绿里奇迹(英文版)-第46部分

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test　stuff　I　could　find。　He's　like　us；　Ellie；　I　think…most　days　just　one　big　sore　place。　Still；　he　hasn't　lost　all　his　zest　for　living。　He　still　likes　his　spool；　and　he　still　likes　a　visit　from　his　old　blockmate。　Sixty　years　I　held　the　story　of　John　Coffey　inside　me；　sixty　and　more；　and　now　I've　told　it。　I　kind　of　had　the　idea　that's　why　he　came　back。　To　let　me　know　I　should　hurry　up　and　do　it　while　there　was　still　time。　Because　I'm　like　him　…　getting　there。〃　
〃Getting　where？〃　
〃Oh；　you　know〃；　I　said；　and　we　watched　Mr。　Jingles　for　awhile　in　silence。　Then；　for　no　reason　I　could　tell　you；　I　tossed　the　spool　again；　even　though　Elaine　had　asked　me　not　to。　Maybe　only　because；　in　a　way；　
him　chasing　a　spool　was　like　old　people　having　their　slow　and　careful　version　of　sex　…　you　might　not　want　to　watch　it；　you　who　are　young　and　convinced　that；　when　it　es　to　old　age；　an　exception　will　be　made　in　your　case；　but　they　still　want　to　do　it。　
Mr。　Jingles　set　off　after　the　rolling　spool　again；　clearly　with　pain；　and　just　as　clearly　（to　me；　at　least）　with　all　his　old；　obsessive　enjoyment。　
〃Ivy…glass　windows；〃　she　whispered；　watching　him　go。　
〃Ivy…glass　windows；〃　I　agreed；　smiling。　
〃John　Coffey　touched　the　mouse　the　way　he　touched　you。　He　didn't　just　make　you　better　of　what　was　wrong　with　you　then；　he　made　you　。。。　what；　resistant？〃　
〃That's　as　good　a　word　as　any；　I　think。〃　
〃Resistant　to　the　things　that　eventually　bring　the　rest　of　us　down　like　trees　with　termites　in　them。　You　。。。　and　him。　Mr。　Jingles。　When　he　cupped　Mr。　Jingles　in　his　hands。〃　
〃That's　right。　Whatever　power　worked　through　John　did　that　…　that's　what　I　think；　anyway　…　and　now　it's　finally　wearing　off。　The　termites　have　chewed　their　way　through　our　bark。　It　took　a　little　longer　than　it　does　ordinarily；　but　they　got　there。　I　may　have　a　few　more　years；　men　still　live　longer　than　mice；　I　guess；　but　Mr。　Jingles's　time　is　just　about　up。〃　
He　reached　the　spool；　limped　around　it；　fell　over　on　his　side；　breathing　rapidly　（we　could　see　his　respiration　moving　through　his　gray　fur　like　ripples）；　then　got　up　and　began　to　push　it　gamely　back　with　his　nose。　His　fur　was　gray；　his　gait　was　unsteady；　but　the　oilspots　that　were　his　eyes　gleamed　as　brightly　as　ever。　
〃You　think　he　wanted　you　to　write　what　you　have　written；'。；　she　said。　〃Is　that　so；　Paul？〃　
〃Not　Mr。　Jingles；〃　I　said。　〃Not　him　but　the　force　that　…　〃　
〃Why；　Paulie！　And　Elaine　Connelly；　too！〃　a　voice　cried　from　the　open　door。　It　was　loaded　with　a　kind　of　satiric　horror。　〃As　I　live　and　breathe！　What　in　the　goodness　can　you　two　be　doing　here？〃　
I　turned；　not　at　all　surprised　to　see　Brad　Dolan　there　in　the　doorway。　He　was　grinning　as　a　man　only　does　when　he　feels　he's　fooled　you　right　good　and　proper。　How　far　down　the　road　had　he　driven　after　his　shift　was　over？　Maybe　only　as　far　as　The　Wrangler　for　a　beer　or　two　and　maybe　a　lap…dance　before　ing　back。　
〃Get　out；〃　Elaine　said　coldly。　〃Get　out　right　now。'　
〃Don't　you　tell　me　to　get　out；　you　wrinkledy　old　bitch；〃　he　said；　still　smiling。　〃Maybe　you　can　tell　me　that　up　the　hill；　but　you　ain't　tip　the　hill　now。　This　ain't　where　you're　supposed　to　be。　This　is　off…limits。　Little　love…nest；　Paulie？　Is　that　what　you　got　here？　Kind　of　a　Playboy　pad　for　the　geriatric。。。〃　His　eyes　widened　as　he　at　last　saw　the　shed's　tenant。　〃What　the　fuck？〃　
I　didn't　turn　to　look。　I　knew　what　was　there；　for　one　thing；　for　another；　the　past　had　suddenly　doubled　over　the　present；　making　one　terrible　image；　three…dimensional　in　its　reality。　It　wasn't　Brad　Dolan　standing　there　in　the　doorway　but　Percy　Wetmore。　In　another　moment　he　would　rush　into　the　shed　and　crush　Mr。　Jingles　（who　no　longer　had　a　hope　of　outrunning　him）　under　his　shoe；　and　this　time　there　was　no　John　Coffey　to　bring　him　back　from　the　edge　of　death。　Any　more　than　there　had　been　a　John　Coffey　when　I　needed　him　on　that　rainy　day　in　Alabama。　
I　got　to　my　feet；　not　feeling　any　ache　in　my　joints　or　muscles　this　time；　and　rushed　toward　Dolan。　〃Leave　him　alone！〃　I　yelled。　〃You　leave　him　alone；　Percy；　or　by　God　I'll　〃　
〃Who　you　callin　Percy？〃　he　asked；　and　pushed　me　back　so　hard　I　almost　fell　over。　Elaine　grabbed　me；　although　it　must　have　hurt　her　to　do　so；　and　steadied　me。　〃Ain't　the　first　time　you　done　it；　either。　And　stop　peein　in　your　pants。　I　ain't　gonna　touch　im。　Don't　need　to。　That's　one　dead　rodent。〃　
I　turned；　thinking　that　Mr。　Jingles　was　only　lying　on　his　side　to　catch　his　breath；　the　way　he　sometimes　did。　He　was　on　his　side；　all　right；　but　that　rippling　motion　through　his　fur　had　stopped。　I　tried　to　convince　myself　that　I　could　still　see　it；　and　then　Elaine　burst　into　loud　sobs。　She　bent　painfully；　and　picked　up　the　mouse　I　had　first　seen　on　the　Green　Mile；　ing　up　to　the　duty　desk　as　fearlessly　as　a　man　approaching　his　peers　。。　。　or　his　friends。　He　lay　limp　on　her　hand。　His　eyes　were　dull　and　still。　He　was　dead。　
Dolan　grinned　unpleasantly；　revealing　teeth　which　had　had　very　little　acquaintance　with　a　dentist。　〃Aw；　sakes；　now！〃　he　said。　〃Did　we　just　lose　the　family　pet？　Should　we　have　a　little　funeral；　with　paper　flowers　and　…　〃　
〃SHUT　up！〃　Elaine　screamed　at　him；　so…loudly　and　so　powerfully　that　he　backed　away　a　step；　the　smile　slipping　off　his　face。　〃GETOUT　OF　HERE！　GET　OUT　OR　YOU'LL　NEVER　WORK　ANOTHER　DAY　HERE！　NOT　ANOTHER　HOUR！　I　SWEAR　IT！〃　
〃You　won't　be　able　to　get　so　much　as　a　slice　of　bread　on　a　breadline；〃　I　said；　but　so　low　neither　of　them　heard　me。　I　couldn't　take　my　eyes　off　Mr。　Jingles；　lying　on　Elaine's　palm　like　the　world's　smallest　bearskin　rug。　
Brad　thought　about　ing　back　at　her；　calling　her　bluff　he　was　right；　the　shed　wasn't　exactly　approved　territory　for　the　Georgia　Pines　inmates；　even　I　knew　that　much　…　and　then　didn't。　He　was；　at　heart；　a　coward；　just　like　Percy。　And　he　might　have　checked　on　her　claim　that　her　grandson　was　Somebody　Important　and　had　discovered　it　was　a　true　claim。　Most　of　all；　perhaps；　his　curiosity　had　been　satisfied；　his　thirst　to　know　slaked。　And　after　all　his　wondering；　the　mystery　had　turned　out　not　to　be　such　of　a　much。　An　old　man's　pet　mouse　had　apparently　been　living　in　the　shed。　Now　it　had　croaked；　had　a　heart　attack　or　something　while　pushing　a　colored　spool。　
〃Don't　know　why　you're　getting　so　het　up；〃　he　said。　〃Either　of　you。　You　act　like　it　was　a　dog；　or　something。〃　
〃Get　out；〃　she　spat。　〃Get　out；　you　ignorant　man。　What　little　mind　you　have　is　ugly　and　misdirected。〃　
He　flushed　dully；　the　spots　where　his　high　school　pimples　had　been　filling　in　a　darker　red。　There　had　been　a　lot　of　them；　by　the　look。　〃I'll　go；〃　he　said；　〃but　when　you　e　down　here　tomorrow。。。　Paulie　。。。　you're　going　to　find　a　new　lock　on　this　door。　This　place　is　off…limits　to　the　residents；　no　matter　what　bad…tempered　things　old　Mrs。　My　Shit　Don't　Stink　has　to　say　about　me。　Look　at　the　floor！　Boards　all　warped　and　rotted！　If　you　was　to　go　through；　your　scrawny　old　leg'd　be　apt　to　snap　like　a　piece　of　kindling。　So　just　take　that　dead　mouse；　if　you　want　it；　and　get　gone。　The　Love　Shack　is　hereby　closed。〃　
He　turned　and　strode　away；　looking　like　a　man　who　believes　he's　earned　at　least　a　draw。　I　waited　until　he　was　gone；　and　then　gently　took　Mr。　Jingles　from　Elaine。　My　eyes　happened　on　the　bag　with　the　peppermint　candies　in　it；　and　that　did　it　…　the　tears　began　to　e。　I　don't　know；　I　just　cry　easier　somehow　these　days。　
〃Would　you　help　me　to　bury　an　old　friend？〃　I　asked　Elaine　when　Brad　Dolan's　heavy　footsteps　had　faded　away。　
〃Yes；　Paul。〃　She　put　her　arm　around　my　waist　and　laid　her　head　against　my　shoulder。　With　one　old　and　twisted　finger；　she　stroked　Mr。　Jingles's　moveless　side。　〃I　would　be　happy　to　do　that。〃　
And　so　we　borrowed　a　trowel　from　the　gardening　shed　and　we　buried　Del's　pet　mouse　as　the　afternoon　shadows　drew　long　through　the　trees；　and　then　we　walked　back　to　get　our　supper　and　take　up　what　remained　of　our　lives。　And　it　was　Del　I　found　myself　thinking　of；　Del　kneeling　on　the　green　carpet　of　my　office　with　his　hands　folded　and　his　bald　pate　gleaming　in　the　lamplight；　Del　who　had　asked　us　to　take　care　of　Mr。　Jingles；　to　make　sure　the　bad　'un　wouldn't　hurt　him　anymore。　Except　the　bad　'un　hurts　us　all　in　the　end；　doesn't　he？　
〃Paul？〃　Elaine　asked。　Her　voice　was　both　kind　and　exhausted。　Even　digging　a　grave　with　a　trowel　and　laying　a　mouse　to　rest　in　it　is　a　lot　of　excitement　for　old　sweeties　like　us；　I　guess。　〃Are　you　all　right？〃　
My　arm　was　around　her　　fine；〃　I　said。　
〃Look；〃　she　said。　〃It's　going　to　be　a　beautiful　sunset。　Shall　we　stay　out　and　watch　it？〃　
〃All　right；〃　I　said；　and　we　stayed　there　on　the　las　around　each　other's　waists；　first　watching　the　bright　colors　e　up　in　the　sky；　then　watching　them　fade　to　ashes　of　gray。　
Sainte　Marie；　Mere　de　Dieu；　priez　pour　nous；　pauvres　pecheurs；　maintenant　et　a　l'heure　de　notre　mort。　
Amen。　
13。　
1956。　
Alabama　in　the　rain。　
Our　third　grandchild；　a　beautiful　girl　named　Tessa；　was　graduating　from　the　University　of　Florida。　We　went　down　on　a　Greyhound。　Sixty…four；　I　was　then；　a　mere　stripling。　Jan　was　fifty…nine；　and　as　beautiful　as　ever。　To　me；　at　least。　We　were　sitting　in　the　seat　all　the　way　at　the　back；　and　she　was　fussing　at　me　for　not　buying　her　a　new　camera　to　record　the　blessed　event。　I　opened　my　mouth　to　tell　her　we　had　a　day　to　shop　in　after　we　got　down　there；　and　she　could　have　a　new　camera　if　she　wanted　one；　it　would　fit　the　budget　all　right；　and　furthermore　I　thought　she　was　just　fussing　because　she　was　bored　with　the　ride　and　didn't　like　the　book　she'd　brought。　A　Perry　Mason；　it　was。　That's　when　everything　in　my　memory　goes　white　for　a　bit；　like　film　that's　been　left　out　in　the　sun。　
Do　you　remember　that　accident？　I　suppose　a　few　folks　reading　this　might；　but　mostly　not。　Yet　it　made　front…page　headlines　from　coast　to　coast　when　it　happened。　We　were　outside　Birmingham　in　a　driving　rain；　Janice　plaining　about　her　old　camera；　and　a　tire　blew。　The　bus　waltzed　sideways　on　the　wet　pavement　and　was　hit　broadside　by　a　truck　hauling　fertilizer。　The　truck　slammed　the　bus　into　a　bridge　abutment　at　better　than　sixty　miles　an　hour；　crushed　it　against　the　concrete；　and　broke　it　in　half。　Two　shiny；　rain…streaked　pieces　spun　in　two　opposite　directions；　the　one　with　the　diesel　tank　in　it　exploding　and　sending　a　red…black　fireball　up　into　the　rainygray　sky。　At　one　moment　Janice　was　plaining　about　her　old　Kodak；　and　at　the　very　next　I　found　myself　lying　on　the　far　side　of　the　underpass　in　the　rain　and　staring　at　a　pair　of　blue　nylon　panties　that　had　spilled　out　of　someone's　suitcase。　WEDNESDAY　was　stitched　on　them　in　black　thread。　There　were　burst…open　suitcases　everywhere。　And　bodies。　And　parts　of　bodies。　There　were　seventy…three　people　on　that　bus；　and　only　four　survived　the　crash。　I　was　one　of　them；　the　only　one　not　seriously　hurt。　
I　got　up　and　staggered　among　the　burst…open　suitcases　and　shattered　people；　crying　out　my　wife's　name。　I　kicked　aside　an　alarm　clock；　I　remember　that；　and　I　remember　seeing　a　dead　boy　of　about　thirteen　lying　in　a　strew　of　glass　with　P。F。　Flyers　on　his　feet　and　half　his　face　gone。　I　felt　the　rain　beating　on　my　own　face；　then　I　went　through　the　underpass　and　it　was　gone　for　awhile。　When　I　came　out　on　the　other　side　it　was　there　again；　hammering　my　cheeks　and　forehead。　Lying　by　the　shattered　cab　of　the　overturned　fertilizer　truck；　I　saw　Jan。　I　recognized　her　by　her　red　dress　…　it　was　her　second…best。　The　best　she　had　been　saving　for　the　actual　graduation；　of　course。　
She　wasn't　quite　dead。　I　have　often　thought　it　would　have　been　better　…　for　me；　if　not　for　her　…　if　she　had　been　killed　instantly。　It　might　have　made　it　possible　for　me　to　let　her　go　a　little　sooner；　a　little　more　naturally。　Or　perhaps　I'm　only　kidding　myself　about　that。　All　I　know　for　sure　is　that　I　have　never　let　her　go；　not　really。　
She　was　trembling　all　over。　One　of　her　shoes　had　e　off　and　I　could　see　her　foot　jittering。　Her　eyes　were　open　but　blank；　the　left　one　full　of　blood；　and　as　I　fell　on　my　knees　next　to　her　in　the　smoky…smelling　rain；　all　I　could　think　of　was　that　jitter　meant　she　was　being　electrocuted；　she　was　being　electrocuted　and　I　had　to　hold　the　roll　before　it　was　too　late。　
〃Help　me！〃　I　screamed。　〃Help　me；　someone　help　me！〃　
No　one　helped；　no　one　even　came。　The　rain　pounded　down　…　a　hard；　soaking　rain　that　flattened　
My　still…black　hair　against　my　skull　…　and　I　held　her　in　my　arms　and　no　one　came。　Her　blank　eyes　looked　up　at　me　with　a　kind　of　dazed　intensity；　and　blood　poured　from　the　back　of　her　crushed　head　in　a　freshet。　Beside　one　trembling；　mindlessly　spasming　hand　was　a　piece　of　chromed　steel　with　the　letters　GREY　on　it。　Next　to　that　was　roughly　one　quarter　of　what　had　once　been　a　businessman　in　a　brown　Wool　suit。　
〃Help　me！〃　I　screamed　again；　and　turned　toward　the　underpass；　and　there　I　saw　John　Coffey　standing　in　the　shadows；　only　a　shadow　himself；　a　big　man　with　long；　dangling　arms　and　a　bald　head。　〃John！〃　I　screamed。　〃Oh　John　；　please　help　me！　Please　help　Janice！〃　
Rain　ran　into　my　eyes。　I　blinked　it　away；　and　he　was　gone。　I　could　see　the　shadows　I　had　mistaken　for　John　。。。　but　it　hadn't　been　only　shadows。　I'm　sure　of　that。　He　was　there。　Maybe　only　as　a　ghost；　but　he　was　there；　the　rain　on　his　face　mixing　with　the　endless　flow　of　his　tears。　
She　died　in　my　arms；　there　in　the　rain　beside　that　fertilizer　truck　with　the　smell　of　burning　diesel　fuel　in　my　nose。　There　was　no　moment　of　awareness　…　the　eyes　clearing；　the　lips　moving　in　some　whispered　final　declaration　of　love。　There　was　a　kind　of　shivery　clench　in　the　flesh　beneath　my　hands；　and　then　she　was　gone。　I　thought　of　Melinda　Moores　for　the　first　time　in　years；　then；　Melinda　sitting　up　in　the　bed　where　all　the　doctors　at　Indianola　General　Hospital　had　believed　she　would　die；　Melinda　Moores　looking　fresh　and　rested　and　peering　at　John　Coffey　with　bright；　wondering　eyes。　Melinda　saying　I　dreamed　you　were　wandering　in　the　dark；　and　so　was　I。　We　found　each　other。　
I　put　my　wife's　poor；　mangled　head　down　on　the　wet　pavement　of　the　interstate　highway；　got　to　my　feet　（it　was　easy；　I　had　a　little　cut　on　the　side　of　my　left　hand；　but　that　was　all）；　and　screamed　his　name　into　the　shadows　of　the　underpass。　
〃John！　JOHN　COFFEY！　WHERE　ARE　YOU；　BIG　BOY？〃　
I　walked　toward　those　shadows；　kicking　aside　a　teddy…bear　with　blood　on　its　fur；　a　pair　of　steel　rimmed　eyeglasses　with　one　shattered　lens；　a　severed　hand　with　a　gar　ring　on　the　pinky　finger。　〃You　saved　Hal's　wife；　why　not　my　wife？　Why　not　Janice？　WHY　NOT　MY　JANICE？〃　
No　answer；　only　the　smell　of　burning　diesel　and　burning　bodies；　only　the　rain　falling　ceaselessly　out　of　the　gray　sky　and　drumming　on　the　cement　while　my　wife　lay　dead　on　the　road　behind　me。　No　answer　then　and　no　answer　now。　But　of　course　it　wasn't　only　Melly　Moores　that　John　Coffey　saved　in　1932；　or　Del's　mouse；　the　one　that　could　do　that　cute　trick　with　the　spool　and　seemed　to　be　looking　for　Del　long　before　Del　showed　up　。。。　long　before　John　Coffey　showed　up；　either。　
John　saved　me；　too；　and　years　later；　standing　in　the　pouring　Alabama　rain　and　looking　for　a　man　who　wasn't　there　in　the　shadows　of　an　underpass；　standing　amid　the　spilled　luggage　and　the　ruined　dead；　I　learned　a　terrible　thing：　sometimes　there　is　absolutely　no　difference　at　all　between　salvation　and　damnation。　
I　felt　one　or　the　other　pouring　through　me　as　we　sat　together　on