Under the Dome

Barbie observed the butterfly bandage bisecting one of Boxer’s eyebrows and the larger bandage on his right forearm. The dentist had fought the good fight for his frozen waffles, it seemed.

“Tell this goon to take his hands off me,” he said when he saw Rusty. “I’ve been treated, and now I’m going home.”

“Not just yet,” Rusty said. “You were treated gratis, and I expect you to pay that forward.”

Boxer was a little guy, no more than five-four, but he drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest. “Expect and be damned. I hardly see oral surgery—which the State of Maine hasn’t certified me to do, by the way—as a quid pro quo for a couple of bandages. I work for a living, Everett, and I expect to be paid for my work.”

“You’ll be paid back in heaven,” Barbie said. “Isn’t that what your friend Rennie would say?”

“He has nothing to do with th—”

Barbie took a step closer and peered into Boxer’s green plastic shopping basket. The words PROPERTY OF FOOD CITY were printed on the handle. Boxer tried, with no great success, to shield the basket from him.

“Speaking of payment, did you pay for those waffles?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everybody was taking everything. All I took were these.” He looked at Barbie defiantly. “I have a very large freezer, and I happen to enjoy waffles.”

“ ‘Everyone was taking everything’ won’t be much of a defense if you’re charged with looting,” Barbie said mildly.

It was impossible for Boxer to draw himself up any further, and yet somehow he did. His face was so red it was almost purple. “Then take me to court! What court? Case closed! Ha!”

He started to turn away again. Barbie reached out and grabbed him, not by the arm but by the basket. “I’ll just confiscate this, then, shall I?”

“You can’t do that!”

“No? Take me to court, then.” Barbie smiled. “Oh, I forgot—what court?”

Dr. Boxer glared at him, lips drawn back to show the tips of tiny perfect teeth.

“We’ll just toast those old waffles up in the caff,” Rusty said. “Yum! Tasty!”

“Yeah, while we’ve still got some electricity to toast em with,” Twitch muttered. “After that we can poke em on forks and cook em over the incinerator out back.”

“You can’t do this!”

Barbie said, “Let me be perfectly clear: unless you do whatever it is Rusty wants you to do, I have no intention of letting go your Eggos.”

Chaz Bender, who had a Band-Aid on the bridge of his nose and another on the side of his neck, laughed. Not very kindly. “Pay up, Doc!” he called. “Isn’t that what you always say?”

Boxer turned his glare first on Bender, then on Rusty. “What you want has almost no chance of working. You must know that.”

Rusty opened the Sucrets box and held it out. Inside were six teeth. “Torie McDonald picked these up outside the supermarket. She got down on her knees and grubbed through puddles of Georgia Roux’s blood to find them. And if you want to have Eggos for breakfast in the near future, Doc, you’re going to put them back in Georgia’s head.”

“And if I just walk away?”

Chaz Bender, the history teacher, took a step forward. His fists were clenched. “In that case, my mercenary friend, I’ll beat the shit out of you in the parking lot.”

“I’ll help,” Twitch said.

“I won’t help,” Barbie said, “but I’ll watch.”

There was laughter and some applause. Barbie felt simultaneously amused and sick to his stomach.

Boxer’s shoulders slumped. All at once he was just a little man caught in a situation too big for him. He took the Sucrets box, then looked at Rusty. “An oral surgeon working under optimum conditions might be able to reimplant these teeth, and they might actually root, although he would be careful to give the patient no guarantees. If I do it, she’ll be lucky to get back one or two. She’s more likely to pull them down her windpipe and choke on them.”

A stocky woman with a lot of flaming red hair shouldered Chaz Bender aside. “I’ll sit with her and make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m her mother.”

Dr. Boxer sighed. “Is she unconscious?”

Before he could get any further, two Chester’s Mill police units, one of them the green Chief’s car, pulled up in the turnaround. Freddy Denton, Junior Rennie, Frank DeLesseps, and Carter Thibodeau got out of the lead car. Chief Randolph and Jackie Wetting-ton emerged from the Chief’s car. Rusty’s wife got out of the back. All were armed, and as they approached the main doors of the hospital, they drew their weapons.

The little crowd that had been watching the confrontation with Joe Boxer murmured and drew back, some in its number undoubtedly expecting to be arrested for theft.

Barbie turned to Rusty Everett. “Look at me,” he said.

“What do you m—”

“Look at me!” Barbie lifted his arms, turning them to show both sides. Then he pulled up his tee-shirt, showing first his flat stomach, then turning to exhibit his back. “Do you see marks? Bruises?”

“No—”

“Make sure they know that,” Barbie said.

It was all he had time for. Randolph led his officers through the door. “Dale Barbara? Step forward.”