The Green Mile and The Reporter

Steamboat Willy

I felt uneasy coming to the Mile late at night, but Paul had asked for me to come at a specific time and I wasn't going to disappoint him. Not with my job constantly hanging in the balance. Mama didn't like it either, and practically threw herself at my feet, begging me to stay. I blew out a long gust of air just thinking about it. She'll wait up all night for me, if she has to.

Brutal opened the door to E block and gave me a smile. "Looks like Harry just lost a bet."

"I'm gonna hazard a guess and say he thought I wasn't coming back." I lifted an eyebrow.

Brutal nodded. "Told him, he was wrong. I can already tell that you're as stubborn as a mule."

I followed him past the duty desk and into a long hallway. "Does that bother you?"

"Oh, not yet. But I'd wager that by this time next month I'll be ready boot you out the door." He gave me a friendly shove through a doorway.

Dean looked over at me. "And the reporter returns."

"She does, indeed." Paul looked up. "Welcome back Miss Argonne."

I looked around the room. "So this Old Sparky's lair?"

Paul and Dean had been polishing the king himself. The chair sat tall, proud and deadly. It's many straps and gadgets looked like something a person with polio would be strapped to. It cast a dark shadow over the room, as if it held some sickly power.

Paul noticed me staring. "Quite something. Ain't it?"

I didn't answer him, trying to shake the clammy feeling from my hands. To distract myself I rifled through my bag for my notepad. "Why did you want to see me this late?"

Paul and Dean both went back to polishing, and I took a seat on the edge of Sparky's platform. Paul glanced at me. "I figured the two of us better have a talk."

"Am I correct in assuming this is about the paper?"

"Smart girl. What exactly do you plan on writing, good reporter?"

I fiddled with my pen. "Anything that I believe the public would be interested in."

Paul stopped and moved to look me in the eye. "Allow to rephrase. What is your goal? What are you trying to accomplish with this column of yours?"

"To keep my job." I laughed lightly, but even in my ears it sounded borderline hysterical. I guess the chair bothers me more than I thought. Paul didn't seem amused, he gave me a look. I thought for a long moment, where the only sound was the rags rubbing the arms of the electric chair. "I want to make people look at death row differently. I want them to see... the people behind the crime. Who they were and who they are. Not only that, but I want the guards, you guys, to get recognition for how you help them." I shrugged. "That's the best answer I can give."

"A noble goal." Dean clapped me on the shoulder.

Paul's mouth twitched into some semblance of a smile. "All the same I'd appreciate if you let me read everything you write before you send it to your editor. We have some... topics that are best avoided."

I noticed he used the same tone Brutal had when mentioning Percy. I made a note at the top of a fresh page in my notepad, to talk to Percy as soon as possible.  For now I launched into the questions I had prepared from the night before. Both of them answered my ceaseless nagging with seemingly endless patience. So far the only time I'd seen Paul at all flustered was when it had anything to do with Percy. All the more reason to speak to the apparent trouble maker.

I tapped my pen against the pad, anxious. "What can you tell me about Percy?"

Dean snorted. "Princess Percy Wetmore."

Paul shook his head angrily. "The man is mean, careless, and stupid. Bad combination in a place like this. Sooner or later he's gonna get someone hurt. Or worse." Dean was nodding in grim agreement. As if remembering who exactly he was talking to, Paul fixed me with a warning look. "And no you can quote me on that."

Before I could respond we heard laughter echoing from down the hall. We all looked towards the door in confusion. What could there possibly be to laugh about in a place like this?

Brutal's soft voice traveled into the room. "Dean? Paul? Miss Argonne?"

I followed them down the hall to where Brutal was standing, looking down the mile at something with a big grin splitting his face. "I guess the legislator opened those purse strings enough to hire on a new guard." We peered down the mile, looking for anything that remotely fit with what Brutal was saying. Brutal pointed towards a spot on the floor. "Look again. He's right... there."

I felt my face stretch into a big, stupid smile as I crouched down to get a better look at the tiny mouse, making its way down the mile. It was a very ordinary brown mouse, it's little legs a blur as it skittered towards us. It looked left and right as it went along, as if doing a cell check.

I straightened and we all practically choked on our laughter at the little mouse on the mile, trying our best not to wake the inmates. All the same the Chief rolled over on his bunk to watch the mouse roll past.

Dean quieted and looked uncomfortable for the first time. "It ain't natural for a mouse to come up on people that way. Maybe it's rabid."

Unsure, I asked. "Can I mouse even get rabid?"

Brutal scoffed at Dean. "Oh my Christ. The big mouse expert. The mouse man. You see it foaming at the mouth, mouse man?"

I pressed my knuckles to my lips, my body trembling with giggles. Dean stared down at it, dubiously. "I don't see it's mouth at all."

At that we all exploded, our mirth bouncing off the tiles. Collecting himself the soonest, Brutal grabbed a small bit of cracker from the duty desk. Dean shook his head. "Brutal no! We'll be hip deep in mice around here..."

I grimaced at the thought, yet wondered what this strange mouse would do all the same. Brutal looked to Paul. "I just wanna see what he'll do, in the interests of science, like."

Paul shrugged nonchalantly, and Brutal turned to me, eyebrow raised. Surprised, I looked down at the mouse. It was up on its hind legs, oil drop eyes locked on the morsel in Brutal's fingers, whiskers trembling. "Quit torturing the poor guy and give it to him."

Brutal smiled and leaned down to toss it towards him. The little guy scurried forward without a hint of fear, eagerly nibbling on it's prize. Seeming satisfied, it headed back down the mile, not bothering to do a cell check this time, and squeezed under the door of the restraint room.

Dean gestured down the mile, shaking his head. "He's in the damn restraint room. You just know he's chewing the padding out of the walls and making himself a nice little nest."

Brutal gave us all a sheepish look. Paul sighed. To me he said "You may leave Miss Argonne, unless you'd like to stay and help."

I eyed the metal door. "If you don't mind, I think I'll stay. I'll try to stay out from under foot, and I am mighty curious about what's to befall our mousie friend."

Paul looked surprised, but nodded all the same. "Let's go get the damn mouse."

To Be Continued....