绿里奇迹(英文版)-第24部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

Roy　Delfines's　story　was　only　one　of　many；　I　grew　up　in　a　tradition　of　miracles　and　healings。　I　grew　up　believing　in　gris…gris；　as　well　（only；　up　in　the　hills　we　said　it　to　rhyme　with　kiss…kiss）：　stump…water　for　warts；　moss　under　your　pillow　to　ease　the　heartache　of　lost　love；　and；　of　course；　what　we　used　to　call　haints　…　but　I　did　not　believe　John　Coffey　was　a　gris…gris　man。　I　had　looked　into　his　eyes。　More　important；'　I　had　felt　his　touch。　Being　touched　by　him　was　like　being　touched　by　some　strange　and　wonderful　doctor。　
I　helped　it；　didn't　I？　
That　kept　chiming　in　my　head；　like　a　snatch　of　song　you　can't　get　rid　of；　or　words　you'd　speak　to　set　a　spell。　
I　helped　it；　didn't　I？　
Except　he　hadn't。　God　had。　John　Coffey's　use　of　〃I〃　could　be　chalked　up　to　ignorance　rather　than　pride；　but　I　knew　…　believed；　at　least　…　what　I　had　learned　about　healing　in　those　churches　of　Praise　Jesus；　The　Lord　Is　Mighty；　piney…woods　amen　corners　much　beloved　by　my　twenty…two…year…old　mother　and　my　aunts：　that　healing　is　never　about　the　healed　or　the　healer；　but　about　God's　will。　For　one　to　rejoice　at　the　sick　made　well　is　normal；　quite　the　expected　thing；　but　the　person　healed　has　an　obligation　to　then　ask　why　…　to　meditate　on　God's　will；　and　the　extraordinary　lengths　to　which　God　has　gone　to　realize　His　will。　
What　did　God　want　of　me；　in　this　case？　What　did　He　want　badly　enough　to　put　healing　power　in　the　hands　of　a　child…murderer？　To　be　on　the　block；　instead　of　at　home；　sick　as　a　dog；　shivering　in　bed　with　the　stink　of　sulfa　running　out　of　my　pores？　Perhaps；　I　was　maybe　supposed　to　be　here　instead　of　home　in　case　Wild　Bill　Wharton　decided　to　kick　up　more　dickens；　or　to　make　sure　Percy　Wetmore　didn't　get　up　to　some　foolish　and　potentially　destructive　piece　of　fuckery　All　right；　then。　So　be　it。　I　would　keep　my　eyes　open　…　and　my　mouth　shut；　especially　about　miracle　cures。　
No　one　y　looking　and　sounding　better；　I'd　been　telling　the　world　I　was　getting　better；　and　until　that　very　day　I'd　honestly　believed　it。　I　had　even　told　Warden　Moores　that　I　was　on　the　mend。　Delacroix　had　seen　something；　but　I　thought　he　would　keep　his　mouth　shut；　too　（probably　afraid　John　Coffey　would　throw　a　spell　on　him　if　he　didn't）。　As　for　Coffey　himself；　he'd　probably　already　forgotten　it。　He　was　nothing　but　a　conduit；　after　all；　and　there　isn't　a　culvert　in　the　world　that　remembers　the　water　that　flowed　through　it　once　the　rain　has　stopped。　So　I　resolved　to　keep　my　mouth　pletely　shut　on　the　subject；　with　never　an　idea　of　how　soon　I'd　be　telling　the　story；　or　who　I'd　be　telling　it　to。　
But　I　was　curious　about　my　big　boy；　and　there's　no　sense　not　admitting　it。　After　what　had　happened　to　me　there　in　his　cell；　I　was　more　curious　than　ever。　
4。　
Before　leaving　that　night；　I　arranged　with　Brutal　to　cover　for　me　the　next　day；　should　I　e　in　a　little　late；　and　when　I　got　up　the　following　morning；　I　set　out　for　Tefton；　down　in　Trapingus　County。　
〃I'm　not　sure　I　like　you　worrying　so　much　about　this　fellow　Coffey；〃　my　wife　said；　handing　me　the　lunch　she'd　put　up　for　me…Janice　never　believed　in　roadside　hamburger　stands；　she　used　to　say　there　was　a　bellyache　waiting　in　every　one。　〃It's　not　like　you；　Paul。〃　
〃I'm　not　worried　about　him；〃　I　said。　〃I'm　curious；　that's　all。〃　
〃In　my　experience；　one　leads　to　the　other；〃　Janice　said　tartly；　then　gave　me　a　good；　hearty　kiss　on　the　mouth。　〃You　look　better；　at　least；　I'll　say　that。　For　awhile　there；　you　had　me　nervous。　Waterworks　all　cured　up？〃　
〃All　cured　up；〃　I　said；　and　off　I　went；　singing　songs　like　〃e；　Josephine；　in　My　Flying　Machine〃　and　'We're　in　the　Money〃　to　keep　myself　pany。　
I　went　to　the　offices　of　the　Tefton　Intelligencer　first；　and　they　told　me　that　Burt　Hammersmith；　the　fellow　I　was　looking　for；　was　most　likely　over　at　the　county　courthouse。　At　the　courthouse　they　told　me　that　Hammersmith　had　been　there　but　had　left　when　a　burst　waterpipe　had　closed　down　the　main　proceedings；　which　happened　to　be　a　rape　trial　（in　the　pages　of　the　Intelligencer　the　crime　would　be　referred　to　as　〃assault　on　a　woman；〃　which　was　how　such　things　were　done　in　the　days　before　Ricki　Lake　and　Carnie　Wilson　came　on　the　scene）。　They　guessed　he'd　probably　gone　on　home。　I　got　some　directions　out　a　dirt　road　so　rutted　and　narrow　I　just　about　didn't　dare　take　my　Ford　up　it；　and　there　I　found　my　man。　Hammersmith　had　written　most　of　the　stories　on　the　Coffey　trial；　and　it　was　from　him　I　found　out　most　of　the　details　about　the　brief　manhunt　that　had　ted　Coffey　in　the　first　place。　The　details　the　Intelligencer　considered　too　gruesome　to　print　is　what　I　mean；　of　course。　
Mrs。　Hammersmith　was　a　young　woman　with　a　tired；　pretty　face　and　hands　red　from　lye　soap。　She　didn't　ask　my　business；　just　led　me　through　a　small　house　fragrant　with　the　smell　of　baking　and　onto　the　back　porch；　where　her　husband　sat　with　a　bottle　of　pop　in　his　hand　and　an　unopened　copy　of　Liberty　magazine　on　his　lap。　There　was　a　small；　sloping　backyard；　at　the　foot　of　it；　two　little　ones　were　squabbling　and　laughing　over　a　swing。　From　the　porch；　it　was　impossible　to　tell　their　sexes；　but　I　thought　they　were　boy　and　girl。　Maybe　even　twins；　which　cast　an　interesting　sort　of　light　on　their　father's　part；　peripheral　as　it　had　been；　in　the　Coffey　trial。　Nearer　at　hand；　set　like　an　island　in　the　middle　of　a　turdstudded　patch　of　bare；　beatup…looking　ground；　was　a　doghouse。　No　sign　of　Fido；　it　was　another　unseasonably　hot　day；　and　I　guessed　he　was　probably　inside；　snoozing。　
〃Burt；　yew…all　got　you　a　cump'ny；〃　Mrs。　Hammersmith　said。　
〃Allright；〃　he　said。　He　glanced　at　me；　glanced　at　his　wife；　then　looked　back　at　his　kids；　which　was　where　his　heart　obviously　lay。　He　was　a　thin　man　…　almost　painfully　thin；　as　if　he　had　just　begun　to　recover　from　a　serious　illness　…　and　his　hair　had　started　to　recede。　His　wife　touched　his　shoulder　tentatively　with　one　of　her　red；　wash…swollen　hands。　He　didn't　look　at　it　or　reach　up　to　touch　it；　and　after　a　moment　she　took　it　back。　It　occurred　to　me；　fleetingly；　that　they　looked　more　like　brother　and　sister　than　husband　and　wife　…　he'd　gotten　the　brains；　she'd　gotten　the　looks；　but　neither　of　them　had　escaped　some　underlying　resemblance；　a　heredity　that　could　never　be　escaped。　Later；　going　home；　I　realized　they　didn't　look　alike　at　all；　what　made　them　seem　to　was　the　aftermath　of　stress　and　the　lingering　of　sorrow。　It's　strange　how　pain　marks　our　faces；　and　makes　us　look　like　family。　
She　said；　〃Yew…all　want　a　cold　drink；　Mr。　…　？〃　
〃It's　Edgebe；〃　I　said。　〃Paul　Edgebe。　And　thank　you。　A　cold　drink　would　be　wonderful；　ma'am。〃　
She　went　back　inside。　I　held　out　my　hand　to　Hammersmith；　who　gave　it　a　brief　shake。　His　grip　was　limp　and　cold。　He　never　took　his　eyes　off　the　kids　down　at　the　bottom　of　the　yard。　
〃Mr。　Hammersmith；　I'm　E　Block　superintendent　at　Cold　Mountain　State　Prison。　That's…〃　
〃I　know　what　it　is；〃　he　said；　looking　at　me　with　a　little　more　interest。　〃So　…　the　bull…goose　screw　of　the　Green　Mile　is　standing　on　my　back　porch；　just　as　big　as　life。　What　brings　you　fifty　miles　to　talk　to　the　local　rag's　only　full…time　reporter？〃　
〃John　Coffey；〃　I　said。　
I　think　I　expected　some　sort　of　strong　reaction　（the　kids　who　could　have　been　twins　working　at　the　back　of　my　mind　…　and　perhaps　the　doghouse；　too；　the　Dettericks　had　had　a　dog）；　but　Hammersmith　only　raised　his　eyebrows　and　sipped　at　his　drink。　〃Coffey's　your　problem　now；　isn't　he？〃　Hammersmith　asked。　
〃He's　not　much　of　a　problem；〃　I　said。　〃He　doesn't　like　the　dark；　and　he　cries　a　lot　of　the　time；　but　neither　thing　makes　much　of　a　problem　in　our　line　of　work。　We　see　worse。〃　
〃Cries　a　lot；　does　he？〃　Hammersmith　asked。　〃Well；　he's　got　a　lot　to　cry　about；　I'd　say。　Considering　what　he　did。　What　do　you　want　to　know？〃　
〃Anything　you　can　tell　me。　I've　read　your　newspaper　stories；　so　I　guess　what　I　want　is　anything　that　wasn't　in　them。〃　
He　gave　me　a　sharp；　dry　look。　〃Like　how　the　little　girls　looked？　Like　exactly　what　he　did　to　them？〃　
〃That　the　kind　of　stuff　you're　interested　in；　Mr。　Edgebe？〃　
〃No；〃　I　said；　keeping　my　voice　mild。　〃It's　not　the　Detterick　girls　I'm　interested　in；　sir。　Poor　little　mites　are　dead。　But　Coffey's　not　…　not　yet　…　and　I'm　curious　about　him。〃　
〃All　right；〃　he　said。　〃Pull　up　a　chair　and　sit；　Mr。　Edgebe。　You'll　forgive　me　if　I　sounded　a　little　sharp　just　now；　but　I　get　to　see　plenty　of　vultures　in　my　line　of　work。　Hell；　I've　been　accused　of　being　one　of　em　often　enough；　myself。　I　just　wanted　to　make　sure　of　you。〃　
〃And　are　you？〃　
〃Sure　enough；　I　guess；〃　he　said；　sounding　almost　indifferent。　The　story　he　told　me　is　pretty　much　the　one　I　set　down　earlier　in　this　account　…　how　Mrs。　Detterick　found　the　porch　empty；　with　the　screen　door　pulled　off　its　upper　hinge；　the　blankets　cast　into　one　corner；　and　blood　on　the　steps；　how　her　son　and　husband　had　taken　after　the　girls'　abductor；　how　the　posse　had　caught　up　to　them　first　and　to　John　Coffey　not　much　later。　How　Coffey　had　been　sitting　on　the　riverbank　and　wailing；　with　the　bodies　curled　in　his　massive　arms　like　big　dolls。　The　reporter；　rack…thin　in　his　open…collared　white　shirt　and　gray　town　pants；　spoke　in　a　low；　unemotional　voice　…　but　his　eyes　never　left　his　own　two　children　as　they　squabbled　and　laughed　and　took　turns　with　the　swing　down　there　in　the　shade　at　the　foot　of　the　slope。　Sometime　in　the　middle　of　the　story；　Mrs。　Hammersmith　came　back　with　a　bottle　of　homemade　root　beer；　cold　and　strong　and　delicious。　She　stood　listening　for　awhile；　then　interrupted　long　enough　to　call　down　to　the　kids　and　tell　them　to　e　up　directly；　she　had　cookies　due　out　of　the　oven。　〃We　will；　Mamma！〃　called　a　little　girl's　voice；　and　the　woman　went　back　inside　again。　
When　Hammersmith　had　finished；　he　said：　〃So　why　do　you　want　to　know？　I　never　had　me　a　visit　from　a　Big　House　screw　before；　it's　a　first。〃　
〃I　told　you　…　〃　
〃Curiosity；　yep。　Folks　get　curious；　I　know　it；　I　even　thank　God　for　it；　I'd　be　out　of　a　job　and　might　actually　have　to　go　to　work　for　a　living　without　it。　But　fifty　miles　is　a　long　way　to　e　to　satisfy　simple　curiosity；　especially　when　the　last　twenty　is　over　bad　roads。　So　why　don't　you　tell　me　the　truth；　Edgebe？　I　satisfied　yours；　so　now　you　satisfy　mine。〃　
Well；　I　could　say；　I　had　this　urinary　infection；　and　John　Coffey　put　his　hands　on　me　and　healed　it。　The　man　who　raped　and　murdered　those　two　little　girls　did　that。　So　I　wondered　about　him；　of　course　…　anyone　would。　I　even　wondered　if　maybe　Homer　Cribus　and　Deputy　Rob　McGee　didn't　maybe　collar　the　wrong　man。　In　spite　of　all　the　evidence　against　him　I　wonder　that。　Because　a　man　who　has　a　power　like　that　in　his　hands；　you　don't　usually　think　of　him　as　the　kind　of　man　who　rapes　and　murders　children。　
No；　maybe　that　wouldn't　do。　
〃There　are　two　things　I've　wondered　about；〃　I　said。　〃The　first　is　if　he　ever　did　anything　like　that　before。〃　
Hammersmith　turned　to　me；　his　eyes　suddenly　sharp　and　bright　with　interest；　and　I　saw　he　was　a　smart　fellow。　Maybe　even　a　brilliant　fellow；　in　a　quiet　way。　〃Why？〃　he　asked。　〃What　do　you　know；　Edgebe？　What　has　he　said？〃　
〃Nothing。　But　a　man　who　does　this　sort　of　thing　once　has　usually　done　it　before。　They　get　a　taste　for　it。〃　
〃Yes；〃　he　said。　〃They　do。　They　certainly　do。〃　
〃And　it　occurred　to　me　that　it　would　be　easy　e