绿里奇迹(英文版)-第32章

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in　the　tunnel　didn't　matter。　What　mattered；　what　always　matters　to　the　Percy　Wetmores　of　the　world；　is　what　gets　written　down　or　overheard　by　the　big　bugs　…　the　people　who　matter。　What　matters　to　the　Percys　of　the　world　is　how　it　plays　in　the　newspapers。　
Anderson　looked　at　the　five　of　us　uncertainly。　He　even　looked　at　Del；　but　Del　wasn't　talking。　〃I　guess　it　could　be　worse；〃　Anderson　said。　
〃That's　right；〃　I　agreed。　〃He　could　still　be　alive。〃　
Curtis　blinked　…　that　possibility　seemed　not　to　have　crossed　his　mind。　〃I　want　a　plete　report　about　this　on　my　desk　tomorrow；〃　he　said。　〃And　none　of　you　are　going　to　talk　to　Warden　Moores　about　it　until　I've　had　my　chance。　Are　you？〃　
We　shook　our　heads　vehemently。　If　Curtis　Anderson　wanted　to　tell　the　warden；　why；　that　was　fine　by　us。　
〃If　none　of　those　asshole　scribblers　put　it　in　their　papers　…〃　
〃They　won't；〃　I　said。　〃If　they　tried；　their　editors'd　kill　it。　Too　gruesome　for　a　family　audience。　But　they　won't　even　try　…　they　were　all　vets　tonight。　Sometimes　things　go　wrong；　that's　all。　They　know　it　as　well　as　we　do。〃　
Anderson　considered　a　moment　longer；　then　nodded。　He　turned　his　attention　to　Percy；　an　expression　of　disgust　on　his　usually　pleasant　face。　〃You're　a　little　asshole；〃　he　said；　〃and　I　don't　like　you　a　bit。〃　He　nodded　at　Percy's　look　of　flabbergasted　surprise。　〃If　you　tell　any　of　your　candy…ass　friends　I　said　that；　I'll　deny　it　until　Aunt　Rhody's　old　gray　goose　es　back　to　life；　and　these　men　will　back　me　up。　You've　got　a　problem；　son。〃　
He　turned　and　started　up　the　stairs。　I　let　him　get　four　steps　and　then　said：　〃Curtis？〃　
He　turned　back；　eyebrows　raised；　saying　nothing。　
〃You　don't　want　to　worry　too　much　about　Percy；〃　I　said。　〃He's　moving　on　to　Briar　Ridge　soon。　Bigger　and　better　things。　Isn't　that　right；　Percy？〃　
〃As　soon　as　his　transfer　es　through；〃　Brutal　added。　
〃And　until　it　es；　he's　going　to　call　in　sick　every　night；〃　Dean　put　in。　
That　roused　Percy；　who　hadn't　been　working　at　the　prison　long　enough　to　have　accumulated　any　paid　sick…time。　He　looked　at　Dean　with　bright　distaste。　〃Don't　you　wish；〃　he　said。　
6。　
We　were　back　on　the　block　by　one…fifteen　or　so　（except　for　Percy；　who　had　been　ordered　to　clean　up　the　storage　room　and　was　sulking　his　way　through　the　job）；　me　with　a　report　to　write。　I　decided　to　do　it　at　the　duty　desk；　if　I　sat　in　my　more　fortable　office　chair；　I'd　likely　doze　off。　That　probably　sounds　peculiar　to　you；　given　what　had　happened　only　an　hour　before'　but　I　felt　as　if　I'd　lived　three　lifetimes　since　eleven　o'clock　the　previous　night；　all　of　them　without　sleep。　
John　Coffey　was　standing　at　his　cell　door；　tears　streaming　from　his　strange；　distant　eyes　…　it　was　like　watching　blood　run　out　of　some　unhealable　but　strangely　painless　wound。　Closer　to　the　desk；　Wharton　was　sitting　on　his　bunk；　rocking　from　side　to　side；　and　singing　a　song　apparently　of　his　own　invention；　and　not　quite　nonsense。　As　well　as　I　can　remember；　it　went　something　like　this：　
〃Bar…be…cue！　Me　and　you！
Stinky；　pinky；　phew…phew…phew！
It　wasn't　Billy　or　Philadelphia　Philly；　it　wasn't　Jackie　or　Roy！　It　was　a　warm　little　number；　a　hot　cucumber；　by　the　name　of　Delacroix！〃　
〃Shut　up；　you　jerk；〃　I　said。　
Wharton　grinned；　showing　his　mouthful　of　dingy　teeth。　He　wasn't　dying；　at　least　not　yet；　he　was　up；　happy；　practically　tap…dancing。　〃e　on　in　here　and　make　me；　why　don't　you？〃　he　said　happily；　and　then　began　another　verse　of　〃The　Barbecue　Song；〃　making　up　。　There　was　something　going　on　in　there；　all　right。　A　kind　of　green　and　stinking　intelligence　that　was；　in　its　own　way；　almost　brilliant。　
I　went　down　to　John　Coffey。　He　wiped　away　his　tears　with　the　heels　of　his　hands。　His　eyes　were　red　and　sore…looking；　and　it　came　to　me　that　he　was　exhausted；　too。　Why　he　should　have　been；　a　man　who　trudged　around　the　exercise　yard　maybe　two　hours　a　day　and　either　sat　or　laid　down　in　his　cell　the　rest　of　the　time；　I　didn't　know；　but　I　didn't　doubt　what　I　was　seeing。　It　was　too　clear。　
〃Poor　Del；〃　he　said　in　a　low；　hoarse　voice。　〃Poor　old　Del。〃　
〃Yes；〃　I　said。　〃Poor　old　Del。　John；　are　you　okay？〃　
〃He's　out　of　it；〃　Coffey　said。　〃Del's　out　of　it。　Isn't　he；　boss？〃　
〃Yes。　Answer　my　question；　John。　Are　you　okay？〃　
〃Del's　out　of　it；　he's　the　lucky　one。　No　matter　how　it　happened；　he's　the　lucky　one。〃　
I　thought　Delacroix　might　have　given　him　an　argument　on　that；　but　didn't　say　so。　I　glanced　around　Coffey's　cell；　instead。　〃Where's　Mr。　Jingles？〃　
〃Ran　down　there。〃　He　pointed　through　the　bars；　down　the　hall　to　the　restraint…room　door。　
I　nodded。　〃Well；　he'll　be　back。〃　
But　he　wasn't；　Mr。　Jingles's　days　on　the　Green　Mile　were　over。　The　only　trace　of　him　we　ever　happened　on　was　what　Brutal　found　that　winter：　a　few　brightly　colored　splinters　of　wood；　and　a　smell　of　peppermint　candy　wafting　out　of　a　hole　in　a　beam。　
I　meant　to　walk　away　then；　but　I　didn't。　I　looked　at　John　Coffey；　and　he　back　at　me　as　if　he　knew　everything　I　was　thinking。　I　told　myself　to　get　moving；　to　just　call　it　a　night　and　get　moving；　back　to　the　duty　desk　and　my　report。　Instead　I　said　his　name：　〃John　Coffey。〃　
〃Yes；　boss；〃　he　said　at　once。　
Sometimes　a　man　is　cursed　with　needing　to　know　a　thing；　and　that　was　how　it　was　with　me　right　then。　I　dropped　down　on　one　knee　and　began　taking　off　one　of　my　shoes。　
7。　
The　rain　had　quit　by　the　time　I　got　home；　and　a　late　grin　of　moon　had　appeared　over　the　ridges　to　the　north。　My　sleepiness　seemed　to　have　gone　with　the　clouds。　I　was　wide　awake；　and　I　could　smell　Delacroix　on　me。　I　thought　I　might　smell　him　on　my　skin　…　barbecue；　me　and　you；　stinky；　pinky；　phew…phew…phew　…　for　a　long　time　to　e。　
Janice　was　waiting　up；　as　she　always　did　on　execution　nights。　I　meant　not　to　tell　her　the　story；　saw　no　sense　in　harrowing　her　with　it；　but　she　got　a　clear　look　at　my　face　as　I　came　in　the　kitchen　door　and　would　have　it　all。　So　I　sat　down；　took　her　warm　hands　in　my　cold　ones　（the　heater　in　my　old　Ford　barely　worked；　and　the　weather　had　turned　a　hundred　and　eighty　degrees　since　the　storm）；　and　told　her　what　she　thought　she　wanted　to　hear。　About　halfway　through　I　broke　down　crying；　which　I　hadn't　expected。　I　was　a　little　ashamed；　but　only　a　little；　it　was　her；　you　see；　and　she　never　taxed　me　with　the　times　that　I　slipped　from　the　way　I　thought　a　man　should　be　。。。　the　way　I　thought　I　should　be；　at　any　rate。　A　man　with　a　good　wife　is　the　luckiest　of　God's　creatures；　and　one　without　must　be　among　the　most　miserable；　I　think；　the　only　true　blessing　of　their　lives　that　they　don't　know　how　poorly　off　they　are。　I　cried；　and　she　held　my　head　against　her　breast；　and　when　my　own　storm　passed；　I　felt　better　。。。　a　little；　anyway。　And　I　believe　that　was　when　I　had　the　first　conscious　sight　of　my　idea。　Not　the　shoe；　I　don't　mean　that。　The　shoe　was　related；　but　different。　All　my　real　idea　was　right　then；　however；　was　an　odd　realization：　that　John　Coffey　and　Melinda　Moores；　different　as　they　might　have　been　in　size　and　sex　and　skin　color；　had　exactly　the　same　eyes：　woeful；　sad；　and　distant。　Dying　eyes。　
〃e　to　bed；〃　my　wife　said　at　last。　〃e　to　bed　with　me；　Paul。〃　
So　I　did；　and　we　made　love；　and　when　it　was　over　she　went　to　sleep。　As　I　lay　there　watching　the　moon　grin　and　listening　to　the　walls　tick　…　they　were　at　last　pulling　in；　exchanging　summer　for　fall　…　I　thought　about　John　Coffey　saying　he　had　helped　it。　I　helped　Del's　mouse。　I　helped　Mr。　Jingles。　He's　a　circus　mouse。　Sure。　And　maybe；　I　thought；　we　were　all　circus　mice；　running　around　with　only　the　dimmest　awareness　that　God　and　all　His　heavenly　host　were　watching　us　in　our　Bakelite　houses　through　our　ivy…glass　windows。　
I　slept　a　little　as　the　day　began　to　lighten　…　two　hours；　I　guess；　maybe　three；　and　I　slept　the　way　I　always　sleep　these　days　here　in　Georgia　Pines　and　hardly　ever　did　then；　in　thin　little　licks。　What　I　went　to　sleep　thinking　about　was　the　churches　youth。　The　names　changed；　depending　on　the　whims　of　my　mother　and　her　sisters；　but　they　were　all　really　the　same；　all　The　First　Backwoods　Church　of　Praise　Jesus；　The　Lord　Is　Mighty。　In　the　shadow　of　those　blunt；　square　steeples；　the　concept　of　atonement　came　up　as　regularly　as　the　toll　of　the　bell　which　called　the　faithful　to　worship。　Only　God　could　forgive　sins；　could　and　did；　washing　them　away　in　the　agonal　blood　of　His　crucified　Son；　but　that　did　not　change　the　responsibility　of　His　children　to　atone　for　those　sins　（and　even　their　simple　errors　of　judgement）　whenever　possible。　Atonement　was　powerful；　it　was　the　lock　on　the　door　you　closed　against　the　past。　
I　fell　asleep　thinking　of　piney…woods　atonement；　and　Eduard　Delacroix　on　fire　as　he　rode　the　lightning；　and　Melinda　Moores；　and　my　big　boy　with　the　endlessly　weeping　eyes。　These　thoughts　twisted　their　way　into　a　dream。　In　it；　John　Coffey　was　sitting　on　a　riverbank　and　bawling　his　inarticulate　mooncalf's　grief　up　at　the　early…summer　sky　while　on　the　other　bank　a　freight…train　stormed　endlessly　toward　a　rusty　trestle　spanning　the　Trapingus。　In　the　crook　of　each　arm　the　black　man　held　the　body　of　a　naked；　blonde…haired　girlchild。　His　fists；　huge　brown　rocks　at　the　ends　of　those　arms'　were　closed。　All　around　him　crickets　chirred　and　noseeums　flocked；　the　day　hummed　with　heat。　In　my　dream　I　went　to　him；　knelt　before　him；　and　took　his　hands。　His　fists　relaxed　and　gave　up　their　secrets。　In　one　was　a　spool　colored　green　and　red　and　yellow。　In　the　other　was　a　prison　guard's　shoe。　
〃I　couldn't　help　it；〃　John　Coffey　said。　〃I　tried　to　take　it　back；　but　it　was　too　late。〃　
And　this　time；　in　my　dream；　I　understood　him。　
8。　
At　nine　o'clock　the　next　morning；　while　I　was　having　a　third　cup　of　coffee　in　the　kitchen　（my　wife　said　nothing；　but　I　could　see　disapproval　large　on　her　face　when　she　brought　it　to　me）；　the　telephone　rang。　I　went　into　the　parlor　to　take　it；　and　Central　told　someone　that　their　party　was　holding　the　line。　She　then　told　me　to　have　a　birdlarky　day　and　rang　off　。。。　presumably。　With　Central；　you　could　never　quite　tell　for　sure。　
Hal　Moores's　voice　shocked　me。　Wavery　and　hoarse；　it　sounded　like　the　voice　of　an　octogenarian。　It　occurred　to　me　that　it　was　good　that　things　had　gone　all　right　with　Curtis　Anderson　in　the　tunnel　last　night；　good　that　he　felt　about　the　same　as　we　did　about　Percy；　because　this　man　I　was　talking　to　would　very　likely　never　work　another　day　at　Cold　Mountain。　
〃Paul；　I　understand　there　was　trouble　last　night。　I　also　understand　that　our　friend　Mr。　Wetmore　war；　involved。〃　
〃A　spot　of　trouble；〃　I　admitted；　holding　the　receiver　tight　to　my　ear　and　leaning　in　toward　the　horn；　〃but　the　job　got　done。　That's　the　important　thing。〃　
〃Yes。　Of　course。〃　
〃Can　I　ask　who　told　you？〃　So　I　can　tie　a　can　to　his　tail？　I　didn't　add。　
〃You　can　ask；　but　since　it's　really　none　of　your　beeswax；　I　think　I'll　keep　my　mouth　shut　on　that　score。　But　when　I　called　my　office　to　see　if　there　were　any　messages　or　urgent　business；　I　was　told　an　interesting　thing。〃　
〃Oh？〃　
〃Yes。　Seems　a　transferral　application　landed　in　my　basket。　Percy　Wetmore　wants　to　go　to　Briar　Ridge　as　soon　as　possible。　Must　have　filled　out　the　application　even　before　last　night's　shift　was　over；　wouldn't　you　think？〃　
〃It　sounds　that　way；〃　I　agreed。　
〃Ordinarily　I'd　let　Curtis　handle　it；　but　considering　the　。。。　atmosphere　on　E　Block　just　lately；　I　asked　Hannah　to　run　it　over　to　me　personally　on　her　lunch　hour。　She　has　graciously　agreed　to　do　so。　I'll　approve　it　and　see　it's　forwarded　on　to　the　state　capital　this　afternoon。　I　expect　you'll　get　a　look　at　Percy's　backside　going　out　the　door　in　no　more　than　a　month。　Maybe　less。〃　
He　expected　me　to　be　pleased　with　this　news；　and　had　a　right　to　expect　it。　He　had　taken　time　out　from　tending　his　wife　to　expedite　a　matter　that　might　otherwise　have　taken　upwards　of　half　a　year；　even　with　Percy's　vaunted　connections。　Nevertheless；　my　heart　sank。　A　month！　But　maybe　it　didn't　matter　much；　one　way　or　the　other。　It　removed　a　perfectly　natural　desire　to　wait　and　put　off　a　risky　endeavor；　and　what　I　was　now　thinking　about　would　be　very　risky　indeed。　Sometimes；　when　that's　the　case；　it's　better　to　jump　before　you　can　lose　your　nerve。　If　we　were　going　to　have　to　deal　with　Percy　in　any　case　（always　assuming　I　could　get　the　others　to　go　along　with　my　insanity　…　always　assuming　there　was　a　we；　in　other　words）；　it　might　as　well　be　tonight。　
〃Paul？　Are　you　there？〃　His　voice　lowered　a　little；　as　if　he　thought　he　was　now　talking　to　himself。　〃Damn；　I　think　I　lost　the　connection。〃　
〃No；　I'm　here；　Hal。　That's　great　news。〃　
〃Yes；〃　he　agreed；　and　I　was　again　struck　by　how　old　he　sounded。　How　papery；　somehow。　〃Oh；　I　know　what　you're　thinking。〃　
No；　you　don't；　Warden；　I　thought。　Never　in　a　million　years　could　you　know　what　I'm　thinking。　
〃You're　thinking　that　our　young　friend　will　still　be　around　for　the　Coffey　execution。　That's　probably　true　…　Coffey　will　go　well　before　Thanksgiving；　I　imagine　…　but　you　can　put　him　back　in　the　switch　room。　No　one　will　object。　Including　him；　I　should　think。〃　
〃I'll　do　that；〃　I　said。　〃Hal；　how's　Melinda？〃　
There　was　a　long　pause　so　long　I　might　have　thought　I'd　lost　him；　except　for　the　sound　of　his　breathing。　When　he　spoke　this　time；　it　was　in　a　much　lower　tone　of　voice。　〃She's　sinking；〃　he　said。　
Sinking。　That　chilly　word　the　old…timers　used　not　to　describe　a