-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Стивен Кинг
-
- Зеленая миля
-
- Стр. 87/304
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Christ
,
this
place
is
crazy
,
"
Delacroix
said
in
a
trembling
voice
.
"
Mr.
Jingles
,
I
just
about
wish
they
'd
fry
me
and
be
done
widdit
!
"
I
went
into
Coffey
's
cell
.
He
stepped
away
as
I
stepped
forward
.
When
he
was
backed
up
against
his
bunk
--
it
hit
him
in
the
calves
,
that
's
how
tall
he
was
--
he
sat
down
on
it
.
He
patted
the
mattress
beside
him
,
his
eyes
never
once
leaving
mine
.
I
sat
down
there
next
to
him
,
and
he
put
his
arm
around
my
shoulders
,
as
if
we
were
at
the
movies
and
I
was
his
girl
.
"
What
do
you
want
,
John
Coffey
?
"
I
asked
,
still
looking
into
his
eyes
--
those
sad
,
serene
eyes
.
"
Just
to
help
,
"
he
said
.
He
sighed
like
a
man
will
when
he
's
faced
with
a
job
he
does
n't
much
want
to
do
,
and
then
he
put
his
hand
down
in
my
crotch
,
on
that
shelf
of
bone
a
foot
or
so
below
the
navel
.
"
Hey
!
"
I
cried
.
"
Get
your
goddam
hand
--
"
A
jolt
slammed
through
me
then
,
a
big
painless
whack
of
something
.
It
made
me
jerk
on
the
cot
and
bow
my
back
,
made
me
think
of
Old
Toot
shouting
that
he
was
frying
,
he
was
frying
,
he
was
a
done
tom
turkey
.
There
was
no
heat
,
no
feeling
of
electricity
,
but
for
a
moment
the
color
seemed
to
jump
out
of
everything
,
as
if
the
world
had
been
somehow
squeezed
and
made
to
sweat
.
I
could
see
every
pore
on
john
Coffey
's
face
,
I
could
see
every
bloodshot
snap
in
his
haunted
eyes
,
I
could
see
a
tiny
healing
scrape
on
his
chin
.
I
was
aware
that
my
fingers
were
hooked
down
into
claws
on
thin
air
,
and
that
my
feet
were
drumming
on
the
floor
of
Coffey
's
cell
.
Then
it
was
over
.
So
was
my
urinary
infection
.
Both
the
heat
and
the
miserable
throbbing
pain
were
gone
from
my
crotch
,
and
the
fever
was
likewise
gone
from
my
head
.
I
could
still
feel
the
sweat
it
had
drawn
out
of
my
skin
,
and
I
could
smell
it
,
but
it
was
gone
,
all
right
.
"
What
's
going
on
?
"
Delacroix
called
shrilly
.
His
voice
still
came
from
far
away
,
but
when
John
Coffey
bent
forward
,
breaking
eye-contact
with
me
,
the
little
Cajun
's
voice
suddenly
came
clear
.
It
was
as
if
someone
had
pulled
wads
of
cotton
or
a
pair
of
shooters
"
plugs
out
of
my
ears
.
"
What
's
he
doing
to
you
?
"
