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Still
,
I
had
a
nightmarish
moment
when
I
thought
they
were
still
going
to
come
up
small
,
and
we
'd
have
to
take
him
back
to
his
cell
while
Sam
Broderick
,
who
was
head
of
the
shop
guys
in
those
days
,
was
found
and
tinkered
some
more
.
I
gave
a
final
,
extra-hard
shove
with
the
heels
of
my
hands
and
the
clamp
on
my
side
closed
.
John
"
s
leg
jerked
and
he
gasped
.
I
had
pinched
him
.
"
Sorry
,
John
,
"
I
murmured
,
and
glanced
at
Harry
.
He
had
gotten
his
clamp
fixed
more
easily
(
either
the
extension
on
his
side
was
a
little
bigger
or
John
"
s
right
calf
was
a
little
smaller
)
,
but
he
was
looking
at
the
result
with
a
doubtful
expression
.
I
guessed
I
could
understand
why
;
the
modified
clamps
had
a
hungry
look
,
their
jaws
seeming
to
gape
like
the
mouths
of
alligators
.
"
It
'll
be
all
right
,
"
I
said
,
hoping
that
I
sounded
convincing
...
and
that
I
was
telling
the
truth
.
"
Wipe
your
face
,
Harry
.
"
He
swabbed
at
it
with
his
arm
,
wiping
away
tears
from
his
cheeks
and
beads
of
sweat
from
his
forehead
.
We
turned
.
Homer
Cribus
,
who
had
been
talking
too
loudly
to
the
man
sitting
next
to
him
(
the
prosecutor
,
judging
from
the
string
tie
and
rusty
black
suit
)
,
fell
silent
.
It
was
almost
time
.
Brutal
had
clamped
one
of
John
"
s
wrists
,
Dean
the
other
.
Over
Dean
's
shoulder
I
could
see
the
doctor
,
unobtrusive
as
ever
,
standing
against
the
wall
with
his
black
bag
between
his
feet
.
Nowadays
I
guess
they
just
about
run
such
affairs
,
especially
the
ones
with
the
IV
drips
,
but
back
then
you
almost
had
to
yank
them
forward
if
you
wanted
them
.
Maybe
back
then
they
had
a
clearer
idea
of
what
was
right
for
a
doctor
to
be
doing
,
and
what
was
a
perversion
of
the
special
promise
they
make
,
the
one
where
they
swear
first
of
all
to
do
no
harm
.
Dean
nodded
to
Brutal
.
Brutal
turned
his
head
,
seemed
to
glance
at
the
telephone
that
was
never
going
to
ring
for
the
likes
of
John
Coffey
,
and
called
"
Roll
on
one
!
"
to
Jack
Van
Hay
.
There
was
that
hum
,
like
an
old
fridge
kicking
on
,
and
the
lights
burned
a
little
brighter
.
Our
shadows
stood
out
a
little
sharper
,
black
shapes
that
climbed
the
wall
and
seemed
to
hover
around
the
shadow
of
the
chair
like
vultures
.
John
drew
in
a
sharp
breath
.
His
knuckles
were
white
.
"
Does
it
hurt
yet
?
"
Mrs.
Detterick
shrieked
brokenly
from
against
her
husband
's
shoulder
.
"
I
hope
it
does
!
I
hope
it
hurts
like
hell
!
"
Her
husband
squeezed
her
.
One
side
of
his
nose
was
bleeding
,
I
saw
,
a
narrow
trickle
of
red
working
its
way
down
into
his
narrow-gauge
mustache
.
When
I
opened
the
paper
the
following
March
and
saw
he
'd
died
of
a
stroke
,
I
was
about
the
least
surprised
man
on
earth
.
Brutal
stepped
into
John
"
s
field
of
vision
.
He
touched
John
's
shoulder
as
he
spoke
.
That
was
irregular
,
but
of
the
witnesses
,
only
Curtis
Anderson
knew
it
,
and
he
did
not
seem
to
remark
it
.
I
thought
he
looked
like
a
man
who
only
wants
to
be
done
with
his
current
job
.
