Stephen King - Under the Dome

A growl of displeasure greets this.

“Will you listen to the lies? Will you let them discredit me? Will you allow this town to go without a strong leader in its time of greatest need?”

The answer, of course, is a resounding NO! And although Big Jim continues (like most politicians, he believes in not just gilding the lily but spray-painting it), we can leave him now.

Let’s head up these deserted streets to the Congo parsonage. And look! Here’s someone we can walk with: a thirteen-year-old girl dressed in faded jeans and an old-school Winged Ripper skate-board tee. The tough riot grrrl pout that is her mother’s despair is gone from Norrie Calvert’s face this evening. It has been replaced by an expression of wonder that makes her look like the eight-year-old she not so long ago was. We follow her gaze and see a vast full moon climbing from the clouds to the east of town. It is the color and shape of a freshly cut pink grapefruit.

“Oh… my… God, ” Norrie whispers. One fisted hand is pressed between the scant nubs of her breasts as she looks at that pink freak of a moon. Then she walks on, not so amazed that she fails to look around herself from time to time to make sure she’s not being noticed. This is as per Linda Everett’s order: they were to go alone, they were to be unobtrusive, and they were to make absolutely sure they weren’t followed.

“This isn’t a game,” Linda told them. Norrie was more impressed by her pale, strained face than by her words. “If we get caught, they won’t just take away hit points or make us miss a turn. Do you kids understand that?”

“Can I go with Joe?” Mrs. McClatchey asked. She was almost as pale as Mrs. Everett.

Mrs. Everett shook her head. “Bad idea.” And that had impressed Norrie most of all. No, not a game; maybe life and death.

Ah, but there is the church, and the parsonage tucked in right beside it. Norrie can see the bright white light of Coleman lanterns around back, where the kitchen must be. Soon she’ll be inside, out from under the gaze of that awful pink moon. Soon she’ll be safe.

So she’s thinking when a shadow detaches itself from one of the thicker shadows and takes her by the arm.

Norrie was too startled to scream, which was just as well; when the pink moon lit the face of the man who had accosted her, she saw it was Romeo Burpee.

“You scared the crap out of me,” she whispered.

“Sorry. Just keepin an eye out, me.” Rommie let go of her arm, and looked around. “Where are your boyfriens?”

Norrie smiled at that. “Dunno. We were supposed to come by ourselves, and different ways. That’s what Mrs. Everett said.” She looked down the hill. “I think that’s Joey’s mom coming now. We should go in.”

They walked toward the light of the lanterns. The parsonage’s inner door was standing open. Rommie knocked softly on the side of the screen and said, “Rommie Burpee and a friend. If there’s a password, we didn’t get it.”

Piper Libby opened the door and let them in. She looked curiously at Norrie. “Who are you?”

“Damn if that isn’t my granddaughter,” Ernie said, coming into the room. He had a glass of lemonade in one hand and a grin on his face. “Come here, girl. I’ve been missing you.”

Norrie gave him a strong hug and kissed him as her mother had instructed. She hadn’t expected to obey those instructions so soon, but was glad to do so. And to him she could tell the truth that torture would not have dragged from her lips in front of the guys she hung with.

“Grampa, I’m so scared.”

“We all are, honey-girl.” He hugged her more tightly, then looked into her upturned face. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but now that you are, how about a glass of lemonade?”

Norrie saw the urn and said, “I’d rather have coffee.”

“So would I,” Piper said. “I got it all loaded with high-test and ready to go before I remembered I have no power.” She gave her head a little shake, as if to clear it. “This keeps hitting me in different ways.”

There was another knock at the back door and Lissa Jamieson came in, her cheeks high with color. “I stashed my bike in your garage, Reverend Libby. I hope that’s okay.”

“Fine. And if we’re engaging in criminal conspiracy here—as Rennie and Randolph would no doubt contend—you better call me Piper.”

They were all early, and Piper called the Chester’s Mill Revolutionary Committee to order at just past nine o’clock. What impressed her initially was how uneven the sexual division was: eight females and only four males. And of the four males, one was past retirement age and two weren’t old enough to get into an R-rated movie by themselves. She had to remind herself that a hundred guerrilla armies in various parts of the world had put guns in the hands of women and kids no older than these here tonight. That didn’t make it right, but sometimes what was right and what was necessary came into conflict.

“I’d like us to bow our heads for a minute,” Piper said. “I’m not going to pray because I’m no longer sure just who I’m talking to when I do that. But you might want to say a word to the God of your understanding, because tonight we need all the help we can get.”

They did as she asked. Some still had their heads down and their eyes closed when Piper raised her own head to look at them: two recently fired lady cops, a retired supermarket manager, a newspaperwoman who no longer had a newspaper, a librarian, the owner of the local restaurant, a Dome-widow who couldn’t stop spinning the wedding ring on her finger, the local department store tycoon, and three uncharacteristically solemn-faced kids sitting scrunched together on the sofa.

“Okay, amen,” Piper said. “I’m going to turn the meeting over to Jackie Wettington, who knows what she’s doing.”

“That’s probably too optimistic,” Jackie said. “Not to mention hasty. Because I’m going to turn the meeting over to Joe McClatchey.”

Joe looked startled. “Me?”

“But before he gets going,” she went on, “I’m going to ask his friends to serve as lookouts. Norrie in front and Benny in back.” Jackie saw the protest on their faces and raised a hand to forestall it. “This isn’t an excuse to get you out of the room—it’s important. I don’t need to tell you it might not be good if the powers that be caught us in conclave. You two are the smallest. Find some nice deep shadows and slide in. If you see someone coming who looks suspicious, or any of the town police cars, clap your hands like this.” She clapped once, then twice, then once more. “You’ll be filled in on everything later, I promise you. The new order of the day is pooled information, no secrets.”

When they were gone, Jackie turned to Joe. “This box you told Linda about. Tell everyone. From beginning to end.”

Joe did it on his feet, as if reciting in school. “Then we came back to town,” he finished. “And that bastard Rennie had Rusty arrested.” He wiped sweat from his forehead and sat back down on the couch.

Claire put an arm around his shoulders. “Joe says it would be bad for Rennie to find out about the box,” she said. “He thinks Rennie might want it to keep on doing what it’s doing instead of trying to turn it off or destroy it.”

“I think he’s right,” Jackie said. “So its existence and location is our first secret.”

“I don’t know…” Joe said.

“What?” Julia asked. “You think he should know?”

“Maybe. Sort of. I need to think.”

Jackie pushed on without questioning him further. “Here’s the second order of business. I want to try and break Barbie and Rusty out of jail. Tomorrow night, during the big town meeting. Barbie’s the guy the President designated to take over the town administration—”