Under the Dome

'Because these folks need me, Lord.You know they do, now more than ever. So… if it's Your will that this cup should be removed from my lips… please give me a sign.'

He waited. And behold, the Lord God said unto Lester Coggins, 'I will shew you a sign. Goest thou to thy Bible, even as you did as a child after those nasty dreams of yours.'

'This minute,' Lester said. 'This second!'

He hung the knotted rope around his neck, where it printed a blood horseshoe on his chest and shoulders, then mounted to the pulpit with more blood trickling down the hollow of his spine and dampening the elastic waistband of his shorts.

He stood at the pulpit as if to preach (although never in his worst nightmares had he dreamed of preaching in such scant garb), closed the Bible lying open there, then shut his eyes. 'Lord, Thy will be done—I ask in the name of Your Son, crucified in shame and risen in glory.'

And the Lord said, 'Open My Book, and see what you see.'

Lester did as instructed (taking care not to open the big Bible too close to the middle—this was an Old Testament job if ever there had been one). He plunged his finger down to the unseen page, then opened his eyes and bent to look. It was the second chapter of Deuteronomy, the twenty-eighth verse. He read:

'The Lord shalt smite thee with madness and blindness and astonishment of the heart.'

Astonishment of the heart was probably good, but on the whole this wasn't encouraging. Or clear. Then the Lord spake again, saying: 'Don't stop there, Lester.'

He read the twenty-ninth verse.

'And thou shalt grope at noonday—'

'Yes, Lord, yes,' he breathed, and read on.

'as the blind gropeth in darkness, and thou shalt not prosper in thy ways: and thou shalt be only oppressed and spoiled evermore, and no man shall save thee.'

'Will I be struck blind?' Lester asked, his growly prayer-voice rising slightly. 'Oh God, please don't do that—although, if it is Thy will—'

The Lord spake unto him again, saying, 'Did you get up on the stupid side of the bed today, Lester?'

His eyes flew wide. God's voice, but: one of his mother's favorite sayings. A true miracle. 'No, Lord, no.'

'Then look again. What am I shewing you?'

'It's something about madness. Or blindness.'

'Which of the two dost thou thinkest most likely?'

Lester scored the verses. The only word repeated was blind.

'Is that… Lord, is that my sign?'

The Lord answered, saying, 'Yea, verily, but not thine own blindness; for now thine eyes see more clearly. Lookest thou for the blinded one who has gone mad. When you see him, you must tell your congregation what Rennie has been up to out here, and your part in it. You both must tell. We'll talk about this more, but for now, Lester, go to bed. You're dripping on the floor.'

Lester did, but first he cleaned up the little splatters of blood on the hardwood behind the pulpit. He did it on his knees. He didn't pray as he worked, but he meditated on the verses. He felt much better.

For the time being, he would speak only generally or" the sins which might have brought this unknown barrier down between The Mill and the outside world; but he would look for the sign. For a blind man or woman who had gone crazy, yea, verily.

6

Brenda Perkins listened to WCIK because her husband liked it (had liked it), but she would never have set foot inside the Holy B.edeemer Church. She was Congo to the core, and she made sure hei husband went with her.

Had made sure. Howie would only be in the Congo church once more. Would lie there, unknowing, while Piper Libby preached his eulogy.

This realization—so stark and immutable—struck home. For the first time since she'd gotten the news, Brenda let loose and wailed. Perhaps because now she could. Now she was alone.

On the television, the President—looking solemn and fright-eningly old—was saying, 'My fellow Americans, you want answers. And I pledge to give them to you as soon as I have them. There will be no secrecy on this issue. My window on events will be your window. That is my solemn promise—'

'Yeah, and you've got a bridge you want to sell me,' Brsnda said, and that made her cry harder, because it was one of Howie's faves. She snapped off the TV, then dropped the remote on the rloor. She felt like stepping on it and breaking it but didn't, mostly because she could see Howie shaking his head and telling her not to be silly.

She went into his little study instead, wanting to touch him somehow while his presence here was still fresh. Needing to touch him. Out back, their generator purred. Fat n happy, Howie would have said. She'd hated the expense of that thing when Howie ordered it after nine-eleven (Just to be on the safe side, he'd told her), but now she regretted every sniping word she'd said about it. Missing him in the dark would have been even more terrible, more lonely.