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Brutal
opened
the
door
.
We
went
down
the
stairs
with
Coffey
in
the
lead
.
At
the
bottom
,
he
looked
glumly
down
the
tunnel
,
with
its
low
brick
ceiling
.
He
was
going
to
have
a
crick
in
his
back
by
the
time
we
got
to
the
other
end
,
unless
--
I
pulled
the
gurney
over
.
The
sheet
upon
which
we
'd
laid
Del
had
been
stripped
(
and
probably
incinerated
)
,
so
the
gurney
's
black
leather
pads
were
visible
.
"
Get
on
,
"
I
told
John
.
He
looked
at
me
doubtfully
,
and
I
nodded
encouragement
.
"
It
'll
be
easier
for
you
and
no
harder
for
us
.
"
"
Okay
,
Boss
Edgecombe
.
"
He
sat
down
,
then
lay
back
,
looking
up
at
us
with
worried
brown
eyes
.
His
feet
,
clad
in
cheap
prison
slippers
,
dangled
almost
all
the
way
to
the
floor
.
Brutal
got
in
between
them
and
pushed
John
Coffey
along
the
dank
corridor
as
he
had
pushed
so
many
others
.
The
only
difference
was
that
the
current
rider
was
still
breathing
.
About
halfway
along
--
under
the
highway
,
we
would
have
been
,
and
able
to
hear
the
muffled
drone
of
passing
cars
,
had
there
been
any
at
that
hour
--
John
began
to
smile
.
"
Say
,
"
he
said
,
"
this
is
fun
.
"
He
would
n't
think
so
the
next
time
he
rode
the
gurney
;
that
was
the
thought
which
crossed
my
mind
.
In
fact
,
the
next
time
he
rode
the
gurney
,
he
would
n't
think
or
feel
anything
.
Or
would
he
?
There
are
pieces
of
them
still
in
there
,
he
had
said
;
he
could
hear
them
screaming
.
Walking
behind
the
others
and
unseen
by
them
,
I
shivered
.
"
I
hope
you
remembered
Aladdin
,
Boss
Edgecombe
,
"
Brutal
said
as
we
reached
the
far
end
of
the
tunnel
.
"
Do
n't
worry
,
"
I
said
.
Aladdin
looked
no
different
from
the
other
keys
I
carried
in
those
days
--
and
I
had
a
bunch
that
must
have
weighed
four
pounds
--
but
it
was
the
master
key
of
master
keys
,
the
one
that
opened
everything
.
There
was
one
Aladdin
key
for
each
of
the
five
cellblocks
in
those
days
,
each
the
property
of
the
block
super
.
Other
guards
could
borrow
it
,
but
only
the
bull-goose
screw
did
n't
have
to
sign
it
out
.
There
was
a
steel-barred
gate
at
the
far
end
of
the
tunnel
.
It
always
reminded
me
of
pictures
I
'd
seen
of
old
castles
;
you
know
,
in
days
of
old
when
knights
were
bold
and
chivalry
was
in
flower
.
Only
Cold
Mountain
was
a
long
way
from
Camelot
.
Beyond
the
gate
,
a
flight
of
stairs
led
up
to
an
unobtrusive
bulkhead-style
door
with
signs
reading
NO
TRESPASSING
and
STATE
PROPERTY
and
ELECTRIFIED
WIRE
on
the
outside
.
I
opened
the
gate
and
Harry
swung
it
back
.
We
went
up
,
John
Coffey
once
more
in
the
lead
,
shoulders
slumped
and
head
bent
.
At
the
top
,
Harry
got
around
him
(
not
without
some
difficulty
,
either
,
although
he
was
the
smallest
of
the
three
of
us
)
and
unlocked
the
bulkhead
.
It
was
heavy
.
He
could
move
it
,
but
was
n't
able
to
flip
it
up
.
"
Here
,
boss
,
"
John
said
.
He
pushed
to
the
front
again
--
bumping
Harry
into
the
wall
with
one
hip
as
he
did
so
--
and
raised
the
bulkhead
with
one
hand
.
You
would
have
thought
it
was
painted
cardboard
instead
of
sheet
steel
.
