*Here we have the replacement miracle for Mr. Jingles, since obviously the
"new-and-improved Percy" wouldn't step on Del's mouse.*
Chapter Five: Incident on E Block
As for Percy's new attitude, Dean accepted it at face-value and pretended not to be confused, Harry tentatively included him in conversations and card games, and of course, I understood it perfectly, but Brutal was completely and utterly baffled over it. He walked on eggshells around Percy, waiting to see if this change was going to be permanent or not. It seemed to be, though. I sent Percy over with Del's peppermints, and he even asked if he could give the little Cajun a few extras because the execution was tomorrow. I knew that Frenchman was scared to death of Percy, and Percy knew it, too. He was even careful not to do anything to startle Del as he handed across the nine peppermints.
I think Mr. Jingles was the one that settled the matter of Percy's change once and for all. When Percy handed Del the mints, the mouse scurried down off of Del's shoulder and settled onto Percy's. Percy jerked a little but stroked Mr. Jingles. I didn't know about Bernie then, but I realized there was something about that mouse that seemed to strike at Percy's heart.
"Go on, go on, back to Del," Percy said finally, letting the mouse run down his arm and back to his master in the cell. Delacroix looked at Percy with something short of awe before sitting on his bed. Percy wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and walked away.
John Coffey watched from the bars of his cell, his expression unreadable, but I think he was realizing even then that his predictions about Percy had come true.
Percy Wetmore had changed.
I can't really tell the next part very well because I wasn't there when it happened, only at the very end. Percy and Brutal had control of the block, and Dean and I were downstairs on an errand. Harry didn't even work that day, so it was just the two of them on the mile, which turned out to be lucky. I don't know what would have happened to Percy if Brutal hadn't been there when he was, because Wharton was in one bad mood that night. I think it had something to do with me telling him that if he didn't stop singing, I'd have him thrown in the padded room until Old Sparky was ready for him.
It makes me feel guilty that I might have caused the whole thing. Percy nearly had his larynx smashed that night, and it might have been all my fault. Wait. I'd better back up and explain how Percy nearly died that day on E Block. It was closing in on midnight, and I'd left Brutal and Percy in charge while Dean and I were gone.
Brutal always said that Percy didn't even do anything to Wild Bill, it was just that one tiny little laugh that set him off. Wharton had been acting up all day, and Brutal finally rapped his baton across the cell bars.
"One more noise out of you," he told Wharton, "and I'll make good on Paul's promise."
Percy tried to swallow the little snicker, but it was impossible. I mean, it was pretty funny, even Brutal admitted it. Wharton, however, didn't think so. He glared at Percy and went back against his cell. It wouldn't be much longer, he knew Percy would mess up and he could get him then.
Like I said, Percy had yet to pick up the rhythm of E Block.
Wharton's wait paid off. Percy was patrolling while Brutal did the paperwork. Wharton hadn't eaten dinner or drank anything, and he called out:
"Hey, boss! Can I get a drink in here?"
Percy glanced at Brutal, who nodded for him to go and get it. Obediently (a word that didn't used to fit in with this guard's personality), Percy went off and filled a tin cup up with some water, and held it right outside the bars of Wild Bill's cell.
That slow grin came over Wharton as he reached out and, instead of taking the cup, grabbed Percy's wrist, turned it, and forced him up against the bars.
Brutal was up in a flash, running towards there, drawing his gun.
"Let him go, Wharton!"
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Wild Bill tilted up the cup and let all of the icy water drain down Percy's collar. Sometimes I think I can see it, all those cold drops of water squirming down Percy's neck as he tried to move out of Wharton's grasp.
"WHARTON!"
Brutal slammed his baton against Wild Bill's fingers, and the crack of the bare bones breaking echoed through the room. Dean and I came running in at that moment, just in time to hear Wharton's howl of pain and the sickening thud that followed.
He tore his hand with the broken fingers out of Brutal's reach, snatched at Percy's collar, twisted his face so that Percy was staring inside the bars, and, with one quick snap, slammed the man's neck against the bars.
Brutal fired, without hesitation and in a state of rage, and Dean just froze, unable to move or even to think. I just ran and pulled Percy away. He couldn't talk, couldn't breathe, even. I didn't even see Wharton collapse against the wall, his arm limp from the shot and I didn't hear him screaming.
That's when I heard John.
"Let me see him." His dark eyes bored into mine. "Please, boss, before it's too late!"
Numbly, I nodded. Of course. Coffey wanted to help him. Coffey HAD to help him. I half-dragged Percy over to the bars of John's cell, and he gently put his hands on Percy's neck and started to inhale.
Dean and Brutal stood stiffly behind me, watching the glowing that rose from around Percy and up through John. John kept on pulling out the gnats, finally choked, coughed, and they came up in a swarm around him and finally disappeared.
Percy's chest hitched and rose and fell. Rose and fell.
We all stared. He was alive. Blood dampened his collar and suit, soaked through his shirt, and even still lay on his neck, but he was alive. Unconscious, but alive.
"A miracle," Dean whispered.
"I helped it," John said, looking at me. "I took it back."
"Yes, John," I said softly. "You helped it. He's going to be okay."
John smiled weakly, and lied back down on his bed. Delacroix looked at us through the bars, his eyes as wide as saucers, looking back and forth in the direction of the passed-out Wharton's cell, and John's.
Percy's eyes creaked open. "Paul? Dean? What are you doing here?"
Chapter Five: Incident on E Block
As for Percy's new attitude, Dean accepted it at face-value and pretended not to be confused, Harry tentatively included him in conversations and card games, and of course, I understood it perfectly, but Brutal was completely and utterly baffled over it. He walked on eggshells around Percy, waiting to see if this change was going to be permanent or not. It seemed to be, though. I sent Percy over with Del's peppermints, and he even asked if he could give the little Cajun a few extras because the execution was tomorrow. I knew that Frenchman was scared to death of Percy, and Percy knew it, too. He was even careful not to do anything to startle Del as he handed across the nine peppermints.
I think Mr. Jingles was the one that settled the matter of Percy's change once and for all. When Percy handed Del the mints, the mouse scurried down off of Del's shoulder and settled onto Percy's. Percy jerked a little but stroked Mr. Jingles. I didn't know about Bernie then, but I realized there was something about that mouse that seemed to strike at Percy's heart.
"Go on, go on, back to Del," Percy said finally, letting the mouse run down his arm and back to his master in the cell. Delacroix looked at Percy with something short of awe before sitting on his bed. Percy wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and walked away.
John Coffey watched from the bars of his cell, his expression unreadable, but I think he was realizing even then that his predictions about Percy had come true.
Percy Wetmore had changed.
I can't really tell the next part very well because I wasn't there when it happened, only at the very end. Percy and Brutal had control of the block, and Dean and I were downstairs on an errand. Harry didn't even work that day, so it was just the two of them on the mile, which turned out to be lucky. I don't know what would have happened to Percy if Brutal hadn't been there when he was, because Wharton was in one bad mood that night. I think it had something to do with me telling him that if he didn't stop singing, I'd have him thrown in the padded room until Old Sparky was ready for him.
It makes me feel guilty that I might have caused the whole thing. Percy nearly had his larynx smashed that night, and it might have been all my fault. Wait. I'd better back up and explain how Percy nearly died that day on E Block. It was closing in on midnight, and I'd left Brutal and Percy in charge while Dean and I were gone.
Brutal always said that Percy didn't even do anything to Wild Bill, it was just that one tiny little laugh that set him off. Wharton had been acting up all day, and Brutal finally rapped his baton across the cell bars.
"One more noise out of you," he told Wharton, "and I'll make good on Paul's promise."
Percy tried to swallow the little snicker, but it was impossible. I mean, it was pretty funny, even Brutal admitted it. Wharton, however, didn't think so. He glared at Percy and went back against his cell. It wouldn't be much longer, he knew Percy would mess up and he could get him then.
Like I said, Percy had yet to pick up the rhythm of E Block.
Wharton's wait paid off. Percy was patrolling while Brutal did the paperwork. Wharton hadn't eaten dinner or drank anything, and he called out:
"Hey, boss! Can I get a drink in here?"
Percy glanced at Brutal, who nodded for him to go and get it. Obediently (a word that didn't used to fit in with this guard's personality), Percy went off and filled a tin cup up with some water, and held it right outside the bars of Wild Bill's cell.
That slow grin came over Wharton as he reached out and, instead of taking the cup, grabbed Percy's wrist, turned it, and forced him up against the bars.
Brutal was up in a flash, running towards there, drawing his gun.
"Let him go, Wharton!"
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Wild Bill tilted up the cup and let all of the icy water drain down Percy's collar. Sometimes I think I can see it, all those cold drops of water squirming down Percy's neck as he tried to move out of Wharton's grasp.
"WHARTON!"
Brutal slammed his baton against Wild Bill's fingers, and the crack of the bare bones breaking echoed through the room. Dean and I came running in at that moment, just in time to hear Wharton's howl of pain and the sickening thud that followed.
He tore his hand with the broken fingers out of Brutal's reach, snatched at Percy's collar, twisted his face so that Percy was staring inside the bars, and, with one quick snap, slammed the man's neck against the bars.
Brutal fired, without hesitation and in a state of rage, and Dean just froze, unable to move or even to think. I just ran and pulled Percy away. He couldn't talk, couldn't breathe, even. I didn't even see Wharton collapse against the wall, his arm limp from the shot and I didn't hear him screaming.
That's when I heard John.
"Let me see him." His dark eyes bored into mine. "Please, boss, before it's too late!"
Numbly, I nodded. Of course. Coffey wanted to help him. Coffey HAD to help him. I half-dragged Percy over to the bars of John's cell, and he gently put his hands on Percy's neck and started to inhale.
Dean and Brutal stood stiffly behind me, watching the glowing that rose from around Percy and up through John. John kept on pulling out the gnats, finally choked, coughed, and they came up in a swarm around him and finally disappeared.
Percy's chest hitched and rose and fell. Rose and fell.
We all stared. He was alive. Blood dampened his collar and suit, soaked through his shirt, and even still lay on his neck, but he was alive. Unconscious, but alive.
"A miracle," Dean whispered.
"I helped it," John said, looking at me. "I took it back."
"Yes, John," I said softly. "You helped it. He's going to be okay."
John smiled weakly, and lied back down on his bed. Delacroix looked at us through the bars, his eyes as wide as saucers, looking back and forth in the direction of the passed-out Wharton's cell, and John's.
Percy's eyes creaked open. "Paul? Dean? What are you doing here?"