Зеленая миля

Chapter 7

           WhichactuallymeantjustmeandBrutal,becausePercykeptprettymuchtohimself.Itellyou,thatyoungmanwasageniusatfindingthingsnottodo.Andeverysooften(butonlywhenPercywasn’taround),theotherguyswouldshowuptohavewhatHarrylikedtocall"agoodgab."Onmanyoftheseoccasionsthemousewouldalsoshowup.We’dfeedhimandhe’dsitthereeating,justassolemnasSolomon,watchinguswithhisbrightlittleoilspoteyes.

           Thatwasagoodfewweeks,calmandeasyevenwithPercy’smorethanoccasionalcarping.Butallgoodthingscometoanend,andonarainyMondayinlateJulyhaveItoldyouhowrainyanddankthatsummerwas?IfoundmyselfsittingonthebunkofanopencellandwaitingforEduardDelacroix.

           Hecamewithanunexpectedbang.Thedoorleadingintotheexerciseyardslammedopen,lettinginafloodoflight,therewasaconfusedrattleofchains,afrightenedvoicebabblingawayinamixtureofEnglishandCajunFrench(apatoistheconsatColdMountainusedtocalldabayou),andBrutalhollering,"Hey!Quitit!ForChrissakes!Quitit,Percy!"

           Ihadbeenhalf-dozingonwhatwastobecomeDelacroix’sbunk,butIwasupinahurry,myheartsluggingawayhardinmychest.NoiseofthatkindonEBlockalmostneverhappeneduntilPercycame;hebroughtitalongwithhimlikeabadsmell.

           "Comeon,youfuckinFrench-friedfaggot!"Percyyelled,ignoringBrutalcompletely.

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