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Miracle Man
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				~ 1 ~


	I am not ordinarily a man that believes in miracles.  I go to
church, I donate to charities, and I pray to God for the health of my
children and wife.  But Hail Jesus Christ miracles?  Never really been
for me.  And, in all honesty, it probably has a lot to do with the work
I do.  After hearing some of the stories of the men that go through 
here, seeing human kind at its absolute worst...I'm surprised I believe
in a God at all.

	But, I suppose John Coffey changed all that.  His bringing back
the Cajun's mouse was just about the damnedest thing I ever saw, and 
even now I see it happening again and again in my mind as I try to 
figure the whole darn thing out.  That thing had been crushed, Percy 
had finally caught up to Mr. Jingles, and I myself had heard the damn
thing go crunch underneath that black boot of his.  But then, Coffey
had taken it into his big ol'hands, and healed it.  Healed it with his
touch, with his breath.  And well, if that ain't a miracle, I don't 
know what is.

	This story'd probably sound foolish if I'd ever tell anyone
about it.  People would probably call me a liar, but I swear it's the
truth, I saw it all happen with my own eyes.  And not just me, but
Paul, Brutal and Harry too, they all saw.  And they all think it was a
miracle too, they're counting on it.  We all are, especially Warden
Moores, I figure - 'cept he don't know it yet.

	I glance at my watch.  He'll know soon enough though, 'cause 
the three of them, Paul, Brutal and Harry, they're on a mission.  On a
mission to save his wife, and although I've only met her once before, I
can understand why Paul would risk so much to save her.  She was just
a beautiful lady, kind, smart, and funny too.  The kind of woman any
man would be lucky to have.  She called me handsome and fed me until I
was stuffed to the gills.  I hope Coffey's magic works for her, like it
did for that little brown mouse, Mr. Jingles.  Like it did for Paul.

	They told me to stay here, just in case they get caught, they 
don't want me to get into any more trouble then I hafta, seeing hows I
got kids to put through school and all.  I'm grateful, but at the same 
time I sure woulda liked to of seen Coffey's healing hands take away 
that kind lady's pain.  Instead, I'm Percy sitting, and trying to stop
my hands from shaking by shuffling the same deck of cards over and over
again.  Percy's been so quiet for so long, he's making me nervous. What
if's he choking in there?  What if he can't breathe because of the tape
on his mouth?  He had been crying before, his nose could be all clogged
up and so he can't take in a breath.  My thoughts go wild as I watch 
the door, silent and serene at the end of the Green Mile.  What the 
hell is going on in that room anyway?

	Finally, I can't take the suspense no more -- I have to check 
on him to make sure the bastard is still breathing.  Or that 
Mr. Jingles hasn't taken advantage of him in his vulnerable position.

	I stand to go and grab a couple of bottles of soda pop on the 
way.  The way I figures it, a little bribe can't hurt any at this 
point.  If we don't tread a careful line here, Percy'll spill beans on
this whole fiasco for sure.  

	Walking down the mile, I pass Wharton drugged up and passed out
in his cell, pass the empty cell where John Coffey should be, but 
isn't.  Get to the door of the restraint room and fumble for my keys,
loud enough so that Percy is sure to hear and so he won't be caught off
guard when I open the door.  I don't want to scare him.  Not too much
anyway.
    
	"Percy?"  Stupid of me, to call out his name like that, not
exactly as if he can give me a reply.  I switch on the light and it 
takes me a second to find him, even in the small room.  When I do see 
him, I freeze.  He looks terrified.

	Scrunched in the corner of the room, his legs tucked up under
him into a small ball, he's shaking -- even through the nut coat I can 
see that he's shakin'.  He's been crying, still is as a matter of fact,
and his eyes track me as I walk into the room, holding the cokes in my
hand.  I feel like I'm coming up on some sort of injured animal, gotta
be careful.  I talk to him, but like I do my little one when he don't
want to go to bed.

	I come near close to him, and he flinches back against the 
wall, causing two more angry tears to fall from his eyes.  His lips are
smushed against the tape, and I can see the rag poking out between his
lips.  This is something that should of been funny, but it wasn't.  He
was just so scared.  But I could tell -- it wasn't all about me, about
being here.  Percy was scared of something that I just couldn't see.

	"Thirsty?" I asked, offering a smile, holding up the still cold
but somewhat flat RC cola.  "Mouth is probably dry as hell."

	He doesn't say anything, just eyes me warily, his fear is 
slowly starting to dissipate, I can tell.  That relieves me something
severe, 'cause Percy snapping on us wasn't part of the plan.  Not at
all.  "If I take that tape off your mouth, you gotta promise you won't
start hollering or anything."

	A slow nod, and that's all I need.  I reach over and rip it 
quickly from his face, not giving him anytime to think about it then
pull that rag from his mouth.  A few dry coughs and Percy's colour
changes a flushed red.

	"Get me outta this damn thing."

	"Nope.  Can't be doing that."  

	"Get me out of it NOW!  NOW DEAN!  Or I swear to Christ, I'll
have you behind bars yourself for ASSAULT!  For kidnapping!" Percy
ranted, his voice raising with each word.  He struggled to relieve his
arms, causing his body to pitch from side to side, I watched all this 
for a moment, before reaching out to clamp my hand over his mouth.

	He stills.  "I thought we had a deal now, Percy.  You're not
going to go back on your word now are you?"  Now I know that Percy
Wetmore's word is about as good as a shit on a dinner plate, but it was
the only thing that I could think of to say.  I waved the bottle under
his nose, "Now you want some of this or don'tcha?"

	Percy glared at me, "How am I suppose to drink that damn thing,
Dean?  I got no arms!"

	It's not funny.  It's not.  Percy's piss mad, tied up like Wild
Bill himself, and I'm sure we both make some godawful sight.  It's not
funny.  But it is.  Which is probably why I start laughing right there,
real goddamn laughing!  I can't hold it back, just like in that room
with old Sparky when Toot Toot told that stupid joke, I can't stop and
soon -- even Percy's laughing with me.  It must be infectious.  This
insanity.  It must be.

	"I'll help ya."  I put the bottle to his lips, and after
another very tired look my way, he tilts his head forward for a drink.
The first tip is a little messy, it dribbles down his chin, but then we
get a rhythm going and before I know it, half the bottle is gone.  And
all things considerin', Percy's been behaving mighty well about the
whole thing.  Hell, he's like a different person all together.  All I
can think is that something must of spooked him good.  I'm not inclined
to believe that his time in here has actually _taught_ him anything.
Nah, this time tomorrow, Percy'll be back to his nasty old self.

	"Where them other guys?" Percy asked.  A slight tremor entered
his voice, "What?  They send you in first, to calm me down?  Are they
gonna come in next, rough me up when I can't do a damn thing about it?"

	I'm tempted to say that he was weeping his eyes out just a few
seconds ago, that he should be _thanking_ me for calming him down some,
but I don't.  "They're doing their laundry.  And Paul's out helping in
the infirmary.  It's just the two of us for now, Percy, never you worry
'bout them anyways.  They're not going to hurt you ever.  They just
wanted to teach you a lesson about playing games with people's lives.
That was a nasty thing you did to poor Delacroix."  Remembering what he
did runs my blood cold, I feel whatever sympathy I had for him chill 
and chip away inside me.

	Percy senses the change in me, gives me a hard look.  "That 
French faggot raped and killed a little girl.  Then he burned down a 
building and killed a whole mess of other people.  You saying he didn't
have it coming?  All you guys...if it were up to you Delacroix and that
damn stupid mouse of his would be off somewhere walking a country mile,
looking for another little girl to kill."

	"You telling me you burned Delacroix alive cause it was
_justice_?" I shook my head.  "I don't buy that Percy, I don't buy that
for a damn minute.  You did what you did on purpose because Delacroix
laughed in your face when you pissed your pants after Billy grabbed ya.
He laughed at you, and nobody laughs at Percy Wetmore, right?  You're
one sorry son of a bitch."  I stood, pushed my way up the wall with the
empty coke bottles in hand.  Being around Percy was giving me a bad
feeling all around.

	Grabbing up that rag again, getting ready to stuff it back down
Percy's little throat, he grimaced and clamped his mouth shut firmly.
Oh great, this was just what I needed.

	"Now, Percy -- I did you favor coming in here.  If the guys 
found out I was in here, they'd beat me onto the mile just like you 
did Delacroix that first day."  This was a lie, of course, they'd never
do that to me, but they'd sure be plenty mad.  "Now cooperate and open
up yer mouth."

	Percy's whole body seemed to freeze up as he stared up into my
eyes defiantly, chin raised and jaw locked.  I sighed and bowed my
head.  "Percy, we can do this the hard way or the easy way.  The easy
way is you let me gag you again and then you're let out of here in just
another hour or so.  The hard way is I hit those two nerves on either
side of your jaw and pry your mouth open.  And let me tell you, Percy,
that hurts like a sonofabitch.  Might even dislocate your whole damn
jaw.  So which is it going to be?"

	The look of defeat, the look of resignation, is almost enough
to do me in, but I hold firm.  His eyes are wet and big as he looks at
me, his chin trembles slightly before those lips part and he opens his
mouth.  I swallow, my hand moves up to gag him but for some reason I
stop.  I don't know why.  Looking back on it today, I still don't know
why.  But for some reason, at that time, I chose to stay a little 
longer.  

	"Percy, you need to change, man.  You need to change your ways
or the path you are on is going to lead you straight off the edge of a
cliff."

	He looks at me oddly, plainly confused.  Hell, so am I.  "What
the hell are you talking about?" he demands.  That's the way it is with
Percy, he never asks for anything - only _demands_.

	"I'm a good man," I say surely, confidently.  "So's Paul, and
Brutal, and Harry.  They're all good men.  But you...you're a bad 
person."

	Cold amusement plays in his eyes, his pretty eyes that I can 
see now have caught me in a snare.  "I'm a bad person?" Softly.  

	"What you did to Delacroix - you knew it would be bad, didn't
you?  Oh, not as bad as it was, but you knew it would be bad.  And
Mr. Jingles, you tried to kill that silly little mouse.  Why?  I don't
understand you, Percy.  I don't understand people like you."

	His smile wavers, and his eyes flit down briefly to look at the
front of his jacket.  When he looks back up, I can't help but for the 
first time to be a little scared of Percy Wetmore.  Tied up here, hair
all over his face, eyes blazing and mouth a tight, pursed line -- there
is a look of resident evil in his face.	 He knows what he is.

	"Get me outta here, right NOW or I swear to God, Dean, I swear
to all that is holy I'll just make one little phone call and you'll be
out on your ass so fast, you'll be lucky to get a job as a guard down 
in Paul and Brutal's Mouseville!"

	He means it, I know.  His damn 'connections' have been thrown 
in our faces for the longest time now, and I'm getting mighty tired of
them.  He's sitting here in the restraint room, tied up tighter then a
shriveled up testicle, and he's still making 'em.  "No one deserves
that," I finally say.  "No one deserves to die like that."

	His chin trembles again, his eyes tell me he's going to lie,
"I didn't know the sponge was suppose to be wet."  Feeble.  

	Tilting my head to the side, I take the rag and jam it into his
mouth before he can say a word otherwise, or put up another fight.  The
tape goes over the rag and he lets out a few muffled sounds of protest.

	"Well, Percy, I reckon you know now."

	I walked out then.  Turned off the light and shut the door 
behind me.  Took a seat at the duty desk and went back to shuffling the
deck of cards a little more calmly.  Had I known that this would be 
Percy Wetmore's last night, I still don't think I would of done 
anything differently, 'cept maybe I'd of asked him what he had been so
scared of those first few minutes I was in there.  But I think I know.

	The ways I figure it, while Percy had sat there, mute, tied,
and in the dark he had done some thinking.  Mostly, because there ain't
much else you _can_ do.  Maybe he thought about his wife, or his job,
about how much trouble he'd get us all into when this was all over, but
no matter how bad we all make Percy out to be, I know he probably did a
whole lot of thinking about Delacroix too, and what he did to him.  He
probably played that whole night over and over in his head, thought 
about what he did, why he did it, tried to justify it.  But, I think 
when he was done with all that thinking, he realized the truth, and
realized what we all knew.  I think that in the dark, bound and 
helpless, Percy saw who he was.  For the first time, he really saw.

	And he was scared.








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