers　that　are　straining　canned　heat　and　smelling　their　own　puke　to　get　
high　again　and　poking　along　the　gutter　for　butts　with　half　an　inch　left　below　
the　filter。〃　
　　He　drained　two　more　imaginary　drinks　and　tossed　the　glasses　back　over　his　
shoulder。　He　could　almost　hear　them　smashing　on　the　floor。　And　goddam　if　he　
wasn't　starting　to　feel　high。　It　was　the　Excedrin。　


　
　
　　〃So　you　climb　up；〃　he　told　Lloyd。　〃and　ain't　you　glad　to　be　there。　My　God　yes；　
that's　affirmative。　That　Wagon　is　the　biggest　and　best　float　in　the　whole　
parade；　and　everybody　is　lining　the　streets　and　clapping　and　cheering　and　
waving；　all　for　you。　Except　for　the　winos　passed　out　in　the　gutter。　Those　guys　
used　to　be　your　friends；　but　that's　all　behind　you　now。〃　
　　He　carried　his　empty　fist　to　his　mouth　and　sluiced　down　another　—　four　down；　
sixteen　to　go。　Making　excellent　progress。　He　swayed　a　little　on　the　stool。　Let　
em　stare；　if　that　was　how　they　got　off。　Take　a　picture；　folks；　it'll　last　
longer。　
　　〃Then　you　start　to　see　things；　Lloydy…my…boy。　Things　you　missed　from　the　
gutter。　Like　how　the　floor　of　the　Wagon　is　nothing　but　straight　pine　boards；　so　
fresh　they're　still　bleeding　sap；　and　if　you　took　your　shoes　off　you'd　be　sure　
to　get　a　splinter。　Like　how　the　only　furniture　in