He pushed away from the bars and swayed a little on his feet。 Brutal steadied him。 〃Easy； boy； you all right？〃 Percy didn't answer； just stepped past Brutal and turned toward the duty desk。 He wasn't staggering； exactly； but he was listing to port。
Brutal reached out for him。 I pushed his hand away。 〃Leave him alone。〃 Would I have said the same if I'd known what was going to happen next？ I've asked myself that question a thousand times since the fall of 1932。 There's never any answer。
Percy made twelve or fourteen paces； then stopped again； head lowered。 He was outside of Wild Bill Wharton's cell by then。 Wharton was still making those sousaphone noises。 He slept through the whole thing。 He slept through his own death； now that I think of it； which made him a lot luckier than most of the men who ended up here。 Certainly luckier than he deserved。
Before we knew what was happening； Percy drew his gun； stepped to the bars of Wharton's cell； and emptied all six shots into the sleeping man〃 just bam…bam…bam； bam…bam…bam； as fast as he could pull the trigger。 The sound in that enclosed space was deafening； when I told Janice the story the next morning； I could still hardly hear the sound of my own voice for the ringing in my ears。
We ran at him； all four of us。 Dean got there first … I don't know how； as he was behind Brutal and me when Coffey had hold of Percy … but he did。 He grabbed Percy's wrist； prepared to wrestle the gun out of Percy's hand； but he didn't have to。 Percy just let go； and the gun fell to the floor。 His eyes went across us like they were skates and we were ice。 There was a low hissing sound and a sharp ammoniac smell as Percy's bladder let go； then a brrrap sound and a thicker stink as he filled the other side of his pants；