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第38部分(第1页)

〃Poor Del;〃 he said in a low; hoarse voice。 〃Poor old Del。〃

〃Yes;〃 I said。 〃Poor old Del。 John; are you okay?〃

〃Hes out of it;〃 Coffey said。 〃Dels out of it。 Isnt he; boss?〃

〃Yes。 Answer my question; John。 Are you okay?〃

〃Dels out of it; hes the lucky one。 No matter how it happened; hes the lucky one。〃

I thought Delacroix might have given him an argument on that; but didnt say so。 I glanced around Coffeys cell; instead。 〃Wheres Mr。 Jingles?〃

〃Ran down there。〃 He pointed through the bars; down the hall to the restraint…room door。

I nodded。 〃Well; hell be back。〃

But he wasnt; Mr。 Jingless 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 didnt。 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 hadnt 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 Gods creatures; and one without must be among the most miserable; I think; the only true blessing of their lives that they dont 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 dont 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 Dels mouse。 I helped Mr。 Jingles。 Hes 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 mooncalfs 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 guards shoe。

〃I couldnt 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 oclock 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 Mooress 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。 Thats the important thing。〃

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