Under the Dome

“Junior Rennie was never a great kid, but he used to be relatively harmless. Over the last year or so, he’s changed. Howie saw it, and was troubled by it. I’ve discovered that Howie knew things about both the son and the father…” She trailed off. Barbie could see her debating whether or not to go on and deciding not to. She had learned discretion as the wife of a small-town police official, and it was a hard habit to unlearn.

“Howie advised you to leave town before Rennie found some other way to make trouble for you, didn’t he? I imagine you got caught by this Dome thing before you could do it.”

“Yes to both. Can I have that Diet Coke now, Mrs. Perkins?”

“Call me Brenda. And I’ll call you Barbie, if that’s what you go by. Please help yourself to a soft drink.”

Barbie did.

“You want a key to the fallout shelter so you can get the Geiger counter. I can and will help you there. But it sounded like you were saying Jim Rennie has to know, and with that idea I have trouble. Maybe it’s grief clouding my mind, but I don’t understand why you’d want to get into any kind of head-butting contest with him. Big Jim freaks out when anybody challenges his authority, and you he doesn’t like to begin with. Nor does he owe you any favors. If my husband were still Chief, maybe the two of you could go see Rennie together. I would rather have enjoyed that, I think.” She leaned forward, looking at him earnestly from her dark-circled eyes. “But Howie’s gone and you’re apt to wind up in a cell instead of looking around for some mystery generator.”

“I know all that, but something new has been added. The Air Force is going to shoot a Cruise missile at the Dome tomorrow at thirteen hundred hours.”

“Oh-my-Jesus.”

“They’ve shot other missiles at it, but only to determine how high the barrier goes. Radar doesn’t work. Those had dummy warheads. This one will have a very live one. A bunker-buster.”

She paled visibly.

“What part of our town are they going to shoot it at?”

“Point of impact will be where the Dome cuts Little Bitch Road. Julia and I were out there just last night. It’ll explode about five feet off the ground.”

Her mouth dropped open in an unladylike gape. “Not possible!”

“I’m afraid it is. They’ll release in from a B-52, and it’ll fly a preprogrammed course. I mean really programmed. Down to every ridge and dip, once it descends to target height. Those things are eerie. If it explodes and doesn’t break through, it means everyone in town just gets a bad scare—it’s going to sound like Armageddon. If it does break through, though—”

Her hand had gone to her throat. “How much damage? Barbie, we have no firetrucks!”

“I’m sure they’ll have fire equipment standing by. As to how much damage?” He shrugged. “The whole area will have to be evacuated, that’s for sure.”

“Is it wise? Is what they’re planning wise?”

“It’s a moot question, Mrs.—Brenda. They’ve made their decision. But it gets worse, I’m afraid.” And, seeing her expression: “For me, not the town. I’ve been promoted to Colonel. By Presidential order.”

She rolled her eyes. “How nice for you.”

“I’m supposed to declare martial law and basically take over Chester’s Mill. Won’t Jim Rennie enjoy hearing that?”

She surprised him by bursting into laughter. And Barbie surprised himself by joining her.

“You see my problem? The town doesn’t have to know about me borrowing an old Geiger counter, but they do need to know about the bunker-buster coming their way. Julia Shumway will spread the news if I don’t, but the town fathers ought to hear it from me. Because—”

“I know why.” Thanks to the reddening sun, Brenda’s face had lost its pallor. But she was rubbing her arms absently. “If you’re to establish any authority here… which is what your superior wants you to do…”

“I guess Cox is more like my colleague now,” Barbie said.

She sighed. “Andrea Grinnell. We’ll take this to her. Then we’ll talk to Rennie and Andy Sanders together. At least we’ll outnumber them, three to two.”

“Rose’s sister? Why?”

“You don’t know she’s the town’s Third Selectman?” And when he shook his head: “Don’t look so chagrined. Many don’t, although she’s held the job for several years. She’s usually little more than a rubber-stamp for the two men—which means for Rennie, since Andy Sanders is a rubber-stamp himself—and she has… problems… but there’s a core of toughness there. Or was.”

“What problems?”

He thought she might keep that to herself too, but she didn’t. “Drug dependency. Pain pills. I don’t know how bad it is.”

“And I suppose she gets her scrips filled at Sanders’s pharmacy.”

“Yes. I know it’s not a perfect solution, and you’ll have to be very careful, but… Jim Rennie may be forced by simple expediency to accept your input for a while. Your actual leadership?” She shook her head. “He’ll wipe his bottom with any declaration of martial law, whether it’s signed by the President or not. I—”

She ceased. Her eyes were looking past him, and widening.

“Mrs. Perkins? Brenda? What is it?”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, my God. ”