绿里奇迹(英文版)-第32章

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Percy　Wetmore　darted　across　the　Green　Mile　and　cringed　against　the　barred　door　of　the　empty　cell　on　the　other　side；　breathing　so　fast　and　so　loud　that　it　sounded　almost　like　sobbing。　He　had　finally　gotten　his　lesson　in　keeping　to　the　center　of　the　Green　Mile　and　away　from　the　frumious　bandersnatch；　the　teeth　that　bite　and　the　claws　that　catch。　I　had　an　idea　it　was　a　lesson　that　would　stick　with　him　longer　than　all　the　advice　we'd　given　him　after　our　rehearsals。　
There　was　an　expression　of　utter　terror　on　his　face；　and　his　precious　hair　was　seriously　mussed　up　for　the　first　time　since　I'd　met　him；　all　in　spikes　and　tangles。　He　looked　like　someone　who　has　just　escaped　being　raped。　
There　was　a　moment　of　utter　stop　then；　a　quiet　so　thick　that　the　only　sound　was　the　sobbing　whistle　of　Percy's　breathing。　What　broke　it　was　cackling　laughter；　so　sudden　and　so　pletely　its　own　mad　thing　that　it　was　shocking。　Wharton；　was　my　first　thought；　but　it　wasn't　him。　It　was　Delacroix；　standing　in　the　open　door　of　his　cell　and　pointing　at　Percy。　The　mouse　was　back　on　his　shoulder；　and　Delacroix　looked　like　a　small　but　malevolent　male　witch；　plete　with　imp。　
〃Lookit　him；　he　done　piss　his　pants！〃　Delacroix　howled。　〃Lookit　what　the　big　man　done！　Bus'　other　people　wid　'is　stick；　mais　oui　some　mauvais　homme；　but　when　someone　touch　him；　he　make　water　in　'is　pants　jus'　like　a　baby！〃　
He　laughed　and　pointed；　all　his　fear　and　hatred　of　Percy　ing　out　in　that　derisive　laughter。　Percy　stared　at　him；　seemingly　incapable　of　moving　or　speaking。　Wharton　stepped　back　to　the　bars　of　his　cell；　looked　down　at　the　dark　splotch　on　the　front　of　Percy's　trousers　…　it　was　small　but　it　was　there；　and　no　question　about　what　it　was　…　and　grinned。　〃Somebody　ought　to　buy　the　tough　boy　a　didy；〃　he　said；　and　went　back　to　his　bunk；　chuffing　laughter。　
Brutal　went　down　to　Delacroix's　cell；　but　the　Cajun　had　ducked　inside　and　thrown　himself　on　his　bunk　before　Brutal　could　get　there。　
I　reached　out　and　grasped　Percy's　shoulder。　〃Percy…〃　I　began；　but　that　was　as　far　as　I　got。　He　came　to　life；　shaking　my　hand　off。　He　looked　down　at　the　front　of　his　pants；　saw　the　spot　spreading　there；　and　blushed　a　dark；　fiery　red。　He　looked　up　at　me　again；　then　at　Harry　and　Dean。　I　remember　being　glad　that　Old　Toot…Toot　was　gone。　If　he'd　been　around；　the　story　would　have　been　all　over　the　prison　in　a　single　day。　And；　given　Percy's　last　name…an　unfortunate　one；　in　this　context　…　it　was　a　story　that　would　have　been　told　with　the　relish　of　high　glee　for　years　to　e。　
〃You　talk　about　this　to　anyone；　and　you'll　all　be　on　the　breadlines　in　a　week；〃　he　whispered　fiercely。　It　was　the　sort　of　crack　that　would　have　made　me　want　to　swat　him　under　other　circumstances；　but　under　these；　I　only　pitied　him。　I　think　he　saw　that　pity；　and　it　made　it　worse　with　him　…　like　having　an　open　wound　scoured　with　tles。　
'〃What　goes　on　here　stays　here；〃　Dean　said　quietly。　〃You　don't　have　to　worry　about　that。〃　
Percy　looked　back　over　his　shoulder；　toward　Delacroix's　cell。　Brutal　was　just　locking　the　door；　and　from　inside；　deadly　clear；　we　could　still　hear　Delacroix　giggling。　Percy's　look　was　as　black　as　thunder。　I　thought　of　telling　him　that　you　reaped　what　you　sowed　in　this　life；　and　then　decided　this　might　not　be　the　right　time　for　a　scripture　lesson。　
〃As　for　him　…　〃　he　began；　but　never　finished。　He　left；　instead；　head　down；　to　go　into　the　storage　room　and　look　for　a　dry　pair　of　pants。　
〃He's　so　purty；〃　Wharton　said　in　a　dreamy　voice。　Harry　told　him　to　shut　the　fuck　up　before　he　went　down　to　the　restraint　room　just　on　general　damned　principles。　Wharton　folded　his　arms　on　his　chest；　closed　his　eyes；　and　appeared　to　go　to　sleep。　
9。　
The　night　before　Delacroix's　execution　came　down　hotter　and　muggier　than　ever　…　eighty…one　degrees　by　the　thermometer　outside　the　Admin　readyroom　window　when　I　clocked　in　at　six。　Eighty…one　degrees　at　the　end　of　October；　think　of　that；　and　thunder　rumbling　in　the　west　like　it　does　in　July。　I'd　met　a　member　of　my　congregation　in　town　that　afternoon；　and　he　had　asked　me；　with　apparent　seriousness；　if　I　thought　such　unseasonable　weather　could　be　a　sign　of　the　Last　Times。　I　said　that　I　was　sure　not；　but　it　crossed　my　mind　that　it　was　Last　Times　for　Eduard　Delacroix；　all　right。　Yes　indeed　it　was。　
Bill　Dodge　was　standing　in　the　door　to　the　exercise　yard；　drinking　coffee　and　smoking　him　a　little　smoke。　He　looked　around　at　me　and　said；　〃Well；　lookit　here。　Paul　Edgebe；　big　as　life　and　twice　as　ugly。〃　
〃How'd　the　day　go；　Billy？〃　
〃All　right。〃　
〃Delacroix？〃　
〃Fine。　He　seems　to　understand　it's　tomorrow；　and　yet　it's　like　he　don't　understand。　You　know　how　most　of　em　are　when　the　end　finally　es　for　them。〃　
I　nodded。　〃Wharton？'　
Bill　laughed。　〃What　a　edian。　Makes　Jack　Benny　sound　like　a　Quaker。　He　told　Rolfe　Wettermark　that　he　ate　strawberry　jam　out　of　his　wife's　pussy。〃　
〃What　did　Rolfe　say？〃　
〃That　he　wasn't　married。　Said　it　must　have　been　his　mother　Wharton　was　thinking　of。〃　
I　laughed；　and　hard。　That　really　was　funny；　in　a　low　sort　of　way。　And　it　was　good　just　to　be　able　to　laugh　without　feeling　like　someone　was　lighting　matches　way　down　low　in　my　gut。　Bill　laughed　with　me；　then　turned　the　rest　of　his　coffee　out　in　the　yard；　which　was　empty　except　for　a　few　shuffling　trusties；　most　of　whom　had　been　there　for　a　thousand　years　or　so。　
Thunder　rumbled　somewhere　far　off；　and　unfocused　heat　lightning　flashed　in　the　darkening　sky　overhead。　Bill　looked　up　uneasily；　his　laughter　dying。　
〃I　tell　you　what；　though；〃　he　said；　〃I　don't　like　this　weather　much。　Feels　like　something's　gonna　happen。　Something　bad。〃　
About　that　he　was　right。　The　bad　thing　happened　right　around　quarter　of　ten　that　night。　That　was　when　Percy　killed　Mr。　Jingles。　
10。　
At　first　it　seemed　like　it　was　going　to　be　a　pretty　good　night　in　spite　of　the　heat　…　John　Coffey　was　being　his　usual　quiet　self；　Wild　Bill　was　making　out　to　be　Mild　Bill；　and　Delacroix　was　in　good　spirits　for　a　man　who　had　a　date　with　Old　Sparky　in　a　little　more　than　twenty…four　hours。　
He　did　understand　what　was　going　to　happen　to　him；　at　least　on　the　most　basic　level；　he　had　ordered　chili　for　his　last　meal　and　gave　me　special　instructions　for　the　kitchen。　〃Tell　em　to　lay　on　dat　hotsauce；〃　he　said。　〃Tell　em　the　kind　dat　really　jump　up　your　t'roat　an'　say　howdy　…　the　green　stuff；　none　of　dat　mild。　Dat　stuff　gripe　me　like　a　motherfucker；　I　can't　get　off　the　toilet　the　nex'　day；　but　I　don't　think　I　gonna　have　a　problem　this　time；　n'est…ce　pas？〃　
Most　of　them　worry　about　their　immortal　souls　with　a　kind　of　moronic　ferocity；　but　Delacroix　pretty　much　dismissed　my　questions　about　what　he　wanted　for　spiritual　fort　in　his　last　hours。　If　〃dat　fella〃　Schuster　had　been　good　enough　for　Big　Chief　Bitterbuck；　Del　reckoned；　Schuster　would　be　good　enough　for　him。　No；　what　he　cared　about　…　you've　guessed　already；　I'm　sure　…　was　what　was　going　to　happen　to　Mr。　Jingles　after　he；　Delacroix；　passed　on。　I　was　used　to　spending　long　hours　with　the　condemned　on　the　night　before　their　last　march；　but　this　was　the　first　time　I'd　spent　those　long　hours　pondering　the　fate　of　a　mouse。　
Del　considered　scenario　after　scenario；　patiently　working　the　possibilities　through　his　dim　mind。　And　while　he　thought　aloud；　wanting　to　provide　for　his　pet　mouse's　future　as　if　it　were　a　child　that　had　to　be　put　through　college；　he　threw　that　colored　spool　against　the　wall。　Each　time　he　did　it；　Mr。　Jingles　would　spring　after　it；　track　it　down；　and　then　roll　it　back　to　Del's　foot。　It　started　to　get　on　my　nerves　after　awhile　…first　the　clack　of　the　spool　against　the　stone　wall；　then　the　minute　clitter　of　Mr。　Jingles's　paws。　Although　it　was　a　cute　trick；　it　palled　after　niy　minutes　or　so。　And　Mr。　Jingles　never　seemed　to　get　tired。　He　paused　every　now　and　then　to　refresh　himself　with　a　drink　of　water　out　of　a　coffee　saucer　Delacroix　kept　for　just　that　purpose；　or　to　munch　a　pink　crumb　of　peppermint　candy；　and　then　back　to　it　he　went。　Several　times　it　was　on　the　tip　of　my　tongue　to　tell　Delacroix　to　give　it　a　rest；　and　each　time　I　reminded　myself　that　he　had　this　night　and　tomorrow　to　play　the　spool…game　with　Mr。　Jingles；　and　that　was　all。　Near　the　end；　though；　it　began　to　be　really　difficult　to　hold　onto　that　thought　…　you　know　how　it　is；　with　a　noise　that's　repeated　over　and　over。　After　a　while　it　shoots　your　nerve。　I　started　to　speak　after　all；　then　something　made　me　look　over　my　shoulder　and　out　the　cell　door。　John　Coffey　was　standing　at　his　cell　door　across　the　way；　and　he　shook　his　head　at　me：　right；　left；　back　to　center。　As　if　he　had　read　my　mind　and　was　telling　me　to　think　again。　
I　would　see　that　Mr。　Jingles　got　to　Delacroix's　maiden　aunt；　I　said；　the　one　who　had　sent　him　the　big　bag　of　candy。　His　colored　spool　could　go　as　well；　even　his　〃house〃　…　we'd　take　up　a　collection　and　see　that　Toot　gave　up　his　claim　on　the　Corona　box。　No；　said　Delacroix　after　some　consideration　（he　had　time　to　throw　the　spool　against　the　wall　at　least　five　times；　with　Mr。　Jingles　either　nosing　it　back　or　pushing　it　with　his　paws）；　that　wouldn't　do。　Aunt　Hermione　was　too　old；　she　wouldn't　understand　Mr。　Jingles's　frisky　ways；　and　suppose　Mr。　Jingles　outlived　her？　What　would　happen　to　him　then？　No；　no；　Aunt　Hermione　just　wouldn't　do。　
Well；　then；　I　asked；　suppose　one　of　us　took　it？　One　of　us　guards？　We　could　keep　him　right　here　on　E　Block。　No；　Delacroix　said；　he　thanked　me　kindly　for　the　thought；　certainement；　but　Mr。　Jingles　was　a　mouse　that　yearned　to　be　free。　He；　Eduard　Delacroix；　knew　this；　because　Mr。　Jingles　had　…　you　guessed　it　…　whispered　the　information　in　his　ear。　
〃All　right；〃　I　said；　〃one　of　us　will　take　him　home；　Del。　Dean；　maybe。　He's　got　a　little　boy　that　would　just　love　a　pet　mouse；　I　bet。〃　
Delacroix　actually　turned　pale　with　horror　at　the　thought。　A　little　kid　in　charge　of　a　rodent　genius　like　Mr。　Jingles？　How　in　the　name　of　le　bon　Dieu　could　a　little　kid　be　expected　to　keep　up　with　his　training；　let　alone　teach　him　new　tricks？　And　suppose　the　kid　lost　interest　and　forgot　to　feed　him　for　two　or　three　days　at　a　stretch？　Delacroix；　who　had　roasted　six　human　beings　alive　in　an　effort　to　cover　up　his　original　crime；　shuddered　with　the　delicate　revulsion　of　an　ardent　anti…vivisectio