Stephen King - Under the Dome

“Yeah.” Joe opened the PowerBook and turned it on. The Mac power-up chime sounded as pretty as ever, but Barbie thought he had never seen anything quite so surreal as the silver computer sitting on the patched asphalt of Little Bitch Road with its screen up. It seemed to summarize the last three days perfectly.

“Battery’s fresh, so it should run for at least six hours,” Joe said.

“Won’t it go to sleep?” Julia asked.

Joe gave her an indulgent Mother, please look. Then he turned back to Barbie. “If the missile roasts my Pro, do you promise to buy me another one?”

“Uncle Sam will buy you another one,” Barbie promised. “I’ll put in the requisition myself.”

“Sweet.”

Joe bent over the PowerBook. There was a little silver barrel mounted atop the screen. This, Joe had told them, was some current compu-miracle called iSight. He ran his finger over the computer’s touchpad, hit ENTER, and suddenly the screen filled with a brilliant image of Little Bitch Road. From ground level, each little bump and irregularity in the tar looked like a mountain. At mid-range, Barbie could see the Marine sentries up to their knees.

“Sir, does he have a picture, sir?” one of them asked.

Barbie looked up. “Let’s put it this way, Marine—if I was doing inspection, you’d be doing push-ups with my foot in your ass. There’s a scuff on your left boot. Unacceptable on a noncombat assignment.”

The Marine looked down at his boot, which was indeed scuffed. Julia laughed. Joe did not. He was absorbed. “It’s too low. Miz Shumway, have you got something in the car we can use to—?” He raised his hand about three feet off the road.

“I do,” she said.

“And get me my little gym bag, please.” He fiddled some more with the PowerBook, then held out his hand. “Cell?”

Barbie handed it to him. Joe hit the tiny buttons with blinding speed. Then: “Benny? Oh, Norrie, okay. You guys there?… Good. Never been in a beerjoint before, I bet. You ready?… Excellent. Stand by.” He listened, then grinned. “Are you kidding? Dude, according to what I’m getting, the jack is awesome. They’re blasting the Wi-Fi. Gotta jet.” He snapped the phone closed and handed it back to Barbie.

Julia came back with Joe’s gym bag and a carton containing undistributed sheets of the Democrat ’s Sunday extra edition. Joe set the PowerBook on the carton (the sudden rise in the image from ground level made Barbie a bit dizzy), then checked it and pronounced it totally rad. He rummaged in the gym bag, brought out a black box with an antenna, and plugged it into the computer. The soldiers were clustered on their side of the Dome, watching with interest. Now I know how a fish feels in an aquarium, Barbie thought.

“Looks okay,” Joe murmured. “I got a green bulb.”

“Shouldn’t you call your—”

“If it’s working, they’ll call me,” Joe said. Then: “Uh-oh, this could be trouble.”

Barbie thought he was referring to the computer, but the boy wasn’t even looking at it. Barbie followed his gaze and saw the green Chief of Police car. It wasn’t moving fast, but the bubblegums were pulsing. Pete Randolph got out from behind the wheel. Emerging from the passenger side (the cruiser rocked a little when his weight left the springs) came Big Jim Rennie.

“Just what in the heck do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

The phone in Barbie’s hand buzzed. He handed it to Joe without taking his eyes from the approaching Selectman and Chief of Police.

The sign over the door of Dipper’s said WELCOME TO THE BIGGEST DANCE FLOOR IN MAINE!, and for the first time in the roadhouse’s history, that floor was crowded at eleven forty-five in the morning. Tommy and Willow Anderson greeted people at the door as they arrived, a little like ministers welcoming parishioners to church. In this case, the First Church of Rock Bands Direct from Boston.

At first the audience was quiet, because there was nothing on the big screen but one blue word: WAITING. Benny and Norrie had plugged in their equipment and switched the TV’s feed to Input 4. Then, suddenly, Little Bitch Road appeared in living color, complete with brightly colored leaves swirling down around the Marine sentries.

The crowd broke into applause and cheers.

Benny gave Norrie a high five, but that wasn’t enough for Norrie; she kissed him on the mouth, and hard. It was the happiest moment of Benny’s life, even better than staying vertical while doing a full-pipe roughie.

“Call him!” Norrie demanded.

“Right on,” Benny said. His face felt as if it might actually catch fire and burn, but he was grinning. He punched REDIAL and held the phone to his ear. “Dude, we got it! The picture’s so radical it—”

Joe cut him off. “Houston, we have a problem.”

“I don’t know what you folks think you’re doing,” Chief Randolph said, “but I want an explanation, and that thing’s shut down until I get one.” He pointed at the PowerBook.

“Pardon me, sir,” one of the Marines said. He was wearing a second lieutenant’s stripes. “That’s Colonel Barbara, and he has official government sanction for this operation.”

To this, Big Jim offered his most sarcastic smile. A vein in his neck was throbbing. “This man is a colonel of nothing but troublemakers. He cooks in the local restaurant.”

“Sir, my orders—”

Big Jim shook his finger at the second lieutenant. “In Chester’s Mill, the only official government we’re recognizing right now is our own, soldier, and I am its representative.” He turned to Randolph. “Chief, if that kid won’t turn it off, pull the plug.”

“It has no plug that I can see,” Randolph said. He was looking from Barbie to the Marine second lieutenant to Big Jim. He had begun to sweat.

“Then put a boot through the darn screen! Just kill it!”

Randolph stepped forward. Joe, looking scared but determined, stepped in front of the PowerBook on the carton. He still had the cell phone in his hand. “You better not! It’s mine, and I’m not breaking any laws!”

“Get back, Chief,” Barbie said. “That’s an order. If you still recognize the government of the country you live in, you’ll obey it.”

Randolph looked around. “Jim, maybe—”

“Maybe nothing,” Big Jim said. “Right now this is the country you live in. Kill that cotton-picking computer. ”

Julia stepped forward, grabbed the PowerBook, and turned it so that the iVision camera was taking in the new arrivals. Tendrils of hair had escaped her businesslike bun and hung against her pink cheeks. Barbie thought she looked extraordinarily beautiful.

“Ask Norrie if they see!” she told Joe.

Big Jim’s smile froze into a grimace. “Woman, put that down!”

“Ask them if they see!”

Joe spoke into the phone. Listened. Then said: “They do. They’re seeing Mr. Rennie and Officer Randolph. Norrie says they want to know what’s happening.”

There was dismay on Randolph’s face; fury on Rennie’s. “ Who wants to know?” Randolph asked.

Julia said, “We’ve set up a live feed to Dipper’s—”

“ That sinpit!” Big Jim said. His hands were clenched. Barbie estimated the man was probably a hundred pounds overweight, and he grimaced when he moved his right arm—as if he’d strained it—but he looked like he could still hit. And right now he looked mad enough to take a swing… although whether at him, Julia, or the boy, he didn’t know. Maybe Rennie didn’t, either.

“People have been gathering there since quarter of eleven,” she said. “News travels fast.” She smiled with her head cocked to one side. “Would you like to wave to your constituency, Big Jim?”