Under the Dome

Barbie found out about Cox's press conference when a red-faced Manuel Ortega came downstairs and told him. Ortega, formerly Alden Dinsmore's hired man, was now wearing a blue workshirt, a tin badge that looked homemade, and a.45 hung on a second belt that had been buckled low on his hips, gunslinger-style. Barbie knew him as a mild fellow with thinning hair and perpetually sun-burned skin who liked to order breakfast for dinner—pancakes, bacon, eggs over easy—and talk about cows, his favorite being the Belted Galloways that he could never persuade Mr Dinsmore to buy. He was Yankee to the core in spite of his name, and had a dry Yankee sense of humor. Barbie had always liked him. But this was a different Manuel, a stranger with all the good humor boiled dry. He brought news of the latest development, most of it shouted through the bars and accompanied by a considerable dose of flying spit. His face was nearly radioactive with rage.

'Not a word about how they found your dog tags in that poor girl's hand, not word-fucking-of«' about that! And then the tin-pants bastid went and took after Jim Rennie, who's held this town together by himself since this happened! By himself! With SPIT and BALING WIRE!'

'Take it easy, Manuel,' Barbie said.

'That's Officer Ortega to you, motherfucker!'

'Fine. Officer Ortega.'Barbie was sitting on the bunk and thinking about just how easy it would be for Ortega to unholster the elderly.45 Schofield on his belt and start shooting. 'I'm in here, Rennie's out there. As far as he's concerned, I'm sure it's all good.'

'SHUT UP!' Manuel screamed. 'We're ALL in here! All under the fucking Dome! Alden don't do nothing but drink, the boy that's left won't eat, and Miz Dinsmore never stops crying over Rory. Jack Evans blew his brains out, do you know that? And those military pukes out there can't think of anything better to do than sling mud. A k)t of lies and trumped-up stories while you start supermarket riots and then burn down our newspaper! Probably so Miz Shumway couldn't publish WHAT YOU ARE!'

Barbie kept silent. He thought that one word spoken in his own defense would get him shot for sure.

'This is how they get any politician they don't like,' Manuel said. 'They want a serial killer and a rapist—one who rapes the dead—in charge instead of a Christian? That's a new low

Manuel drew his gun, lifted it, pointed it through the bars. To Barbie the hole at the end looked as big as a tunnel entrance.

'If the Dome comes down before you been stood up against theinearest wall and ventilated,' Manuel continued,'I'll take a minute to do the job myself. I'm head of the line, and right now in The Mill, the line waiting to do you is a long one.'

Barbie kept silent and waited to die or keep on drawing breath. Rose Twitchell's BLTs were trying to crowd back up his throat and choke him.

'We're trying to survive and all they can do is dirty up the man who's keeping this town out of chaos.' He abruptly shoved the oversized pistol back into its holster. 'Fuck you. You're not worth it.'

He turned and strode back toward the stairs, head down and shoulders hunched.

Barbie leaned back against the wall and let out a breath. There was sweat on his forehead. The hand he lifted to wipe it off was shaking.

3

When Romeo Burpee's van turned into the McClatchey driveway, Claire rushed out of the house. She was weeping.

'Mom!' Joe shouted, and was out even before Rommie could come to a complete stop. The others piled out after. 'Mom, what's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Claire sobbed, grabbing him and hugging him.'There's going to be a Visitors Day! On Friday! Joey, I think we might get to see your dad!'

Joe let out a cheer and danced her around. Benny hugged Norrie… and took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss, Rusty observed. Cheeky little devil.

'Take me to the hospital, Rommie,' Rusty said. He waved to Claire and the kids as they backed down the driveway. He was glad to get away from Mrs McClatchey without having to talk to her; Mom Vision might work on PAs, as well. 'And could you do me a favor and talk English instead of that comic-book on park shit while you do it?'

'Some people have no cultural heritage to fall back on,' Rommie said, 'and are thus jealous of those who do.'

'Yeah, and your mother wears galoshes,' Rusty said.

'Dat's true, but only when it rains, her.'

Rusty's cell phone chimed once: a text message. He flipped it open and read: MEETING AT 2130 CONGO PARSONAGE B THERE OR B SQUARE JW

'Rommie,' he said, closing his phone. 'Assuming I survive the Rennies, would you consider attending a meeting with me tonight?'

4