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"
I
'm
sorry
.
But
I
'm
right
,
are
n't
I
?
"
"
Yeah
,
"
I
said
.
Except
we
got
away
with
the
--
"
The
what
?
You
could
n't
call
it
an
escape
,
and
furlough
was
n't
right
,
either
.
"
--
the
field
trip
.
Not
even
Percy
can
tell
them
about
that
,
if
he
ever
comes
back
.
"
"
If
he
comes
back
,
"
she
echoed
.
"
How
likely
is
that
?
"
I
shook
my
head
to
indicate
I
had
no
idea
.
But
I
did
,
actually
;
I
did
n't
think
he
was
going
to
come
back
,
not
in
1932
,
not
in
"
42
or
"
52
,
either
.
In
that
I
was
right
.
Percy
Wetmore
stayed
at
Briar
Ridge
until
it
burned
flat
in
1944
.
Seventeen
inmates
were
killed
in
that
fire
,
but
Percy
was
n't
one
of
them
.
Still
silent
and
blank
in
every
regard
--
the
word
I
learned
to
describe
that
state
is
catatonic
--
he
was
led
out
by
one
of
the
guards
long
before
the
fire
reached
his
wing
.
He
went
on
to
another
institution
--
I
do
n't
remember
the
name
and
guess
it
does
n't
matter
,
anyway
--
and
died
in
1965
.
So
far
as
I
know
,
the
last
time
he
ever
spoke
was
when
he
told
us
we
could
clock
him
out
at
quitting
time
...
unless
we
wanted
to
explain
why
he
had
left
early
.
The
irony
was
that
we
never
had
to
explain
much
of
anything
.
Percy
had
gone
crazy
and
shot
William
Wharton
to
death
.
That
was
what
we
told
,
and
so
far
as
it
went
,
every
word
was
true
.
When
Anderson
asked
Brutal
how
Percy
had
seemed
before
the
shooting
and
Brutal
answered
with
one
word
--
"
Quiet
"
--
I
had
a
terrible
moment
when
I
felt
that
I
might
burst
out
laughing
.
Because
that
was
true
,
too
,
Percy
had
been
quiet
,
for
most
of
his
shift
he
'd
had
a
swatch
of
friction-tape
across
his
mouth
and
the
best
he
'd
been
able
to
come
up
with
was
mmmph
,
mmmph
,
mmmph
.
Curtis
kept
Percy
there
until
eight
o'clock
,
Percy
as
silent
as
a
cigar-store
Indian
but
a
lot
more
eerie
.
By
then
Hal
Moores
had
arrived
,
looking
grim
but
competent
,
ready
to
climb
back
into
the
saddle
.
Curtis
Anderson
let
him
do
just
that
,
and
with
a
sigh
of
relief
the
rest
of
us
could
almost
hear
.
The
bewildered
,
frightened
old
man
was
gone
;
it
was
the
Warden
who
strode
up
to
Percy
,
grabbed
him
by
the
shoulders
with
his
big
hands
,
and
shook
him
hard
.
"
Son
!
"
he
shouted
into
Percy
's
blank
face
--
a
face
that
was
already
starting
to
soften
like
wax
,
I
thought
.
"
Son
!
Do
you
hear
me
?
Talk
to
me
if
you
hear
me
!
I
want
to
know
what
happened
!
"
Nothing
from
Percy
,
of
course
.
Anderson
wanted
to
get
the
Warden
aside
,
discuss
how
they
were
going
to
handle
it
--
it
was
a
political
hot
potato
if
there
had
ever
been
one
--
but
Moores
put
him
off
,
at
least
for
the
time
being
,
and
drew
me
down
the
Mile
.
John
Coffey
was
lying
on
his
bunk
with
his
face
to
the
wall
,
legs
dangling
outrageously
,
as
they
always
did
.
He
appeared
to
be
sleeping
and
probably
was
...
but
he
was
n't
always
what
he
appeared
,
as
we
had
found
out
.
