绿里奇迹(英文版)-第4部分

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　little　hands；　and　gave　Howie　the　。22　they　had　been　saving　for　his　birthday　in　July。　Then　they　went；　neither　of　them　paying　the　slightest　attention　to　the　shrieking；　weeping　woman　who　wanted　to　know　what　they　would　do　if　they　met　a　gang　of　wandering　hobos　or　a　bunch　of　bad　niggers　escaped　from　the　county　farm　over　in　Laduc。　In　this　I　think　the　men　were　right；　you　know。　The　blood　was　no　longer　runny；　but　it　was　only　tacky　yet；　and　still　closer　to　true　red　than　the　maroon　that　es　when　blood　has　well　dried。　The　abduction　hadn't　happened　too　long　ago。　Klaus　must　have　reasoned　that　there　was　still　a　chance　for　his　girls；　and　he　meant　to　take　it。　
Neither　one　of　them　could　track　worth　a　damn　…　they　were　gatherers；　not　hunters；　men　who　went　into　the　woods　after　coon　and　deer　in　their　seasons　not　because　they　much　wanted　to；　but　because　it　was　an　expected　thing。　And　the　dooryard　around　the　house　was　a　blighted　patch　of　dirt　with　tracks　all　overlaid　in　a　meaningless　tangle。　They　went　around　the　barn；　and　saw　almost　at　once　why　Bowser；　a　bad　biter　but　a　good　barker；　hadn't　sounded　the　alarm。　He　lay　half　in　and　half　out　of　a　doghouse　which　had　been　built　of　leftover　barnboards　（there　was　a　signboard　with　the　word　Bowser　neatly　printed　on　it　over　the　curved　hole　in　the　front　…　I　saw　a　photograph　of　it　in　one　of　the　papers）；　his　head　turned　most　of　the　way　around　on　his　neck。　It　would　have　taken　a　man　of　enormous　power　to　have　done　that　to　such　a　big　animal；　the　prosecutor　later　told　John　Coffey's　jury　。。。　and　then　he　had　looked　long　and　meaningfully　at　the　hulking　defendant；　sitting　behind　the　defense　table　with　his　eyes　cast　down　and　wearing　a　brand…new　pair　of　state…bought　bib　overalls　that　looked　like　damnation　in　and　of　themselves。　Beside　the　dog；　Klaus　and　Howie　found　a　scrap　of　cooked　link　sausage。　The　theory　…　a　sound　one；　I　have　no　doubt　…　was　that　Coffey　had　first　charmed　the　dog　with　treats；　and　then；　as　Bowser　began　to　eat　the　last　one；　had　reached　out　his　hands　and　broken　its　neck　with　one　mighty　snap　of　his　wrists。　
Beyond　the　barn　was　Detterick's　north　pasture；　where　no　cows　would　graze　that　day。　It　was　drenched　with　morning　dew；　and　leading　off　through　it；　cutting　on　a　diagonal　to　the　northwest　and　plain　as　day；　was　the　beaten　track　of　a　man's　passage。　
Even　in　his　state　of　near…hysteria；　Klaus　Detterick　hesitated　at　first　to　follow　it。　It　wasn't　fear　of　the　man　or　men　who　had　taken　his　daughters；　it　was　fear　of　following　the　abductor's　backtrail　。。。　of　going　off　in　exactly　the　wrong　direction　at　a　time　when　every　second　might　count。　
Howie　solved　that　dilemma　by　plucking　a　shred　of　yellow　cotton　cloth　from　a　bush　growing　just　beyond　the　edge　of　the　dooryard。　Klaus　was　shown　this　same　scrap　of　cloth　as　he　sat　on　the　witness　stand；　and　began　to　weep　as　he　identified　it　as　a　piece　of　his　daughter　Kathe's　sleeping…shorts。　Twenty　yards　beyond　it；　hanging　from　the　jutting　finger　of　a　juniper　shrub；　they　found　a　piece　of　faded　green　cloth　that　matched　the　nightie　Cora　had　been　wearing　when　she　kissed　her　ma　and　pa　goodnight。　
The　Dettericks；　father　and　son；　set　off　at　a　near…run　with　their　guns　held　in　front　of　them；　as　soldiers　do　when　crossing　contested　ground　under　heavy　fire。　If　I　wonder　at　anything　that　happened　that　day。　it　is　that　the　boy；　chasing　desperately　after　his　father　（and　often　in　danger　of　being　left　behind　pletely）；　never　fell　and　put　a　bullet　in　Klaus　Detterick's　back。　
The　farmhouse　was　on　the　exchange　…　another　sign　to　the　neighbors　that　the　Dettericks　were　prospering；　at　least　moderately；　in　disastrous　times　…　and　Marjorie　used　Central　to　call　as　many　of　her　neighbors　that　were　also　on　the　exchange　as　she　could；　telling　them　of　the　disaster　which　had　fallen　like　a　lightning…stroke　out　of　a　clear　sky；　knowing　that　each　call　would　produce　overlapping　ripples；　like　pebbles　tossed　rapidly　into　a　stilly　pond。　Then　she　lifted　the　handset　one　last　time；　and　spoke　those　words　that　were　almost　a　trademark　of　the　early　telephone　systems　of　that　time；　at　least　in　the　rural　South：　〃Hello；　Central；　are　you　on　the　line？〃　
Central　was；　but　for　a　moment　could　say　nothing；　that　worthy　woman　was　all　agog。　At　last　she　managed；　〃Yes；　ma'am。　Mrs。　Detterick；　I　sure　am；　oh　dear　sweet　blessed　Jesus；　I'm　a…prayin　right　now　that　your　little　girls　are　all　right………！'　
〃Yes；　thank　you；〃　Marjorie　said。　〃But　you　tell　the　Lord　to　wait　long　enough　for　you　to　put　me　through　to　the　high　sheriff's　office　down　Tefton；　all　right？〃　
The　Trapingus　County　high　sheriff　was　a　whiskeynosed　old　boy　with　a　gut　like　a　washtub　and　a　head　of　white　hair　so　fine　it　looked　like　pipe…cleaner　fuzz。　I　knew　him　well；　he'd　been　up　to　Cold　Mountain　plenty　of　times　to　see　what　he　called　〃his　boys〃　off　into　the　great　beyond。　Execution　witnesses　sat　in　the　same　folding　chairs　you've　probably　sat　in　yourself　a　time　or　two；　at　funerals　or　church　suppers　or　Grange　bingo　（in　fact；　we　borrowed　ours　from　the　Mystic　Tie　No。　44　Grange　back　in　those　days）；　and　every　time　Sheriff　Homer　Cribus　sat　down　in　one；　I　waited　for　the　dry　crack　that　would　signal　collapse。　I　dreaded　that　day　and　hoped　for　it；　both　at　the　same　time；　but　it　was　a　day　that　never　came。　Not　long　after　…　couldn't　have　been　more　than　one　summer　after　the　Detterick　girls　were　abducted　…　he　had　a　heart　attack　in　his　office；　apparently　while　screwing　a　seventeen　year…old　black　girl　named　Daphne　Shurtleff。　There　was　a　lot　of　talk　about　that；　with　him　always　sporting　his　wife　and　six　boys　around　so　prominent　e　election　time　…　those　were　the　days　when；　if　you　wanted　to　run　for　something；　the　saying　used　to　be　〃Be　Baptist　or　be　gone。〃　But　people　love　a　hypocrite；　you　know　…　they　recognize　one　of　their　own；　and　it　always　feels　so　good　when　someone　gets　caught　with　his　pants　down　and　his　dick　up　and　it　isn't　you。　
Besides　being　a　hypocrite；　he　was　inpetent；　the　kind　of　fellow　who'd　get　himself　photographed　pet　that　point；　running　southeast　through　low；　wooded　hills　where　families　named　Cray　and　Robite　and　Duplissey　still　made　their　own　mandolins　and　often　spat　out　their　own　rotted　teeth　as　they　plowed；　deep　countryside　where　men　were　apt　to　handle　snakes　on　Sunday　morning　and　lie　down　in　carnal　embrace　with　their　daughters　on　Sunday　night。　I　knew　their　families；　most　of　them　had　sent　Sparky　a　meal　from　time　to　time。　On　the　far　side　of　the　river；　the　members　of　the　posse　could　see　the　June　sun　glinting　off　the　steel　rails　of　a　Great　Southern　branch　line。　About　a　mile　downstream　to　their　right；　a　trestle　crossed　toward　the　coal…fields　of　West　Green。　
Here　they　found　a　wide　trampled　patch　in　the　grass　and　low　bushes；　a　patch　so　bloody　that　many　of　the　men　had　to　sprint　back　into　the　woods　and　relieve　themselves　of　their　breakfasts。　They　also　found　the　rest　of　Cora's　nightgown　lying　in　this　bloody　patch；　and　Howie；　who　had　held　up　admirably　until　then；　reeled　back　against　his　father　and　nearly　fainted。　
And　it　was　here　that　Bobo　Marchant's　dogs　had　their　first　and　only　disagreement　of　the　day。　There　were　six　in　all；　two　bloodhounds；　two　bluetick　hounds；　and　a　couple　of　those　terrierlike　mongrels　border　Southerners　call　coon　hounds。　The　coonies　wanted　to　go　northwest；　upstream　along　the　Trapingus；　the　rest　wanted　to　go　in　the　other　direction；　southeast。　They　got　all　tangled　in　their　leads；　and　although　the　papers　said　nothing　about　this　part；　I　could　imagine　the　horrible　curses　Bobo　must　have　rained　down　on　them　as　he　used　his　hands　…　surely　the　most　educated　part　of　him　…　to　get　them　straightened　around　again。　I　have　known　a　few　hound…dog　men　in　my　time；　and　it's　been　my　experience　that；　as　a　class；　they　run　remarkably　true　to　type。　
Bobo　shortleashed　them　into　a　pack；　then　ran　Cora　Detterick's　torn　nightgown　under　their　noses；　to　kind　of　remind　them　what　they　were　doing　out　on　a　day　when　the　temperature　would　be　in　the　mid…niies　by　noon　and　the　noseeums　were　already　circling　the　heads　of　the　possemen　in　clouds。　The　coonies　took　another　sniff；　decided　to　vote　the　straight　ticket；　and　off　they　all　went　downstream；　in　full　cry。　
It　wasn't　but　ten　minutes　later　when　the　men　stopped；　realizing　they　could　hear　more　than　just　the　dogs。　It　was　a　howling　rather　than　a　baying；　and　a　sound　no　dog　had　ever　made；　not　even　in　its　dying　extremities。　It　was　a　sound　none　of　them　had　ever　heard　anything　make；　but　they　knew　right　away；　all　of　them；　that　it　was　a　man。　So　they　said；　and　I　believed　them。　I　think　I　would　have　recognized　it；　too。　I　have　heard　men　scream　just　that　way；　I　think；　on　their　way　to　the　electric　chair。　Not　a　lot　…　most　button　themselves　up　and　go　either　quiet　or　joking；　like　it　was　the　class　picnic　…　but　a　few。　Usually　the　ones　who　believe　in　hell　as　a　real　place；　and　know　it　is　waiting　for　them　at　the　end　of　the　Green　Mile。　
Bobo　shortleashed　his　dogs　again。　They　were　valuable；　and　he　had　no　intention　of　losing　them　to　the　psychopath　howling　and　gibbering　just　down　yonder。　The　other　men　reloaded　their　guns　and　snapped　them　closed。　That　howling　had　chilled　them　all；　and　made　the　sweat　under　their　arms　and　running　down　their　backs　feel　like　icewater。　When　men　take　a　chill　like　that；　they　need　a　leader　if　they　are　to　go　on；　and　Deputy　McGee　led　them。　He　got　out　in　front　and　walked　briskly　（I　bet　he　didn't　feel　very　brisk　right　then；　though）　to　a　stand　of　alders　that　jutted　out　of　the　woods　on　the　right；　with　the　rest　of　them　trundling　along　nervously　about　five　paces　behind。　He　paused　just　once；　and　that　was　to　motion　the　biggest　man　among　them　…　Sam　Hollis　…　to　keep　near　Klaus　Detterick。　
On　the　other　side　of　the　alders　there　was　more　open　ground　stretching　back　to　the　woods　on　the　right。　On　the　left　was　the　long；　gentle　slope　of　the　riverbank。　They　all　stopped　where　they　were；　thunderstruck。　I　think　they　would　have　given　a　good　deal　to　unsee　what　was　before　them；　and　none　of　them　would　ever　forget　it　…　it　was　the　sort　of　nightmare；　bald　and　almost　smoking　in　the　sun；　that　lies　beyond　the　drapes　and　furnishings　of　good　and　ordinary　lives　…　church　suppers；　walks　along　country　lanes；　honest　work；　love…kisses　in　bed。　There　is　a　skull　in　every　man；　and　I　tell　you　there　is　a　skull　in　the　lives　of　all　men。　They　saw　it　that　day；　those　men　…　they　saw　what　sometimes　grins　behind　the　smile。　
Sitting　on　the　riverbank　in　a　faded；　bloodstained　jumper　was　the　biggest　man　any　of　them　had　ever　seen　…　John　Coffey。　His　enormous；　splay…toed　feet　were　bare。　On　his　head　he　wore　a　faded　red　bandanna；　the　way　a　country　woman　would　wear　a　kerchief　into　church。　Gnats　circled　him　in　a　black　cloud。　Curled　in　each　arm　was　the　body　of　a　naked　girl。　Their　blonde　hair；　once　curly　and　light　as　milkweed　fluff；　was　now　matted　to　their　heads　and　streaked　red。　The　man　holding　them　sat　bawling　up　at　the　sky　like　a　moonstruck　calf；　his　dark　brown　cheeks　slicked　with　tears；　his　face　twisted　in　a　monstrous　cramp　of　grief　He　drew　breath　in　hitches；　his　chest　rising　until　the　snaps　holding　the　straps　of　his　jumper　were　strained；　and　then　let　that　vast　catch　of　air　out　in　another　of　those　howls。　So　often　you　read　in　the　paper　that　〃the　killer　showed　no　remorse；〃　but　that　wasn't　the　case　here。　John　Coffey　was　torn　open　by　what　he　had　done　。。。　but　he　would　live。　The　girls　would　not。　They　had　been　torn　open　in　a　more　fundamental　way。　
No　one　seemed　to　know　how　long　they　stood　there；　looking　at　the　howling　man　who　was；　in　his　turn；　looking　across　the　great　still　plate　of　the　river　at　a　train　on　the　other　side；　storming　down　the　tracks　toward　the　trestle　that　crossed　the　river。　It　seemed　they　looked　for　an　hour　or　for　forever；　and　yet　the　train　got　no　farther　along；　it　seemed　to　storm　only　in　one　place；　like　a　child　doing　a　tantrum；　and　the　sun　did　not　go　behind　a　cloud；　and　the　sight　was　not　blotted　from　their　eyes。　It　was　there　before　them；　as　real　as　a　dogbite。　The　black　man　rocked　back　and　forth；　Cora　and　Kathe　rocked　with　him　like　dolls　in　the　arms　of　a　giant。　The　bloodstained　muscles　in　the　man's　huge；　bare　arms　flexed　and　relaxed；　flexed　and　relaxed；　flexed　and　relaxed。　
It　was　Klaus　Detterick　who　broke　the　tableau。　Screaming；　he　flung　himself　at　the　monster　who　had　raped　and　killed　his　daughters。　Sam　Hollis　knew　his　job　and　tried　to　do　it；　but　couldn't。　He　was　six　inches　taller　than　Klaus　and　outweighed　him　by　at　least　seventy　pounds；　but　Klaus　seemed　to　almost　shrug　his　encircling　arms　off。　Klaus　flew　across　the　intervening　open　ground　and　launched　a　flying　kick　at　Coffey's　head。　His　workboot；　caked　with　spilled　milk　that　had　already　soured　in　the　heat；　scored　a　direct　hit　on　Coffey's　left　temple；　but　Coffey　seemed　not　to　feel　it　at　all。　He　only　sat　there；　keening　and　rocking　and　looking　out　across　the　river；　the　way　I　imagine　it；　he　could　almost　have　been　a　picture　out　of　some　piney　woods　Pentecostal　sermon；　the　faithful　follower　of　the　Cross　looking　out　toward　Goshen　Land　。。。　if　not　for　the　corpses；　that　was。　
It　took　four　men　to　haul　the　hysterical　farmer　off　John　Coffey；　and　he　fetched　Coffey　I　don't　know　how　many　good　licks　before　they　finally　did。　It　didn't　seem　to　matter　to　Coffey；　one　way　or　the　other；　he　just　went　on　looking　out　across　the　river　and　keening。　As　for　Detterick；　all　the　fight　went　out　of　him　when　he　was　finally　pulled　off　…　as　if　some　strange　galvanizing　current　had　been　running　through　the　huge　black　man　（I　still　have　a　tendency　to　think　in　electrical　metaphors；　you'll　have　to　pardon　me）；　and　when　Detterick's　contact　with　that　power　source　was　finally　broken；　he　went　as　limp　as　a　man　flung　back　from　a　live　wire。　He　knelt　wide…legged　on　the　riverbank　with　his　hands　to　his　face；　sobbing。　Howie　joined　him　and　they　hugged　each　other　forehead　to　forehead。　
Two　men　watched　them　while　the　rest　formed　a　rifle…toting　ring　around　the　rocking；　wailing　black　man。　He　still　seemed　not　to　realize　that　anyone　but　him　was　there。　McGee　stepped　forward；　shifted　uncertainly　from　foot　to　foot　for　a　bit；　then　hunkered。　
〃Mister；〃　he　said　in　a　quiet　voice；　and　Coffey　hushed　at　once。　McGee　looked　at　eyes　that　were　bloodshot　from　crying。　And　still　they　streamed；　as　if　someone　had　left　a　faucet　on　inside　him。　Those　eyes　wept；　and　yet　were　somehow　untouched　。。。　distant　and　serene。　I　thought　them　the　strangest　eyes　I　had　ever　seen　in　my　life；　and　McGee　felt　much　the　same。　〃Like　the　eyes　of　an　animal　that　never　saw　a　man　before；〃　he　told　a　reporter　named　Hammersmith　just　before　the　trial。　
〃Mister；　do　you　hear　me？〃　McGee　asked。　
Slowly；　Coffey　nodded　his　head。　Still　he　curled　his　arms　around　his　unspeakable　dolls；　their　chins　down　on　their　chests　so　their　faces　could　not　be　clearly　seen；　one　of　the　few　mercies　God　saw　fit　to　bestow　that　day。　
〃Do　you　have　a　name？〃　MeGee　asked。　
〃John　Coffey；〃　he　said　in　a　thick　and　tear…clotted　voice。　〃Coffey　like　the　drink；　only　not　spelled　the　same　way。〃　
McGee　nodded；　then　pointed　a　thumb　at　the　chest　pocket　of　Coffey's　jumper；　which　was　bulging。　It　looked　to　McGee　like　it　might　have　been　a　gun　…　not　that　a　man　Coffey's　size　would　need　a　gun　to　do　some　major　damage；　if　he　decided　to　go　off。　〃What's　that　in　there；　John　Coffey？　Is　that　maybe　a　heater？　A　pistol？〃　
〃Nosir；〃　Coffey　said　in　his　thick　voice；　and　those　strange　eyes　…　welling　tears　and　agonized　on　top；　distant　and　weirdly　serene　underneath；　as　if　the　true　John　Coffey　was　somewhere　else；　looking　out　on　some　other　landscape　where　murdered　little　girls