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Still
screaming
and
laughing
,
Wharton
went
back
to
choking
Dean
with
his
chain
.
Why
not
?
Wharton
knew
what
Dean
and
Harry
and
my
friend
Brutus
Howell
knew
--
they
could
only
fry
a
man
once
.
"
Hit
him
!
"
Harry
Terwilliger
screamed
.
He
had
grappled
with
Wharton
,
tried
to
stop
things
before
they
got
fairly
started
,
but
Wharton
had
thrown
him
off
and
now
Harry
was
trying
to
find
his
feet
.
"
Percy
,
hit
him
!
"
But
Percy
only
stood
there
,
hickory
baton
in
hand
,
eyes
as
wide
as
soup-plates
.
He
loved
that
damned
baton
of
his
,
and
you
would
have
said
this
was
the
chance
to
use
it
he
'd
been
pining
for
ever
since
he
came
to
Cold
Mountain
Penitentiary
...
but
now
that
it
had
come
,
he
was
too
scared
to
use
the
opportunity
.
This
was
n't
some
terrified
little
Frenchman
like
Delacroix
or
a
black
giant
who
hardly
seemed
to
know
he
was
in
his
own
body
,
like
John
Coffey
;
this
was
a
whirling
devil
.
I
came
out
of
Wharton
's
cell
,
dropping
my
clipboard
and
pulling
my
.38
.
For
the
second
time
that
day
I
had
forgotten
the
infection
that
was
heating
up
my
middle
.
I
did
n't
doubt
the
story
the
others
told
of
Wharton
's
blank
face
and
dull
eyes
when
they
recounted
it
later
,
but
that
was
n't
the
Wharton
I
saw
.
What
I
saw
was
the
face
of
an
animal
--
not
an
intelligent
animal
,
but
one
filled
with
cunning
...
and
meanness
...
and
joy
.
Yes
.
He
was
doing
what
he
had
been
made
to
do
.
The
place
and
the
circumstances
did
n't
matter
.
The
other
thing
I
saw
was
Dean
Stanton
's
red
,
swelling
face
.
He
was
dying
in
front
of
my
eyes
.
Wharton
saw
the
gun
in
my
hand
and
turned
Dean
toward
it
,
so
that
I
'd
almost
certainly
have
to
hit
one
to
hit
the
other
.
From
over
Dean
's
shoulder
,
one
blazing
blue
eye
dared
me
to
shoot
.
Wharton
's
other
eye
was
hidden
by
Dean
's
hair
.
Behind
them
I
saw
Percy
standing
irresolute
,
with
his
baton
half-raised
.
And
then
,
filling
the
open
doorway
to
the
prison
yard
,
a
miracle
in
the
flesh
:
Brutus
Howell
.
They
had
finished
moving
the
last
of
the
infirmary
equipment
,
and
he
had
come
over
to
see
who
wanted
coffee
.
He
acted
without
a
moment
's
hesitation
--
shoved
Percy
aside
and
into
the
wall
with
tooth-rattling
force
,
pulled
his
own
baton
out
of
its
loop
,
and
brought
it
crashing
down
on
the
back
of
Wharton
's
head
with
all
the
force
in
his
massive
right
arm
.
There
was
a
dull
whock
!
Sound
--
an
almost
hollow
sound
,
as
if
there
were
no
brain
at
all
under
Wharton
's
skull
--
and
the
chain
finally
loosened
around
Dean
's
neck
.
Wharton
went
down
like
a
sack
of
meal
and
Dean
crawled
away
,
hacking
harshly
and
holding
one
hand
to
his
throat
,
his
eyes
bulging
.
I
knelt
by
him
and
he
shook
his
head
violently
.
"
Okay
,
"
he
rasped
.
"
Take
care
...
him
!
"
He
motioned
at
Wharton
.
"
Lock
!
Cell
!
"
I
did
n't
think
he
'd
need
a
cell
,
as
hard
as
Brutal
had
hit
him
;
I
thought
he
'd
need
a
coffin
.
No
such
luck
,
though
.
Wharton
was
conked
out
,
but
a
long
way
from
dead
.
He
lay
sprawled
on
his
side
,
one
arm
thrown
out
so
that
the
tips
of
his
fingers
touched
the
linoleum
of
the
Green
Mile
,
his
eyes
shut
,
his
breathing
slow
but
regular
.
There
was
even
a
peaceful
little
smile
on
his
face
,
as
if
he
'd
gone
to
sleep
listening
to
his
favorite
lullaby
.
A
tiny
red
rill
of
blood
was
seeping
out
of
his
hair
and
staining
the
collar
of
his
new
prison
shirt
.
That
was
all
.
"
Percy
,
"
I
said
.
"
Help
me
!
"
