Chapter 41 - Coffey on the Mile

I have seen this movie so many times, but this scene will always bring tears to my eyes. To me the hardest part had never been to see Coffey die, but to witness the guards fall apart, one by one, when they realise that this is the end. That always breaks my heart.

Thank you guys for R&R, it's more than appreciated!

"I don't think I can do it. I just can't, Brute!"

"Dean..."

"He's innocent, for Christ sake. How could I stand there, watching him die, when I know..."

"Dean!"

The young guard flinched and slammed the file drawer closed, so the whole cabinet rattled. He turned around to face Brutus, looking both outraged and confused.

"I don't understand how you can just sit there, like it's nothing!" Dean said, waving the files he had tried to archive in the air. "In less then four hours we have to pull the switch on a man, who deserves to live more than anyone."

"We've told you what he said," Brutus said tiredly, rubbing his forehead, trying to concentrate on his paper works. "He's made up his mind..."

"What does he know!" Dean said heatedly. "He's given up, that what he has. And you guys are letting him do it!"

"No, we aren't..."

"You're talking to him like it's final," Dean said, motioning towards the closed office door and the Mile behind it, where Brutus knew that Paul was sitting with Coffey in his cell. "Like he's just another miscreant to you, another dollar on your pay check..."

"How the hell can you think that we're not affected!?" Brutus burst out. Dean's arm feel and he stared at the older guard.

"You listen to me now, kid," Brutus barked. "John Coffey is a good man and all of us - Paul, Harry and I - hate to see at good man die, let alone to be the ones who kills him, but there's no other way. No, its' not fair and no, he doesn't deserve to die, but that's what he wants, Dean, we told you that. It's his life and he's ready to move on. And you have to respect that. The least we can do is to be there for him, when it happens and stop acting like a bunch of whiny kids!"

Not until his voice died out did he realise how harsh he had sounded. He looked up at Dean, who stood like a statue, glaring at him.

"Sorry," Brutus muttered and looked down at his paperwork again. Dean said nothing. After a while he sat down opposite Brutus with his files, but he still didn't break the silence. When Brutus glared up at him, he looked pained and pale.

"Listen," Brutus said quietly and put his pen aside. "I know it's hard. But it is our job after all and John depends on us. He needs us to be strong, okay?"

Dean didn't answer and Brutus ransacked his brain for comforting words, but before he had found them, Dean looked up at him.

"I just don't understand him," he said in a very low voice. "I truly don't. With a gift like that... how come he want to die?"

"Because," Brutus said slowly, remembering Coffey's words, "it's no longer a gift to him. It's hurting him. And a man can only handle so much pain, before it becomes to much to bear. Gifted or not, John Coffey is only human."

Dean looked at him, his eyes showing nothing but heartfelt anguish.

You're still too young, Brutus thought within himself. Someday you'll understand.

"If he had wanted to live?" Dean almost whispered. "What would you have done."

"I don't know," Brutus lied. He most certainly knew that Paul would have let Coffey run in a heartbeat; he also knew what he would have wanted to do and he knew what he would have done, if this had been an issue just two month ago. But in his honest heart he knew that he loved Ellie too much to risk losing her.

"But he won't, Dean," Brutus said, when Dean felt silent again, caught up in his own train of thoughts. "This is what he want."

Dean didn't mention the subject again. He brooded and Brutus could only guess what he was thinking about. But when it became time to walk the Mile with Coffey, he joined them nevertheless.

oOo

John Coffey rose from his bunk without being asked and stepped out of the cell. For a moment it looked like he was about the say something, but he didn't. Instead his looked down at the guards, his face neither calm nor worried, but something in between. He provided them with a small smile.

"It'll be a'right, fellas," he said softly, when none of the guards spoke. "This here's the hard part. I'll be a'right in a li'l while."

Paul swallowed and held out his hand towards Coffey's massive neck and the St Christopher medallion he had received from the wardens wife after he had taken away the brain tumour in her head.

"John," he said, his voice sounding like an old man's, thin and hoarse. "I should have this for now. I'll give it back after..."

He couldn't finish the sentence, but Coffey didn't seem to notice. He bowed his head and Paul removed the medallion and tucked it carefully into his chest pocket.

"You know," Coffey said, once he had straightened again. "I fell asleep this afternoon and I had me a dream. I dreamed about Del's mouse."

He smiled and Paul tried to smile back. "Did you, John."

He took Coffey by his left wrist, Brutus took the other, and they walked down the corridor, slower than usual. Harry and Dean fell in behind them. None of the said a word.

"I dreamed that Mr. Jingles arrived at that place boss Howell talked about," Coffey continued as they walked past Delacroix old cell. "That Mouseville place. I dreamed there's kids..." he chuckled to himself. "... and how they laughed at his tricks, my..." He paused and his voice became softer, more serious. "I dreamed that those two little blond haired girls, they're laughing too. And I put my arms around them and sat them on my knees and there's no blood coming out of their heads, they're just fine, and we all watch Mr Jingles roll that spool. Oh, how we did laugh."

Coffey chuckled quietly and Brutus glanced past his wide chest to look at Paul, who's face seemed to have frozen over. He stared down at the linoleum, his eyes distant like a sleep walker. He didn't even seem to have noticed that they had already walked through his office and was now heading down the hallway to the execution room and Brutus had to restrain himself from calling out to him. They needed him here; Coffey needed him.

They took a left turn into the execution room and Coffey hesitated on the door step. The room was unusually quiet, but the witnesses' eyes were all turned towards Coffey and his giant frame in the doorway. Paul looked up at him, worried, when they couldn't get him to move forward.

"John?"

"There's lots of folks here that hate me," Coffey whispered and for the first time that night, Brutus recognized traces of fear on his face. "Lots. I can feel it. It's like bees stinging me."

Brutus squeezed his wrist gently.

"Then feel how we feel then," he said softly. "We don't hate ya. Can you feel that?"

Coffey looked at him and nodded slowly. His eyes had gone moist.

"Kill him twice, you boys!" A voice called out in the silence, making them all jump. "You go on and kill that raping baby murder twice! That'll be fine!"

Brutus turned around: It was Klaus Detterick, the father of the murdered girls. His face was white and sweaty and he clung to his wife hand. Mrs. Detterick had closed her eyes; it looked like she was about to faint.

The guards said nothing. They moved Coffey to the chair, sat him down and strapped him in. Dean was on his knees next to Brutus, fumbling with the straps. Brutus had never seen his hands shake this much. He heard him sniff.

"Wipe your face before you stand up," Paul muttered to him and Dean nodded and swapped the tears away with his sleeve. When he got to his feet, Brutus gently pushed him behind him so that he could shield him from the witnesses; he could only imagine the outrage if the bystanders realised that one of the guards were crying for a condemned man and God knew, Dean had already gone through enough today.

Paul stepped forward and turned around to face Coffey.

"Roll on one."

The lights brightened, reflecting in the tears in Coffey's eyes. The generator hummed ominously.

"Does it hurt yet?" Mrs. Detterick asked, her voice thick from crying. "I hope it does. I hope it hurts like hell."

Paul ignored her, eyes only at Coffey.

"John Coffey," he began, "You have been condemned to die in the electric chair by a jury of your peers, sentence imposed by a judge in good standing in this state. You have anything to say, before the sentence is carried out?"

Coffey looked around at the witnesses, then back at Paul. His tears flowed freely now, leaving wet traces on his dark cheeks.

"I'm sorry for what I am," he said quietly. Brutus turned his gaze to the Dettericks, daring them to speak, but they said nothing. They just said there, clinging to each other like two people drowning at sea, and stared emptily at Coffey. Mrs. Detterick closed her eyes again.

Harry stepped forward, carrying the black hut. But when he tried to pull it over Coffey's head, the big man flinched and true fear filled his eyes.

"Please, boss!" he said, pleadingly, eyes turned towards Paul. "Don't put that thing over my face. Don't put me in the dark. I's afraid of the dark."

Harry looked confused, but Paul said "All right, John," and shook his head and Harry took the hut of and moved back. Paul bent forward, plucked the sponge from the bucket and placed it in top of Coffey's bold head. Big, fat saltwater droplets trilled down his face like tears. Paul stepped back and Harry fastened the sponge and strapped the metal cap into place.

"John Coffey," Paul said. "Electricity shall now be passed through your body, until you're dead, in accordance with the state law. God have mercy on your soul."

The room went quiet. Too quiet. Brutus glanced at Paul, panic grazing the back of his neck. Paul should speak, but he didn't - he couldn't. He just stood there in front of the platform, eyes tearing up, hands shivering. The seconds ticked by and the witnesses started to move uncomfortable in their chairs.

Brutus moved forward until he stood right next to his superior, so close that he could hear Paul's strained breathing.

"Paul," he whispered. "You have to say it. You have to give the order."

Paul didn't move; Brutus doubted he had heard him at all - but then Coffey nodded, the smallest of nods, and Paul unfroze. But instead of speaking, he moved forward, hand held out for Coffey. John Coffey raised his big hand from the arm rest and grabbed Paul's and the two men shook hands of the edge between life and death. Their eyes met; one pair swimming in tears, the other calm, but aware. Coffey nodded again.

Paul moved back. When he spoke, his voice sounded hollow and broken.

"Roll on two."

And in the strangulating silence, Brutus heard Jack van Hay slam the switch up.

oOo

The drive home was a blur for Brutus. He felt like he had left his mind back at E-block, with John Coffey's corps in the muggy tunnel underneath the execution room. The dark road and occasionally roadside trees flashed past his eyes in strangely distant patterns, until he suddenly found himself on the path that let to his house.

He blinked, forcing himself back. It was over. Coffey was gone. He felt nothing and at the same time he felt too much. His body seemed too small and his mind too big, thoughts twirling like leaves in the wind. God, he needed a drink. Hell, he needed a lot more than one. He wanted to forget, just for a moment...

The silhouette of his house emerged in the silvery light from the nightsky and the full moon. His bumpy headlights flashed in the windows - and then in something that made his pulse rise alarmingly and made him forget about Coffey for a second: Parked in the gravel in front of his house stood an unfamiliar car.

He rolled into the yard. The light of his car reflected Bear's eyes and then he realised that there was a person sitting next to his dog on the bottom step on his porch. Someone was waiting for him. His body tensed up. Who the hell was that? He clutched the break, when the beam from the headlights was turned directly towards the presumed driver.

He left his car without turning the engine off or closing the door. Bear came storming towards him, tail propelling, but Brutus only had eyes for the person on the porch step. She rose to her feet as he approached her.

"I thought you were home," he said huskily.

"I should never have left," Ellie responded. She walked up to him and hugged him tightly; held him in her arms in an embrace that felt warm and familiar and a lot more heartfelt than he thought he deserved. Brutus twined his arms around her and buried his face against her shoulder.