Under the Dome

The anthem ended. There was more applause, and then the town’s Second Selectman began to speak. Jackie checked the pistol she was carrying—it was her extra—and thought that the next few minutes were probably going to be the longest of her life.

18

Barbie and Rusty stood at the doors of their respective cells, listening as Big Jim launched into his speech. Thanks to the speakers outside the main doors of the Town Hall, they could hear pretty well.

“Thank you! Thank you, one and all! Thank you for coming! And thank you for being the bravest, toughest, can-do-ingest people in these United States of America!”

Enthusiastic applause.

“Ladies and gentlemen… and kiddies, too, I see a few of those in the audience….”

Good-natured laughter.

“We are in a terrible predicament here. This you know. Tonight I intend to tell you how we got into it. I don’t know everything, but I will share what I know, because you deserve that. When I’ve finished putting you in the picture, we have a brief but important agenda to go through. But first and foremost, I want to tell you how PROUD I am of you, how HUMBLED I am to be the man God—and you—have chosen to be your leader at this critical juncture, and I want to ASSURE you that together we will come through this trial, together and with God’s help we will emerge STRONGER and TRUER and BETTER than we ever were before! We may be Israelites in the desert now—”

Barbie rolled his eyes and Rusty made a jacking-off gesture with his fist.

“—but soon we will reach CANAAN and the feast of milk and honey which the Lord and our fellow Americans will surely set before us!”

Wild applause. It sounded like a standing O. Fairly certain that even if there was a bug down here, the three or four cops upstairs would now be clustered in the PD doorway, listening to Big Jim, Barbie said: “Be ready, my friend.”

“I am,” Rusty said. “Believe me, I am.”

Just as long as Linda’s not one of them planning to bust in, he thought. He didn’t want her killing anyone, but more than that, he didn’t want her to risk being killed. Not for him. Let her stay right where she is. He may be crazy, but at least if she’s with the rest of the town, she’s safe.

That was what he thought before the gunfire started.

19

Big Jim was exultant. He had them exactly where he wanted them: in the palm of his hand. Hundreds of people, those who had voted for him and those who hadn’t. He had never seen so many in this hall, not even when school prayer or the school budget was under discussion. They sat thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, outside as well as in, and they were doing more than listening to him. With Sanders AWOL and Grinnell sitting in the audience (that red dress in the third row was hard to miss), he owned this crowd. Their eyes begged him to take care of them. To save them. What completed his exultancy was having his bodyguard beside him and seeing the lines of cops—his cops—ranged along both sides of the hall. Not all of them were kitted out in uniforms yet, but all were armed. At least a hundred more in the audience were wearing blue armbands. It was like having his own private army.

“My fellow townspeople, most of you know that we have arrested a man named Dale Barbara—”

A storm of boos and hisses arose. Big Jim waited for it to subside, outwardly grave, inwardly grinning.

“—for the murders of Brenda Perkins, Lester Coggins, and two lovely girls we all knew and loved: Angie McCain and Dodee Sanders.”

More boos, interspersed with cries of “Hang him!” and “Terrorist!” The terrorist-shouter sounded like Velma Winter, the day manager at Brownie’s Store.