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greenmile-第42章

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onna have at least twenty…four hours to remind yourself never to sit with your back to the door; and to never hold onto no aces and eights。〃 
 〃Lemme out of it;〃 Wharton said。 He looked from Brutal to Harry to me; the red creeping back into his face。 〃I'll be good … I tell you I've learned my lesson。 I 。。。 I 。。。 ummmmmahhhhhhh…!〃 
 He suddenly collapsed; half of him in the cell; half of him on the played…out lino of the Green Mile; kicking his feet and bucking his body。 
 〃Holy Christ; he's pitchin a fit;〃 Percy whispered。 
 〃Sure; and my sister's the Whore of Babylon;〃 Brutal said。 〃She dances the hootchie…kootchie for Moses on Saturday nights in a long white veil。〃 He bent down and hooked a hand into one of Wharton's armpits。 I got the other one。 Wharton threshed between us like a hooked fish。 Carrying his jerking body; listening to him grunt from one end and fart from the other was one of my life's less pleasant experiences。 
 I looked up and met John Coffey's eyes for a second。 They were bloodshot; and his dark cheeks were wet。 He had been crying again。 I thought of Hammersmith making that biting gesture with his hand and shivered a little。 Then I turned my attention back to Wharton。 
 We threw him into the restraint room like he was cargo; and watched him lie on the floor; bucking hard in the straitjacket next to the drain we had once checked for the mouse which had started its E Block life as Steamboat Willy。 
 〃I don't much care if he swallows his tongue or something and dies;〃 Dean said in his hoarse and raspy voice; 〃but think of the paperwork; boys! It'd never end。〃 
 〃Never mind the paperwork; think of the hearing;〃 Harry said gloomily。 〃We'd lose our damned jobs。 End up picking peas down Mississippi。 You know what Mississippi is; don't you? It's the Indian word for asshole。〃 
 〃He ain't gonna die; and he ain't gonna swallow his tongue; either;〃 Brutal said。 〃When we open this door tomorrow; he's gonna be just fine。 Take my word for it。〃 
 That's the way it was; too。 The man we took back to his cell the next night at nine was quiet; pallid; and seemingly chastened。 He walked with his head down; made no effort to attack anyone when the straitjacket came off; and only stared listlessly at me when I told him it would go just the same the next time; and he just had to ask himself how much time he wanted to spend pissing in his pants and eating baby…food a spoonful at a time。 
 〃I'll be good; boss; I learnt my lesson;〃 he whispered in a humble little voice as we put him back in his cell。 Brutal looked at me and winked。 
 Late the next day; William Wharton; who was Billy the Kid to himself and never that bushwhacking John Law Wild Bill Hickok; bought a moon…pie from Old Toot…Toot。 Wharton had been expressly forbidden any such merce; but the afternoon crew was posed of floaters; as I think I have said; and the deal went down。 Toot himself undoubtedly knew better; but to him the snack…wagon was always a case of a nickel is a nickel; a dime is a dime; I'd sing another chorus but I don't have the time。 
 That night; when Brutal ran his check…round; Wharton was standing at the door of his cell。 He waited until Brutal looked up at him; then slammed the heels of his hands into his bulging cheeks and shot a thick and amazingly long stream of chocolate sludge into Brutal's face。 He had crammed the entire moon…pie into his trap; held it there until it liquefied; and then used it like chewing tobacco。 
 Wharton fell back on his bunk wearing a chocolate goatee; kicking his legs and screaming with laughter and pointing to Brutal; who was wearing a lot more than a goatee。 〃Li'l Black Sambo; yassuh; boss; yassuh; howdoo you do?〃 Wharton held his belly and howled。 〃Gosh; if it had only been ka…ka! I wish it had been! If I'd had me some of that…〃 
 〃You are ka…ka;〃 Brutal growled; 〃and I hope you got your bags packed; because you're going back down to your favorite toilet。〃 
 Once again Wharton was bundled into the strait jacket; and once again we stowed him in the room with the soft walls。 Two days; this time。 Sometimes we could hear him raving in there; sometimes we could hear him promising that he'd be good; that he'd e to his senses and be good; and sometimes we could hear him screaming that he needed a doctor; that he was dying。 Mostly; though; he was silent。 And he was silent when we took him out again; too; walking; back to his cell with his head down and his eyes dull; not responding when Harry said; 〃Remember; it's up to you。〃 He would be all right for a while; and then he'd try something else。 There was nothing he did that hadn't been tried before (well; except for the thing with the moon…pie; maybe; even Brutal admitted that was pretty original); but his sheer persistence was scary。 I was afraid that sooner or later someone's attention might lapse and there would be hell to pay。 And the situation might continue for quite awhile; because somewhere he had a lawyer who was beating the bushes; telling folks how wrong it would be to kill this fellow upon whose brow the dew of youth had not yet dried … and who was; incidentally; as white as old Jeff Davis。 There was no sense plaining about it; because keeping Wharton out of the chair was his lawyer's job。 Keeping him safely jugged was ours。 And in the end; Old Sparky would almost certainly have him; lawyer or no lawyer。 
 6。 
 That was the week Melinda Moores; the warden's wife; came home from Indianola。 The doctors were done with her; they had their interesting; newfangled X…ray photographs of the tumor in her head; they had documented the weakness in her hand and the paralyzing pains that racked her almost constantly by then; and were done with her。 They gave her husband a bunch of pills with morphine in them and sent Melinda home to die。 Hal Moores had some sick…leave piled up … not a lot; they didn't give you a lot in those days; but he took what he had so he could help her do what she had to do。 
 My wife and I went to see her three days or so after she came home。 I called ahead and Hal said yes; that would be fine; Melinda was having a pretty good day and would enjoy seeing us。 
 〃I hate calls like this;〃 I said to Janice as we drove to the little house where the Mooreses had spent most of their marriage。 
 〃So does everyone; honey;〃 she said; and patted my hand。 〃We'll bear up under it; and so will she。〃 
 〃I hope so。〃 
 We found Melinda in the sitting room; planted in a bright slant of unseasonably warm October sun; and my first shocked thought was that she had lost ninety pounds。 She hadn't; of course … if she'd lost that much weight; she hardly would have been there at all … but that was my brain's initial reaction to what my eyes were reporting。 Her face had fallen away to show the shape of the underlying skull; and her skin was as white as parchment。 There were dark circles under her eyes。 And it was the first time I ever saw her in her rocker when she didn't have a lapful of sewing or afghan squares or rags for braiding into a rug。 She was just sitting there。 Like a person in a train…station。 
 〃Melinda;〃 my wife said warmly。 I think she was as shocked as I was … more; perhaps … but she hid it splendidly; as some women seem abl
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