to it。
We went into my office。 John looked around for a moment or two； then dropped to his knees without having to be asked。 Behind him； Harry was looking at me with haunted eyes。 Dean was as white as paper。
I got down on my knees with John and thought there was a funny turnaround brewing here： after all the prisoners I'd had to help up so they could finish the journey； this time I was the one who was apt to need a hand。 That's the way it felt； anyway。
〃What should we pray for； boss？〃 John asked。
〃Strength〃； I said without even thinking。 I closed my eyes and said； 〃Lord God of 'Hosts； please help us finish what we've started； and please wele this man； John Coffey … like the drink but not spelled the same … into heaven and give him peace。 Please help us to see him off the way he deserves and let nothing go wrong。 Amen。〃 I opened my eyes and looked at Dean and Harry。 Both of them looked a little better。 Probably it was having a few moments to catch their breath。 I doubt it was my praying。
I started to get up； and John caught my arm。 He gave me a look that was both timid and hopeful。 〃I 'member a prayer someone taught me when I 'us little〃； he said。 〃At least I think I do。 Can I say it？〃
〃You go right on and do her〃； Dean said。 〃Lots of time yet； John 。〃
John closed his eyes and frowned with concentration。 I expected now…I…lay…me…down…to…sleep； or maybe a garbled version of the Lord's prayer； but I got neither； I had never heard what he came out with before； and have never heard it again； not that either the sentiments or expressions were particularly unusual。 Holding his hands up in front of his closed eyes； John Coffey said： 〃Baby Jesus； meek and mild； pray for me； an orphan child。 Be my strength； be my friend； be with me until the end。 Amen。〃 He opened his eyes； started to get up； then looked at me closely。
I wipe my arm across my eyes。 As I listened to him； I had been thinking about Del； he had wanted to pray one more at the end； too。 Holy Mary； mother of God； pray for us sinners now； and at the hour of our death。 〃Sorry； John 。〃
〃Don't be〃； he said。 He squeezed my arm and smiled。 And then； as I'd thought he might have to do； he helped me to my feet。
10。
There weren't many witnesses … maybe fourteen in all； half the number that had been in the storage room for the Delacroix execution。 Homer Cribus was there； overflowing his chair as per usual； but I didn't see Deputy McGee。 Like Warden Moores； he had apparently decided to give this one a miss。
Sitting in the front row was an elderly couple I didn't recognize at first； even though I had seen their pictures in a good many newspaper articles by that day in the third week of November。 Then； as we neared the platform where Old Sparky waited； the woman spat； 〃Die slow； you son of a bitch！〃 and I realized they were the Dettericks； Klaus and Marjorie。 I hadn't recognized them because you don't often see elderly people who haven't yet climbed out of their thirties。
John hunched his shoulders at the sound of the woman's voice and Sheriff Cribus's grunt of approval。 Hank Bitterman； who had the guard…post near the front of the meager group of spectators； never took his eyes off Klaus Detterick。 That was per my orders； but Detterick never made a move in John 's direction that night。 Detterick seemed to be on some other pla。
Brutal； standing beside Old Sparky； gave me a small finger…tilt as we stepped up onto the platform。 He holstered his sidearm and took John 's wrist； escorting him toward the electric chair as gently as a boy leading his date out onto the floor for their first dance as a couple。
〃Everything all right； John ？〃 he asked in a low voice。
〃Yes； boss； but。 。 。〃 His eyes were moving from side to side in their sockets； and for the first time he looked and sounded scared。 〃But they's a lot of folks here hate me。 A lot。 I can feel it。 Hurts。 Bores in like bee…stings an； hurts。〃
〃Feel how we feel； then；〃 Brutal said in that same low voice。 〃We don't hate you … can you feel that？〃
〃Yes； boss。〃 But his voice was trembling worse now； and his eyes had begun to leak their slow tears again。
〃Kill him twice； you boys！〃 Marjorie Detterick suddenly screamed。 Her ragged； strident voice was like a slap。 John cringed against me and moaned。 〃You go on and kill that raping baby…killer twice； that'd be just fine！〃
Klaus； still looking like a man dreaming awake； pulled her against his shoulder。 She began to sob。
I saw with dismay that Harry Terwilliger was crying； too。 So far none of the spectators had seen his tears … his back was to them … but he was crying； all right。 Still； what could we do？ Besides push on with it； I mean？
Brutal and I turned John around。 Brutal pressed on one of the big man's shoulders and John sat。 He gripped Sparky's wide oak arms； his eyes moving from side to side； his tongue darting out to wet first one corner of his mouth； then the other。
Harry and I dropped to our knees。 The day before； we'd had one of the shop…trusties weld temporary flexible extensions to the chair's ankle clamps； because John Coffey's ankles were nigh on the size of an ordinary fellow's calves。 Still； I had a nightmarish moment when I thought they were still going to e up small； and we'd have to take him back to his cell while Sam Broderick； who was head of the shop guys in those days； was found and tinkered some more。 I gave a final； extra…hard shove with the heels of my hands and the clamp on my side closed。 John 's leg jerked and he gasped。 I had pinched him。
〃Sorry； John ；〃 I murmured； and glanced at Harry。 He had gotten his clamp fixed more easily （either the extension on his side was a little bigger or John 's right calf was a little smaller）； but he was looking at the result with a doubtful expression。 I guessed I could understand why； the modified clamps had a hungry look； their jaws seeming to gape like the mouths of alligators。
〃It'll be all right〃； I said； hoping that I sounded convincing 。。。 and that I was telling the truth。 〃Wipe your face； Harry。〃
He swabbed at it with his arm； wiping away tears from his cheeks and beads of sweat from his forehead。 We turned。 Homer Cribus； who had been talking too loudly to the man sitting next to him （the prosecutor； judging from the string tie and rusty black suit）； fell silent。 It was almost time。
Brutal had clamped one of John 's wrists； Dean the other。 Over Dean's shoulder I could see the doctor； unobtrusive as ever； standing against the wall with his black bag between his feet。 Nowadays I guess they just about run such affairs； especially the ones with the IV drips； but back then you almost had to yank them forward if you wanted them。 Maybe back then they had a clearer idea of what was right for a doctor to be doing； and what was a perversion of the special promise they make； the one where they swear first of all to do no harm。
Dean nodded to Brutal。 Brutal turned his head； seemed to glance at the telephone that was never going to ring for the likes of John Coffey； and called 〃Roll on one！〃 to Jack Van Hay。
There was that hum； like an old fridge kicking on； and the lights burned a little brighter。 Our shadows stood out a little sharper； black shapes that climbed the wall and seemed to hover around the shadow of the chair like vultures。 John drew in a sharp breath。 His knuckles were white。
〃Does it hurt yet？〃 Mrs。 Detterick shrieked brokenly from against her husband's shoulder。〃I hope it does！ I hope it hurts like hell！〃 Her husband squeezed her。 One side of his nose was bleeding； I saw； a narrow trickle of red working its way down into his narrow…gauge mustache。 When I opened the paper the following March and saw he'd died of a stroke； I was about the least surprised man on earth。
Brutal stepped into John 's field of vision。 He touched John 's shoulder as he spoke。 That was irregular； but of the witnesses； only Curtis Anderson knew it； and he did not seem to remark it。 I thought he looked like a man who only wants to be done with his current job。 Desperately wants to be done with it。 He enlisted in the Army after Pearl Harbor； but never got overseas； he died at Fort Bragg； in a truck accident。
John； meanwhile； relaxed beneath Brutal's fingers。 I don't think he understood much； if any； of what Brutal was telling him； but he took fort from Brutal's hand on his shoulder。 Brutal； who died of a heart attack about twenty…five years later （he was eating a fish sandwich and watching TV wrestling when it happened； his sister said）； was a good man。 My friend。 Maybe the best of us。 He had no trouble understanding how a man could simultaneously want to go and still be terrified of the trip。
〃John Coffey； you have been condemned to die in the electric chair； sentence passed by a jury of your peers and imposed by a judge of good standing in this state。 God save the people of this state。 Do you have anything to say before sentence is carried out？〃
John wet his lips again； then spoke clearly。 Six words。 〃I'm sorry for what I am。〃
〃You ought to be！〃 the mother of the two dead girls screamed。 〃Oh you monster； you ought to be！ YOU DAMN WELL OUGHT TO BE！〃
John's eyes turned to me。 I saw no resignation in them； no hope of heaven； no dawning peace。 How I would love to tel