"Did you have to do that?" Remo demanded in a loud voice.
The guard suddenly appeared in front of Remo's cell. He was grinning broadly.
"My mistake," he said. "I forgot they serve eggs on Mondays. Well, one good thing came out of it. When your turn comes, Williams, I won't have to waste my breath repeating all the grisly details to you."
Remo grabbed the cell-door bars tightly. "Why, you-"
"Temper, temper," the guard cautioned. "Oops, I think I hear the executioner man tapping on the Door of Doom."
The guard went away and opened the squealing door.
"All done?" he asked, suddenly serious-voiced. "Good. Come on, then. Let's get you out of here." The two men went past Remo's cell quickly, but not so quickly that Remo didn't catch a glimpse of the executioner's face. The sight triggered a cold shock in the pit of his stomach. There was something familiar about that furtive, weathered face. But the man passed from view before Remo could see it clearly.
"Sorry I had to take you in through the row," the guard was telling the other man, "but I figured it would be quicker."
The other said nothing in reply, and the first door control buzzed open.
The guard's voice rang back. "I'll send someone back with a mop," he promised. "Unless you want to consider it a second helping."
The guard's laughter was swallowed by the closing doors and a renewed spitting coming from Popcorn's cell.
"If he comes back," Remo said, "I'd throw it in his face. What have you got to lose?"
"He won't come back," Popcorn said miserably. "He know better than that."
"Probably."
"Hey, Remo?"
"Yeah?" Remo said, noticing the unexpected use of his first name.
"Remember what I said about the yard?"
"Yeah. "
"Well, it back on. I'll take Crusher over having my brains sizzled any day."
"We go to the yard today, you know."
"Today?" Popcorn croaked.
"Today. "
"Shit. I forgot it was today. Shit. I done ate my last meal, then."
"I wouldn't go up against Crusher if I were you."
"My life ain't worth the squirt that brought me into the world, man. I want my death to amount to something. You my only friend in the joint, Remo. Shee-it."
"What?"
"I just realized I threw up for the last time. And now I'm gonna take me a last piss." The zipper sound came next.
"Why don't you save it?" Remo suggested. "For what?"
"For Crusher."
"Good thinkin'. Uh-oh, here come the man with the mop."
A guard pushed a steel-wheeled cart with one hand and carried the mop in his other. He had trouble managing both tasks simultaneously. The mop slipped from his held-high grasp and he cursed and let the yarn head fall. He was dragging it after him as he passed Remo's field of vision.
Popcorn's cell grated open and the guard said, "I'll trade you. A new mop for an old tray."
"Deal, sucker," said Popcorn.
"Hurry it up. I gotta wait for the mop."
"Be just a second." The mop made sloppy sounds in the adjoining cell.
Remo, contemplating the ceiling, was suddenly aware of the guard staring at him through the bars of his cell.
"The night shift has been talking about you, Williams. "
"Good for them." Out of the corner of his eye Remo noticed the guard clutched a folded newspaper in his hand. His eyes kept going back to the paper. It was a tabloid.
"Ever been in Yuma, Williams?" he asked.
"No."
"How about Detroit?"
"Never."
"Then you got a twin who should be on the Letterman show or something."
"I'm an orphan."
"They call him Dead Man too," the guard said.
"Who?" Remo forced his voice to be bored. But curiosity was creeping into it.
"Your twin. The one they call the Dead Man."
"We're all Dead Men on this block," Remo said. He shifted position so that he could see the foldeddown top of the newspaper. The upside down headline seemed to say: STARTLING NEW EVIDENCE. SAME ASSASSIN KILLED ROY ORBISON, LUCILLE BALL, AND AYATOLLAH KHOMEINI!"
Remo didn't have to look any closer. The guard obviously had hold of a copy of the National Enquirer. Remo instantly lost interest. Only morons read the Enquirer.