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手机浏览器扫描二维码访问

第61部分（第1页）

d　and　received　a　transfer　away　from　Old　Sparky；　over　to　C　Block；　and　there　a　prisoner　stabbed　him　in　the　throat　with　a　shank　and　let　out　his　lifes　blood　on　the　dirty　board　floor。　I　never　knew　why。　I　dont　think　anyone　ever　knew　why。　Old　Sparky　seems　such　a　thing　of　perversity　when　I　look　back　on　those　days；　such　a　deadly　bit　of　folly。　Fragile　as　blown　glass；　we　are；　even　under　the　best　of　conditions。　To　kill　each　other　with　gas　and　electricity；　and　in　cold　blood？　The　folly。　The　horror。

Brutal　checked　the　strap；　then　stood　back。　I　waited　for　him　to　speak；　but　he　didnt。　As　he　crossed　his　hands　behind　his　back　and　stood　at　parade　rest；　I　knew　that　he　wouldnt。　Perhaps　couldnt。　I　didnt　think　I　could；　either；　but　then　I　looked　at　John　s　terrified；　weeping　eyes　and　knew　I　had　to。　Even　if　it　damned　me　forever；　I　had　to。

〃Roll　on　two；〃　I　said　in　a　dusty；　cracking　voice　I　hardly　recognized　as　my　own。

The　cap　hummed。　Eight　large　fingers　and　two　large　thumbs　rose　from　the　ends　of　the　chairs　broad　oak　arms　and　splayed　tensely　in　ten　different　directions；　their　tips　jittering。　His　big　knees　made　caged　pistoning　motions；　but　the　clamps　on　his　ankles　held。　Overhead；　three　of　the　hanging　lights　blew　out　…　Pow！　Pow！　Pow！　Marjorie　Detterick　screamed　at　the　sound　and　fainted　in　her　husbands　arms。　She　died　in　Memphis；　eighteen　years　later。　Harry　sent　me　the　obit。　It　was　a　trolley…car　accident。

John　surged　forward　against　the　chest…strap。　For　a　moment　his　eyes　met　mine。　They　were　aware；　I　was　the　last　thing　he　saw　as　we　tilted　him　off　the　edge　of　the　world。　Then　he　fell　against　the　seatback；　the　cap　ing　askew　on　his　head　a　little；　smoke　…　a　sort　of　charry　mist　…　drifting　out　from　beneath　it。　But　on　the　whole；　you　know；　it　was　quick。　I　doubt　if　it　was　painless；　the　way　the　chairs　supporters　always　claim　（its　not　an　idea　even　the　most　rabid　of　them　ever　seems　to　want　to　investigate　personally）；　but　it　was　quick。　The　hands　were　limp　again；　the　formerly　bluish…white　moons　at　the　base　of　the　fingernails　now　a　deep　eggplant　hue；　a　tendril　of　smoke　rising　off　cheeks　still　wet　with　salt　water　from　the　sponge　。。。　and　his　tears。

John　Coffeys　last　tears。

11。

I　was　all　right　until　I　got　home。　It　was　dawn　by　then；　and　birds　singing。　I　parked　my　flivver；　I　got　out；　I　walked　up　the　back　steps；　and　then　the　second　greatest　grief　I　have　ever　known　washed　over　me。　It　was　thinking　of　how　hed　been　afraid　of　the　dark　that　did　it。　I　remembered　the　first　time　wed　met；　how　hed　asked　if　we　left　a　light　on　at　night；　and　my　legs　gave　out　on　me。　I　sat　on　my　steps　and　hung　my　head　over　my　knees　and　cried。　It　didnt　feel　like　that　weeping　was　just　for　John　；　either；　but　for　all　of　us。

Janice　came　out　and　sat　down　beside　me。　She　put　an　arm　over　my　shoulders。

〃You　didnt　hurt　him　any　more　than　you　could　help；　did　you？〃

I　shook　my　head　no。

〃And　he　wanted　to　go。〃

I　nodded。

〃e　in　the　house；〃　she　said；　helping　me　up。　It　made　me　think　of　the　way　John　had　helped　me　up　after　wed　prayed　together。　〃e　in　and　have　coffee。〃

I　did。　The　first　morning　passed；　and　the　first　afternoon；　then　the　first　shift　back　at　work。　Time　takes　it　all；　whether　you　want　it　to　or　not。　Time　takes　it　all；　time　bears　it　away；　and　in　the　end　there　is　only　darkness。　Sometimes　we　find　others　in　that　darkness；　and　sometimes　we　lose　them　there　again。　Thats　all　I　know；　except　that　this　happened　in　1932；　when　the　state　penitentiary　was　still　at　Cold　Mountain。

And　the　electric　chair；　of　course。

12。

A　round　quarter　past　two　in　the　afternoon；　my　friend　Elaine　Connelly　came　to　me　where　I　sat　in　the　sunroom；　with　the　last　pages　of　my　story　squared　up　neatly　in　front　of　me。　Her　face　was　very　pale；　and　there　were　shiny　places　under　her　eyes。　I　think　she　had　been　crying。

Me；　Id　been　looking。　Just　that。　Looking　out　the　window　and　over　the　hills　to　the　east；　my　right　hand　throbbing　at　the　end　of　its　wrist。　But　it　was　a　peaceful　throb；　somehow。　I　felt　empty；　husked　out。　A　feeling　that　was　terrible　and　wonderful　at　the　same　time。

It　was　hard　to　meet　Elaines　eyes　…　l　was　afraid　of　the　hate　and　contempt　I　might　see　there　…　but　they　were　all　right。　Sad　and　wondering；　but　all　right。　No　hate；　no　contempt；　and　no　disbelief。

〃Do　you　want　the　rest　of　the　story？〃　I　asked。　I　tapped　the　little　pile　of　script　with　my　aching　hand。

〃Its　here；　but　Ill　understand　if　youd　just　as　soon　not　…　〃

〃It　isnt　a　question　of　what　I　want〃；　she　said。　〃I　have　to　know　how　it　came　out；　although　I　guess　there　is　no　doubt　that　you　executed　him。　The　intervention　of　Providence…with…a…capital…P　is　greatly　overrated　in　the　lives　of　ordinary　humans；　I　think。　But　before　I　take　those　pages　。。。　Paul　。。。〃

She　stopped；　as　if　unsure　how　to　go　on。　I　waited。　Sometimes　you　cant　help　people。　Sometimes　its　better　not　even　to　try。

〃Paul；　you　speak　in　here　as　though　you　had　two　grown　children　in　1932　…　not　just　one；　but　two。　If　you　didnt　get　married　to　your　Janice　when　you　were　twelve　and　she　was　eleven；　something　like　that　…　〃

I　smiled　a　little。　〃We　were　young　when　we　married　…　a　lot　of　hill…people　are；　my　own　mother　was　…　but　not　that　young。〃

〃Then　how　old　are　you？　Ive　always　assumed　you　were　in　your　early　eighties；　my　age；　possibly　even　a　little　younger；　but　according　to　this。。。〃

〃I　was　forty　the　year　John　walked　the　Green　Mile〃；　I　said。　〃I　was　born　in　1892。　That　makes　me　a　hundred　and　four；　unless　my　reckonings　out。〃

She　stared　at　me；　speechless。