Chapter 14 Chapter VII

Just like that, the Chief was electrocuted, and the "President" was gone, and he went to Area C.Most of Cold Mountain's 150 lifers are staying there. The "President" spent twelve years in prison, drowning in the prison laundry in 1944.Not the laundry at Cold Mountain Prison, which closed in 1933.I guess it doesn't matter much to the inmates, as the inmates say, a wall is still a wall, and I think the electric guy in the execution stone room is always as deadly as the one in the cold mountain storage room . Speaking of "President", someone pushed his head into a vat of dry cleaning fluid and soaked him in it.When the guards dragged him out again, his face was completely deformed.They had to use his fingerprints for identification.Anyway, maybe the electricity guy is better... but then he wouldn't live another twelve years, would he?I doubt he could have thought that much himself, even though his lungs were suffocated for a long time in alkaline washing liquid in the last moments of his life.

The person who did it was never caught.I was no longer doing executions by then, but Harry Twillig wrote to me that "his sentence was the most commuted because he was white," Harry wrote, "but he did die in the end, No difference. I think it was a delayed execution, and it was carried out." We once had a quiet time in Block E after the "President" was gone.Harry and Dean were improvised elsewhere, and I, Brutal, and Percy stayed on the Green Mile for a short while.Actually, it was just me and Brutal, because Percy was alone.In fact, the young man was a genius at slacking off work.So, as Harry puts it, we used to "chat" with other people who dropped in here.But only when Percy wasn't around.That mouse shows up quite often.We would feed him, and he would sit there and eat, as solemn as King Solomon, and stare at us with those little oily eyes.

Those few weeks had been a happy one, peaceful and peaceful, even if Percy had had occasion to find fault.But the good times didn't last long.I had said that it was an unusually rainy and humid summer, and it was on a rainy Monday in late July that I was sitting on my bunk in an open cell, waiting for Delacroix to arrive. He came, with an unexpected bang.The door to the practice field slams open, flooding in with light, followed by the irritating rattling of chains, and a frightened voice, chattering English and Louisiana-French (Cold Mountain convicts have a jargon for calling it the Bayou dialect), and we hear Brutal shout, "Hey! Don't! For Christ's sake! Don't, Percy! "

I was sitting on Delacroix's bunk, dozing off, but I woke up immediately, my heart pounding.When Percy wasn't here, the noise was barely audible in Area E, and it was brought over by him like a stink. "Come on, you fucking fried French stick!" cried Percy, ignoring Brutal.He came over, grabbing a guy not much bigger than a bowling pin in one hand and holding the baton in the other.His teeth were bared by the forced ferocity of his face, which was still glowing red.It wasn't all anger, though.Delacroix followed him desperately, but because of the chains on his legs his steps were laborious, no matter how fast.Percy yanked him forward, and I hurried out of the cell, grabbing him before he fell, the first time Del and I had ever met.

Percy was yelling at him and holding his baton while I held him back with one hand.Brutal came running up, panting, as shocked and overwhelmed as I was. "Don't let him hit me again, please," Delacroix muttered, "" "Let me beat him, let me beat him!" cried Percy, lunging forward.He began hitting Delacroix on the shoulder with his baton.Delacroix threw up his arms, screaming, and the stick smacked the sleeve of his blue prison shirt.That night I saw him take off his shirt and the lad was bruised and it made me sick.He's a murderer and no one cares about him, but that's not what we do in E-Section either.Anyway, nothing of the kind happened when Percy wasn't here.

"Stop! Stop!" I yelled, "Come on! What the hell is going on, huh?" I tried to get between Delacroix and Percy, but it didn't work.Percy's stick continued to swing, falling on both sides of my body.Sooner or later he will miss me, and there will be riots in the corridor, who cares how tough he is behind the scenes.I can't help myself, and Brutal will surely get involved.You know, in a way, I want this to be over, too.This may change some of the conditions that will happen in the future. "Fucking firewood! I want to see if you dare to touch me with your hands, you disgusting ghost!"

call!call!call!At this moment Delacroix cried out sharply, bleeding from one ear.I gave up blocking, grabbed one of his shoulders, and dragged him into the cell, where he lay face down on the bed.Percy rushed up to me and gave him one last hard blow with the big head of the stick, and it was obvious that the blow was going to blow things up.That's when Brutal grabs him, I mean Percy, he grabs Percy by the shoulders and drags him out into the hallway. I yanked the cell door and pushed it back along the rail.Then I turned to face Percy, shocked, bewildered, and angry.Percy has been here for a few months, enough to make everyone here hate him, but this is the first time I've seen him so uncontrollably.

He stood there staring at me, not without any scruples.He is very cowardly in his heart, I never doubt that, but he is still very confident and feels that his backstage will support him.That's right.I think, even with what I've said, there are still people who don't understand how things got here, but they're probably people who only know the term Great Depression from history books.If you were born then, it was more than a word in a book, and, man, if you had a steady job, you would do anything to keep it. By this time, the redness in Percy's face had faded a little, but his expression was still excited, and his hair, which was always combed back and polished, fell down on his forehead.

"What the hell is that?" I asked. "I've never--never!--seen a prisoner beaten in my place!" "When I dragged the little bastard out of the car, he tried to grab my crotch," Percy said. "If he does it again, I'll beat him." I looked at him, too shocked to speak.I can't imagine that in the green land of God, this gay meat lover could actually behave like Percy just said. It stands to reason that on the Green Mile, even the most perverted prisoner would not feel sexually aroused when he was about to enter his cell. I looked back at Delacroix, who was curled up on the bed, his hands still raised, protecting his face from injury.He had handcuffs on his wrists and chains hanging between his ankles.So I turned to Percy, "Get out," I said, "I have something to tell you later."

"You're going to put it in the report?" he asked gruffly. "If that's the case, listen, I'll make a report too." "That's the end of the matter," I didn't want to say anything more, I also saw Brutal looking at me with disapproval, but I didn't care, "Come on, get out of here. Go to the administrative district and tell They arranged for you to read the letter, and arranged for you to help out in the parcel room." "Okay." He regained his composure, or rather found the mad arrogance to maintain his composure. He stroked his hair from his forehead to the back with his hands. His hands were white, soft and petite, making people feel like the slender hands of a girl in her early teens, and then he walked towards the cell.Seeing this, Delacroix hastily flinched away from the bed, muttering a mixture of English and vague French.

"It's not over, Pierre," he said, but he jumped up again when Brutal's huge hand fell on his shoulder. "That's right," said Brutal. "Come on, get some air." "Listen, you can't scare me," said Percy, "not at all." His eyes rolled to me. "Neither did you." But we did scare him, and it was clear from the look in his eyes Seeing this, and that made him even more dangerous.When a guy like Percy would do something, even he couldn't tell for sure. His immediate reaction was to turn away from us and walk down the corridor with haughty strides. When that skinny, half-bald little Frenchie tried to get his crotch out, he'd shown the world what he was doing, and now, for God's sake, he was leaving the field victorious. I gave another speech I had prepared, and it was all about how we got on the radio, and it was Masquerade and Sunday Girls, and things like if he behaved, we would Treat him well or something.That short sermon was not a great achievement of mine, but he was crying the whole time, sitting at the foot of the bed, huddled, trying to stay as far away from me as possible without disappearing into a corner.Every time I moved my body he flinched a bit, I figured he barely heard me, maybe that's okay, anyway, I don't think that particular sermon on church was going to work. A quarter of an hour later, I was back at my desk, and Brutus Howell was sitting there worried, biting the end of the pencil that came with the visitor book. "For god's sake, can you stop biting it so you don't get poisoned?" I asked. "Jesus Christ Almighty," he said, putting down his pencil, "I never imagined that such a fellow would lead prisoners to the district." "My dad used to say it's only three things," I said. "Well, I think your dad's got it all fucking wrong," Brutal said.But Dad must be right.It was funny how he yelled when John Coffey came in, and howled when "Billy the Wild" came in, but it really seemed like nothing happened.The story about Wild Billy, and how he tried to kill on the Green Mile, I'll tell you in advance, and I'll get to it in a minute. "What's the matter with Delacroix trying to dig out his crotch?" I asked. Brutal snorted and said, "He's chained to his ankles, and Percy was dragging too fast, that's all. Just like when you're about to stumble, you put your hands out and one of them just brushes the front of Percy's trousers. That's the whole thing." "Do you think Percy knows what's going on?" I asked. "Is he using it as an excuse because he just wanted to beat up Delacroix? To be remembered who's here where's the head?" Brutal nodded slowly, "Yes, I think that's probably the case." "Look, we've got to keep an eye on him," I said, running my hand through my hair in a nonchalant manner. "Jesus, I hate this, I hate him." "Me too, is there anything else you want to know, Paul? I can't understand him, he has a background, I know about it, yes, but why is he doing it with this fucking green? Did the whole state just choose here? Why not get a footman in the state legislature, or get a job under the lieutenant governor? With his connection, it must be easy to find a better job, why come What about here?" I shook my head, I don't know either.There are many things I don't know.I think I am too ignorant.

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