绿里奇迹(英文版)-第30部分

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death；　and　it　happened　the　way　it　did　because　of　Percy　Wetmore；　a　young　man　who　loved　to　b　his　hair　but　couldn't　stand　to　be　laughed　at　…　not　even　by　a　half　bald　little　Frenchman　who　was　never　going　to　see　another　Christmas。　
As　with　most　dirty　jobs；　however；　the　hardest　part　is　just　getting　started。　It　doesn't　matter　to　an　engine　whether　you　use　the　key　or　have　to　crank；　once　you　get　it　going；　it'll　usually　run　just　as　sweet　either　way。　That's　how　it　worked　for　me　yesterday。　At　first　the　words　came　in　little　bursts　of　phrasing；　then　in　whole　sentences；　then　in　a　torrent。　Writing　is　a　special　and　rather　terrifying　form　of　remembrance；　I've　discovered　…　there　is　a　totality　to　it　that　seems　almost　like　rape。　Perhaps　I　only　feel　that　way　because　I've　bee　a　very　old　man　（a　thing　that　happened　behind　my　own　back；　I　sometimes　feel）；　but　I　don't　think　so。　I　believe　that　the　bination　of　pencil　and　memory　creates　a　kind　of　practical　magic；　and　magic　is　dangerous。　As　a　man　who　knew　John　Coffey　and　saw　what　he　could　do　…　to　mice　and　to　men　…　l　feel　very　qualified　to　say　that。　
Magic　is　dangerous。　
In　any　case；　I　wrote　all　day　yesterday；　the　words　simply　flooding　out　of　me；　the　sunroom　of　this　glorified　old　folks'　home　gone；　replaced　by　the　storage　room　at　the　end　of　the　Green　Mile　where　so　many　of　my　problem　children　took　their　last　sit…me…downs　and　the　bottom　of　the　stairs　which　led　to　the　tunnel　under　the　road。　That　was　where　Dean　and　Harry　and　Brutal　and　I　confronted　Percy　Wetmore　over　Eduard　Delacroix's　smoking　body　and　made　Percy　renew　his　promise　to　put　in　for　transfer　to　the　Briar　Ridge　state　mental　facility。　
There　are　always　fresh　flowers　in　the　sunroom；　but　by　noon　yesterday　all　I　could　smell　was　the　noxious　aroma　of　the　dead　man's　cooked　flesh。　The　sound　of　the　power　mower　on　the　lawn　down　below　had　been　replaced　by　the　hollow　plink　of　dripping　water　as　it　seeped　slowly　through　the　tunnel's　curved　roof。　The　trip　was　on。　I　had　travelled　back　to　1932；　in　soul　and　mind；　if　not　body。　
I　skipped　lunch；　wrote　until　four　o'clock　or　so；　and　when　I　finally　put　my　pencil　down；　my　hand　was　aching。　I　walked　slowly　down　to　the　end　of　the　second…floor　corridor。　There's　a　window　there　that　looks　out　on　the　employee　parking　lot。　Brad　Dolan；　the　orderly　who　reminds　me　of　Percy　…　and　the　one　who　is　altogether　too　curious　about　where　I　go　and　what　I　do　on　my　walks　…　drives　an　old　Chevrolet　with　a　bumper　sticker　that　says　I　HAVE　SEEN　GOD　AND　HIS　NAME　IS　NEWT。　It　was　gone；　Brad's　shift　was　over　and　he'd　taken　himself　off　to　whatever　garden　spot　he　calls　home。　I　envision　an　Airstream　trailer　with　Hustler　gatefolds　Scotch…taped　to　the　walls　and　Dixie　Beer　cans　in　the　corners。　
I　went　out　through　the　kitchen；　where　dinner　preparations　were　getting　started。　〃What　you　got　in　that　bag；　Mr。　Edgebe？〃　Norton　asked　me。　
〃It's　an　empty　bottle；〃　I　said。　〃I've　discovered　the　Fountain　of　Youth　down　there　in　the　woods。　I　pop　down　every　afternoon　about　this　time　and　draw　a　little。　I　drink　it　at　bedtime。　Good　stuff；　I　can　tell　you。〃　
〃May　be　keepin　you　young；〃　said　George；　the　other　cook；　〃but　it　ain't　doin　shit　for　your　looks。…〃　
We　all　had　a　laugh　at　that；　and　I　went　out。　I　found　myself　looking　around　for　Dolan　even　though　his　car　was　gone；　called　myself　a　chump　for　letting　him　get　so　far　under　my　skin；　and　crossed　the　croquet　course。　Beyond　it　is　a　scraggy　little　putting　green　that　looks　ever　so　much　nicer　in　the　Georgia　Pines　brochures；　and　beyond　that　is　a　path　that　winds　into　the　little　copse　of　woods　east　of　the　nursing　home。　There　are　a　couple　of　old　sheds　along　this　path；　neither　of　them　used　for　anything　these　days。　At　the　second；　which　stands　close　to　the　high　stone　wall　between　the　Georgia　Pines　grounds　and　Georgia　Highway　47；　I　went　in　and　stayed　for　a　little　while。　
I　ate　a　good　dinner　that　night；　watched　a　little　TV；　and　went　to　bed　early。　On　many　nights　I'll　wake　up　and　creep　back　down　to　the　TV　room；　where　I　watch　old　movies　on　the　American　Movie　Channel。　Not　last　night；　though；　last　night　I　slept　like　a　stone；　and　with　none　of　the　dreams　that　have　so　haunted　me　since　I　started　my　adventures　in　literature。　All　that　writing　must　have　worn　me　out；　I'm　not　as　young　as　I　used　to　be；　you　know。　
When　I　woke　and　saw　that　the　patch　of　sun　which　usually　lies　on　the　floor　at　six　in　the　morning　had　made　it　all　the　way　up　to　the　foot　of　my　bed；　I　hit　the　deck　in　a　hurry；　so　alarmed　I　hardly　noticed　the　arthritic　flare　of　pain　in　my　hips　and　knees　and　ankles。　I　dressed　as　fast　as　I　could；　then　hurried　down　the　hall　to　the　window　that　overlooks　the　employees'　parking　lot；　hoping　the　slot　where　Dolan　parks　his　old　Chevrolet　would　still　be　empty。　Sometimes　he's　as　much　as　half　an　hour　late　…　
No　such　luck。　The　car　was　there；　gleaming　rustily　in　the　morning　sun。　Because　Mr。　Brad　Dolan　has　something　to　arrive　on　time　for　these　days；　doesn't　he？　Yes。　Old　Paulie　Edgebe　goes　somewhere　in　the　early　mornings；　old　Paulie　Edgebe　is　up　to　something；　and　Mr。　Brad　Dolan　intends　to　find　out　what　it　is。　What　do　you　do　down　there；　Paulie？　Tell　me。　He　would　likely　be　watching　for　me　already。　It　would　be　smart　to　stay　right　where　I　was　。。。　except　I　couldn't。　
〃Paul？〃　
I　turned　around　so　fast　I　almost　fell　down。　It　was　my　friend　Elaine　Connelly。　Her　eyes　widened　and　she　put　out　her　hands；　as　if　to　catch　me。　Lucky　for　her　I　caught　my　balance；　Elaine's　arthritis　is　terrible；　and　I　probably　would　have　broken　her　in　two　like　a　dry　stick　if　I'd　fallen　into　her　arms。　Romance　doesn't　die　when　you　pass　into　the　strange　country　that　lies　beyond　eighty；　but　you　can　forget　the　Cone　with　the　Wind　crap。　
〃I'm　sorry；〃　she　said。　〃I　didn't　mean　to　startle　you。〃　
〃That's　all　right；〃　I　said；　and　gave　her　a　feeble　smile。　〃It's　a　better　wake…up　than　a　faceful　of　cold　water。　I　should　hire　you　to　do　it　every　morning。〃　
〃You　were　looking　for　his　car；　weren't　you？　Dolan's　car。〃　
There　was　no　sense　kidding　her　about　it；　so　I　nodded。　〃I　wish　I　could　be　sure　he's　over　in　the　west　wing。　I'd　like　to　slip　out　for　a　little　while；　but　I　don't　want　him　to　see　me。〃　
She　smiled　…　a　ghost　of　the　teasing　imp's　smile　she　must　have　had　as　a　girl。　〃Nosy　bastard；　isn't　he？〃　
〃Yes。〃　
〃He's　not　in　the　west　wing；　either。　I've　already　been　down　to　breakfast；　sleepyhead；　and　I　can　tell　you　where　he　is；　because　I　peeked。　He's　in　the　kitchen。〃　
I　looked　at　her；　dismayed。　I　had　known　Dolan　was　curious；　but　not　how　curious。　
〃Can　you　put　your　morning　walk　off？〃　Elaine　asked。　
I　thought　about　it。　〃I　could；　I　suppose；　but。。。〃　
〃You　shouldn't。〃　
〃No。　I　shouldn't。〃　
Now；　I　thought；　she'll　ask　me　where　I　go；　what　I　have　to　do　down　in　those　woods　that's　so　damned　important。　
But　she　didn't。　Instead　she　gave　me　that　imp's　smile　again。　It　looked　strange　and　absolutely　wonderful　on　her　too…gaunt；　pain…haunted　face。　〃Do　you　know　Mr。　Howland？〃　she　asked。　
〃Sure；〃　I　said；　although　I　didn't　see　him　much；　he　was　in　the　west　wing；　which　at　Georgia　Pines　was　almost　like　a　neighboring　country。　〃Why？〃　
〃Do　you　know　what's　special　about　him？〃　
I　shook　my　head。　
〃Mr。　Howland；〃　Elaine　said；　smiling　more　widely　than　ever；　〃is　one　of　only　five　residents　left　at　Georgia　Pines　who　have　permission　to　smoke。　That's　because　he　was　a　resident　before　the　rules　changed。〃　
A　grandfather　clause；　I　thought。　And　what　place　was　more　fitted　for　one　than　an　old…age　home？　
She　reached　into　the　pocket　of　her　blue…and…white…striped　dress　and　pulled　two　items　partway　out：　a　cigarette　and　a　book　of　matches。　〃Thief　of　green；　thief　red；〃　she　sang　in　a　lilting；　funny　voice。　〃Little　Ellie's　going　to　wet　the　bed。〃　
〃Elaine；　what　…　〃　
〃Walk　an　old　girl　downstairs；〃　she　said；　putting　the　cigarette　and　matches　back　into　her　pocket　and　taking　my　arm　in　one　of　her　gnarled　hands。　We　began　to　walk　back　down　the　hall。　As　we　did；　I　decided　to　give　up　and　put　myself　in　her　hands。　She　was　old　and　brittle；　but　not　stupid。　
As　we　went　down；　walking　with　the　glassy　care　of　the　relics　we　have　now　bee；　Elaine　said：　〃Wait　at　the　foot。　I'm　going　over　to　the　west　wing；　to　the　hall　toilet　there。　You　know　the　one　I　mean；　don't　you？〃　
〃Yes；〃　I　said。　〃The　one　just　outside　the　spa。　But　why？〃　
〃I　haven't　had　a　cigarette　in　over　fifteen　years；〃　she　said；　〃but　I　feel　like　one　this　morning。　I　don't　know　how　many　puffs　it'll　take　to　set　off　the　smoke　detector　in　there；　but　I　intend　to　find　out。〃　
I　looked　at　her　with　dawning　admiration；　thinking　how　much　she　reminded　me　of　my　wife　…　Jan　might　have　done　exactly　the　same　thing。　Elaine　looked　back　at　me；　smiling　her　saucy　imp's　smile。　I　cupped　my　hand　around　the　back　of　her　lovely　long　neck；　drew　her　face　to　mine；　and　kissed　her　mouth　lightly。　〃I　love　you；　Ellie；〃　I　said。　
〃Oooh；　such　big　talk；〃　she　said；　but　I　could　tell　she　was　pleased。　
〃What　about　Chuck　Howland？〃　I　asked。　〃Is　he　going　to　get　in　trouble？〃　
〃No；　because　he's　in　the　TV　room；　watching　Good　Morning　America　with　about　two　dozen　other　folks。　And　I'm　going　to　make　myself　scarce　as　soon　as　the　smoke　detector　turns　on　the　west…wing　fire　alarm。〃　
〃Don't　you　fall　down　and　hurt　yourself；　woman。　I'd　never　forgive　myself　if　…　〃　
〃Oh；　stop　your　fussing；〃　she　said；　and　this　time　she　kissed　me。　Love　among　the　ruins。　It　probably　sounds　funny　to　some　of　you　and　grotesque　to　the　rest　of　you；　but　I'll　tell　you　something；　my　friend：　weird　love's　better　than　no　love　at　all。　
I　watched　her　walk　away；　moving　slowly　and　stiffly　（but　she　will　only　use　a　cane　on　wet　days；　and　only　then　if　the　pain　is　terrible；　it's　one　of　her　vanities）；　and　waited。　Five　minutes　went　by；　then　ten；　and　just　as　I　was　deciding　she　had　either　lost　her　courage　or　discovered　that　the　battery　of　the　smoke　detector　in　the　toilet　was　dead；　the　fire　alarm　went　off　in　the　west　wing　with　a　loud；　buzzing　burr。　
I　started　toward　the　kitchen　at　once；　but　slowly　…　there　was　no　reason　to　hurry　until　I　was　sure　Dolan　was　out　of　my　way。　A　gaggle　of　old　folks；　most　still　in　their　robes；　came　out　of　the　TV　room　（here　it's　called　the　Resource　Center；　now　that's　grotesque）　to　see　what　was　going　on。　Chuck　Howland　was　among　them；　I　was　happy　to　see。　
〃Edgebe！〃　Kent　Avery　rasped；　hanging　onto　his　walker　with　one　hand　and　yanking　obsessively　at　the　crotch　of　his　pajama　pants　with　the　other。　〃Real　alarm　or　just　another　falsie？　What　do　you　think？〃　
〃No　way　of　knowing；　I　guess；〃　I　said。　
Just　about　then　three　orderlies　went　trotting　past；　all　headed　for　the　west　wing；　yelling　at　the　folks　clustered　around　the　TV…room　door　to　go　outside　and　wait　for　the　all…clear。　The　third　in　line　was　Brad　Dolan。　He　didn't　even　look　at　me　as　he　went　past；　a　fact　that　pleased　me　to　no　end。　As　I　went　on　down　toward　the　kitchen；　it　occurred　to　me　that　the　team　of　Elaine　Connelly　and　Paul　Edgebe　would　probably　be　a　match　for　a　dozen　Brad　Dolans；　with　half　a　dozen　Percy　Wetmores　thrown　in　for　good　measure。　
The　cooks　in　the　kitchen　were　continuing　to　clear　up　breakfast；　paying　no　attention　to　the　howling　fire。　alarm　at　all。　
〃Say；　Mr。　Edgebe；〃　George　said。　〃I　believe　Brad　Dolan　been　lookin　for　you。　In　fact；　you　just　missed　him。〃　
Lucky　me；　I　thought。　What　I　said　out　loud　was　that　I'd　probably　see　Mr。　Dolan　later。　Then　I　asked　if　there　was　any　leftover　toast　lying　around　from　breakfast。　
〃Sure；〃　Norton　said；　〃but　it's　stone…cold　dead　in　the　market。　You　runnin　late　this　morning。〃　
〃I　am；〃　I　agreed；　〃but　I'm　hungry。〃　
〃Only　take　a　minute　to　make　some　fresh　and　hot；〃　George　said；　reaching　for　the　bread。　
〃Nope；　cold　will　be　fine；〃　I　said；　and　when　he　handed　me　a　couple　of　slices　（looking　mystified　…　actually　both　of　them　looked　mystified）；　I　hurried　out　the　door；　feeling　like　the　boy　I　once　was；　skipping　school　to　go　fishing　with　a　jelly　fold…over　wrapped　in　waxed　paper　slipped　into　the　front　of　my　shirt。　
Outside　the　kitchen　door　I　took　a　quick；　reflexive　look　around　for　Dolan；　saw　nothing　to　alarm　me；　and　hurried　across　the　croquet　course　and　putting　green；　gnawing　on　one　of　my　pieces　of　toast　as　I　went。　I　slowed　a　little　as　I　entered　the　shelter　of　the　woods；　and　as　I　walked　down　the　path；　I　found　my　mind　turning　to　the　day　after　Eduard　Delacroix's　terrible　execution。　
I　had　spoken　to　Hal　Moores　that　morning；　and　he　had　told　me　that　Melinda's　brain　tumor　had　caused　her　to　lapse　into　bouts　of　cursing　and　foul　language　。。。　what　my　wife　had　later　labelled　（rather　tentatively；　she　wasn't　sure　it　was　really　the　same　thing）　as　Tourette's　Syndrome。　The　quavering　in　his　voice；　coupled　with　the　memory　of　how　John　Coffey　had　healed　both　my　urinary　infection　and　the　broken　back　of　Delacroix's　pet　mouse；　had　finally　pushed　me　over　the　line　that　runs　between　just　thinking　about　a　thing　and　actually　doing　a　thing。　
And　there　was　something　else。　Something　that　had　to　do　with　John　Coffey's　hands；　and　my　shoe。　
So　I　had　called　the　men　I　worked　with；　the　men　I　had　trusted　my　life　to　over　the　years　…　Dean　Stanton；　Harry　Terwilliger；　Brutus　Howell。　They　came　to　lunch　at　my　house　on　the　day　after　Delacroix's　execution；　and　they　at　least　listened　to　me　when　I　outlined　my　plan。　Of　course；　they　all　knew　that　Coffey　had　healed　the　mouse；　Brutal　had　actually　seen　it。　So　when　I　suggested　that　another　miracle　might　result　if　we　took　John　Coffey　to　Melinda　Moores；　they　didn't　outright　laugh。　It　was　Dean　Stanton　who　raised　the　most　troubling　question：　What　if　John　Coffey　escaped　while　we　had　him　out　on　his　field…trip？　
〃Suppose　he　killed　someone　else？〃　Dean　asked。　〃I'd　hate　losing　my　job；　and　I'd　hate　going　to　jail　…　I　got　a　wife　and　kids　depending　on　me　to　put　bread　in　their　mouths　…　but　I　don't　think　I'd　hate　either　of　those　things　near　as　much　as　having　another　little　dead　girl　on　my　conscience。〃　
There　was　silence；　then；　all　of　them　looking　at　me；　waiting　to　see　how　I'd　respond。　I　knew　everything　would　change　if　I　said　what　was　on　the　tip　of　my　tongue；　we　had　reached　a　point　beyond　which　retreat　would　likely　bee　impossible。　
Except　retreat；　for　me；　at　least；　was　already　impossible。　I　opened　my　mouth　and　said　
2。　
〃That　won't　happen。〃　
〃How　in　God's　name　can　you　be　so　sure？〃　Dean　asked。　
I　didn't　answer。　I　didn't　know　just　how　to　begin。　I　had　known　this　would　e　up；　of　course　I　had；　but　I　still　didn't　know　how　to　start　telling　them　what　was　in　my　head　and　heart。　Brutal　helped。　
〃You　don't　think　he　did　it；　do　you；　Paul？〃　He　looked　incredulous。　〃You　think　that　big　lug　is　innocent。〃　
〃I'm　positive　he's　innocent；〃　I　said。　
〃How　can　you　be？〃　
〃There　are　two　things；〃　I　said。　〃One　of　them　is　my　shoe。〃　
〃Your　shoe？〃　Brutal　exclaimed。　'What　has　your　shoe　got　to　do　with　whether　or　not　John　Coffey　killed　those　two　little　girls？〃　
〃I　took　off　one　of　my　shoes　and　gave　it　to　him　last　night；〃　I　said。　〃After　the　execution；　this　was；　when　things　had　settled　back　down　a　little。　I　pushed　it　through　the　bars；　and　he　picked　it　up　in　those　big　hands　of　his。　I　told　him　to　tie　it。　I　had　to　make　sure；　you　see；　because　all　our　problem　children　normally　wear　is　slippers　…　a　man　who　really　wants　to　mit　suicide　can　do　it　with　shoelaces；　if　he's　dedicated。　That's　something　all　of　us　know。〃　
They　were　nodding。　
〃He　put　it　on　his　lap　and　got　the　ends　of　the　laces　crossed　over　all　right；　but　then　he　was　stuck。　He　said　he　was　pretty　sure　someone　had　showed　him　how　to　do　it　when　he　was　a　lad　…　maybe　his　father　or　maybe　one　of　the　boy