Chapter 28

'What do you mean, you're "satisfied he's not on the prison grounds"? What does that mean? It means you didn't find him! You better find him! You better! Because I want him! Do you hear me? I want him!'
Gonyar said something.
'Didn't happen on your shift? That's what you say. So far as I can tell, no one knows when it happened. Or how. Or if it really did. Now, I want him in my office by three o'clock this afternoon, or some heads are going to roll. I can promise you that, and I always keep my promises.'
Something else from Gonyar, something that seemed to provoke Norton to even greater rage.
'No? Then look at this! Look at this! You recognize it? Last night's tally for Cellblock 5. Every prisoner accounted for! Dufresne was locked up last night at nine and it is impossible for him to be gone now! It is impossible! Now you find him!"
But at six that evening Andy was still among the missing, Norton himself stormed down to Cellblock 5, where the rest of us had been locked up all of that day. Had we been questioned? We had spent most of that long day being questioned by harried screws who were feeling the breath of the dragon on the backs of their necks. We all said the same thing: we had seen nothing, heard nothing. And so far as I know, we were all telling the truth. I know that I was. All we could say was that Andy had indeed been in his cell at the time of the lock-in, and at lights-out an hour later.
One wit suggested that Andy had poured himself out through the keyhole. The suggestion earned the guy four days in solitary. They were uptight.
So Norton came down - stalked down - glaring at us with blue eyes nearly hot enough to strike sparks from the tempered steel bars of our cages. He looked at us as if he believed we were all in on it. Probably he did believe it.
He went into Andy's cell and looked around. It was just as Andy had left it, the sheets of his bunk turned back but without looking slept-in. Rocks on the windowsill... but not all of them. The ones he liked best he took with him.
'Rocks,' Norton hissed, and swept them off the window-ledge with a clatter. Gonyar, already four hours overtime, winced but said nothing.
Norton's eyes fell on the Linda Ronstadt poster. Linda was looking back over her shoulder, her hands tucked into the back pockets of a very tight pair of fawn-coloured slacks. She was wearing a halter and she had a deep California tan. It must have offended the hell out of Norton's Baptist sensibilities, that poster. Watching him glare at it, I remembered what Andy had once said about feeling he could almost step through the picture and be with the girl. In a very real way, that was exactly what he did - as Norton was only seconds from discovering. 'Wretched thing!' he grunted, and ripped the poster from the wall with a single swipe of his hand.
And revealed the gaping, crumbled hole in the concrete behind it. Gonyar wouldn't go in.
Norton ordered him - God, they must have heard Norton ordering Rich Gonyar to go in there all over the prison - and Gonyar just refused him, point-blank.
'I'll have your job for this!' Norton screamed. He was as hysterical as a woman having a hot-flush. He had utterly blown his cool. His neck had turned a rich, dark red, and two veins stood out, throbbing, on his forehead. 'You can count on it, you ... you Frenchman! I'll have your job and I'll see to it that you never get another one in any prison system in New England!'
Gonyar silently held out his service pistol to Norton, butt first. He'd had enough. He was four hours overtime, going on five, and he'd just had enough. It was as if Andy's defection from our happy little family had driven Norton right over the edge of some private irrationality that had been there for a long time ... certainly he was crazy that night.
I don't know what that private irrationality might have been, of course. But I do know that there were twenty-eight cons listening to Norton's little dust-up with Rich Gonyar that evening as the last of the light faded from a dull late winter sky, all of us hard-timers and long-line riders who had seen the administrators come and go, the hard-asses and the candy-asses alike, and we all knew that Warden Samuel Norton had just passed what the engineers like to call 'the breaking strain'.
And by God, it almost seemed to me that somewhere I could heard Andy Dufresne laughing.
Norton finally got a skinny drink of water on the night shift to go into that hole that had been behind Andy's poster of Linda Ronstadt. The skinny guard's name was Rory Tremont, and he was not exactly a ball of fire in the brains department. Maybe he thought he was going to win a Bronze Star or something. As it turned out, it was fortunate that Norton got someone of Andy's approximate height and build to go in there; if they had sent a big-assed fellow - as most prison guards seem to be - the guy would have stuck in there is sure as God made green grass ... and he might be there still.
Tremont went in with a nylon filament rope, which someone had found in the trunk of his car, tied around his waist and a big six-battery flashlight in one hand. By then Gonyar, who had changed his mind about quitting and who seemed to be the only one there still able to think clearly, had dug out a set of blueprints. I knew well enough what they showed him - a wall which looked, in cross-section, like a sandwich. The entire wall was ten feet thick. The inner and outer sections were each about four feet thick. In the centre was two feet of pipe-space, and you want to believe that was the meat of the thing ... in more ways than one.
Tremont's voice came out of the hole, sounding hollow and dead. 'Something smells awful in here, Warden.'
'Never mind that! Keep going.'
Tremont's lower legs disappeared into the hole. A moment later his feet were gone, too. His light flashed dimly back and forth.
'Warden, it smells pretty damn bad.'
'Never mind, I said!' Norton cried.
Dolorously, Tremont's voice floated back: 'Smells like shit. Oh God, that's what it is, it's shit, oh my God lemme outta here I'm gonna blow my groceries oh shit it's shit oh my Gawwwwwd - And then came the unmistakable sound of Rory Tremont losing his last couple of meals.
Well, that was it for me. I couldn't help myself. The whole day - hell no, the last thirty years - all came up on me at once and I started laughing fit to split, alaugh such as I'd never had since I was a free man, the kind of laugh I never expected to have inside these grey walls. And oh dear God didn't it feel good!

　　“你是什么意思？你是什么意思？他不在监狱里，表示你没有找到他？这样你就觉得满意了吗？你最好找到他！因为我要把他逮到！你听见了吗？我要逮到他！”
　　高亚嘴里咕哝了几句。
　　“不是在你值班的时候发生的？那是你自说自话，就我所知，没有人知道他是什么时候逃出去的，或怎么逃出去的，或他是不是真的逃出去了。我不管，我限你在今天下午三点以前把他带回我的办公室，否则就有人要人头落地了。我说到做到，我一向说到做到。”
　　高亚不知又说了什么，使得诺顿更加震怒。
　　“没有？看看这个！看看这个！你认得这个吗？这是昨天晚上第五区的点名记录，每个囚犯都在牢房里。昨天晚上九点钟的时候，杜佛尼还被关在牢房里，他不可能就这样不见了！不可能！立刻去把他找到！”
　　到了那天下午三点，安迪仍然在失踪名单上。过了几小时后，诺顿自己冲入第五区牢房。那天第五区所有犯人都被关在自己的牢房里，被那些神色仓皇的狱卒盘问了一整天。我们的答案都一样：我们什么也没看见，什么也没听见。就我所知，大家说的都是实话，我知道我没说谎，我们只能说，昨晚所有的犯人回房时，安迪确实进了他的牢房，而且一小时后熄灯时，他也还在。
　　有个机灵鬼猜测，安迪可能是从钥匙孔钻出去了，结果这句话为他招惹来四天的单独监禁，这些警卫全都绷得很紧。
　　于是诺顿亲自来查房，用他那一对蓝眼睛狠狠瞪着我们，在他的注视下，牢笼的铁栅栏仿佛快冒出火星了。他的眼神流露着怀疑，也许他真的认为我们都是共犯。
　　他走进安迪的囚房，到处查看。牢房里还是安迪离开时的样子，床上的被褥看起来不像有人睡过，石头放在窗台上……，不过并非所有的石头都在，他带走了最喜欢的几颗石头。
　　“石头。”诺顿悻悻道，把石头哗啦啦地统统从窗台上扫下来，高亚缩在一旁，噤若寒蝉。
　　诺顿的目光落在琳达·朗斯黛的海报上。琳达双手插进后裤袋中，回眸一笑，上身穿了件露背的背心，皮肤晒成古铜色。身为浸信会教徒的诺顿看到这张海报一定很生气，我看到他狠狠盯着海报，想起安迪曾经说过，他常觉得似乎可以一脚踩进去，和海报上的女孩在一起。
　　他确确实实就这么做了，几秒钟后，诺顿也发现了。
　　诺顿一把撕下海报来。“邪门玩意！”他吼道。
　　海报后面的水泥墙上出现了一个洞。
　　高亚不肯进去。
　　诺顿命令他，声音之大，整个监狱一定都听得一清二楚。但是高亚不肯进去。
　　“你想丢掉饭碗吗？”诺顿尖叫着，歇斯底里地像个更年期热潮红的女人一样。他早已失去了平日的冷静，脖子胀成深红色，额前两条青筋毕露，不停跳动。“我说到做到，你……你这该死的法国佬！你今天非进去不可，否则就别想再吃这行饭了，以后也休想在新英格兰任何一个监狱找到工作！”
　　高亚默默掏出手枪，枪柄对着诺顿，把枪交给他。他受够了，已经过了下班时间两个小时，眼看就快超时工作三个小时。那天晚上，诺顿真是气得发狂，仿佛安迪的叛逃终于揭开他长久以来不为人知的非理性的一面。
　　当然，我没有看到他非理性的那一面，但是我知道那天晚上，当暮冬的昏暗天色逐渐变得漆黑一片时，二十六个在肖申克经历过多次改朝换代的长期犯一直在侧耳倾听，我们都知道诺顿正在经历工程师所说的“断裂应变”。
　　我仿佛可以听见安迪·杜佛尼正躲在某处窃笑不已。
　　诺顿终于找到一个值夜班的瘦小警卫来钻进海报后面的洞里，他的名字叫洛睿·崔门。他平常并不是个聪明人，或许他以为将因此获颁铜星勋章。算诺顿运气好，居然碰巧找到一个身材和安迪差不多的人。大多数监狱警卫都是大块头，如果他们派了个大块头来，一定爬到一半就卡在那里，直到现在还出不来。
　　崔门进去时把尼龙绳绑在腰上，手上拿了一支装了六个干电池的大手电筒。这时高亚已经改变心意，不打算辞职了，而他似乎是现场惟一头脑还清醒的人，找来了一组监狱的蓝图。从剖面图看来，监狱的墙就像个三明治，整堵墙足足有十英尺厚，内墙、外墙各有四英尺厚，中间的两英尺空隙是铺设管线的通道，就好像三明治的肉馅一样。
　　崔门的声音从洞中传出来，听起来有种空洞和死亡的感觉。“典狱长，里面味道很难闻。”
　　“不管它，继续爬。”
　　崔门的腿消失在洞口，一会儿，连脚也看不见了，只看到手电筒的光微弱地晃动。
　　“典狱长，里面的味道实在很糟糕。”
　　“我说不要管它。”诺顿叫道。
　　崔门的声音哀戚地飘过来。“闻起来像大便，哦！天哪！真的是大便，哇！是大便！我的天哪，我快吐了，哇……”然后可以清楚地听到崔门把当天吃的所有东西都吐出来了。
　　现在轮到我了，我再也忍不住，这一整天——喔，不，过去这三十年来的压抑终于爆发了，我开始大笑，笑得抑制不住，自从失去自由后，我还从未这么开怀地笑过。我从来不曾期望困在灰墙中的我还能笑得这么开心，真是过瘾极了。