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手机浏览器扫描二维码访问

第60部分（第2页）

He　swabbed　at　it　with　his　arm；　wiping　away　tears　from　his　cheeks　and　beads　of　sweat　from　his　forehead。　We　turned。　Homer　Cribus；　who　had　been　talking　too　loudly　to　the　man　sitting　next　to　him　（the　prosecutor；　judging　from　the　string　tie　and　rusty　black　suit）；　fell　silent。　It　was　almost　time。

Brutal　had　clamped　one　of　John　s　wrists；　Dean　the　other。　Over　Deans　shoulder　I　could　see　the　doctor；　unobtrusive　as　ever；　standing　against　the　wall　with　his　black　bag　between　his　feet。　Nowadays　I　guess　they　just　about　run　such　affairs；　especially　the　ones　with　the　IV　drips；　but　back　then　you　almost　had　to　yank　them　forward　if　you　wanted　them。　Maybe　back　then　they　had　a　clearer　idea　of　what　was　right　for　a　doctor　to　be　doing；　and　what　was　a　perversion　of　the　special　promise　they　make；　the　one　where　they　swear　first　of　all　to　do　no　harm。

Dean　nodded　to　Brutal。　Brutal　turned　his　head；　seemed　to　glance　at　the　telephone　that　was　never　going　to　ring　for　the　likes　of　John　Coffey；　and　called　〃Roll　on　one！〃　to　Jack　Van　Hay。

There　was　that　hum；　like　an　old　fridge　kicking　on；　and　the　lights　burned　a　little　brighter。　Our　shadows　stood　out　a　little　sharper；　black　shapes　that　climbed　the　wall　and　seemed　to　hover　around　the　shadow　of　the　chair　like　vultures。　John　drew　in　a　sharp　breath。　His　knuckles　were　white。

〃Does　it　hurt　yet？〃　Mrs。　Detterick　shrieked　brokenly　from　against　her　husbands　shoulder。〃I　hope　it　does！　I　hope　it　hurts　like　hell！〃　Her　husband　squeezed　her。　One　side　of　his　nose　was　bleeding；　I　saw；　a　narrow　trickle　of　red　working　its　way　down　into　his　narrow…gauge　mustache。　When　I　opened　the　paper　the　following　March　and　saw　hed　died　of　a　stroke；　I　was　about　the　least　surprised　man　on　earth。

Brutal　stepped　into　John　s　field　of　vision。　He　touched　John　s　shoulder　as　he　spoke。　That　was　irregular；　but　of　the　witnesses；　only　Curtis　Anderson　knew　it；　and　he　did　not　seem　to　remark　it。　I　thought　he　looked　like　a　man　who　only　wants　to　be　done　with　his　current　job。　Desperately　wants　to　be　done　with　it。　He　enlisted　in　the　Army　after　Pearl　Harbor；　but　never　got　overseas；　he　died　at　Fort　Bragg；　in　a　truck　accident。

John；　meanwhile；　relaxed　beneath　Brutals　fingers。　I　dont　think　he　understood　much；　if　any；　of　what　Brutal　was　telling　him；　but　he　took　fort　from　Brutals　hand　on　his　shoulder。　Brutal；　who　died　of　a　heart　attack　about　twenty…five　years　later　（he　was　eating　a　fish　sandwich　and　watching　TV　wrestling　when　it　happened；　his　sister　said）；　was　a　good　man。　My　friend。　Maybe　the　best　of　us。　He　had　no　trouble　understanding　how　a　man　could　simultaneously　want　to　go　and　still　be　terrified　of　the　trip。

〃John　Coffey；　you　have　been　condemned　to　die　in　the　electric　chair；　sentence　passed　by　a　jury　of　your　peers　and　imposed　by　a　judge　of　good　standing　in　this　state。　God　save　the　people　of　this　state。　Do　you　have　anything　to　say　before　sentence　is　carried　out？〃

John　wet　his　lips　again；　then　spoke　clearly。　Six　words。　〃Im　sorry　for　what　I　am。〃

〃You　ought　to　be！〃　the　mother　of　the　two　dead　girls　screamed。　〃Oh　you　monster；　you　ought　to　be！　YOU　DAMN　WELL　OUGHT　TO　BE！〃

Johns　eyes　turned　to　me。　I　saw　no　resignation　in　them；　no　hope　of　heaven；　no　dawning　peace。　How　I　would　love　to　tell　you　that　I　did。　How　I　would　love　to　tell　myself　that。　What　I　saw　was　fear；　misery；　inpletion；　and　inprehension。　They　were　the　eyes　of　a　trapped　and　terrified　animal。　I　thought　of　what　hed　said　about　how　Wharton　had　gotten　Cora　and　Kathe　Detterick　off　the　porch　without　rousing　the　house：　He　kill　them　with　they　love。　Thats　how　it　is　every　day。　All　over　the　world。

Brutal　took　the　new　mask　from　its　brass　hook　on　the　back　of　the　chair；　but　as　soon　as　John　saw　it　and　understood　what　it　was；　his　eyes　widened　in　horror。　He　looked　at　me；　and　now　I　could　see　huge　droplets　of　sweat　standing　out　on　the　curve　of　his　naked　skull。　As　big　as　robins　eggs；　they　looked。

〃Please；　boss；　dont　put　that　thing　over　my　face；〃　he　said　in　a　moaning　little　whisper。　〃Please　dont　put　me　in　the　dark；　dont　make　me　go　into　the　dark；　Is　afraid　of　the　dark。〃

Brutal　was　looking　at　me；　eyebrows　raised；　frozen　in　place；　the　mask　in　his　hands。　His　eyes　said　it　was　my　call；　hed　go　either　way。　I　thought　as　fast　as　I　could　and　as　well　as　I　could　…hard　to　do；　with　my　head　pounding　the　way　it　was。　The　mask　was　tradition；　not　law。　It　was；　in　fact；　to　spare　the　witnesses。　And　suddenly　I　decided　that　they　did　not　need　to　be　spared；　not　this　once。　John　；　after　all；　hadnt　done　a　damned　thing　in　his　life　to　warrant　dying　under　a　mask。　They　didnt　know　that；　but　we　did；　and　I　decided　I　was　going　to　grant　this　last　request。　As　for　Marjorie　Detterick；　shed　probably　send　me　a　thank…you　note。

〃All　right；　John　；〃　I　murmured。

Brutal　put　the　mask　back。　From　behind　us；　Homer　Cribus　called　out　indignantly　in　his　deep…dish　cracker　voice：　〃Say；　boy！　Put　that…air　mask　on　him！　Think　we　want　to　watch　his　eyes　pop？〃

〃Be　quiet；　sir；〃　I　said　without　turning。　〃This　is　an　execution；　and　youre　not　in　charge　of　it。〃

〃Any　more　than　you　were　in　charge　of　catching　him；　you　tub　of　guts；〃　Harry　whispered。　Harry　died　in　1982；　close　to　the　age　of　eighty。　An　old　man。　Not　in　my　league；　of　course；　but　few　are。　It　was　intestinal　cancer　of　some　kind。

Brutal　bent　over　and　plucked　the　disk　of　sponge　out　of　its　bucket。　He　pressed　a　finger　into　it　and　licked　the　tip；　but　he　hardly　had　to；　I　could　see　the　ugly　brown　thing　dripping。　He　tucked　it　into　the　cap；　then　put　the　cap　on　John　s　head。　For　the　first　time　I　saw　that　Brutal　was　pale；　too　…　pasty　white；　on　the　verge　of　passing　out。　I　thought　of　him　saying　that　he　felt；　for　the　first　time　in　his　life；　that　he　was　in　danger　of　hell；　because　we　were　fixing　to　kill　a　gift　of　God。　I　felt　a　sudden　strong　need　to　retch。　I　controlled　it；　but　only　with　an　effort。　Water　from　the　sponge　was　dripping　down　the　sides　of　John　s　face。

Dean　Stanton　ran　the　strap　…　let　out　to　its　maximum　length　on　this　occasion　…　across　John　s　chest　and　gave　it　to　me。　We　had　taken　such　pains　to　try　and　protect　Dean　on　the　night　of　our　trip；　because　of　his　kids；　never　knowing　that　he　had　less　than　four　months　to　live。　After　John　Coffey；　he　requested　and　received　a　transfer　away　from　Old　Sparky；　over　to　C　Block；　and　there　a　prisoner　stabbed