Under the Dome

WARNING!

FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY!

KEEP 2 YARDS (6 FEET) FROM THE DOME!

Ollie guessed the signs pointing the other way said the same, and on the other side they might work, because on the other side there would be lots of guys to keep order. Over here, though, there were going to be maybe eight hundred townies and maybe two dozen cops, most of them new to the job. Keeping people back on this side would be like trying to protect a sand castle from the incoming tide.

Her underpants had been wet, and there had been a puddle between her splayed legs. She’d pissed herself either right before she pulled the trigger, or right after. Ollie thought probably after.

He threw a rock.

BONK. Silence.

There was one Army guy close by. He was pretty young. There wasn’t any kind of insignia on his sleeves, so Ollie guessed he was probably a private. He looked about sixteen, but Ollie supposed he had to be older. He’d heard of kids lying about their age to get into the service, but he guessed that was before everybody had computers to keep track of such things.

The Army guy looked around, saw no one was paying him any attention, and spoke in a low voice. He had a southern accent. “Kid? Would y’all stop doing that? It’s drivin me bugshit.”

“Go someplace else, then,” Ollie said.

BONK. Silence.

“Caint. Orders.”

Ollie didn’t reply. He threw another rock, instead.

BONK. Silence.

“Why y’all doin it?” the Army guy asked. He was now just fiddling with the pair of signs he was putting up so he could talk to Ollie.

“Because sooner or later, one of them won’t bounce back. And when that happens, I’m going to get up and walk away and never see this farm again. Never milk another cow. What’s the air like out there?”

“Good. Chilly, though. I’m from South Cah’lina. It ain’t like this in South Cah’lina in October, I can tell you that.”

Where Ollie was, less than three yards from the southern boy, it was hot. Also stinky.

The Army guy pointed beyond Ollie. “Why don’t y’all quit on the rocks and do somethin about those cows?” He said it cay-ows. “Herd em into the barn and milk em or rub soothin shit on their udders; somethin like at.”

“We don’t need to herd them. They know where to go. Only now they don’t need to be milked, and they don’t need any Bag Balm, either. Their udders are dry.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My dad says something’s wrong with the grass. He says the grass is wrong because the air’s wrong. It doesn’t smell good in here, you know. It smells like crap.”

“Yeah?” The Army guy looked fascinated. He gave the tops of the back-to-back signs a tap or two with his hammer, although they already looked well seated.

“Yeah. My mother killed herself this morning.”

The Army guy had raised his hammer for another hit. Now he just dropped it to his side. “Are you shittin me, kid?”

“No. She shot herself at the kitchen table. I found her.”

“Oh fuck, that’s rough.” The Army guy approached the Dome.

“We took my brother to town when he died last Sunday, because he was still alive—a little—but my mom was dead as dead can be, so we buried her on the knoll. My dad and me. She liked it there. It was pretty there before everything got so cruddy. ”

“Jesus, kid! You been through hell!”

“Still there,” Ollie said, and as if the words had turned a valve somewhere inside, he began to weep. He got up and went to the Dome. He and the young soldier faced each other, less than a foot apart. The soldier raised his hand, wincing a little as the transient shock whipped through him and then out of him. He laid his hand on the Dome, fingers spread. Ollie lifted his own and pressed it against the Dome on his side. Their hands seemed to be touching, finger to finger and palm to palm, but they weren’t. It was a futile gesture that would be repeated over and over the following day: hundreds of times, thousands.

“Kid—”

“Private Ames!” someone bawled. “Get your sorry ass away from there!”

Private Ames jumped like a kid who’s been caught stealing jam.

“Get over here! Double time!”

“Hang in there, kid,” Private Ames said, and ran off to get his scolding. Ollie imagined it had to be a scolding, since you couldn’t very well demote a private. Surely they wouldn’t put him in the stockade or whatever for talking to one of the animals in the zoo. I didn’t even get any peanuts, Ollie thought.

For a moment he looked up at the cows that no longer gave milk—that hardly even cropped grass—and then he sat down by his pack. He searched for and found another nice round rock. He thought about the chipped polish on the nails of his dead mother’s outstretched hand, the one with the still-smoking gun beside it. Then he threw the rock. It hit the Dome and bounced back.

BONK. Silence.

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