Under the Dome

And although he still didn’t look dangerous, only stunned, Pete Randolph said something that chilled her heart. “Until the Dome goes away, Julia, I guess legal is whatever we decide it is.”

“When were they killed? Tell me that much, anyhow.”

“Well, it looks like the two girls were fir—”

The office door opened, and she had no doubt at all that Big Jim had been standing on the other side, listening. Andy was sitting behind what was now Randolph’s desk with his face in his hands.

“Get her out!” Big Jim snarled. “I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

“You can’t hold him incommunicado, and you can’t deny information to the people of this town!” Julia shouted.

“You’re wrong on both counts,” Big Jim said. “Have you ever heard that saying, ‘If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem?’ Well, you’re not solving anything by being here. You’re a tiresome noseyparker. You always were. And if you don’t leave, you’re going to be arrested. Fair warning.”

“Fine! Arrest me! Stick me in a cell downstairs!” She held out her hands with the wrists together, as if for handcuffs.

For one moment, she thought Jim Rennie was going to hit her. The desire to do so was clear on his face. Instead, he spoke to Pete Randolph. “For the last time, get this noseyparker out of here. If she resists, throw her out.” And he slammed the door.

Not meeting her eyes and with his cheeks the color of freshly fired brick, Randolph took her arm. This time, Julia went. As she passed the duty desk, Marty Arsenault said—more in disconsolation than anger—“Now look. I lost my job to one of these thuds, who don’t know their asses from their elbows.”

“You won’t lose your job, Marts,” Randolph said. “I can talk him around.”

A moment later, she was outside, blinking in the sunlight.

“So,” Pete Freeman said. “How’d that go?”

22

Benny was the first to come out of it. And aside from being hot—his shirt was stuck to his less-than-heroic chest—he felt okay. He crawled to Norrie and shook her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, dazed. Her hair was clumped to her sweaty cheeks.

“What happened?” she asked. “I must have fallen asleep. I had a dream, only I can’t remember what it was. It was bad, though. I know that.”

Joe McClatchey rolled over and pushed himself to his knees.

“Jo-Jo?” Benny asked. He hadn’t called his friend Jo-Jo since fourth grade. “You okay?”

“Yeah. The pumpkins were on fire.”

“What pumpkins?”

Joe shook his head. He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that he wanted to grab some shade and drink the rest of his Snapple. Then he thought of the Geiger counter. He fished it out of the ditch and saw with relief that it was still working—they’d built things tough in the twentieth century, it seemed.

He showed Benny the +200 reading, and tried to show Norrie, but she was looking up the slope of Black Ridge to the orchard at the top.

“What’s that?” she asked, and pointed.

Joe initially saw nothing. Then a bright purple light flashed out. It was almost too bright to look at. Shortly thereafter, it flashed again. He looked down at his watch, wanting to time the flashes, but his watch had stopped at 4:02.

“I think it’s what we were looking for,” he said, getting to his feet. He expected his legs to feel rubbery, but they didn’t. Except for being too hot, he felt pretty much okay. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before it makes us sterile, or something.”

“Dude,” Benny said. “Who wants kids? They might turn out like me.” Nevertheless, he mounted his bike.

They rode back the way they came, not stopping to rest and drink until they were over the bridge and back to Route 119.

SALT

1

The female officers standing by Big Jim’s H3 were still talking—Jackie now nervously puffing a cigarette—but they broke off as Julia Shumway stalked past them.

“Julia?” Linda asked hesitantly. “What did—”

Julia kept on. The last thing she wanted while she was still boiling was to talk to any more representatives of law and order as it now seemed to exist in Chester’s Mill. She walked halfway to the Democrat’s office before she realized that anger wasn’t all she was feeling. It wasn’t even most of what she was feeling. She stopped under the awning of Mill New & Used Books (CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE, read the hand-lettered sign in the window), partly to wait for her racing heart to slow, mostly to look inside herself. It didn’t take long.

“Mostly I’m just scared,” she said, and jumped a little at the sound of her own voice. She hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

Pete Freeman caught up with her. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” It was a lie, but it emerged stoutly enough. Of course, she couldn’t tell what her face was saying. She reached up and tried to flatten the sleepstack of hair at the back of her head. It went down… then sprang up again. Bed head on top of everything else, she thought. Very nice. The finishing touch.