绿里奇迹(英文版)-第61部分

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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　life's　blood　on　the　dirty　board　floor。　I　never　knew　why。　I　don't　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　didn't。　As　he　crossed　his　hands　behind　his　back　and　stood　at　parade　rest；　I　knew　that　he　wouldn't。　Perhaps　couldn't。　I　didn't　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　chair's　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　husband's　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　chair's　supporters　always　claim　（it's　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　Coffey's　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　he'd　been　afraid　of　the　dark　that　did　it。　I　remembered　the　first　time　we'd　met；　how　he'd　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　didn't　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　didn't　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　we'd　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。　That's　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；　I'd　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　Elaine's　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。　
〃It's　here；　but　I'll　understand　if　you'd　just　as　soon　not　…　〃　
〃It　isn't　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　can't　help　people。　Sometimes　it's　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　didn't　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？　I've　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　reckoning's　out。〃　
She　stared　at　me；　speechless。　
I　held　out　the　rest　of　the　manuscript；　remembering　again　how　John　had　touched　me；　there　in　his　cell。　
You　won't　'splode；　he'd　said；　smiling　a　bit　at　the　very　idea；　and　I　hadn't　。。。　but　something　had　happened　to　me；　all　the　same。　Something　lasting。　
〃Read　the　rest　of　it〃；　I　said。　〃What　answers　I　have　are　in　there。〃　
〃All　right〃；　she　almost　whispered。　〃I'm　a　little　afraid　to；　I　can't　lie　about　that；　but　。。。　all　right。　Where　will　you　be？〃　
I　stood　up；　stretched；　listened　to　my　spine　crackle　in　my　back。　One　thing　that　I　knew　for　sure　was　that　I　was　sick　to　death　of　the　sunroom。　〃Out　on　the　croquet　course。　There's　still　something　I　want　to　show　you；　and　it's　in　that　direction。〃　
〃Is　it　。。。　scary？〃　In　her　timid　look　I　saw　the　little　girl　she　had　been　back　when　men　wore　straw　boaters　in　the　summer　and　raccoon　coats　in　the　winter。　
〃No〃；　I　said；　smiling。　〃Not　scary。〃　
〃All　right。〃　She　took　the　pages。　〃I'm　going　to　take　these　down　to　my　room。　I'll　see　you　out　on　the　croquet　course　around。。。〃　She　riffled　the　manuscript；　estimating。　〃Four？　Is　that　all　right？〃　
〃Perfect；〃　I　said；　thinking　of　the　too…curious　Brad　Dolan。　He　would　be　gone　by　then。　
She　reached　out；　gave　my　arm　a　little　squeeze；　and　left　the　room。　I　stood　where　I　was　for　a　moment；　looking　down　at　the　table；　taking　in　the　fact　that　it　was　bare　again　except　for　the　breakfast　tray　Elaine　had　brought　me　that　morning；　my　scattered　papers　at　last　gone。　I　somehow　couldn't　believe　I　was　done　。。。　and　as　you　can　see；　since　all　this　was　written　after　I　recorded　John　Coffey's　execution　and　gave　the　last　batch　of　pages　to　Elaine；　I　was　not。　And　even　then；　part　of　me　knew　why。　
Alabama。　
I　filched　the　last　piece　of　cold　toast　off　the　tray；　went　downstairs；　and　out　onto　the　croquet　course。　There　I　sat　in　the　sun；　watching　half　a　dozen　pairs　and　one　slow　but　cheerful　foursome　pass　by　waving　their　mallets；　thinking　my　old　man's　thoughts　and　letting　the　sun　warm　my　old　man's　bones。　
Around　two…forty…five；　the　three…to…eleven　shift　started　to　trickle　in　from　the　parking　lot；　and　at　three；　the　day…shift　folks　left。　Most　were　in　groups；　but　Brad　Dolan；　I　saw；　was　walking　alone。　That　was　sort　of　a　happy　sight；　maybe　the　world　hasn't　gone　entirely　to　hell；　after　all。　One　of　his　joke…books　was　sticking　out　of　his　back　pocket。　The　path　to　the　parking　lot　goes　by　the　croquet　course；　so　he　saw　me　there；　but　he　didn't　give　me　either　a　wave　or　a　scowl。　That　was　fine　by　me。　He　got　into　his　old　Chevrolet　with　the　bumper　sticker　reading　I　HAVE　SEEN　GOD　AND　HIS　NAME　IS　NEWT。　Then　he　was　gone　to　wherever　he　goes　when　he　isn't　here；　laying　a　thin　trail　of　discount　motor　oil　behind。　
Around　four　o'clock；　Elaine　joined　me；　just　as　she　had　promised。　From　the　look　of　her　eyes；　she'd　done　a　little　more　crying。　She　put　her　arms　around　me　and　hugged　me　tight。　〃Poor　John　Coffey〃；　she　said。　〃And　poor　Paul　Edgebe；　too。〃　
Poor　Paul；　I　heard　Jan　saying。　Poor　old　guy。　
Elaine　began　to　cry　again。　I　held　her；　there　on　the　croquet　course　in　the　late　sunshine。　Our　shadows　looked　as　if　they　were　dancing。　Perhaps　in　the　Make　Believe　Ballroom　we　used　to　listen　to　on　the　radio　back　in　those　days。　
At　last　she　got　herself　under　control　and　drew　back　from　me。　She　found　a　Kleenex　in　her　blouse　pocket　and　wiped　her　streaming　eyes　with　it。　〃What　happened　to　the　Warden's　wife；　Paul？　What　happened　with　Melly？〃　
〃She　was　considered　the　marvel　of　the　age；　at　least　by　the　doctors　at　Indianola　Hospital；〃　I　said。　I　took　her　arm　and　we　began　to　walk　toward　the　path　which　led　away　from　the　employees；　parking　lot　and　into　the　woods。　Toward　the　shed　down　by　the　wall　between　Georgia　Pines　and　the　world　of　younger　people。　〃She　died　…　of　a　heart　attack；　not　a　brain　tumor　…　ten　or　eleven　years　later。　In　forty…three；　I　think。　Hal　died　of　a　stroke　right　around　Pearl　Harbor　Day…could　have　been　on　Pearl　Harbor　Day；　for　all　I　remember　…　so　she　outlived　him　by　two　years。　Sort　of　ironic。〃　
〃And　Janice？〃　
〃I'm　not　quite　prepared　for　that　today〃；　I　said。　〃I'll　tell　you　another　time。〃　
〃Promise？〃　
〃Promise。〃　But　that　was　one　I　never　kept。　Three　months　after　the　day　we　walked　down　into　the　woods　together　（I　would　have　held　her　hand；　if　I　hadn't　been　afraid　of　hurting　her　bunched　and　swollen　fingers）；　Elaine　Connelly　died　quietly　in　her　bed。　As　with　Melinda　Moores；　death　came　as　the　result　of　a　heart　attack。　The　orderly　who　found　her　said　she　looked　peaceful；　as　if　it　had　e　suddenly　and　without　much　pain。　I　hope　he　was　right　about　that。　I　loved　Elaine。　And　I　miss　her。　Her　and　Janice　and　Brutal　and　just　all　of　them。　
We　reached　the　second　shed　on　the　path；　the　one　down　by　the　wall。　It　stood　back　in　a　bower　of　scrub　pines；　its　sagging　roof　and　boarded…over　windows　laced　and　dappled　with　shadows。　I　started　toward　it。　Elaine　hung　back　a　moment；　looking　fearful。　
〃It's　all　right；〃　I　said。　〃Really。　e　on。〃　
There　was　no　latch　on　the　door　…　there　had　been　once；　but　it　had　been　torn　away　…　and　so　I　used　a　folded…over　square　of　cardboard　to　wedge　it　shut。　I　pulled　it　free　now；　and　stepped　into　the　shed。　I　left　the　door　as　wide　open　as　it　would　go；　because　it　was　dark　inside。　
〃Paul；　what？　。。。　Oh。　Oh！〃　That　second　〃oh〃　was　just　shy　of　a　scream。　
There　was　a　table　pushed　off　to　one　side。　On　it　was　a　flashlight　and　a　brown　paper　bag。　On　the　dirty　floor　was　a　Hav…A…Tampa　cigar　box　I'd　gotten　from　the　concession　man　who　refills　the　home's　soft…drink　and　candy　machines。　I'd　asked　him　for　it　special；　and　since　his　pany　also　sells　tobacco　products；　it　was　easy　for　him　to　get。　I　offered　to　pay　him　for　it　…　they　were　valuable　modities　when　I　worked　at　Cold　Mountain；　as　I　may　have　told　you　…　but　he　just　laughed　me　off。　
Peering　over　the　edge　of　it　were　a　pair　of　bright　little　oilspot　eyes。　
〃Mr。　Jingles；〃　I　said　in　a　low　voice。　〃e　over　here。　e　on