Under the Dome

Julia began: “I’m not sure that’s a good—”

Barbie ignored her. He was starting to be angry. Part of him had been waiting to be angry all day, and here was his chance. He knew it would do no good to go off on these guys—they were only spear-carriers—but it was hard to bite back. “Yo, Marines! Help a brother out.”

“Quit it, pal.” Although the speaker didn’t turn around, Barbie knew it was the CO of this happy little band. He recognized the tone, had used it himself. Many times. “We’ve got our orders, so you help a brother out. Another time, another place, I’d be happy to buy you a beer or kick your ass. But not here, not tonight. So what do you say?”

“I say okay,” Barbie said. “But seeing as how we’re all on the same side, I don’t have to like it.” He turned to Julia. “Got your phone?”

She held it up. “You should get one. They’re the coming thing.”

“I have one,” Barbie said. “A disposable Best Buy special. Hardly ever use it. Left it in a drawer when I tried to blow town. Saw no reason not to leave it there tonight.”

She handed him hers. “You’ll have to punch the number, I’m afraid. I’ve got work to do.” She raised her voice so the soldiers standing beyond the glaring lights could hear her. “I’m the editor of the local newspaper, after all, and I want to get some pix.” She raised her voice a little more. “Especially a few of soldiers standing with their backs turned on a town that’s in trouble.”

“Ma’am, I kind of wish you wouldn’t do that,” the CO said. He was a blocky fellow with a broad back.

“Stop me,” she invited.

“I think you know we can’t do that,” he said. “As far as our backs being turned, those are our orders.”

“Marine,” she said, “you take your orders, roll em tight, bend over, and stick em where the air quality is questionable.” In the brilliant light, Barbie saw a remarkable thing: her mouth set in a harsh, unforgiving line and her eyes streaming tears.

While Barbie dialed the number with the weird area code, she got her camera and began snapping. The flash wasn’t very bright compared to the big generator-driven spotlights, but Barbie saw the soldiers flinch every time it went off. Probably hoping their fucking insignia doesn’t show, he thought.

2

United States Army Colonel James O. Cox had said he’d be sitting with a hand on the phone at ten thirty. Barbie and Julia Shumway had run a little late and Barbie didn’t place the call until twenty of eleven, but Cox’s hand must have stayed right there, because the phone only managed half a ring before Barbie’s old boss said, “Hello, this is Ken.”

Barbie was still mad, but laughed just the same. “Yes sir. And I continue to be the bitch who gets all the good shit.”

Cox also laughed, no doubt thinking they were off to a good start. “How are you, Captain Barbara?”

“Sir, I’m fine, sir. But with respect, it’s just Dale Barbara now. The only things I captain these days are the grills and Fry-O-Lators in the local restaurant, and I’m in no mood for small talk. I am perplexed, sir, and since I’m looking at the backs of a bunch of pogey-bait Marines who won’t turn around and look me in the eye, I’m also pretty goddam pissed off.”

“Understood. And you need to understand something from my end. If there was anything at all those men could do to aid or end this situation, you would be looking at their faces instead of their asses. Do you believe that?”

“I’m hearing you, sir.” Which wasn’t exactly an answer.

Julia was still snapping. Barbie shifted to the edge of the road. From his new position he could see a bivouac tent beyond the trucks. Also what might have been a small mess tent, plus a parking area filled with more trucks. The Marines were building a camp here, and probably bigger ones where Routes 119 and 117 left town. That suggested permanence. His heart sank.

“Is the newspaper woman there?” Cox asked.

“She’s here. Taking pictures. And sir, full disclosure, whatever you tell me, I tell her. I’m on this side now.”

Julia stopped what she was doing long enough to flash Barbie a smile.

“Understood, Captain.”

“Sir, calling me that earns you no points.”

“All right, just Barbie. Is that better?”

“Yes, sir.”

“As to how much the lady decides to publish… for the sake of the people in that little town of yours, I hope she’s got sense enough to pick and choose.”

“My guess is she does.”

“And if she e-mails pictures to anyone on the outside—one of the newsmagazines or the New York Times, for instance—you may find your Internet goes the way of your landlines.”

“Sir, that’s some dirty sh—”

“The decision would be made above my pay grade. I’m just saying.” Barbie sighed. “I’ll tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Julia asked.

“That if you try to transmit those pictures, they may take it out on the town by shutting down Internet access.”

Julia made a hand gesture Barbie did not ordinarily associate with pretty Republican ladies. He returned his attention to the phone.

“How much can you tell me?”

“Everything I know,” Cox said.