Under the Dome

Meanwhile Horace was staring at her, asking with his cocked ears and bright eyes what came next. He made her think of the woman who had lost her dog: Piper Libby. Piper would take her in and give her a bed without talking her ear off. And after a night’s sleep, Julia might be able to think again. Even plan a little.

She started the Prius and drove up to the Congo church. But the parsonage was dark, and a note was tacked to the door. Julia pulled the tack, took the note back to the car, and read it by the dome light.

I have gone to the hospital. There has been a shooting there.

Julia started to make the keening noise again, and when Horace

began to whine as if trying to harmonize, she made herself stop. She put the Prius in reverse, then put it back in park long enough to return the note to where she had found it, in case some other parishioner with the weight of the world on his shoulders (or hers) might come by looking for The Mill’s remaining spiritual advisor.

So now where? Rosie’s after all? But Rosie might already have turned in. The hospital? Julia would have forced herself to go there in spite of her shock and her weariness if it had served a purpose, but now there was no newspaper in which to report whatever had happened, and without that, no reason to expose herself to fresh horrors.

She backed out of the driveway and turned up Town Common Hill with no idea where she was going until she came to Prestile Street. Three minutes later, she was parking in Andrea Grinnell’s driveway. Yet this house was also dark. There was no answer to her soft knocks. Having no way of knowing that Andrea was in her bed upstairs, deeply asleep for the first time since dumping her pills, Julia assumed she had either gone to her brother Dougie’s house or was spending the night with a friend.

Meanwhile, Horace was sitting on the welcome mat, looking up at her, waiting for her to take charge, as she had always done. But Julia was too hollowed out to take charge and too tired to go further. She was more than half convinced that she would drive the Prius off the road and kill them both if she tried going anywhere.

What she kept thinking about wasn’t the burning building where her life had been stored but of how Colonel Cox had looked when she’d asked him if they had been abandoned.

Negative, he’d said. Absolutely not. But he hadn’t quite been able to look at her while he said it.

There was a lawn glider on the porch. If necessary, she could curl up there. But maybe—

She tried the door and found it unlocked. She hesitated; Horace did not. Secure in the belief that he was welcome everywhere, he went inside immediately. Julia followed on the other end of the leash, thinking, My dog is now making the decisions. This is what it’s come to.

“Andrea?” she called softly. “Andi, are you here? It’s Julia.”

Upstairs, lying on her back and snoring like a truck driver at the end of a four-day run, only one part of Andrea stirred: her left foot, which hadn’t yet given up its withdrawal-induced jerking and tapping.

It was gloomy in the living room, but not entirely dark; Andi had left a battery-powered lamp on in the kitchen. And there was a smell. The windows were open, but with no breeze, the odor of vomit hadn’t entirely vented. Had someone told her that Andrea was ill? With the flu, maybe?

Maybe it is the flu, but it could just as easily be withdrawal if she ran out of the pills she takes.

Either way, sickness was sickness, and sick people usually didn’t want to be alone. Which meant the house was empty. And she was so tired. Across the room was a nice long couch, and it called to her. If Andi came in tomorrow and found Julia there, she’d understand.

“She might even make me a cup of tea,” she said. “We’ll laugh about it.” Although the idea of laughing at anything, ever again, seemed out of the question to her right now. “Come on, Horace.”

She unclipped his leash and trudged across the room. Horace watched her until she lay down and put a sofa pillow behind her head. Then he laid down himself and put his snout on his paw.

“You be a good boy,” she said, and closed her eyes. What she saw when she did was Cox’s eyes not quite meeting hers. Because Cox thought they were under the Dome for the long haul.

But the body knows mercies of which the brain is unaware. Julia fell asleep with her head less than four feet from the manila envelope Brenda had tried to deliver to her that morning. At some point, Horace jumped onto the couch and curled up between her knees. And that was how Andrea found them when she came downstairs on the morning of October twenty-fifth, feeling more like her true self than she had in years.

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