11بخش

I’m sure by now you’ve heard…

A terrible thing.

A man that young, less than a year to go, trying to escape.

It broke Captain Hadley’s heart to shoot him.

Truly, it did.

We just have to put it behind us.

Move on.

I’m done.

Everything stops.

Get someone else to run your scams.

Nothing stops.

Nothing.

Or you will do the hardest time there is.

No more protection from the guards.

I’ll pull you out of that one-bunk Hilton and cast you down with the Sodomites.

You’ll think you’ve been **ed by a train.

And the library?

Gone.

Sealed off, brick by brick.

We’ll have us a little book barbecue in the yard.

They’ll see the flames for miles.

We’ll dance around it like wild Injuns.

You understand me?

Catching my drift?

Or am I being obtuse?

Give him another month to think about it.

My wife used to say I’m a hard man to know.

Like a closed book.

Complained about it all the time.

She was beautiful.

God, I loved her.

I just didn’t know how to show it, that’s all.

I killed her, Red.

I didn’t pull the trigger.

But I drove her away.

That’s why she died, because of me.

The way I am.

That don’t make you a murderer.

A bad husband, maybe.

Feel bad about it if you want to, but you didn’t pull the trigger.

No, I didn’t.

Somebody else did.

And I wound up in here.

Bad luck, I guess.

Yeah.

It floats around.

It’s got to land on somebody.

It was my turn, that’s all.

I was in the path of the tornado.

I just didn’t expect the storm would last as long as it has.

Do you think you’ll ever get out of here?

Me?

Yeah.

One day, when I’ve got a long, white beard

and two or three marbles rolling around upstairs, they’ll let me out.

I tell you where I’d go.

Zihuatanejo.

Zi…what?

Zihuatanejo.

It’s in Mexico.

A little place on the Pacific Ocean.

You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific?

No.

They say it has no memory.

That’s where I want to live the rest of my life.

A warm place with no memory.

Open up a little hotel,

right on the beach.

Buy some worthless old boat,

fix it up new.

Take my guests out.

Charter fishing.

Zihuatanejo, huh?

In a place like that, I could use a man who knows how to get things.

I don’t think I could make it on the outside, Andy.

I’ve been in here most of my life.

I’m an institutional man now.

Just like Brooks was.

Well, you underestimate yourself.

I don’t think so.

I mean…in here, I’m the guy who can get things for you, sure.

But outside, all you need is the Yellow Pages.

Hell, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

The Pacific Ocean?

Shit.

About scare me to death, something that big. Not me.

I didn’t shoot my wife and I didn’t shoot her lover.

Whatever mistakes I’ve made, I’ve paid for them and then some.

That hotel, that boat.

I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

I don’t think you ought to be doing this to yourself, Andy.

These are just shitty pipe dreams.

I mean, Mexico is way the hell down there and you’re in here.

And that’s the way it is.

Yeah, right. That’s the way it is.

It’s down there and I’m in here.

I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really.

Get busy living

or get busy dying.

Andy.

Red.

If you ever get out of here, do me a favor.

Sure, Andy.

Anything.

There’s a big hayfield up near Buxton. You know where Buxton is?

Well, just… There’s a lot of hayfields up there. One in particular.

It’s got a long rock wall

with a big oak tree at the north end.

It’s like something out of a Robert Frost poem.

It’s where I asked my wife to marry me.

We went there for a picnic and made love under that oak.

I asked and she said yes.

Promise me, Red,

if you ever get out,

find that spot.

At the base of that wall, you’ll find a rock that

has no earthly business in a Maine hayfield.

A piece of black, volcanic glass.

There’s something buried under it I want you to have.

What, Andy?

What’s buried under there?

You’ll have to pry it up to see.

No, I’m telling you, the guy is…

He’s talking funnier.

I’m really worried about him. We ought to keep an eye on him.

That’s fine during the day, but at night he’s got that cell all to himself.

Oh, Lord.

What?

Andy come down to the loading dock today.

He asked me for a length of rope. Rope?

Six feet long.

And you gave it to him?

Sure I did. Why wouldn’t I?

Jesus, Heywood.

Hey, how the hell was I supposed to know?

Remember Brooks Hatlen?

No.

Andy would never do that.

Never.

I don’t know.

Every man has his breaking point.

Lickety-split.

I want to get home. Just about finished, sir.