绿里奇迹(英文版)-第5章

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therners　call　coon　hounds。　The　coonies　wanted　to　go　northwest；　upstream　along　the　Trapingus；　the　rest　wanted　to　go　in　the　other　direction；　southeast。　They　got　all　tangled　in　their　leads；　and　although　the　papers　said　nothing　about　this　part；　I　could　imagine　the　horrible　curses　Bobo　must　have　rained　down　on　them　as　he　used　his　hands　…　surely　the　most　educated　part　of　him　…　to　get　them　straightened　around　again。　I　have　known　a　few　hound…dog　men　in　my　time；　and　it's　been　my　experience　that；　as　a　class；　they　run　remarkably　true　to　type。　
Bobo　shortleashed　them　into　a　pack；　then　ran　Cora　Detterick's　torn　nightgown　under　their　noses；　to　kind　of　remind　them　what　they　were　doing　out　on　a　day　when　the　temperature　would　be　in　the　mid…niies　by　noon　and　the　noseeums　were　already　circling　the　heads　of　the　possemen　in　clouds。　The　coonies　took　another　sniff；　decided　to　vote　the　straight　ticket；　and　off　they　all　went　downstream；　in　full　cry。　
It　wasn't　but　ten　minutes　later　when　the　men　stopped；　realizing　they　could　hear　more　than　just　the　dogs。　It　was　a　howling　rather　than　a　baying；　and　a　sound　no　dog　had　ever　made；　not　even　in　its　dying　extremities。　It　was　a　sound　none　of　them　had　ever　heard　anything　make；　but　they　knew　right　away；　all　of　them；　that　it　was　a　man。　So　they　said；　and　I　believed　them。　I　think　I　would　have　recognized　it；　too。　I　have　heard　men　scream　just　that　way；　I　think；　on　their　way　to　the　electric　chair。　Not　a　lot　…　most　button　themselves　up　and　go　either　quiet　or　joking；　like　it　was　the　class　picnic　…　but　a　few。　Usually　the　ones　who　believe　in　hell　as　a　real　place；　and　know　it　is　waiting　for　them　at　the　end　of　the　Green　Mile。　
Bobo　shortleashed　his　dogs　again。　They　were　valuable；　and　he　had　no　intention　of　losing　them　to　the　psychopath　howling　and　gibbering　just　down　yonder。　The　other　men　reloaded　their　guns　and　snapped　them　closed。　That　howling　had　chilled　them　all；　and　made　the　sweat　under　their　arms　and　running　down　their　backs　feel　like　icewater。　When　men　take　a　chill　like　that；　they　need　a　leader　if　they　are　to　go　on；　and　Deputy　McGee　led　them。　He　got　out　in　front　and　walked　briskly　（I　bet　he　didn't　feel　very　brisk　right　then；　though）　to　a　stand　of　alders　that　jutted　out　of　the　woods　on　the　right；　with　the　rest　of　them　trundling　along　nervously　about　five　paces　behind。　He　paused　just　once；　and　that　was　to　motion　the　biggest　man　among　them　…　Sam　Hollis　…　to　keep　near　Klaus　Detterick。　
On　the　other　side　of　the　alders　there　was　more　open　ground　stretching　back　to　the　woods　on　the　right。　On　the　left　was　the　long；　gentle　slope　of　the　riverbank。　They　all　stopped　where　they　were；　thunderstruck。　I　think　they　would　have　given　a　good　deal　to　unsee　what　was　before　them；　and　none　of　them　would　ever　forget　it　…　it　was　the　sort　of　nightmare；　bald　and　almost　smoking　in　the　sun；　that　lies　beyond　the　drapes　and　furnishings　of　good　and　ordinary　lives　…　church　suppers；　walks　along　country　lanes；　honest　work；　love…kisses　in　bed。　There　is　a　skull　in　every　man；　and　I　tell　you　there　is　a　skull　in　the　lives　of　all　men。　They　saw　it　that　day；　those　men　…　they　saw　what　sometimes　grins　behind　the　smile。　
Sitting　on　the　riverbank　in　a　faded；　bloodstained　jumper　was　the　biggest　man　any　of　them　had　ever　seen　…　John　Coffey。　His　enormous；　splay…toed　feet　were　bare。　On　his　head　he　wore　a　faded　red　bandanna；　the　way　a　country　woman　would　wear　a　kerchief　into　church。　Gnats　circled　him　in　a　black　cloud。　Curled　in　each　arm　was　the　body　of　a　naked　girl。　Their　blonde　hair；　once　curly　and　light　as　milkweed　fluff；　was　now　matted　to　their　heads　and　streaked　red。　The　man　holding　them　sat　bawling　up　at　the　sky　like　a　moonstruck　calf；　his　dark　brown　cheeks　slicked　with　tears；　his　face　twisted　in　a　monstrous　cramp　of　grief　He　drew　breath　in　hitches；　his　chest　rising　until　the　snaps　holding　the　straps　of　his　jumper　were　strained；　and　then　let　that　vast　catch　of　air　out　in　another　of　those　howls。　So　often　you　read　in　the　paper　that　〃the　killer　showed　no　remorse；〃　but　that　wasn't　the　case　here。　John　Coffey　was　torn　open　by　what　he　had　done　。。。　but　he　would　live。　The　girls　would　not。　They　had　been　torn　open　in　a　more　fundamental　way。　
No　one　seemed　to　know　how　long　they　stood　there；　looking　at　the　howling　man　who　was；　in　his　turn；　looking　across　the　great　still　plate　of　the　river　at　a　train　on　the　other　side；　storming　down　the　tracks　toward　the　trestle　that　crossed　the　river。　It　seemed　they　looked　for　an　hour　or　for　forever；　and　yet　the　train　got　no　farther　along；　it　seemed　to　storm　only　in　one　place；　like　a　child　doing　a　tantrum；　and　the　sun　did　not　go　behind　a　cloud；　and　the　sight　was　not　blotted　from　their　eyes。　It　was　there　before　them；　as　real　as　a　dogbite。　The　black　man　rocked　back　and　forth；　Cora　and　Kathe　rocked　with　him　like　dolls　in　the　arms　of　a　giant。　The　bloodstained　muscles　in　the　man's　huge；　bare　arms　flexed　and　relaxed；　flexed　and　relaxed；　flexed　and　relaxed。　
It　was　Klaus　Detterick　who　broke　the　tableau。　Screaming；　he　flung　himself　at　the　monster　who　had　raped　and　killed　his　daughters。　Sam　Hollis　knew　his　job　and　tried　to　do　it；　but　couldn't。　He　was　six　inches　taller　than　Klaus　and　outweighed　him　by　at　least　seventy　pounds；　but　Klaus　seemed　to　almost　shrug　his　encircling　arms　off。　Klaus　flew　across　the　intervening　open　ground　and　launched　a　flying　kick　at　Coffey's　head。　His　workboot；　caked　with　spilled　milk　that　had　already　soured　in　the　heat；　scored　a　direct　hit　on　Coffey's　left　temple；　but　Coffey　seemed　not　to　feel　it　at　all。　He　only　sat　there；　keening　and　rocking　and　looking　out　across　the　river；　the　way　I　imagine　it；　he　could　almost　have　been　a　picture　out　of　some　piney　woods　Pentecostal　sermon；　the　faithful　follower　of　the　Cross　looking　out　toward　Goshen　Land　。。。　if　not　for　the　corpses；　that　was。　
It　took　four　men　to　haul　the　hysterical　farmer　off　John　Coffey；　and　he　fetched　Coffey　I　don't　know　how　many　good　licks　before　they　finally　did。　It　didn't　seem　to　matter　to　Coffey；　one　way　or　the　other；　he　just　went　on　looking　out　across　the　river　and　keening。　As　for　Detterick；　all　the　fight　went　out　of　him　when　he　was　finally　pulled　off　…　as　if　some　strange　galvanizing　current　had　been　running　through　the　huge　black　man　（I　still　have　a　tendency　to　think　in　electrical　metaphors；　you'll　have　to　pardon　me）；　and　when　Detterick's　contact　with　that　power　source　was　finally　broken；　he　went　as　limp　as　a　man　flung　back　from　a　live　wire。　He　knelt　wide…legged　on　the　riverbank　with　his　hands　to　his　face；　sobbing。　Howie　joined　him　and　they　hugged　each　other　forehead　to　forehead。　
Two　men　watched　them　while　the　rest　formed　a　rifle…toting　ring　around　the　rocking；　wailing　black　man。　He　still　seemed　not　to　realize　that　anyone　but　him　was　there。　McGee　stepped　forward；　shifted　uncertainly　from　foot　to　foot　for　a　bit；　then　hunkered。　
〃Mister；〃　he　said　in　a　quiet　voice；　and　Coffey　hushed　at　once。　McGee　looked　at　eyes　that　were　bloodshot　from　crying。　And　still　they　streamed；　as　if　someone　had　left　a　faucet　on　inside　him。　Those　eyes　wept；　and　yet　were　somehow　untouched　。。。　distant　and　serene。　I　thought　them　the　strangest　eyes　I　had　ever　seen　in　my　life；　and　McGee　felt　much　the　same。　〃Like　the　eyes　of　an　animal　that　never　saw　a　man　before；〃　he　told　a　reporter　named　Hammersmith　just　before　the　trial。　
〃Mister；　do　you　hear　me？〃　McGee　asked。　
Slowly；　Coffey　nodded　his　head。　Still　he　curled　his　arms　around　his　unspeakable　dolls；　their　chins　down　on　their　chests　so　their　faces　could　not　be　clearly　seen；　one　of　the　few　mercies　God　saw　fit　to　bestow　that　day。　
〃Do　you　have　a　name？〃　MeGee　asked。　
〃John　Coffey；〃　he　said　in　a　thick　and　tear…clotted　voice。　〃Coffey　like　the　drink；　only　not　spelled　the　same　way。〃　
McGee　nodded；　then　pointed　a　thumb　at　the　chest　pocket　of　Coffey's　jumper；　which　was　bulging。　It　looked　to　McGee　like　it　might　have　been　a　gun　…　not　that　a　man　Coffey's　size　would　need　a　gun　to　do　some　major　damage；　if　he　decided　to　go　off。　〃What's　that　in　there；　John　Coffey？　Is　that　maybe　a　heater？　A　pistol？〃　
〃Nosir；〃　Coffey　said　in　his　thick　voice；　and　those　strange　eyes　…　welling　tears　and　agonized　on　top；　distant　and　weirdly　serene　underneath；　as　if　the　true　John　Coffey　was　somewhere　else；　looking　out　on　some　other　landscape　where　murdered　little　girls　were　nothing　to　get　all　worked　up　about　…never　left　Deputy　McGee's。　〃That's　just　a　little　lunch　I　have。〃　
〃Oh；　now；　a　little　lunch；　is　that　right？〃　McGee　asked；　and　Coffey　nodded　and　said　yessir　with　his　eyes　running　and　dear　snot…runners　hanging　out　of　his　nose。　〃And　where　did　the　likes　of　you　get　a　little　lunch；　John　Coffey？〃　Forcing　himself　to　be　calm；　although　he　could　smell　the　girls　by　then；　and　could　see　the　flies　lighting　and　sampling　the　places　on　them　that　were　wet。　It　was　their　hair　that　was　the　worst；　he　said　later　。。。　and　this　wasn't　in　any　newspaper　story；　it　was　considered　too　grisly　for　family　reading。　No；　this　I　got　from　the　reporter　who　wrote　the　story；　Mr。　Hammersmith。　I　looked　him　up　later　on；　because　later　on　John　Coffey　became　sort　of　an　obsession　with　me。　McGee　told　this　Hammersmith　that　their　blonde　hair　wasn't　blonde　anymore。　It　was　auburn。　Blood　had　run　down　their　cheeks　out　of　it　like　it　was　a　bad　dye…job；　and　you　didn't　have　to　be　a　doctor　to　see　that　their　fragile　skulls　had　been　dashed　together　with　the　force　of　those　mighty　arms。　Probably　they　had　been　crying。　Probably　he　had　wanted　to　make　them　stop。　If　the　girls　had　been　lucky；　this　had　happened　before　the　rapes。　
Looking　at　that　made　it　hard　for　a　man　to　think；　even　a　man　as　determined　to　do　his　job　as　Deputy　McGee　was。　Bad　thinking　could　cause　mistakes；　maybe　more　bloodshed。　McGee　drew　him　in　a　deep　breath　and　calmed　himself。　Tried；　anyway。　
'Wellsir；　I　don't　exactly　remember；　be　dog　if　I　do；〃　Coffey　said　in　his　tear…choked　voice；　〃but　it's　a　little　lunch；　all　right；　sammidges　and　I　think　a　swee'　pickle。〃　
I　might　just　have　a　look　for　myself；　it's　all　the　same　to　you；〃　McGee　said。　〃Don't　you　move　now；　John　Coffey。　Don't　do　it；　boy；　because　there　are　enough　guns　aimed　at　you　to　make　you　disappear　from　the　waist　up　should　you　so　much　as　twitch　a　finger。〃　
Coffey　looked　out　across　the　river　and　didn't　move　as　McGee　gently　reached　into　the　chest　pocket　of　those　biballs　and　pulled　out　something　wrapped　in　newspaper　and　tied　with　a　hank　of　butcher's　twine。　MeGee　snapped　the　string　and　opened　the　paper；　although　he　was　pretty　sure　it　was　just　what　Coffey　said　it　was；　a　little　lunch。　There　was　a　bacon…tomato　sandwich　and　a　jelly　fold…over。　There　was　also　a　pickle；　wrapped　in　its　own　piece　of　a　funny　page　John　Coffey　would　never　be　able　to　puzzle　out。　There　were　no　sausages。　Bowser　had　gotten　the　sausages　out　of　John　Coffey's　little　lunch。　
McGee　handed　the　lunch　back　over　his　shoulder　to　one　of　the　other　men　without　taking　his　eyes　off　Coffey。　Hunkered　down　like　that；　he　was　too　close　to　want　to　let　his　attention　stray　for　even　a　second。　The　lunch；　wrapped　up　again　and　tied　for　good　measure；　finally　ended　up　with　Bobo　Marchant；　who　put　it　in　his　knapsack；　where　he　kept　treats　for　his　dogs　（and　a　few　fishing　lures；　I　shouldn't　wonder）。　It　wasn't　introduced　into　evidence　at　the　trial　…　justice　in　this　part　of　the　world　is　swift；　but　not　as　swift　as　a　bacon…tomato　sandwich　goes　over　…　though　photographs　of　it　were。　
'What　happened　here；　John　Coffey？〃　McGee　asked　in　his　low；　earnest　voice。　〃You　want　to　tell　me　that？〃　
And　Coffey　said　to　McGee　and　the　others　almost　exactly　the　same　thing　he　said　to　me；　they　were　also　the　last　words　the　prosecutor　said　to　the　jury　at　Coffey's　trial。　〃I　couldn't　help　it；〃　John　Coffey　said；　holding　the　murdered；　violated　girls　naked　in　his　arms。　The　tears　began　to　pour　down　his　cheeks　again。　〃I　tried　to　take　it　back；　but　it　was　too　late！'　
〃Boy；　you　are　under　arrest　for　murder；〃　McGee　said；　and　then　he　spit　in　John　Coffey's　face。　
The　jury　was　out　forty…five　minutes。　Just　about　time　enough　to　eat　a　little　lunch　of　their　own。　I　wonder　they　had　any　stomach　for　it。　
5。　
I　think　you　know　I　didn't　find　all　that　out　during　one　hot　October　afternoon　in　the　soon…to…be…defunct　prison　library；　from　one　set　of　old　newspapers　stacked　in　a　pair　of　Pomona　orange　crates；　but　I　learned　enough　to　make　it　hard　for　me　to　sleep　that　night。　When　my　wife　got　up　at　two　in　the　morning　and　found　me　sitting　in　the　kitchen；　drinking　buttermilk　and　smoking　home…rolled　Bugler；　she　asked　me　what　was　wrong　and　I　lied　to　her　for　one　of　the　few　times　in　the　long　course　of　our　marriage。　I　said　I'd　had　another　run…in　with　Percy　Wetmore。　I　had；　of　course；　but　that　wasn't　the　reason　she'd　found　me　sitting　up　late。　I　was　usually　able　to　leave　Percy　at　the　office。　
'Well；　forget　that　rotten　apple　and　e　on　back　to　bed；〃　she　said。　〃I've　got　something　that'll　help　you　sleep；　and　you　can　have　all　you　want。〃　
〃That　sounds　good；　but　I　think　we'd　better　not；〃　I　said。　〃I've　got　a　little　something　wrong　with　my　waterworks；　and　wouldn't　want　to　pass　it　on　to　you。〃　
She　raised　an　eyebrow。　〃Waterworks；　huh；〃　she　said。　〃I　guess　you　must　have　taken　up　with　the　wrong　streetcorner　girl　the　last　time　you　were　in　Baton　Rouge。〃　I've　never　been　in　Baton　Rouge　and　never　so　much　as　touched　a　streetcorner　girl；　and　we　both　knew　it。　
〃It's　just　a　plain　old　urinary　infection；〃　I　said。　〃My　mother　used　to　say　boys　got　them　from　taking　a　leak　when　the　north