Chapter 10

           Atfirstitseemedlikeitwasgoingtobeaprettygoodnightinspiteoftheheat—JohnCoffeywasbeinghisusualquietself,WildBillwasmakingouttobeMildBill,andDelacroixwasingoodspiritsforamanwhohadadatewithOldSparkyinalittlemorethantwenty-fourhours.

           Hedidunderstandwhatwasgoingtohappentohim,atleastonthemostbasiclevel;hehadorderedchiliforhislastmealandgavemespecialinstructionsforthekitchen."Tellemtolayondathotsauce,"hesaid."Tellemthekinddatreallyjumpupyourt’roatan"sayhowdy—thegreenstuff,noneofdatmild.Datstuffgripemelikeamotherfucker,Ican’tgetoffthetoiletthenex"day,butIdon’tthinkIgonnahaveaproblemthistime,n’est-cepas?"

           Mostofthemworryabouttheirimmortalsoulswithakindofmoronicferocity,butDelacroixprettymuchdismissedmyquestionsaboutwhathewantedforspiritualcomfortinhislasthours.If"datfella"SchusterhadbeengoodenoughforBigChiefBitterbuck,Delreckoned,Schusterwouldbegoodenoughforhim.No,whathecaredabout—you’veguessedalready,I’msure—waswhatwasgoingtohappentoMr.Jinglesafterhe,Delacroix,passedon.Iwasusedtospendinglonghourswiththecondemnedonthenightbeforetheirlastmarch,butthiswasthefirsttimeI’dspentthoselonghoursponderingthefateofamouse.

           Delconsideredscenarioafterscenario,patientlyworkingthepossibilitiesthroughhisdimmind.