Stephen King - Under the Dome

“Who’s not what?”

“Peter Randolph is not halfway competent. Not even one-quarter.

I went to school with him all the way from kindergarten, where he was a world-champion pants-wetter, to twelfth grade, where he was part of the Bra-Snapping Brigade. He was a C-minus intellect who got B-minus grades because his father was on the school board, and his brainpower has not increased. Our Mr. Rennie has surrounded himself with dullards. Andrea Grinnell is an exception, but she’s also a drug addict. OxyContin.”

“Back problems,” Barbie said. “Rose told me.”

Enough of the trees on the common had shed their leaves for Barbie and Julia to be able to see Main Street. It was deserted now—most people would still be at Dipper’s, discussing what they had seen—but its sidewalks would soon fill with stunned, disbelieving townsfolk drifting back to their homes. Men and women who would not yet even dare ask each other what came next.

Julia sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “Jim Rennie thinks if he just keeps all the control in his own hands, things will eventually come rightside up. For him and his friends, at least. He’s the worst kind of politician—selfish, too egocentric to realize he’s way out of his league, and a coward underneath that bluff cando exterior of his. When things get bad enough, he’ll send this town to the devil if he thinks he can save himself by doing so. A cowardly leader is the most dangerous of men. You’re the one who should be running this show.”

“I appreciate your confidence—”

“But that’s not going to happen no matter what your Colonel Cox and the President of the United States may want. It’s not going to happen even if fifty thousand people march down Fifth Avenue in New York, waving signs with your face on them. Not with that fucking Dome still over our heads.”

“Every time I listen to you, you sound less Republican,” Barbie remarked.

She struck him on the bicep with a surprisingly hard fist. “This is not a joke.”

“No,” Barbie said. “It’s not a joke. It’s time to call for elections. And I urge you to stand for Second Selectman yourself.”

She looked at him pityingly. “Do you think Jim Rennie is going to allow elections as long as the Dome is in place? What world are you living in, my friend?”

“Don’t underestimate the will of the town, Julia.”

“And don’t you underestimate James Rennie. He’s been in charge here for donkey’s years and people have come to accept him. Also, he’s very talented when it comes to finding scapegoats. An out-oftowner—a drifter, in fact—would be perfect in the current situation. Do we know anybody like that?”

“I was expecting an idea from you, not a political analysis.”

For a moment he thought she was going to hit him again. Then she drew in a breath, let it out, and smiled. “You come on all awshucks, but you’ve got some thorns, don’t you?”

The Town Hall whistle began to blow a series of short blasts into the warm, still air.

“Someone’s called in a fire,” Julia said. “I think we know where.”

They looked west, where rising smoke smudged the blue. Barbie thought most of it had to be coming from the Tarker’s Mills side of the Dome, but the heat would almost certainly have ignited small fires on the Chester side as well.

“You want an idea? Okay, here’s one. I’ll track down Brenda—she’ll either be at home or at Dipper’s with everyone else—and suggest she take charge of the fire-fighting operation.”

“And if she says no?”

“I’m pretty sure she won’t. At least there’s no wind to speak of—not on this side of the Dome—so it’s probably just grass and brush. She’ll tap some guys to pitch in, and she’ll know the right ones. They’ll be the ones Howie would’ve picked.”

“None of them the new officers, I take it.”

“I’ll leave that up to her, but I doubt if she’ll be calling on Carter Thibodeau or Melvin Searles. Freddy Denton, either. He’s been on the cops for five years, but I know from Brenda that Duke was planning to let him go. Freddy plays Santa every year at the elementary school, and the kids love him—he’s got a great ho-ho-ho. He’s also got a mean streak.”

“You’ll be going around Rennie again.”

“Yes.”

“Payback could be a bitch.”

“I can be a bitch myself, when I have to be. Brenda too, if she gets her back up.”

“Go for it. And make sure she asks that guy Burpee. When it comes to putting out a brushfire, I’d trust him rather than any town firebarn leftovers. He’s got everything in that store of his.”

She nodded. “That’s a damned good idea.”

“Sure you don’t want me to tag along?”

“You’ve got other fish to fry. Did Bren give you Duke’s key to the fallout shelter?”

“She did.”

“Then the fire may be just the distraction you need. Get that Geiger counter.” She started for her Prius, then stopped and turned back. “Finding the generator—assuming there is one—is probably the best chance this town has got. Maybe the only one. And Barbie?”

“Right here, ma’am,” he said, smiling a little.

She didn’t. “Until you’ve heard Big Jim Rennie’s stump speech, don’t sell him short. There are reasons he’s lasted as long as he has.”

“Good at waving the bloody shirt, I take it.”

“Yes. And this time the shirt is apt to be yours.”

She drove off to find Brenda and Romeo Burpee.

Those who had watched the Air Force’s failed attempt to punch through the Dome left Dipper’s pretty much as Barbie had imagined: slowly, with their heads down, not talking much. Many were walking with their arms about one another; some were crying. Three town police cars were parked across the road from Dipper’s, and half a dozen cops stood leaning against them, ready for trouble. But there was no trouble.

The green Chief of Police car was parked farther up, in the front lot of Brownie’s Store (where a hand-lettered sign in the window read CLOSED UNTIL “FREEDOM!” ALLOWS FRESH SUPPLIES). Chief Randolph and Jim Rennie sat inside the car, watching.

“There,” Big Jim said with unmistakable satisfaction. “I hope they’re happy.”

Randolph looked at him curiously. “Didn’t you want it to work?”

Big Jim grimaced as his sore shoulder twinged. “Of course, but I never thought it would. And that fellow with the girl’s name and his new friend Julia managed to get everyone all worked up and hopeful, didn’t they? Oh yes, you bet. Do you know she’s never endorsed me for office in that rag of hers? Not one single time.”

He pointed at the pedestrians streaming back toward town.

“Take a good look, pal—this is what incompetency, false hope, and too much information gets you. They’re just unhappy and disappointed now, but when they get over that, they’ll be mad. We’re going to need more police.”

“ More? We’ve got eighteen already, counting the part-timers and the new deputies.”

“It won’t be enough. And we’ve got—”

The town whistle began to hammer the air with short blasts. They looked west and saw the smoke rising.

“We’ve got Barbara and Shumway to thank,” Big Jim finished.

“Maybe we ought to do something about that fire.”

“It’s a Tarker’s Mills problem. And the U.S. government’s, of course. They started a fire with their cotton-picking missile, let them deal with it.”

“But if the heat sparked one on this side—”

“Stop being an old woman and drive me back to town. I’ve got to find Junior. He and I have things to talk about.”

Brenda Perkins and the Reverend Piper Libby were in Dipper’s parking lot, by Piper’s Subaru.