just
reached the end and the cold spill of light ing down from above when the snow
did give in； a minor fall； but enough to powder his face and clog the opening he
had wriggled down through and leave him in darkness。
For a moment his brain froze in utter panic and he could not think。 Then； as
if from far off； he heard his daddy telling him that he must never play at the
Stovington dump； because sometimes stupid people hauled old refrigerators off to
the dump without removing the doors and if you got in one and the door happened
to shut on you； there was no way to get out。 You would die in the darkness。
（You wouldn't want a thing like that to happen to you； would you； doc？）
（No； Daddy。）
But it had happened； his frenzied mind told him； it had happened； he was in
the dark； he was closed in； and it was as cold as a refrigerator。 And —
（something is in here with me。）
His breath stopped in a gasp。 An almost drowsy terror stole through his veins。
Yes。 Yes。 There was something in here with him； some awful thing the Overlook
had saved for just such a chance as this。 Maybe a huge spider that had burrowed
down under the dead leaves； or a rat 。。。 or maybe the corpse of some little
kid that had died here on the playground。 Had that ever happened？ Yes； he
thought maybe it had。 He thought of the woman in the tub。 The blood and brains
on the wall of the Presidential Sweet。 Of some little kid； its head split open
from a fall from the monkey bars or a swing； crawling after him in the dark；
grinning； looking for one final playmate in its endless playground。 Forever。 In
a moment he would hear it ing。
At the far end of the co