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
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