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But
we
had
the
gurney
--
thank
God
--
and
John
Coffey
lay
on
it
like
a
beached
whale
as
we
pushed
him
back
to
the
storage-room
stairs
.
He
got
down
off
it
,
staggered
,
then
simply
stood
with
his
head
lowered
,
breathing
harshly
.
His
skin
was
so
gray
he
looked
as
if
he
'd
been
rolled
in
flour
.
I
thought
he
'd
be
in
the
infirmary
by
noon
...
if
he
was
n't
dead
by
noon
,
that
was
.
Brutal
gave
me
a
grim
,
desperate
look
.
I
gave
it
right
back
.
"
We
ca
n't
carry
him
up
,
but
we
can
help
him
,
"
I
said
.
"
You
under
his
right
arm
,
me
under
his
left
.
"
"
What
about
me
?
"
Harry
asked
.
"
Walk
behind
us
.
If
he
looks
like
going
over
backward
,
shove
him
forward
again
.
"
"
And
if
that
do
n't
work
,
kinda
crouch
down
where
you
think
he
's
gon
na
land
and
soften
the
blow
,
"
Brutal
said
.
"
Gosh
,
"
Harry
said
thinly
,
"
you
oughta
go
on
the
Orpheum
Circuit
,
Brute
,
that
's
how
funny
you
are
.
"
"
I
got
a
sense
of
humor
,
all
right
,
"
Brutal
admitted
.
In
the
end
,
we
did
manage
to
get
John
up
the
stairs
.
My
biggest
worry
was
that
he
might
faint
,
but
he
did
n't
.
"
Go
around
me
and
check
to
make
sure
the
storage
room
's
empty
,
"
I
gasped
to
Harry
.
"
What
should
I
say
if
it
's
not
?
"
Harry
asked
,
squeezing
under
my
arm
.
"
"
Avon
calling
,
"
and
then
pop
back
in
here
?
"
"
Do
n't
be
a
wisenheimer
,
"
Brutal
said
.
