绿里奇迹(英文版)-第12章

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adder；　the　one　that　was　usually　kept　in　the　storage　room；　which　also　happened　to　serve　as　the　final　stop　for　the　state's　condemned。　There　was　a　shelf　jutting　out　from　the　back　of　the　ladder　near　the　top；　the　sort　of　thing　a　workman　would　use　to　hold　his　toolkit　or　a　painter　the　bucket　he　was　working　out　of。　There　was　a　flashlight　on　it。　Brutal　handed　it　to　me。　
〃Get　on　up　there。　You're　shorter　than　me；　so　you'll　have　to　go　pretty　near　all　the　way；　but　I'll　hold　your　legs！〃　
〃I'm　ticklish　down　there；〃　I　said；　starting　up。　〃Especially　my　knees！'　
〃I'll　mind　that！〃　
〃Good；〃　I　said；　〃because　a　broken　hip's　too　high　a　price　to　pay　in　order　to　discover　the　origins　of　a　single　mouse。〃　
〃Huh？〃　
〃Never　mind。〃　My　head　was　up　by　the　caged　light　in　the　center　of　the　ceiling　by　then；　and　I　could　feel　the　ladder　wiggling　a　little　under　my　weight。　Outside；　I　could　hear　the　winter　wind　moaning。　〃Just　hold　onto　me。〃　
〃I　got　you；　don't　worry。〃　He　gripped　my　calves　firmly；　and　I　went　up　one　more　step。　Now　the　top　of　my　head　was　less　than　a　foot　from　the　ceiling；　and　I　could　see　the　cobwebs　a　few　enterprising　spiders　had　spun　in　the　crotches　where　the　roof　beams　came　together。　I　shone　the　light　around　but　didn't　see　anything　worth　the　risk　of　being　up　here。　
'No；〃　Brutal　said。　〃You're　looking　too　far　away；　Paul。　Look　to　your　left；　where　those　two　beams　e　together。　You　see　them？　One's　a　little　discolored！'　
〃I　see。〃　
〃Shine　the　light　on　the　join！〃　
I　did；　and　saw　what　he　wanted　me　to　see　almost　right　away。　The　beams　had　been　pegged　together　with　dowels；　half　a　dozen　of　them；　and　one　was　gone；　leaving　a　black；　circular　hole　the　size　of　a　quarter。　I　looked　at　it；　then　looked　doubtfully　back　over　my　shoulder　at　Brutal。　〃It　was　a　small　mouse；〃　I　said；　〃but　that　small？　Man；　I　don't　think　so。〃　
〃But　that's　where　he　went；〃　Brutal　said。　〃I'm　just　as　sure　as　houses。〃　
〃I　don't　see　how　you　can　be。〃　
〃Lean　closer　…　don't　worry　I　got　you　…　and　take　a　whiff。〃　
I　did　as　he　asked；　groping　with　my　left　hand　for　one　of　the　other　beams；　and　feeling　a　little　better　when　I　had　hold　of　it。　The　wind　outside　gusted　again；　air　puffed　out　of　that　hole　and　into　my　face。　I　could　smell　the　keen　breath　of　a　winter　night　in　the　border　South　。。。　and　something　else；　as　well。　
The　smell　of　peppermint。　
Don't　let　nothing　happen　to　Mr。　Jingles；　I　could　hear　Delacroix　saying　in　a　voice　that　wouldn't　stay　steady　I　could　hear　that；　and　I　could　feel　the　warmth　of　Mr。　Jingles　as　the　Frenchman　handed　it　to　me；　just　a　mouse；　smarter　than　most　of　the　species；　no　doubt；　but　still　just　a　mouse　for　a'　that　and　a'　that。　Don't　let　that　bad　'un　hurt　my　mouse；　he'd　said；　and　I　had　promised；　as　I　always　promised　them　at　the　end　when　walking　the　Green　Mile　was　no　longer　a　myth　or　a　hypothesis　but　something　they　really　had　to　do。　Mail　this　letter　to　my　brother；　who　I　haven't　seen　for　twenty　years？　I　promise。　Say　fifteen　Hail　Marys　for　my　soul？　I　promise。　Let　me　die　under　my　spirit…name　and　see　that　it　goes　on　my　tombstone？　I　promise。　It　was　the　way　you　got　them　to　go　and　be　good　about　it；　the　way　you　saw　them　into　the　chair　sitting　at　the　end　of　the　Green　Mile　with　their　sanity　intact。　I　couldn't　keep　all　of　those　promises；　of　course；　but　I　kept　the　one　I　made　to　Delacroix。　As　for　the　Frenchman　himself；　there　had　been　hell　to　pay。　The　bad　'un　had　hurt　Delacroix；　hurt　him　plenty。　Oh；　I　know　what　he　did；　all　right；　but　no　one　deserved　what　happened　to　Eduard　Delacroix　when　he　fell　into　Old　Sparky's　savage　embrace。　
A　smell　of　peppermint。　
And　something　else。　Something　back　inside　that　hole。　
I　took　a　pen　out　of　my　breast　pocket　with　my　right　hand；　still　holding　onto　the　beam　with　my　left；　not　worried　anymore　about　Brutal　inadvertently　tickling　my　sensitive　knees。　I　unscrewed　the　pen's　cap　onehanded；　then　poked　the　nib　in　and　teased　something　out。　It　was　a　tiny　splinter　of　wood　which　had　been　tinted　a　bright　yellow；　and　I　heard　Delacroix's　voice　again；　so　clearly　this　time　that　his　ghost　might　have　been　lurking　in　that　room　with　us　…　the　one　where　William　Wharton　spent　so　much　of　his　time。　
Hey；　you　guys！　the　voice　said　this　time…the　laughing；　amazed　voice　of　a　man　who　has　forgotten；　at　least　for　a　little　while；　where　he　is　and　what　awaits　him。　e　and　see　what　Mr。　Jingles　can　do！　
〃Christ；〃　I　whispered。　I　felt　as　if　the　wind　had　been　knocked　out　of　me。　
〃You　found　another　one；　didn't　you？〃　Brutal　asked。　〃I　found　three　or　four。〃　
I　came　down　and　shone　the　light　on　his　big；　outstretched　palm。　Several　splinters　of　wood　were　scattered　there；　like　jackstraws　for　elves。　Two　were　yellow；　like　the　one　I　had　found。　One　was　green　and　one　was　red。　They　hadn't　been　painted　but　colored；　with　wax　Crayola　crayons。　
〃Oh；　boy；〃　I　said　in　a　low；　shaky　voice。　〃Oh；　hey。　It's　pieces　of　that　spool；　isn't　it？　But　why？　Why　up　there？〃　
〃When　I　was　a　kid　I　wasn't　big　like　I　am　now；〃　Brutal　said。　〃I　got　most　of　my　growth　between　fifteen　and　seventeen。　Until　then　I　was　a　shrimp。　And　when　I　went　off　to　school　the　first　time；　I　felt　as　small　as　。。。　why；　as　small　as　a　mouse；　I　guess　you'd　say。　I　was　scared　to　death。　So　you　know　what　I　did？〃　
I　shook　my　head。　Outside；　the　wind　gusted　again。　In　the　angles　formed　by　the　beams；　cobwebs　shook　in　feathery　drafts；　like　rotted　lace。　Never　had　I　been　in　a　place　that　felt　so　nakedly　haunted；　and　it　was　right　then；　as　we　stood　there　looking　down　at　the　splintered　remains　of　the　spool　which　had　caused　so　much　trouble；　that　my　head　began　to　know　what　my　heart　had　understood　ever　since　John　Coffey　had　walked　the　Green　Mile：　I　couldn't　do　this　job　much　longer。　Depression；　or　no　Depression；　I　couldn't　watch　many　more　men　walk　through　my　office　to　their　deaths。　Even　one　more　might　be　too　many。　
〃I　asked　my　mother　for　one　of　her　hankies；〃　Brutal　said。　〃So　when　I　felt　weepy　and　small；　I　could　sneak　it　out　and　smell　her　perfume　and　not　feel　so　bad。〃　
〃You　think　…　what？　…　that　mouse　chewed　off　some　of　that　colored　spool　to　remember　Delacroix　by？　That　a　mouse　…〃　
He　looked　up。　I　thought　for　a　moment　I　saw　tears　in　his　eyes；　but　I　guess　I　was　probably　wrong　about　that。　〃I　ain't　saying　nothing；　Paul。　But　I　found　them　up　there；　and　I　smelled　peppermint；　same　as　you　…　you　know　you　did。　And　I　can't　do　this　no　more。　I　won't　do　this　no　more。　Seeing　one　more　man　in　that　chair'd　just　about　kill　me。　I'm　going　to　put　in　for　a　transfer　to　Boys'　Correctional　on　Monday。　If　I　get　it　before　the　next　one；　that's　fine。　If　I　don't；　I'll　resign　and　go　back　to　farming。〃　
〃What　did　you　ever　farm；　besides　rocks？〃　
〃It　don't　matter。〃　
〃I　know　it　doesn't；〃　I　said。　〃I　think　I'll　put　in　with　you。…〃　
He　looked　at　me　close；　making　sure　I　wasn't　just　having　some　sport　with　him；　then　nodded　as　if　it　was　a　settled　thing。　The　wind　gusted　again；　strong　enough　this　time　to　make　the　beams　creak　and　settle；　and　we　both　looked　around　uneasily　at　the　padded　walls。　I　think　for　a　moment　we　could　hear　William　Wharton　…　not　Billy　the　Kid；　not　him；　he　had　been　〃Wild　Bill〃　to　us　from　his　first　day　on　the　block　…　screaming　and　laughing；　telling　us　we　were　going　to　be　damned　glad　to　be　rid　of　him；　telling　us　we　would　never　forget　him。　About　those　things　he　was　right。　
As　for　what　Brutal　and　I　agreed　on　that　night　in　the　restraint　room；　it　turned　out　just　that　way　It　was　almost　as　if　we　had　taken　a　solemn　oath　on　those　tiny　bits　of　colored；　wood。　Neither　of　us　ever　took　part　in　another　execution。　John　Coffey　was　the　last。　



Part　Two：
The　Mouse　on　the　Mile　
1。　
The　nursing　home　where　I　am　crossing　my　last　bunch　of　t's　and　dotting　my　last　mess　of　i's　is　called　Georgia　Pines。　It's　about　sixty　miles　from　Atlanta　and　about　two　hundred　light…years　from　life　as　most　people　…　people　under　the　age　of　eighty；　let's　say　…　live　it。　You　who　are　reading　this　want　to　be　careful　that　there　isn't　a　place　like　it　waiting　in　your　future。　It's　not　a　cruel　place；　not　for　the　most　part；　there's　cable　TV；　the　food's　good　（although　there's　damned　little　a　man　can　chew）；　but　in　its　way；　it's　as　much　of　a　killing　bottle　as　E　Block　at　Cold　Mountain　ever　was。　
There's　even　a　fellow　here　who　reminds　me　a　little　of　Percy　Wetmore；　who　got　his　job　on　the　Green　Mile　because　he　was　related　to　the　governor　of　the　state。　I　doubt　if　this　fellow　is　related　to　anyone　important；　even　though　he　acts　that　way。　Brad　Dolan；　his　name　is。　He's　always　bing　his　hair；　like　Percy　was；　and　he's　always　got　something　to　read　stuffed　into　his　back　pocket。　With　Percy　it　was　magazines　like　Argosy　and　Men's　Adventure；　with　Brad　it's　these　little　paperbacks　called　Gross　jokes　and　Sick　jokes。　He's　always　asking　people　why　the　Frenchman　crossed　the　road　or　how　many　Polacks　it　takes　to　screw　in　a　lightbulb　or　how　many　pallbearers　there　are　at　a　Harlem　funeral。　Like　Percy；　Brad　is　a　dimwit　who　thinks　nothing　is　funny　unless　it's　mean。　
Something　Brad　said　the　other　day　struck　me　as　actually　smart；　but　I　don't　give　him　a　lot　of　credit　for　it；　even　a　stopped　clock　is　right　twice　a　day；　the　proverb　has　it。　〃You're　just　lucky　you　don't　have　that　Alzheimer's　disease；　Paulie；〃　was　what　he　said。　I　hate　him　calling　me　that；　Paulie；　but　he　goes　on　doing　it；　anyway；　I've　given　up　asking　him　to　quit。　There　are　other　sayings　…　not　quite　proverbs　…