Зеленая миля

Chapter 4

           

           "Doyouhaveaname?"MeGeeasked.

           "JohnCoffey,"hesaidinathickandtear-clottedvoice."Coffeylikethedrink,onlynotspelledthesameway."

           McGeenodded,thenpointedathumbatthechestpocketofCoffey’sjumper,whichwasbulging.ItlookedtoMcGeelikeitmighthavebeenagunnotthatamanCoffey’ssizewouldneedaguntodosomemajordamage,ifhedecidedtogooff."What’sthatinthere,JohnCoffey?Isthatmaybeaheater?Apistol?"

           "Nosir,"Coffeysaidinhisthickvoice,andthosestrangeeyeswellingtearsandagonizedontop,distantandweirdlysereneunderneath,asifthetrueJohnCoffeywassomewhereelse,lookingoutonsomeotherlandscapewheremurderedlittlegirlswerenothingtogetallworkedupaboutneverleftDeputyMcGee’s."That’sjustalittlelunchIhave."

           "Oh,now,alittlelunch,isthatright?"McGeeasked,andCoffeynoddedandsaidyessirwithhiseyesrunninganddearsnot-runnershangingoutofhisnose."Andwheredidthelikesofyougetalittlelunch,JohnCoffey?"Forcinghimselftobecalm,althoughhecouldsmellthegirlsbythen,andcouldseetheflieslightingandsamplingtheplacesonthemthatwerewet.Itwastheirhairthatwastheworst,hesaidlater...andthiswasn’tinanynewspaperstory;itwasconsideredtoogrislyforfamilyreading.No,thisIgotfromthereporterwhowrotethestory,Mr.Hammersmith.

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