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ng at him with slack…jawed horror。 He had expected something； sure； but not this。
The mask burst into flame on Delacroix's face。 The smell of cooking hair and sponge was now joined by the smell of cooking flesh。 Brutal grabbed the bucket the sponge had been in … it was empty now； of course … and charged for the extra…deep janitor's sink in the corner。
〃Shouldn't I kill the juice； Paul？〃 Van Hay called through the mesh。 He sounded pletely rattled。 〃Shouldn't…〃
〃No！〃 I shouted back。 Brutal had understood it first； but I hadn't been far behind： we had to finish it。 Whatever else we might do in all the rest of our lives was secondary to that one thing： we had to finish with Delacroix。 〃Roll； for Christ's sake！ Roll； roll； roll！〃
I turned to Brutal； hardly aware of the people talking behind us now； some on their feet； a couple screaming。 〃Quit that！〃 I yelled at Brutal。 〃No water！ No water！ Are you nuts？〃
Brutal turned toward me； a kind of dazed understanding on his face。 Throw water on a man who was getting the juice。 Oh yes。 That would be very smart。 He looked around； saw the chemical fire extinguisher hanging on the wall； and got that instead。 Good boy。
The mask had peeled away from Delacroix's face enough to reveal features that had gone blacker than John Coffey's。 His eyes； now nothing but misshapen globs of white； filmy jelly； had been blown out of their sockets and lay on his cheeks。 His eyelashes were gone； and as I looked； the lid
