Under the Dome

Big Jim grinned—a great big sunny one that lit his whole face. “Well, you’re going to get your chance, son; you’ve learned from the rest, now learn from the best.”

“I plan on it.”

“Right now I need you to give me a lift home. Meet me promptly at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. We’ll come down here and watch the show on CNN. But first we’ll sit up on Town Common Hill and watch the exodus. Sad, really; Israelites with no Moses.”

“Ants without a hill,” Carter added. “Bees without a hive.”

“But before you pick me up, I want you to visit a couple of people. Or try; I’ve got a bet with myself that you’ll find them absent without leave.”

“Who?”

“Rose Twitchell and Linda Everett. The medico’s wife.”

“I know who she is.”

“You might also take a check for Shumway. I heard she might be staying with Libby, the preacher-lady with the badnatured dog. If you find any of them, question them about the whereabouts of our escapees.”

“Hard or soft?”

“Moderate. I don’t necessarily want Everett and Barbara captured right away, but I wouldn’t mind knowing where they are.”

On the step outside, Big Jim breathed deeply of the smelly air and then sighed with something that sounded like satisfaction. Carter felt pretty satisfied himself. A week ago, he’d been replacing mufflers, wearing goggles to keep the sifting rust flakes from salt-rotted exhaust systems out of his eyes. Today he was a man of position and influence. A little smelly air seemed a small price to pay for that.

“I have a question for you,” Big Jim said. “If you don’t want to answer, it’s okay.”

Carter looked at him.

“The Bushey girl,” Big Jim said. “How was she? Was she good?”

Carter hesitated, then said: “A little dry at first, but she oiled up a-country fair.”

Big Jim laughed. The sound was metallic, like the sound of coins dropping into the tray of a slot machine.

14

Midnight, and the pink moon descending toward the Tarker’s Mills horizon, where it might linger until daylight, turning into a ghost before finally disappearing.

Julia picked her way through the orchard to where the McCoy land sloped down the western side of Black Ridge, and was not surprised to see a darker shadow sitting against one of the trees. Off to her right, the box with the alien symbol engraved on its top sent out a flash every fifteen seconds: the world’s smallest, strangest lighthouse.

“Barbie?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “How’s Ken?”

“Gone to San Francisco to march in the Gay Pride parade. I always knew that boy wasn’t straight.”

Julia laughed, then took his hand and kissed it. “My friend, I’m awfully glad you’re safe.”

He took her in his arms, and kissed her on both cheeks before letting her go. Lingering kisses. Real ones. “My friend, so am I.”

She laughed, but a thrill went straight through her, from neck to knees. It was one she recognized but hadn’t felt in a long time. Easy, girl, she thought. He’s young enough to be your son.

Well, yes… if she’d gotten pregnant at thirteen.

“Everyone else is asleep,” Julia said. “Even Horace. He’s in with the kids. They had him chasing sticks until his tongue was practically dragging on the ground. Thinks he died and went to heaven, I bet.”

“I tried sleeping. Couldn’t.”

Twice he’d come close to drifting off, and both times he found himself back in the Coop, facing Junior Rennie. The first time Barbie had tripped instead of jigging to the right and had gone sprawling to the bunk, presenting a perfect target. The second time, Junior had reached through the bars with an impossibly long plastic arm and had seized him to make him hold still long enough to give up his life. After that one, Barbie had left the barn where the men were sleeping and had come out here. The air still smelled like a room where a lifelong smoker had died six months ago, but it was better than the air in town.

“So few lights down there,” she said. “On an ordinary night there’d be nine times as many, even at this hour. The streetlights would look like a double strand of pearls.”

“There’s that, though.” Barbie had left one arm around her, but he lifted his free hand and pointed at the glow-belt. But for the Dome, where it ended abruptly, she thought it would have been a perfect circle. As it was, it looked like a horseshoe.

“Yes. Why do you suppose Cox hasn’t mentioned it? They must see it on their satellite photos.” She considered. “At least he hasn’t said anything to me. Maybe he did to you.”

“Nope, and he would’ve. Which means they don’t see it.”

“You think the Dome… what? Filters it out?”

“Something like that. Cox, the news networks, the outside world—they don’t see it because they don’t need to see it. I guess we do.”

“Is Rusty right, do you think? Are we just ants being victimized by cruel children with a magnifying glass? What kind of intelligent race would allow their children to do such a thing to another intelligent race?”