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第36部分(第1页)

nd selfeffacing as ever。 〃Roll on two!〃

At first it was the same as always … the humming that was a little louder than the original cycle…up; but not much; and the mindless forward surge of Dels body as his muscles spasmed。

Then things started going wrong。

The humming lost its steadiness and began to waver。 It was joined by a crackling sound; like cellophane being crinkled。 I could smell something horrible that I didnt identify as a mixture of burning hair and organic sponge until I saw blue tendrils of smoke curling out from beneath the edges of the cap。 More smoke was streaming out of the hole in the top of the cap that the wire came in through; it looked like smoke ing out of the hole in an Indians teepee。

Delacroix began to jitter and twist in…the chair; his mask…covered face snapping from side to side as if in some vehement refusal。 His legs began to piston up and down in short strokes that were hampered by the clamps on his ankles。 Thunder banged overhead; and now the rain began to pour down harder。

I looked at Dean Stanton; he stared wildly back。 There was a muffled pop from under the cap; like a pine knot exploding in a hot fire; and now I could see smoke ing through the mask; as well; seeping out in little curls。

I lunged toward the mesh between us and the switch room; but before I could open my mouth; Brutus Howell seized my elbow。 His grip was hard enough to make the nerves in there tingle。 He was as white as tallow but not in a panic … not even close to being in a panic。 〃Dont you tell Jack to stop;〃 he said in a low voice。 〃Whatever you do; dont tell him that。 Its too late to stop。〃

At first; when Del began to scream; the witnesses didnt hear him。 The rain on the tin roof had swelled to a roar; and the thunder was damned near continuous。 But those of us on the platform heard him; all right … choked howls of pain from beneath the smoking mask; sounds an animal caught and mangled in a hay…baler might make。

The hum from the cap was ragged and wild now; broken by bursts of what sounded like radio static。 Delacroix began to slam back and forth in the chair like a kid doing a tantrum。 The platform shook; and he hit the leather restraining belt almost hard enough to pop it。 The current was also twisting him from side to side; and I heard the crunching snap as his right shoulder either broke or dislocated。 It went with a sound like someone hitting a wooden crate with a sledgehammer。 The crotch of his pants; no more than a blur because of the short pistoning strokes of his legs; darkened。 Then he began to squeal; horrible sounds; high…pitched and ratlike; that were audible even over the rushing downpour。

〃What the hells happening to him?〃 someone cried。

〃Are those clamps going to hold?〃

〃Christ; the smell! Phew!〃

Then; one of the two women: 〃Is this normal?〃

Delacroix snapped forward; dropped back; snapped forward; fell back。 Percy was staring at him with slack…jawed horror。 He had expected something; sure; but not this。

The mask burst into flame on Delacroixs 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 janitors sink in the corner。

〃Shouldnt I kill the juice; Paul?〃 Van Hay called through the mesh。 He sounded pletely rattled。 〃Shouldnt…〃

〃No!〃 I shouted back。 Brutal had understood it first; but I hadnt 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 Christs 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 Delacroixs face enough to reveal features that had gone blacker than John Coffeys。 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 lids themselves caught fire and began to burn。 Smoke puffed from the open V of his shirt。 And still the humming of the electricity went on and on; filling my head; vibrating in there。 I think its the sound mad people must hear; that or something like it。

Dean started forward; thinking in some dazed way that he could beat the fire out of Dels shirt with his hands; and I yanked him away almost hard enough to pull him off his feet。 Touching Delacroix at that point would have been like Brer Rabbit punching into the Tar…Baby。 An electrified Tar…Baby; in this case。

I still didnt turn around to see what was going on behind us; but it sounded like pandemonium; chairs falling over; people bellowing; a woman crying 〃Stop it; stop it; oh cant you see hes had enough?〃 at the top of her lungs。 Curtis Anderson grabbed my shoulder and asked what was happening; for Christs sake; what was happening; and why didnt I order jack to shut down?

〃Because I cant;〃 I said。 〃Weve gone too far to turn back; cant you see that? Itll be over in a few more seconds; anyway。〃

But it was at least two minutes before it was over; the longest two minutes of my whole life; and through most of it I think Delacroix was conscious。 He screamed and jittered and rocked from side to side。 Smoke poured from his nostrils and from a mouth that had gone the purple…black of ripe plums。 Smoke drifted up from his tongue the way smoke rises from a hot griddle。 All the buttons on his shirt either burst or melted。 His undershirt did not quite catch fire; but it charred and smoke poured through it and we could smell his chest…hair roasting。 Behind us; people were heading for the door like cattle in a stampede。 They couldnt get out through it; of course … we were in a damn prison; after all … so they simply clustered around it while Delacroix fried (Now Im fryin; Old Toot had said when we were rehearsing for Arlen Bitterbuck; Im a done tom turkey) and the thunder rolled and the rain ran down out of the sky in a perfect fury。

At some point I thought of the doc and looked around for him。 He was still there; but crumpled on the floor beside his black bag。 Hed fainted。

Brutal came up and stood beside me; holding the fire extinguisher。

〃Not yet;〃 I said。

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