Зеленая миля / The Green Mile. Стивен Кинг
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Wharton lifted his arms, dropped the chain which hung between his wrists over Dean’s head, and commenced to choke him with it. Dean gave a strangled cry and lurched forward, into the cool electric light of our little world. Wharton was happy to go with him, even gave him a shove, all the time yelling and gibbering, even laughing. He had his arms cocked at the elbows with his fists up by Dean’s ears, yanking the chain as tight as he could, whipsawing it back and forth.
Harry landed on Wharton’s back, wrapping one hand in our new boy’s greasy blond hair and slamming his other fist into the side of Wharton’s face as hard as he could. He had both a baton of his own and a sidearm pistol, but in his excitement drew neither. We’d had trouble with prisoners before, you bet, but never one who’d taken any of us by surprise the way that Wharton did. The man’s slyness was beyond our experience. I had never seen its like before, and have never seen it again.
And he was strong. All that slack looseness was gone. Harry said later that it was like jumping onto a coiled nest of steel springs that had somehow come to life. Wharton, now inside and near the duty desk, whirled to his left and flung Harry off. Harry hit the desk and went sprawling.
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