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Chapter 8 – John Coffey

There was a look of slight worrying on Brutus' face, as he glared out through the tiny barred window in the door, but Ellie was still too irritated to be touched by his concern.

From outside, they could all here the voice of Percy, as the guards came closer.

"Dead man!" he cried. "We gotta dead man walking here!"

Dean shook his head. "He's quite full of himself 'spite this being his first trip out of the house, ain't he? Stupid kid…"

Brutus tossed him a gloomy look, as Percy continued his hollering. "I'm surprised this Coffey-guy hasn't snapped his neck yet..."

"Jesus pleases-us, what is he yelling about?" Paul said loudly from down the aisle, where he was waiting outside John Coffeys cell. Brutus stepped away from the door.

"Paul?" he called down the corridor and it was the first time Ellie had ever heard him sound nervous. "You might wanna reconsider getting into the cell with this guy. He's enormous."

Paul smirked. "Can't be bigger than you?"

Brutus made a puzzling little noise; something between a disbelieving scoff and a tense chuckle, before returning to the door. You just wait and see…

Sticking his key in the lock, he cast a final glance outside the yard and Ellie could have sworn, she saw him hesitate for a moment, as though unlocking the door was the last thing he wanted to do. But he did and the door swung open, letting sunshine in.

Percy was the first one to walk across the doorstep. He had his hickory bat out; the foolish-looking, but quite effective little wooden stick (Ellie had already seen it in use, when the men who worked in the field outside E-blocks prison yard, wouldn't cooperate), that looked like a miniature baseball bat. In his other hand he held the chains to the prisoner.

"Dead man!" he hollered again. "Dead man walking here!"

And behind him, his huge shadow filling out the entire doorframe, came John Coffey.

Dean breathed out a shakily "Christ!" and Ellie took a step backward; she just couldn't help it.

The prisoner at the end of the chains was enormous! Even Brutus looked like a nonentity next to him, hardly reaching higher than the man's shoulders. Coffey had to be seven feet tall, perhaps more, with a huge, bald head and the body of a fairytale giant: Immense shoulders and a chest that threatened to burst the overalls and the old T-shirt he was wearing. His arms and legs were massive tree trunks and as he came nearer, Ellie could tell that every piece of naked skin, was traversed with scars.

But then there were his eyes. And they were perhaps the only reasons, why she hadn't already ran off to safety in Paul's office: Ellie had never seen such sadness and confusion in a human being before. It looked like the only thing keeping him from hiding in the nearest mousehole, when the guards fell in next to him, was his giant frame.

He's scared, she though, puzzled. Scared like a little boy…

Taking advantage of the guard's state of mild shock, she followed them down the aisle, not able to take her eyes of Coffey. No one noticed; they were all to busy staring at Coffeys bulking muscles and giant body, including the other prisoners. The only one who seemed strangely untouched by the monstrous man, was Percy.

He was still hollering, his body all stiff with complacency, like he was leading his prize bull to the judges: "Dead man! We gotta dead man…"

"Percy!" Paul finally snapped coldly at him. "Enough."

Percy felt silent, but he still had the nerves to slow down, sending Paul an insolent glare.

"Move it, Percy," Brutus mumbled behind and gave him an unnecessarily hard push forward, which made Percy trip. He turned, killing the tall guards with his eyes. Brutus didn't look impressed.

"Eyes forward, kiddo," he just said and Percy moved again, his cheeks alarmingly blushed.

When the procession reached Paul outside the empty cell, they stopped.

Paul looked John Coffey up and down, carefully and with slight skepticism, as though he believed someone in the higher seats was pulling his leg, by sending him such a monstrosity to look after. At last he sighed.

"Am I gonna have any trouble with you, big boy?" he asked calmly.

No answer. John Coffey just stood there, silent like a statue.

Paul frowned. "Can you talk?"

Ellie couldn't see Coffeys face, but she saw his shoulders rise, when he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Yessir, boss," he finally spoke; his voice hardly hearable, but still deep and rumbling, like the sound of a distant landslide. "I can talk."

Paul gave him a stern look, then moved inside his cell. Coffey hesitated.

Percy reacted without warning. With a force, that would have broken the ribs of any normal man, he slammed his hickory bat across Coffeys chest, making everybody flinch.

"Move your ass!" Percy cried out, swinging the bat towards the empty cell in great traffic-policeman style. "Come on."

For a moment, Ellie expected Coffey to turn around, grab Percy and snap him in half. God knows he could do it! (God knows he deserved to do so…) But he didn't. He bowed his head and stepped inside the shadowy cell. Paul starred angrily at the young guard.

"Percy," he said, fighting to keep his voice in a civil tone. "They're moving house over at the infirmary. Why don't you go, see if they can use some help."

"We aren't supposed to help with the moving today," Percy drawled back, slapping his bat against the palm of his hand. "I know that. Besides, they got all the men they need."

"We had to send Brutal over to help this morning," Paul responded flatly. "They do need help. So why don't you go 'nd make sure?" When Percy was about to make some smart comment back, he raised his voice: "Listen, I don't care where you go, Percy, as long as you're not here this very moment!"

Percy gave a dry, little chuckle, as though to say, okay, you won this round… before turning around. But his dramatic exit faded a bit, when he nearly ran into Brutus, who stood behind him, arms crossed. Brutus just glared at him and the young guard had to budge for the much bigger one. Brutus smirked at Paul, when Percy finally stumped down the aisle, his shoulders raised in indignation.

Sadly, it didn't take him long to find someone to vent his anger on:

CRACK!

Delacroix howled in pain and slumped to the floor of his cell, clutching his left hand in his right. Ellie gasped, but Dean grabbed her arm, preventing her for interfering.

"Wiped that grin of ya shitpoke face, didn't I?!" Percy sneered, his hickory bat still raised and ready for another strike. Delacroix writhed at his feet.

"GOD DAMMIT, PERCY!" Paul yelled furiously. "Get the hell of my block!"

Ellie watched in shock, as Percy strode out the door and slammed it behind him. In the sudden silence, they could hear Delacroix sobbing quietly: "Ow, God, he bus' my fingers…"

"Del!" Paul called. "We'll get that looked at. In the meantime, you just stay quiet."

"Yes, boss," Delacroix croaked.

Paul turned to Coffey and said calmly: "If I let Harry take those chains, you gonna be nice?"

Coffey hadn't moved during the incident and he wasn't moving now. He just looked at Paul with his strange, mournful eyes and confused looks and nodded slowly.

Harry didn't look too proud, when he walked into the cell, but he did as he was told and unlocked Coffeys shackles. In the meantime, Dean handed Paul Coffey's file.

"Your name's John Coffey," Paul said, more as a statement than a question.

"Yessir, boss," Coffeys answered humbly. "Like the drink. Only not spelt the same."

"So you can spell, can you?" Paul asked, without taking his eyes of the papers.

"Just my name, boss," Coffey said in the same meek tone. He went quiet for a second, like he was bracing himself, before he continued slowly: "J… O…"

"My name's Paul Edgecomb," Paul interrupted softly. "If I'm not here, you can ask for Mr. Terwilliger, Mr. Howell or Mr. Stanton… those gentlemen out there." He paused, giving Ellie a stern look, as to say: You know you're not supposed to be here, but I'll overlook it this time, young lady! "And the woman in the back there is Miss Brent. She's a nurse and she's here to take care of another prisoner, so you treat her with respect, you understand that?"

John Coffey nodded again, slowly and carefully, like a little boy not wanting to upset his father.

"Good. Now listen, this place isn't like the rest of the prison. We like things quiet and we like to keep it that way, okay?"

"It weren't me making all that noise, boss," Coffey answered gently.

Paul eyes narrowed. "You having a joke on me, Coffey?"

Coffey shook his head. "No, sir."

Paul eyed him, then continued: "Your time here can be easy or hard, depends on you. If you behave, you get to walk in the yard every day. You get to shower and we have some books you can borrow. We might even play some music from time to time. Questions?"

"You leave the light on after bedtime?" Coffey blurted out.

Paul blinked. The giant prisoner looked down at the floor with an embarrassed expression, like he knew he had asked a foolish question

"'Cos I get a little scared in the dark sometimes," he explained, very quietly. "If it's a strange place."

The guards looked quite ashamed on his behalf, but Ellie found it more heartbreaking, than awkward. Perhaps the scared child, she had seen in his eyes, hasn't been a pretense after all…

Oh no, don't you get soft on him, she told herself firmly. He's still a child murderer…

Paul cleared his throat. "Well… It stays pretty bright all night long. We keep a few lights burning out there, on the corridor, in case of any problems."

Coffey looked bewildered. "The… cor'dor?" he repeated.

Paul nodded towards to aisle. "Right out there."

Coffey bent down, so he could look out through the bars. Dean pointed towards to lamps. Looking relieved, the big man straightened again – and then, to everyone's surprise, he offered Paul his hand. It was an oddly touching gesture; a glimpse of manner in this hopeless place. And none of the guards knew how to react: Brutus and Harry tensed up and Dean already had his hand of his bat.

Paul's eyes flickered from Coffeys giant hand to his face and finally to the guards outside. It's okay, he told them silently, calm down. And then he accepted the handshake.

The gratefulness in Coffeys dark eyes was real, Ellie knew that. Paul released his hand and nodded.

"You can sit," he said and Coffey obeyed. While he carefully sat down on his bunk, Paul stepped out and Harry slid the door shut, so Dean could lock it. Trading glances with Brutus, Paul turned to look at Coffey.

His dark eyes were shining in the shadows and the gratitude was gone. Ellie saw glimpse of fear, pain and devastation. His voice was nothing but a soft whisper, but they all heard it:

"I couldn't help it, boss," he said quietly. "I tried to take it back, but it was too late."

oOo

Coffeys strange words were still echoing in Ellies head, as they walked back up the aisle.

Tried to take it back, but it was too late… The rapes? The killings? Was that were the fear came from – had the guilt already broken him?

"Miss Brent," Paul called from Delacroix' cell. "We need your professional opinion here."

"Oh – yes, of course!"

They had already unlocked the cell and the tiny Frenchman was standing in the door, his face pale with pain as he gingerly held his left hand against his chest.

"Let me see your hand, Del," she said gently and held out her own hand. She examined him great carefullness, but he still winced at every touch.

"Does it hurt a lot, Del?"

His made a face. "Oui! He done bus' my fingers, dat for sure."

"You think it's broken?" Paul asked.

"Course it's broken," Brutus answered gloomily, before she could. "I heard the damn bones crack."

Ellie ignored him. "I'm almost certain it is. But an x-ray will tell for sure. All I can do, is to tie it up and stabilize it, so it won't hurt so much. I just need a big handkerchief or a piece of sheet."

"Here." Harry pulled a tartan hankie from his back pocket and added: "It's clean. My wife just washed it yesterday."

"It's perfect. Thanks."

Delacroix looked at her with moist eyes, as she gently tied his hand up.

"You're always so nice to me, Mad'moiselle," he said in a low, husky voice. "I do not deserve dis."

Ellie smiled at him. "My mom has always taught me to treat people the way, you want to be treated."

Delacroix gave her a pale smile back. "Your mére is a very kind woman."

"Dean, Harry," Paul said, "go get Del's papers and run him up the infirmary, so they can fix his hand. And if you see Percy, just tell him to stay away from a while. I can't cope with him too, at this moment."

"Yes, sir."

Harry handcuffed Delacroix' good hand and when Dean returned with the file, they took to poor man to infirmary. Paul rubbed his forehead, watching them leave.

"That Wetmore-kid sure knows how to make a mess in this place," he mumbled. "I'll hear for this."

"You'll probably have to hear for what you did to Percy too," Brutus said in a dark tone, as they walked back to the office. "Sending him off the Mile like that. He's gonna cause you trouble over this, you mark me."

Paul sighed. "I know. I'll chew that food with the warden when I have too. Perhaps he could have a word with him."

Ellie frowned. "Are you not going to talk to Percy about this, Mr. Edgecomb?"

"It wouldn't do anyone any good," Paul said. "The sad truth is, that I can't do a God damn thing about it."

Ellie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But he broke a man's fingers for no reason!"

"Miss Brent, is out of my hands…"

"So you are just going to let him walk around, like a spoiled little arse and beat the prisoner, if he wants to! Is that how things are working around here?!"

Ellies frustrated outburst made both men stare at her. She flushed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you're right," Paul said sincerely. "No one should be allowed such behavior. But I really can't do anything. Percy is here, because his aunt happens to be the governor's wife. And he knows that."

"He's a mean little boy," Brutus added. "A danger to us all – prisoners as well as guard. And the worst part is, no one can touch him. Cos if they did, they would be without a job in less than a week."

Ellie looked from Brutus to Paul.

"He has done that?" she asked, slightly horrified.

"Not yet, but it's been close," Paul said grimly. "And to be honest, I'm quite surprised he didn't have you sent back to the hospital after your little disagreement the other day. He sure as hell has the connections to do so."

Perhaps he's not done with me… Ellie thought. I must be the easy target, right after the inmates…

But she said nothing; she just nodded to Paul's statement.

"Listen," Paul said compassionate. "Perhaps you should take a break from all of this; you know, go outside and get some fresh air. It's a nice day, I'm sure Alice would love that too."

"I guess you are right," Ellie responded quietly.

"Brutal's gonna watch you, right Brute?"

Brutus cleared his throat. "Uh, sure…"

"Thank you, Mr. Howell," Ellie said politely, without looking directly at him. "That would be nice."

She leaved in thoughtful silence and Brutus was about to follow, when Paul called him back:

"Hey, Brutal?"

He stopped. "Yeah?"

Paul stepped forward, carefully watching Ellie until she was out of sight. Brutus could feel his stomach tightened; he knew what this was about.

"Is everything all right between you two?" Paul asked as he had expected.

"Yes, of course," Brutus answered shortly. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Paul shrugged. "I don't know… I hardly hear you talk anymore. I though you were… you know:" He shot Brutus a significant look. "Getting friendly."

"Were just co-workers," Brutus said grimly. "That's it, okay?"

Paul raised his hands. Just asking! Geez…

Brutus' guts still felt like a tight up knot, as he hurried out of the office and in his head, his own words were repeating again and again, like a broken record player: Just co-workers… just co-workers…

Pushing her away. No feelings. No attractions. This was what he wanted, wasn't it?

So why did it feel like he was making the biggest mistake of his life?