Stephen King - Under the Dome

Rennie felt the paper. A deep vertical crease had formed between his bushy eyebrows. “This isn’t White House stationery.”

Of course it is, you silly man, Barbie was tempted to say. It was delivered an hour ago by a member of the FedEx Elf Squad. Crazy little fucker just teleported through the Dome, no problem.

“No, it’s not.” Barbie tried to keep his voice pleasant. “It came by way of the Internet, as a PDF file. Ms. Shumway downloaded it and printed it out.”

Julia Shumway. Another troublemaker.

“Read it, James,” Brenda said quietly. “It’s important.”

Big Jim read it.

Benny Drake, Norrie Calvert, and Scarecrow Joe McClatchey stood outside the offices of the Chester’s Mill Democrat. Each had a flash-light. Benny and Joe held theirs in their hands; Norrie’s was tucked into the wide front pocket of her hoodie. They were looking up the street at the Town Hall, where several people—including all three selectmen and the cook from Sweetbriar Rose—appeared to be having a conference.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Norrie said.

“Grownup shit,” Benny said, with a supreme lack of interest, and knocked on the door of the newspaper office. When there was no response, Joe pushed past him and tried the knob. The door opened. He knew at once why Miz Shumway hadn’t heard them; her copier was going full blast while she talked with the paper’s sports reporter and the guy who had been taking pictures out at the field day.

She saw the kids and waved them in. Single sheets were shooting rapidly in the copier’s tray. Pete Freeman and Tony Guay were taking turns pulling them out and stacking them up.

“There you are,” Julia said. “I was afraid you kids weren’t coming. We’re almost ready. If the damn copier doesn’t shit the bed, that is.”

Joe, Benny, and Norrie received this enchanting bon mot with silent appreciation, each resolving to put it to use as soon as possible.

“Did you get permission from your folks?” Julia asked. “I don’t want a bunch of angry parents on my neck.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Norrie said. “All of us did.”

Freeman was tying up a bundle of sheets with twine. Doing a bad job of it, too, Norrie observed. She herself could tie five different knots. Also fishing flies. Her father had shown her. She in turn had shown him how to do nosies on her rail, and when he fell off the first time he’d laughed until tears rolled down his face. She thought she had the best dad in the universe.

“Want me to do that?” Norrie asked.

“If you can do a better job, sure.” Pete stood aside.

She started forward, Joe and Benny crowding close behind her. Then she saw the big black headline on the one-sheet extra, and stopped. “Holy shit!”

As soon as the words were out she clapped her hands to her mouth, but Julia only nodded. “It’s an authentic holy shit, all right. I hope you all brought bikes, and I hope they all have baskets. You can’t haul these around town on skateboards.”

“That’s what you said, that’s what we brought,” Joe replied. “Mine doesn’t have a basket, but it’s got a carrier.”

“And I’ll tie his load on for him,” Norrie said.

Pete Freeman, who was watching with admiration as the girl quickly tied up the bundles (with what looked like a sliding butter-fly), said, “I bet you will. Those are good.”

“Yeah, I rock,” Norrie said matter-of-factly.

“Got flashlights?” Julia asked.

“Yes,” they all said together.

“Good. The Democrat hasn’t used newsboys in thirty years, and I don’t want to celebrate the reintroduction of the practice with one of you getting hit on the corner of Main or Prestile.”

“That would be a bummer, all right,” Joe agreed.

“Every house and business on those two streets gets one, right? Plus Morin and St. Anne Avenue. After that, spread out. Do what you can, but when it gets to be nine o’clock, go on home. Drop any leftover papers on streetcorners. Put a rock on them to hold them down.”

Benny looked at the headline again:

CRUISE MISSILE DELIVERY SYSTEM

WESTERN BORDER EVACUATION RECOMMENDED

“I bet this won’t work,” Joe said darkly, examining the map, obviously hand-drawn, at the bottom of the sheet. The border between Chester’s Mill and Tarker’s Mills had been highlighted in red. There was a black Xwhere Little Bitch Road cut across the town line. The Xhad been labeled Point of Impact.

“Bite your tongue, kiddo,” Tony Guay said.

Greetings and salutations

to the CHESTER’S MILL BOARD OF SELECTMEN:

Andrew Sanders

James P. Rennie

Andrea Grinnell

Dear Sirs and Madam:

First and foremost, I send you greetings, and want to express our nation’s deep concern and good wishes. I have designated tomorrow as a national Day of Prayer; across America, churches will be open as people of all faiths pray for you and for those working to understand and reverse what has happened at the borders of your town. Let me assure you that we will not rest until the people of Chester’s Mill are freed and those responsible for your imprisonment are punished. That this situation will be resolved—and soon—is my promise to you and to the people of Chester’s Mill. I speak with all the solemn weight of my office, as your Commander in Chief.

Second, this letter will introduce Colonel Dale Barbara, of the U.S. Army. Col. Barbara served in Iraq, where he was awarded the Bronze Star, a Merit Service Medal, and two Purple Hearts. He has been recalled to duty and promoted so that he may serve as your conduit to us, and ours to you. I know that, as loyal Americans, you will afford him every assistance. As you aid him, so will we aid you.

My original intent, in accordance with the advice given me by the Joint Chiefs and the Secretaries of Defense and Homeland Security, was to invoke martial law in Chester’s Mill and appoint Col. Barbara as interim military governor. Col. Barbara has assured me, however, that this will not be necessary. He tells me he expects full cooperation from Selectmen and local police. He believes his position should be one of “advise and consent.” I have agreed to his judgment, subject to review.

Third, I know you are worried about your inability to call friends and loved ones. We understand your concern, but it is imperative that we maintain this “telephonic blackout” to lower the risk of classified information passing into and out of Chester’s Mill. You may think this a specious concern; I assure you it is not. It may very well be that someone in Chester’s Mill has information regarding the barrier surrounding your town. “In-town” calls should go through.

Fourth, we will continue to maintain a press blackout for the time being, although this matter will remain subject to review. There may come a time when it would be beneficial for town officials and Col. Barbara to hold a press conference, but at present our belief is that a speedy end to this crisis will render such a meeting with the press moot.

My fifth point concerns Internet communications. The Joint Chiefs are strongly in favor of a temporary blackout on e-mail communications, and I was inclined to agree. Col. Barbara, however, has argued strongly in favor of allowing the citizens of Chester’s Mill continued Internet access. He points out that e-mail traffic can be legally monitored by the NSA, and as a practical matter such communications can be vetted more easily than cell transmissions. Since he is our “man on the spot,” I have agreed to this point, partly on humanitarian grounds. This decision, however, will also be subject to review; changes in policy may occur. Col. Barbara will be a full participant in such reviews, and we look forward to a smooth working relationship between him and all town officials.