“It’s too risky.”
Cody laughs and says, “Oh, get real. What am I gonna do, Marvin? Beat you over the head, jump half a dozen fences, dodge a thousand bullets, outrun the bloodhounds, and then, exactly where would I go, Marvin? Hell, they got half the state police out there just waiting to celebrate because we damned sure love our executions. Come on, Marvin, do something nice. I’m so dead here, okay?”
Marvin glances around, uncertain. “I’ll go ask the warden.”
“No! Don’t waste your time with that fool. You know he’ll say no. Just ease me out the side here and nobody will see us. Just five minutes, Marvin. Please.”
“Can’t do it.”
“Sure you can. Who are you afraid of?”
“No way. I’ll get fired.”
“No you won’t. Nobody’ll know.”
“Sorry, Cody.”
“Just five minutes.”
“Two minutes. Then right back in here.”
（8）
The yard is a small outdoor space, with a picnic table on a slab of concrete surrounded by a few sprigs of grass. Twenty-four feet by twenty, to be exact, and the death row inmates know its precise dimensions because they walk the fence lines daily. Dirt paths had been worn between the concrete and the chain-link and below the shiny razor wire. They were allowed one hour each day, alone and unsupervised, to inhale the fresh air, to gaze into the distance and dream, and to shuffle along the paths. Seven or eight long steps, then a ninety-degree turn and more of the same. In the old days, the yard was much larger and had a set of old weights and a basketball hoop. Four men were allowed at each break, and rowdy games of two-on-two were the norm. Then there was a fight and one was bludgeoned by a dumbbell.
There are no lights around the yard. It’s never used after dark. The squat, flat-roof building that is death row is attached to it and runs forty yards east and west. At the far end is the Gas House, another tumor-like appendage added on decades earlier.
The thick metal door opens and Cody walks out, without cuffs and chains. Marvin, unarmed, follows and watches him closely. In the distance, searchlights sweep the sky and a helicopter is heard somewhere. It’s time for a killing and the air is filled with excitement.
Cody stands in the center of the yard and stares at the full moon, so large it’s almost within reach. “Well, it hasn’t changed, has it? Same old moon.”
Marvin leans on the picnic table, says, “You were expecting something different?”
“It seems closer, don’t you think?”
“I doubt it. How’d you know it was a full moon?”
“Because it’s June twenty-second, the first day of summer. That’s called a strawberry moon.”
“Never heard of that.”
“Come on, Marvin. You serious?”
“Never heard of it. Why’s it called a strawberry moon?”
“Because in late spring and early summer the strawberries and other fruits finally ripen. The Indians gave it the name of strawberry moon.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the full moon looks closer for a few days.”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, I used to know all the stars and constellations, Marvin. Me and Brian lived in the wild, slept during the day, roamed at night. You wanna hear a story, one of my favorites?”
“Sure, but you’d better talk fast. If the warden catches us out here there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I’m not worried about the warden.”
“Well, I am. I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“Me and Brian broke in a house one time and we couldn’t find any guns or jewelry or anything we could sell. Hell, they didn’t even have any frozen pizza. But the dude who owned the house had this really nice telescope set up in his den, in front of a big window so he could watch the stars. We were pissed off at him so we took his telescope, figured we might be able to fence it for a few bucks. That night we set it up in a field and started playing around with it. I’ll never forget the thrill of looking at the surface of the moon, the craters and ridges and valleys. ‘Magnificent desolation,’ as one astronaut described it. We looked at it for hours, completely mesmerized. A week or so later we broke into another house and it was a gold mine. Guns, jewelry, radios, a small television. Quite a haul. Even pizza. We fenced the stuff and had a pocketful of cash. We found a cheap motel, paid for a room, took showers, slept under the air-conditioning. Lived the big life. We did this from time to time when we had the money. Not far away was a library, a branch of the main one downtown. We went there—my first time in a library, I can promise you that—and we were surprised to learn that anybody could walk in off the street, for free, and read newspapers and magazines. We browsed around, and upstairs we found this beautiful picture book on the solar system and constellations, the various phases of the moon. So we stole it and took it back to our campsite. We studied it from cover to cover, I couldn’t read that well but Brian had finished the eighth grade, and we learned all about the stars. We spent hours every clear night with the telescope. We could look at the moon, without the telescope, and tell what day of the month it was. When there was no moon and the sky was thick with stars, we could spot, with the naked eye, all the constellations. Orion, Scorpius, Gemini, the Northern Cross, Taurus the bull, Ursa Major, more commonly known as the Big Dipper. And with the telescope we found stars and solar systems that they never teach you in school. We got in a big fight one time because Brian swore he found Pluto. Can you believe that?”