this　was　a　whirling　devil。

I　came　out　of　Wharton's　cell；　dropping　my　clipboard　and　pulling　my　。38。　I　had　forgotten　the　infection　that　was　heating　up　my　middle　for　the　second　time　that　day。　I　didn't　doubt　the　story　the　others　told　of　Wharton's　blank　face　and　dull　eyes　when　they　told　it；　but　that　wasn't　the　Wharton　I　saw。　What　I　saw　was　the　face　of　an　animal　…　not　an　intelligent　animal；　but　one　filled　with　cunning　。。。　and　meanness　。。。　and　joy。　Yes。　He　was　doing　what　he　had　been　made　to　do。　The　place　and　the　circumstances　didn't　matter。　The　other　thing　I　saw　was　Dean　Stanton's　red；　swelling　face。　He　was　dying　in　front　of　my　eyes。　Wharton　saw　the　gun　and　turned　Dean　toward　it；　so　that　I'd　almost　certainly　have　to　hit　one　to　hit　the　other。　From　over　Dean's　shoulder；　one　blazing　blue　eye　dared　me　to　shoot。

Part　Three：

Coffey's　Hands

1。

Looking　back　through　what　I've　written；　I　see　that　I　called　Georgia　Pines；　where　I　now　live；　a　nursing　home。　The　folks　who　run　the　place　wouldn't　be　very　happy　with　that！　According　to　the　brochures　they　keep　in　the　lobby　and　send　out　to　prospective　clients；　its　a　〃State…of…the…art　retirement　plex　for　the　elderly。〃　It　even　has　a　Resource　Center　…　the　brochure　says　so。　The　folks　who　have　to　live　here　（the　brochure　doesn't　call　us　〃inmates；〃　but　sometimes　I　do）　just　call　it　the　TV　room。

Folks　think　I'm　stand…offy　because　I　don't　go　down　to　the　TV　room　much　in　the　day；　but　it's　the　programs　I　can't　stand；　not　th