The Green Mile(100)

Chapter 28

2

When we brought John back to E Block that night, the gurney was a necessity instead of a luxury. I very much doubt if he could have made it the length of the tunnel on his own; it takes more energy to walk at a crouch than it does upright, and it was a damned low ceiling for the likes of John Coffey. I didn't like to think of him collapsing down there. How would we explain that, on top of trying to explain why we had dressed Percy in the madman's dinner-jacket and tossed him in the restraint room?

But we had the gurney - thank God - and John Coffey lay on it like a beached whale as we pushed him back to the storage-room stairs. He got down off it, staggered, then simply stood with his head lowered, breathing harshly. His skin was so gray he looked as if he'd been rolled in flour. I thought he'd be in the infirmary by noon... if he wasn't dead by noon, that was.

Brutal gave me a grim, desperate look. I gave it right back. 'We can't carry him up, but we can help him,' I said. 'You under his right arm, me under his left.'

'What about me?' Harry asked.

'Walk behind us. If he looks like going over backward, shove him forward again.'

'And if that don't work, kinda crouch down where you think he's gonna land and soften the blow,' Brutal said.

'Gosh,' Harry said thinly, 'you oughta go on the Orpheum Circuit, Brute, that's how funny you are.'

'I got a sense of humor, all right,' Brutal admitted.

In the end, we did manage to get John up the stairs. My biggest worry was that he might faint, but he didn't. 'Go around me and check to make sure the storage room's empty,' I gasped to Harry.

'What should I say if it's not?' Harry asked, squeezing under my arm. ' "Avon calling," and then pop back in here?'

'Don't be a wisenheimer,' Brutal said.

Harry eased the door open a little way and poked his head through. It seemed to me that he stayed that way for a very long time. At last he pulled back, looking almost cheerful. 'Coast's clear. And it's quiet.'

'Let's hope it stays that way,' Brutal said. 'Come on, John Coffey, almost home.'

He was able to cross the storage room under his own power, but we had to help him up the three steps to my office and then almost push him through the little door. When he got to his feet again, he was breathing stertorously, and his eyes had a glassy sheen. Also - I noticed this with real horror - the right side of his mouth had pulled down, making it look like Melinda's had, when we walked into her room and saw her propped up on her pillows.

Dean heard us and came in from the desk at the head of the Green Mile. 'Thank God! I thought you were never coming back, I'd half made up my mind you were caught, or the Warden plugged you, or - ' He broke off, really seeing John for the first time. 'Holy cats, what's wrong with him? He looks like he's dying!'

'He's not dying... are you, John?' Brutal said. His eyes flashed Dean a warning.

'Course not, I didn't mean actually dyin' - Dean gave a nervous little laugh - 'but, jeepers... '

'Never mind,' I said. 'Help us get him back to his cell.'

Once again we were foothills surrounding a mountain, but now it was a mountain that had suffered a few million years, worth of erosion, one that was blunted and sad. John Coffey moved slowly, breathing through his mouth like an old man who smoked too much, but at least he moved.

'What about Percy?' I asked. 'Has he been kicking up a ruckus?'

'Some at the start,' Dean said. 'Trying to yell through the tape you put over his mouth. Cursing, I believe.'

'Mercy me,' Brutal said. 'A good thing our tender ears were elsewhere.'

'Since then, just a mulekick at the door every once in awhile, you know.' Dean was so relieved to see us that he was babbling. His glasses slipped down to the end of his nose, which was shiny with sweat, and he pushed them back up. We passed Wharton's cell. That worthless young man was flat on his back, snoring like a sousaphone. His eyes were shut this time, all right.

Dean saw me looking and laughed.

'No trouble from that guy! Hasn't moved since he laid back down on his bunk. Dead to the world. As for Percy kicking the door every now and then, I never minded that a bit. Was glad of it, tell you the truth. If he didn't make any noise at all, I'd start wonderin if he hadn't choked to death on that gag you slapped over his cakehole. But that's not the best. You know the best? It's been as quiet as Ash Wednesday morning in New Orleans! Nobody's been down all night!' He said this last in a triumphant, gloating voice. 'We got away with it, boys! We did!'

That made him think of why we'd gone through the whole comedy in the first place, and he asked about Melinda.

'She's fine,' I said. We had reached John 's cell. What Dean had said was just starting to sink in: We got away with it, boys... we did.

'Was it like... you know... the mouse?' Dear asked. He glanced briefly at the empty cell when Delacroix had lived with Mr. Jingles, then down a the restraint room, which had been the mouse's seeming point of origin. His voice dropped, the way people's voices do when they enter a big church where even the silence seems to whisper. 'Was it a... ' He gulped. 'Shoot, you know what I mean - was it a miracle?'

The three of us looked at each other briefly, confirming what we already knew. 'Brought her back from her damn grave is what he did,' Harry said. 'Yeah, it was a miracle, all right.'