Stephen King - Under the Dome

Al Timmons came out of the Town Hall and jogged down to the street. He was wearing his gray janitor’s fatigues, but there was a pair of binoculars hanging from a strap around his neck and an Indian pump on his back—empty of water, from the ease with which he was carrying it. Barbie guessed Al had blown the fire whistle.

Go away, Al, Barbie thought. How about it?

Half a dozen trucks rolled up the street. The first two were pickups, the third a panel job. All three lead vehicles were painted a yellow so bright it almost screamed. The pickups had BURPEE’S DEPARTMENT STORE decaled on the doors. The panel truck’s box bore the legendary slogan MEET ME FOR SLURPEES AT BURPEES. Romeo himself was in the lead truck. His hair was its usual Daddy Cool marvel of sweeps and spirals. Brenda Perkins was riding shotgun. In the pickup’s bed were shovels, hoses, and a brand-new sump pump still plastered with the manufacturer’s stickers.

Romeo stopped beside Al Timmons. “Jump in the back, partner,” he said, and Al did. Barbie withdrew as far as he could into the shadow of the deserted theater’s marquee. He didn’t want to be drafted to help fight the fire out on Little Bitch Road; he had business right here in town.

Junior hadn’t moved from the PD steps, but he was still rubbing his temples and holding his head. Barbie waited for the trucks to disappear, then hurried across the street. Junior didn’t look up, and a moment later he was hidden from Barbie’s view by the ivy-covered bulk of the Town Hall.

Barbie went up the steps and paused to read the sign on the message board: TOWN MEETING THURSDAY 7 PM IF CRISIS IS NOT RESOLVED. He thought of Julia saying Until you’ve heard Big Jim Rennie’s stump speech, don’t sell him short. He might get a chance Thursday night; certainly Rennie would make his pitch to stay in control of the situation.

And for more power, Julia’s voice spoke up in his head. He’ll want that, too, of course. For the good of the town.

The Town Hall had been built of quarried stone a hundred and sixty years before, and the vestibule was cool and dim. The generator was off; no need to run it with no one here.

Except someone was, in the main meeting hall. Barbie heard voices, two of them, belonging to children. The tall oak doors were standing ajar. He looked in and saw a skinny man with a lot of graying hair sitting up front at the selectmen’s table. Opposite him was a pretty little girl of about ten. They had a checkerboard between them; the longhair had his chin propped on one hand, studying his next move. Down below, in the aisle between the benches, a young woman was playing leapfrog with a boy of four or five. The checker players were studious; the young woman and the boy were laughing.

Barbie started to withdraw, but too late. The young woman looked up. “Hi? Hello?” She picked up the boy and came toward him. The checker players looked up, too. So much for stealth.

The young woman was holding out the hand she wasn’t using to support the little boy’s bottom. “I’m Carolyn Sturges. That gentleman is my friend, Thurston Marshall. The little guy is Aidan Appleton. Say hi, Aidan.”

“Hi,” Aidan said in a small voice, and then plugged his thumb into his mouth. He looked at Barbie with eyes that were round and blue and mildly curious.

The girl ran up the aisle to stand beside Carolyn Sturges. The longhair followed more slowly. He looked tired and shaken. “I’m Alice Rachel Appleton,” she said. “Aidan’s big sister. Take your thumb out of your mouth, Aide.”

Aide didn’t.

“Well, it’s nice to meet all of you,” Barbie said. He didn’t tell them his own name. In fact, he sort of wished he were wearing a fake mustache. But this still might be all right. He was almost positive these people were out-of-towners.

“Are you a town official?” Thurston Marshall asked. “If you’re a town official, I wish to lodge a complaint.”

“I’m just the janitor,” Barbie said, then remembered they had almost certainly seen Al Timmons leave. Hell, probably had a conversation with him. “The other janitor. You must have met Al.”

“I want my mother,” Aidan Appleton said. “I miss her bad. ”

“We met him,” Carolyn Sturges said. “He claims the government shot some missiles at whatever is holding us in, and all they did was bounce off and start a fire.”

“That’s true,” Barbie said, and before he could say more, Marshall weighed in again.

“I want to lodge a complaint. In fact, I want to lay a charge. I was assaulted by a so-called police officer. He punched me in the stomach. I had my gall bladder out a few years ago, and I’m afraid I may have internal injuries. Also, Carolyn was verbally abused. She was called a name that degraded her sexually.”

Carolyn laid a hand on his arm. “Before we go making any charges, Thurse, you want to remember that we had D-O-P-E.”

“Dope!” Alice said at once. “Our mom smokes marijuana sometimes, because it helps when she’s having her P-E-R-I-O-D.”

“Oh,” Carolyn said. “Right.” Her smile was wan.

Marshall drew himself up to his full height. “Possession of marijuana is a misdemeanor,” he said. “What they did to me was felony assault! And it hurts terribly !”

Carolyn gave him a look in which affection was mingled with exasperation. Barbie suddenly understood how it was between them. Sexy May had met Erudite November, and now they were stuck with each other, refugees in the New England version of No Exit. “Thurse… I’m not sure that misdemeanor idea would fly in court.” She smiled apologetically at Barbie. “We had quite a lot. They took it.”

“Maybe they’ll smoke up the evidence,” Barbie said.

She laughed at this. Her graying boyfriend did not. His bushy brows had drawn together. “All the same, I plan to lodge a complaint.”

“I’d wait,” Barbie said. “The situation here… well, let’s just say that a punch in the gut isn’t going to be considered that big a deal as long as we’re still under the Dome.”

“ I consider it a big deal, my young janitor friend.”

The young woman now looked more exasperated than affectionate. “Thurse—”

“The good side of that is nobody is going to make a big deal out of some pot, either,” Barbie said. “Maybe it’s a push, as the gamblers say. How’d you come by the kiddos?”

“The cops we ran into at Thurston’s cabin saw us at the restaurant,” Carolyn said. “The woman who runs it said they were closed until supper, but she took pity on us when we said we were from Massachusetts. She gave us sandwiches and coffee.”

“She gave us peanut butter and jelly and coffee,” Thurston corrected. “There was no choice, not even tuna fish. I told her peanut butter sticks to my upper plate, but she said they were on rationing. Isn’t that about the craziest thing you’ve ever heard?”

Barbie did think it was crazy, but since it had also been his idea, he said nothing.

“When I saw the cops come in, I was ready for more trouble,” Carolyn said, “but Aide and Alice seemed to have mellowed them out.”

Thurston snorted. “Not so mellow they apologized. Or did I miss that part?”

Carolyn sighed, then turned back to Barbie. “They said maybe the pastor at the Congregational church could find the four of us an empty house to live in until this is over. I guess we’re going to be foster parents, at least for awhile.”

She stroked the boy’s hair. Thurston Marshall looked less than pleased at the prospect of becoming a foster parent, but he put an arm around the girl’s shoulders, and Barbie liked him for that.

“One cop was Joooo-nyer, ” Alice said. “He’s nice. Also a fox. Frankie isn’t as good looking, but he was nice, too. He gave us a Milky Way bar. Mom says we’re not supposed to take candy from strangers, but—” She shrugged to indicate things had changed, a fact she and Carolyn seemed to understand much more clearly than Thurston.