Under the Dome

Before he could finish, a shout came from downstairs in the Coop: “Hey, fuckface! I got you, didn’t I? I got you good!”

And then, incredibly, laughter. It was high-pitched and maniacal. For a moment Jackie and Rommie could only stare at each other, unable to move.

Then Rommie said, “I t’ink dat’s Barbara.”

29

Ernie Calvert sat behind the wheel of the phone company van, which was idling at a curb stenciled POLICE BUSINESS 10 MINS ONLY. He had locked all the doors, afraid of being carjacked by one or more of the panic-stricken people fleeing down Main Street from the Town Hall. He was holding the rifle Rommie had stowed behind the driver’s seat, although he wasn’t sure he could shoot anybody who tried to break in; he knew these people, had for years sold them their groceries. Terror had rendered their faces strange but not unrecognizable.

He saw Henry Morrison coursing back and forth on the Town Hall lawn, looking like a hunting dog searching for scent. He was shouting into his bullhorn and trying to bring a little order out of the chaos. Someone knocked him over and Henry got right back up, God bless him.

And now here were others: Georgie Frederick, Marty Arsenault, the Searles kid (recognizable by the bandage he was still wearing on his head), both Bowie brothers, Roger Killian, and a couple of the other newbies. Freddy Denton was marching down the Hall’s broad front steps with his gun drawn. Ernie didn’t see Randolph, although anyone who didn’t know better would have expected the Chief of Police to be in charge of the pacification detail, which was itself teetering on the edge of chaos.

Ernie did know better. Peter Randolph had always been an ineffectual bluster-bug, and his absence at this particular Snafu Circus did not surprise Ernie in the least. Or concern him. What did concern him was that no one was coming out of the Police Department, and there had been more gunshots. These were muffled, as if they’d originated downstairs where the prisoners were kept.

Not ordinarily a praying fellow, Ernie prayed now. That none of the people fleeing the Town Hall would notice the old man behind the wheel of the idling van. That Jackie and Rommie would come out safe, with or without Barbara and Everett. It occurred to him that he could just drive away, and was shocked by how tempting the idea was.

His cell phone rang.

For a moment he just sat there, not sure of what he was hearing, and then he yanked it off his belt. When he opened it, he saw JOANIE in the window. But it wasn’t his daughter-in-law; it was Norrie.

“Grampa! Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he said, looking at the chaos in front of him.

“Did you get them out?”

“It’s happening right now, honey,” he said, hoping it was the truth. “I can’t talk. Are you safe? Are you at… at the place?”

“Yes! Grampy, it glows at night! The radiation belt! The cars glowed too, but then they stopped! Julia says she thinks it isn’t dangerous! She says she thinks it’s a fake, to scare people away!”

You better not count on that, Ernie thought.

Two more muffled, thudding gunshots came from inside the PD. Someone was dead downstairs in the Coop; just about had to be.

“Norrie, I can’t talk now.”

“Is it going to be all right, Grampa?”

“Yes, yes. I love you, Norrie.”

He closed the phone. It glows, he thought, and wondered if he would ever see that glow. Black Ridge was close (in a small town, everything’s close), but just now it seemed far away. He looked at the PD’s doors, trying to will his friends to come out. And when they didn’t, he climbed from the van. He couldn’t just sit out here any longer. He had to go inside and see what was happening.

30

Barbie saw Junior raise the gun. He heard Junior tell Rusty to close his eyes. He shouted without thinking, with no idea of what he was going to say until the words emerged from his mouth. “Hey, fuckface! I got you, didn’t I? I got you good!” The laughter that followed sounded like the laugh of a lunatic who has been ditching his meds.

So that’s how I laugh when I’m fixing to die, Barbie thought. I’ll have to remember that. Which made him laugh harder.

Junior turned toward him. The right side of his face registered surprise; the left was frozen in a scowl. It reminded Barbie of some supervillain he’d read about in his youth, but he couldn’t remember which. Probably one of Batman’s enemies, they were always the creepiest. Then he remembered that when his little brother Wendell tried to say enemies it came out enemas. This made him laugh harder than ever.