INT -- SHAFT -- NIGHT (1966) 249 Andy squeezes through the hole head-first, emerges to the waist, He reaches for the opposite wall, manages to snag a steel conduit with his fingers. Suddenly, a huge rat darts for his hand. Andy yanks away and almost plummets head-first down the shaft. He dangles wildly upside-down for a moment, arms windmilling, then gets his hands pressed firmly against the opposite wall. The rat scurries off, pissed. Andy snags the conduit again. He contorts out of the hole and dangles into the shaft. We now see the purpose for the rope: the plastic bag
cheap jordans hangs from his ankle with about two feet of slack, He kicks his legs across the shaft, gets his feet braced. Wit3 his back against one wall and feet against the other,
Michael Kors handbags he starts down the shaft. Sliding dangerously. Using pipes for handholds. Flinching as rats dart this way and that, scurrying in the shadows. He drops the last few feet to the bottom. He approaches the ceramic sewer pipe and kneels before it. Pulls out the rock-hammer and says a quick silent prayer. Raises the rock-hammer high and swings it down with all his might. Once, twice -- third time lucky. An enormous eruption of sewage cascades into the air as if rocket-propelled, the Mount St. Helens of shit. Andy is instantly coated black. He turns away and heaves his guts out. The shit keeps coming. 250 INT -- SEWER PIPE -- NIGHT (1966) 250 Andy peers down through the hole, playing his penlight aroun5, The inside diameter is no more than two feet. Tight squeeze. Coated with crud. It seems to go on for miles. No turning back. He wriggles into the pipe and starts crawling, plastic bag dragging behind. RED (V.O.) Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit-smelling foulness I can't even imagine. Or maybe I just don't want to. 251 EXT -- FIELD -- NIGHT (1966) 251 Rain is falling in solid sheets. Shawshank is half a mile distant. BOOM DOWN to reveal the creek...and PUSH IN toward the mouth of the sewer pipe that feeds into it. RED (V.O.) Five hundred yards. The length of five football fields. Just shy of half a mile. Fingers appear, thrusting through the heavy-gauge wire mesh covering the mouth of the pipe. Andy's face looms from the darkness, peering out at freedom. He wrenches the mesh loose, pushes himself out, and plunges head-first into the creek. He comes up sputtering for breath. The water is waist-deep. He wades upstream, ripping his clothes from his body. He gets his shirt off, spins it through the air over his head, flings the shirt away. He raises his arms to the sky, turning slowly, feeling the rain washing him clean. Exultant. Triumphant. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING arcs from horizon to horizon. 252 INT -- ANDY'S TUNNEL -- DAY (1966) 252 Once again, we see stunned faces as CAMERA PULLS BACK. RED (V.O.) The next morning, right about the time Racquel was spilling her little secret... 253 INT -- CASCO BANK OF PORTLAND -- MORNING (1966) 253 The door opens. Spit-shined shoes enter. DOLLY the shoes to the counter. RED (V.O.) ...a man nobody ever laid eyes on before strolled into the Casco Bank of Portland. Until that moment, he didn't exist -- except on paper. FEMALE TELLER (O.S.) May I help you? TILT UP to Andy. Smiling in Norton's gray pinstripe suit. ANDY My name is Peter Stevens. I've come to close out some accounts. 254 INT -- BANK -- SHORTLY LATER (1966) 254 The teller is cutting a cashier's check while the MANAGER carefully examines Mr. Stevens' various I.D.s. RED (V.O.) He had all the proper I.D. Driver's license, birth certificate, social security card. The signature was a spot-on match. MANAGER I must say I'm sorry to be losing your business. I hope you'll enjoy living abroad. ANDY Thank you. I'm sure I will. TELLER Here's your cashier's check, sir. Will there be anything else? ANDY Please. Would you add this to your outgoing mail? He hands her a package, stamped and addressed. Gives them a pleasant smile. Turns and strolls from the bank. RED (V.O.) Mr. Stevens visited nearly a dozen banks in the Portland
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