squib in the paper saying a certain fellow had taken a little electricity along about midnight. But a man with a wife, children, or friends to look forward to on Sunday afternoons was easier to control, if control looked to be a problem. Here it didnât, and that was good. Because he was so damned big.
I shifted a little on the bunk, then decided I might feel a little more comfortable in my nether parts if I stood up, and so I did. He backed away from me respectfully, and clasped his hands in front of him.
âYour time here can be easy or hard, big boy, it all depends on you. Iâm here to say you might as well make it easy on all of us, because it comes to the same in the end. Weâll treat you as right as you deserve. Do you have any questions?â
âDo you leave a light on after bedtime?â he asked right away, as if he had only been waiting for the chance.
I blinked at him. I had been asked a lot of strange questions by newcomers to E Blockâonce about the size of my wifeâs titsâbut never that one.
Coffey was smiling a trifle uneasily, as if he knew we would think him foolish but couldnât help himself. âBecause I get a little scared in the dark sometimes,â he said. âIf itâs a strange place.â
I looked at himâthe pure size of himâand felt strangely touched. They did touch you, you know; you didnât see them at their worst, hammering out their horrors like demons at a forge.
âYes, itâs pretty bright in here all night long,â I said. âHalf the lights along the Mile burn from nine until five every morning.â Then I realized he wouldnât have any idea of what I was talking aboutâhe didnât know the Green Mile from Mississippi mudâand so I pointed. âIn the corridor.â
He nodded, relieved. Iâm not sure he knew what a corridor was, either, but he could see the 200-watt bulbs in their wire cages.
I did something Iâd never done to a prisoner before, thenâI offered him my hand. Even now I donât know why. Him asking about the lights, maybe. It made Harry Terwilliger blink, I can tell you that. Coffey took my hand with surprising gentleness, my hand all but disappearing into his, and that was all of it. I had another moth in my killing bottle. We were done.
I stepped out of the cell. Harry pulled the door shut on its track and ran both locks. Coffey stood where he was a moment or two longer, as if he didnât know what to do next, and then he sat down on his bunk, clasped his giantâs hands between his knees, and lowered his head like a man who grieves or prays. He said something then in his strange, almost-Southern voice. I heard it with perfect clarity, and although I didnât know much about what heâd done thenâyou donât need toknow about what a manâs done in order to feed him and groom him until itâs time for him to pay off what he owesâit still gave me a chill.
âI couldnât help it, boss,â he said. âI tried to take it back, but it was too late.â
3
âY OUâRE GOING to have you some trouble with Percy,â Harry said as we walked back up the hall and into my office. Dean Stanton, sort of my third in commandâwe didnât actually have such things, a situation Percy Wetmore would have fixed up in a flashâwas sitting behind my desk, updating the files, a job I never seemed to get around to. He barely looked up as we came in, just gave his little glasses a shove with the ball of his thumb and dived back into his paperwork.
âI been having trouble with that peckerwood since the day he came here,â I said, gingerly, pulling my pants away from my crotch and wincing. âDid you hear what he was shouting when he brought that big galoot down?â
âCouldnât very well not,â Harry said. âI was there, you know.â
âI was in the john and heard it just