It was entirely possible he was the last thing on Brenda's mind, but his radar was pinging and he watched her closely.

She and Julia passed on opposite sides of the street. Neither noticed the other. Julia was trying to run while managing her camera. Brenda was staring at the red ramshackle bulk of Burpee's Department Store. She had a canvas carrier-bag that swung at her knee.

When she reached Burpee's, Brenda tried the door with no success. Then she stood back and glanced around the way people do when they've hit an unexpected obstacle to their plans and are trying to decide what to do next. She might still have seen Shumway if she'd looked behind her, but she didn't. Brenda looked left, right, then across Main Street, at the offices of the Democrat.

After another look at Burpee's, she crossed to the Democrat and tried that door. Also locked, of course; Big Jim had watched Julia do it. Brenda tried it again, rattling the knob for good measure. She knocked. Peered in. Then she stood back, hands on hips, carrier-bag dangling. When she once more started up Main Street—trudging, no longer looking around—Big Jim retreated to his house at a brisk pace. He didn't know why he wanted to make sure Brenda didn't see him watching… but he didn't have to know. You only had to act on your instincts when you were feeling it. That was the beauty of the thing.

What he did know was that if Brenda knocked on his door, he would be ready for her. No matter what she wanted.

15

Tomorrow morning I want you to take the printout to Julia Shumway, Barbie had told her. But the Democrat's office was locked and dark. Julia was almost certainly at whatever mess was going on at the market. Pete Freeman and Tony Guay probably were, too.

So what was she supposed to do with Howie's VADER file? If there had been a mail slot, she might have slipped the manila envelope in her carrier-bag through it. Only there was no mail slot.

Brenda supposed she should either go find Julia at the market or return home to wait until things quieted down and Julia came back to her office. Not being in a particularly logical mood, neither choice appealed. As to the former, it sounded like a full-scale riot was going on at Food City, and Brenda did not want to get sucked in. As to the latter…

That was clearly the better choice. The sensible choice. Hadn't All things come to him who waits been one of Howie's favorite sayings?

But waiting had never been Brenda's forte, and her mother had also had a saying: Do it and have done with it. That was what she wanted to do now. Face him, wait out his ranting, his denials, his justifications, and then give him his choice: resign in favor of Dale Barbara or read all about his dirty deeds in the Democrat. Confrontation was bitter medicine to her, and the thing to do with bitter medicine was swallow it as fast as you could, then rinse your mouth. She planned to rinse hers with a double bourbon, and she wouldn't wait until noon to do it, either.

Only…

Don't go alone. Barbie had said that, too. And when he'd asked who else she trusted, she'd said Romeo Burpee. But Burpee's was closed too. What did that leave?

The question was whether or not Big Jim would actually hurt her, and Brenda thought the answer was no. She believed she was physically safe from Big Jim, no matter what worries Barbie might have—worries that were, no doubt, partly the result of his wartime experiences. This was a dreadful miscalculation on her part, but understandable; she wasn't the only one who clung to the notion that the world was as it had been before the Dome came down.

16

Which still left the problem of the VADER file.

Brenda might be more afraid of Big Jim's tongue than of bodily harm, but she knew it would be mad to show up on his doorstep with the file still in her possession. He might take it from her even if she said it wasn't the only copy. That she would not put past him.

Halfway up Town Common Hill, she came to Prestile Street, cutting along the upper edge of the common.The first house belonged to the McCains.The one beyond was Andrea Grinnell's. And although Andrea was almost always overshadowed by her male counterparts on the Board of Selectmen, Brenda knew she was honest and had no love for Big Jim. Oddly enough, it was Andy Sanders to whom Andrea was more apt to kowtow, although why anyone would take him seriously was beyond Brenda's understanding.

Maybe he's got some sort of hold on her, Howie's voice spoke up in her head.

Brenda almost laughed. That was ridiculous.The important thing about Andrea was that she had been a Twitchell before Tommy Grin-nell married her, and Twitchells were tough, even the shy ones. Brenda thought she could leave the envelope containing the VADER file with Andrea… assuming her place wasn't also locked and empty. She didn't think it would be. Hadn't she heard from someone that Andrea was down with the flu?

Brenda crossed Main, rehearsing what she'd say: Would you hold this for me? I'll be back for it in about half an hour. If I don't come back for it, give it to fulia at the newspaper. Also, make sure Dale Barbara knows.

And if she was asked what all the mystery was about? Brenda decided she'd be frank. The news that she intended to force Jim Rennie's resignation would probably do Andrea more good than a double dose of Theraflu.

In spite of her desire to get her distasteful errand done, Brenda paused for a moment in front of the McCain house. It looked deserted, but there was nothing strange about that—plenty of families had been out of town when the Dome came down. It was something else. A faint smell, for one thing, as if food were spoiling in there. All at once the day felt hotter, the air closer, and the sounds of whatever was going on at Food City seemed far away. Brenda realized what it came down to: she felt watched. She stood thinking about how much those shaded windows looked like closed eyes. But not completely closed, no. Peeking eyes.

Shake it off, woman. You've got things to do.

She walked on to Andrea's house, pausing once to look back over her shoulder. She saw nothing but a house with drawn shades, sitting gloomily in the mild stink of its decaying supplies. Only meat smelled so bad so soon. Henry and LaDonna must have had a lot put by in their freezer, she thought.

17

It was Junior who watched Brenda, Junior on his knees, Junior dressed only in his underpants, his head whamming and slamming. He watched from the living room, peering around the edge of a drawn shade.

When she was gone, he went back into the pantry. He would have to give his girlfriends up soon, he knew, but for now he wanted them. And he wanted the dark. He even wanted the stink rising from their blackening skin.

Anything, anything, that would soothe his fiercely aching head.

18

After three twists of the old-fashioned crank doorbell, Brenda resigned herself to going home after all. She was turning away when she heard slow, shuffling steps approaching the door. She arranged a little Helfa, neighbor smile on her face. It froze there when she saw Andrea—cheeks pale, dark circles under her eyes, hair in disarray, cinching the belt of a bathrobe around her middle, pajamas underneath. And this house smelled, too—not of decaying meat but of vomit.

Andrea's smile was as wan as her cheeks and brow. 'I know how I look,' she said. The words came out in a croak. 'I better not invite you in. I'm on the mend, but I still migiit be catching.'

"Have you seen Dr—' But no, of course not. Dr Haskell was dead, fHave you seen Rusty Everett?'

'Indeed I have,' Andrea said. 'All will soon be well, I'm told.'

'You're perspiring.'

'Still a little touch of fever, but it's almost gone. Can I help you with something, Bren?'

She almost said no—she didn't want to saddle a woman who was still clearly sick with a responsibility like the one in her carrier-bag—but then Andrea said something that changed her mind. Great events often turn on small wheels.

ll'm so sorry about Howie. I loved that man.'

'Thank you, Andrea.' Not just for the sympathy, but, Jor calling him Howile instead of Duke.

To Brenda he'd always been Howie, her dear Howie, and the VADER file was his last work. Probably his greatest work. Brenda suddenly decided to put it to work, and with no further delay. She dipped into the carrier-bag and brought out the manila envelope with Julia's name printed on the front. 'Will you hold this for me, dear?; Just for a little while? I have an errand to run and I don't want to take it with me.'

Brenda would have answered any questions Andrea asked, but Andrea apparently had none. She only took the bulky envelope with a sort of distracted courtesy. And that was all right. It saved time. Also, it would keep Andrea out of the loop, and might spare her political

blowback at some later date.

'Happy to,'Andrea said. 'And now… if you'll excuse me… I think I'd better get off my feet. But I'm not going to sleep!' she added, as if Brenda had objected to this plan. 'I'll hear you when you come back.'

'Thank you,' Brenda said. 'Are you drinking juices?'

'By the gallon. Take your time, hon—I'll babysit your envelope.'

Brenda was going to thank her again, but The Mill's Third Selectman had already closed the door.

19

Toward the end of her conversation with Brenda, Andrea's stomach began to flutter. She fought it, but this was a fight she was going to lose. She blathered something about drinking juice, told Brenda to take her time, then closed the door in the poor woman's face and sprinted for her stinking bathroom, making guttural urk-urk noises deep down in her throat.

There was an end table beside the living room couch, and she tossed the manila envelope at it blindly as she rushed past. The envelope skittered across the polished surface and fell off the other side, into the dark space between the table and the couch.

Andrea made it to the bathroom but not to the toilet… which was just as well; it was nearly filled with the stagnant, stinking brew that had been her body's output during the endless night just past. She leaned over the basin instead, retching until it seemed to her that her very esophagus would come loose and land on the splattery porcelain, still warm and pulsing.

That didn't happen, but the world turned gray and teetered away from her on high heels, growing smaller and less tangible as she swayed and tried not to faint. When she felt a little better, she walked slowly down the hall on elastic legs, sliding one hand along the wood to keep her balance. She was shivering and she could hear the jittery clitter of her teeth, a horrible sound she seemed to pick up not with her ears but with the backs of her eyes.

She didn't even consider trying to reach her bedroom upstairs but went out onto the screened-in back porch instead. The porch should have been too cold to be comfortable this late in October, but today the air was sultry. She did not lie down on the old chaise longue so much as collapse into its musty but somehow comforting embrace.