Under the Dome

“What will you do if the Hitler Youth comes after you?” she asked, lifting her chin in Frankie’s direction. “Good luck hollering police brutality if they jug you and decide to finish what they started. There’s only two lawyers in town. One’s senile and the other drives a Boxster Jim Rennie got him at discount. Or so I’ve heard.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oooh, macho.”

“What’s up with your paper? It looked ready when I left last night.”

“Technically speaking, you left this morning. And yes, it’s ready. Pete and I and a few friends will make sure it gets distributed. I just didn’t see any point in starting while the town was three-quarters empty. Want to be a volunteer newsboy?”

“I would, but I’ve got a zillion sandwiches to make. Strictly cold food at the restaurant tonight.”

“Maybe I’ll drop by.” She tossed her cigarette, only half-smoked, from the window. Then, after a moment’s consideration, she got out and stepped on it. Starting a grassfire out here would not be cool, not with the town’s new firetrucks stranded in Castle Rock.

“I swung by Chief Perkins’s house earlier,” she said as she got back behind the wheel. “Except of course it’s just Brenda’s now.”

“How is she?”

“Terrible. But when I said you wanted to see her, and that it was important—although I didn’t say what it was about—she agreed. After dark might be best. I suppose your friend will be impatient—”

“Stop calling Cox my friend. He’s not my friend.”

They watched silently as the wounded boy was loaded into the back of the ambulance. The soldiers were still watching, too. Probably against orders, and that made Julia feel a little better about them. The ambulance began to buck its way back across the field, lights flashing.

“This is terrible,” she said in a thin voice.

Barbie put an arm around her shoulders. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed. Looking straight ahead—at the ambulance, which was now turning into a cleared lane in the middle of Route 119—she said: “What if they shut me down, my friend? What if Rennie and his pet police decide to shut my little newspaper down?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Barbie said. But he wondered. If this went on long enough, he supposed every day in Chester’s Mill would become Anything Can Happen Day.

“She had something else on her mind,” Julia Shumway said.

“Mrs. Perkins?”

“Yes. It was in many ways a very strange conversation.”

“She’s grieving for her husband,” Barbie said. “Grief makes people strange. I said hello to Jack Evans—his wife died yesterday when the Dome came down—and he looked at me as if he didn’t know me, although I’ve been serving him my famous Wednesday meatloaf since last spring.”

“I’ve known Brenda Perkins since she was Brenda Morse,” Julia said. “Almost forty years. I thought she might tell me what was troubling her… but she didn’t.”

Barbie pointed at the road. “I think you can go now.”

As Julia started the engine, her cell phone trilled. She almost dropped her bag in her hurry to dig it out. She listened, then handed it to Barbie with her ironic smile. “It’s for you, boss.”

It was Cox, and Cox had something to say. Quite a lot, actually. Barbie interrupted long enough to tell Cox what had happened to the boy now headed to Cathy Russell, but Cox either didn’t relate Rory Dinsmore’s story to what he was saying, or didn’t want to. He listened politely enough, then went on. When he finished, he asked Barbie a question that would have been an order, had Barbie still been in uniform and under his command.

“Sir, I understand what you’re asking, but you don’t understand the… I guess you’d call it the political situation here. And my little part in it. I had some trouble before this Dome thing, and—”

“We know all about that,” Cox said. “An altercation with the Second Selectman’s son and some of his friends. You were almost arrested, according to what I’ve got in my folder.”

A folder. Now he’s got a folder. God help me.

“That’s fine intel as far as it goes,” Barbie said, “but let me give you a little more. One, the Police Chief who kept me from being arrested died out on 119, not far from where I’m talking to you, in fact—”

Faintly, in a world he could not now visit, Barbie heard paper rattle. He suddenly felt he would like to kill Colonel James O. Cox with his bare hands, simply because Colonel James O. Cox could go out for Mickey-D’s any time he wanted, and he, Dale Barbara, could not.

“We know about that, too,” Cox said. “A pacemaker problem.”

“Two,” Barbie went on, “the new Chief, who is asshole buddies with the only powerful member of this town’s Board of Selectmen, has hired some new deputies. They’re the guys who tried to beat my head off my shoulders in the parking lot of the local nightclub.”

“You’ll have to rise above that, won’t you? Colonel?”

“Why are you calling me Colonel? You’re the Colonel.”

“Congratulations,” Cox said. “Not only have you reenlisted in your country’s service, you’ve gotten an absolutely dizzying promotion.”