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He
looked
at
me
close
,
making
sure
I
was
n't
just
having
some
sport
with
him
,
then
nodded
as
if
it
was
a
settled
thing
.
The
wind
gusted
again
,
strong
enough
this
time
to
make
the
beams
creak
and
settle
,
and
we
both
looked
around
uneasily
at
the
padded
walls
.
I
think
for
a
moment
we
could
hear
William
Wharton
--
not
Billy
the
Kid
,
not
him
,
he
had
been
"
Wild
Bill
"
to
us
from
his
first
day
on
the
block
--
screaming
and
laughing
,
telling
us
we
were
going
to
be
damned
glad
to
be
rid
of
him
,
telling
us
we
would
never
forget
him
.
About
those
things
he
was
right
.
As
for
what
Brutal
and
I
agreed
on
that
night
in
the
restraint
room
,
it
turned
out
just
that
way
It
was
almost
as
if
we
had
taken
a
solemn
oath
on
those
tiny
bits
of
colored
,
wood
.
Neither
of
us
ever
took
part
in
another
execution
.
John
Coffey
was
the
last
.
The
nursing
home
where
I
am
crossing
my
last
bunch
of
t
's
and
dotting
my
last
mess
of
i
's
is
called
Georgia
Pines
.
It
's
about
sixty
miles
from
Atlanta
and
about
two
hundred
light-years
from
life
as
most
people
--
people
under
the
age
of
eighty
,
let
's
say
--
live
it
.
You
who
are
reading
this
want
to
be
careful
that
there
is
n't
a
place
like
it
waiting
in
your
future
.
It
's
not
a
cruel
place
,
not
for
the
most
part
;
there
's
cable
TV
,
the
food
's
good
(
although
there
's
damned
little
a
man
can
chew
)
,
but
in
its
way
,
it
's
as
much
of
a
killing
bottle
as
E
Block
at
Cold
Mountain
ever
was
.
There
's
even
a
fellow
here
who
reminds
me
a
little
of
Percy
Wetmore
,
who
got
his
job
on
the
Green
Mile
because
he
was
related
to
the
governor
of
the
state
.
I
doubt
if
this
fellow
is
related
to
anyone
important
,
even
though
he
acts
that
way
.
Brad
Dolan
,
his
name
is
.
He
's
always
combing
his
hair
,
like
Percy
was
,
and
he
's
always
got
something
to
read
stuffed
into
his
back
pocket
.
With
Percy
it
was
magazines
like
Argosy
and
Men
's
Adventure
;
with
Brad
it
's
these
little
paperbacks
called
Gross
Jokes
and
Sick
Jokes
.
He
's
always
asking
people
why
the
Frenchman
crossed
the
road
or
how
many
Polacks
it
takes
to
screw
in
a
lightbulb
or
how
many
pallbearers
there
are
at
a
Harlem
funeral
.
Like
Percy
,
Brad
is
a
dimwit
who
thinks
nothing
is
funny
unless
it
's
mean
.
Something
Brad
said
the
other
day
struck
me
as
actually
smart
,
but
I
do
n't
give
him
a
lot
of
credit
for
it
;
even
a
stopped
clock
is
right
twice
a
day
,
the
proverb
has
it
.
"
You
're
just
lucky
you
do
n't
have
that
Alzheimer
's
disease
,
Paulie
,
"
was
what
he
said
.
I
hate
him
calling
me
that
,
Paulie
,
but
he
goes
on
doing
it
,
anyway
;
I
've
given
up
asking
him
to
quit
.
There
are
other
sayings
--
not
quite
proverbs
--
that
apply
to
Brad
Dolan
:
"
You
can
lead
a
horse
to
water
but
you
ca
n't
make
him
drink
"
is
one
;
"
You
can
dress
him
up
but
you
ca
n't
take
him
out
"
is
another
.
In
his
thickheadedness
he
is
also
like
Percy
.
When
he
made
his
comment
about
Alzheimer
's
,
he
was
mopping
the
floor
of
the
solarium
,
where
I
had
been
going
over
the
pages
I
have
already
written
.
There
's
a
great
lot
of
them
,
and
I
think
there
's
apt
to
be
a
great
lot
more
before
I
am
through
.
"
That
Alzheimer
's
,
do
you
know
what
it
really
is
?
"
"
No
,
"
I
said
,
--
but
I
'm
sure
you
'll
tell
me
,
Brad
.
"
"
It
's
AIDS
for
old
people
,
"
he
said
,
and
then
burst
out
laughing
,
hucka-hucka-hucka-huck
!
,
just
like
he
does
over
those
idiotic
jokes
of
his
.
I
did
n't
laugh
,
though
,
because
what
he
said
struck
a
nerve
somewhere
.
Not
that
I
have
Alzheimer
's
;
although
there
's
plenty
of
it
on
view
here
at
beautiful
Georgia
Pines
,
I
myself
just
suffer
the
standard
oldguy
memory
problems
.
Those
problems
seem
to
have
more
to
do
with
when
than
what
.
Looking
over
what
I
have
written
so
far
,
it
occurs
to
me
that
I
remember
everything
that
happened
back
in
"
32
;
it
's
the
order
of
events
that
sometimes
gets
confused
in
my
head
.
Yet
,
if
I
'm
careful
,
I
think
I
can
keep
even
that
sorted
out
.
More
or
less
