
- •It's a dream, he told himself. If you keep telling yourself that, you'll be able to operate.
- •It was useless, of course. Even more useless, he was waving his arms in big go-away gestures.
- •Interdiction? Interdiction? What kind of Fedspeak was that?
- •Xxxx70yyyy
- •Very low, Rose said: 'Barbie, you're scaring me.'
- •I'll have to Xerox the paper. Wliich means seven hundred and fifty copies, max.
- •Xet me finish. Your side of 119 is totally fubar.That means—'
- •It wasn't much, but Barbie was encouraged. 'Stand easy, tellas; stand easy and let's talk this over.'
- •I'm a little scared.
- •In the other bed Judy stirred and spoke. 'Mumma? Is it brefkus? Did I miss the bus?'
- •If it was petit mal, it would stop on its own.
- •In a moment she still wasn't completely there, although her eyes shifted and he knew she was seeing and hearing him now. 'Stop Halloween, Daddy! You have to stop Halloween!'
- •It was time for a demonstration, which he of course would lead.
- •I must see you tonight. God has spoken to me. Now I must speak to you before I speak to the town. Please reply. Richie Killian will carry your message to me.
- •I knew all that high school shotputting would catch up with me someday, he thought.
- •It's all those r-rated movies they watch now, Big Jim thought. Rubbing
- •It was the boy who answered. He spoke while still examining the headlamp. 'I want my mother. And I want my breffus.'
- •It was a bathroom, and it 'was empty. There was, however, a picture of a very Caucasian Jesus on the wall.
- •In Washington, Colonel Cox said:'Roger that, Major. Good luck. Blast the bastard.'
- •Interesting.
- •I like it because it is bitter, she thought. And because it is my heart.
- •Instead of answering the question, Barbie said,'Selectman Rennie could be a dangerous man to press right about now.'
- •It was exactly what she t'ought, and Julia had told him so. She had also planted a kiss on his cheek. 'I owe you for this, Rommie.'
- •It's because he scares you a little, he thought. That's all it is.
- •It's one possibility. It's also possible that some earthly supervillain set it up. A real-world Lex Luthor. Or it could be the work of a renegade country, like North Korea.'
- •It was entirely possible he was the last thing on Brenda's mind, but his radar was pinging and he watched her closely.
- •I'll get up in a minute, she told herself. Get the last bottle of Poland Spring out of the fridge and wash that foul taste out of my mou…
- •II have no idea what you're talking about. I think your grief…' He sighed, spread his blunt-fingered hands.'Come inside.We'll discuss this and I'll set your mind at rest.'
- •It was impossible for Boxer to draw himself up any further, and yet somehow he did. His face was so red it was almost purple. 'Then take me to court! What court? Case closed! Ha!'
- •3 P.M. Julia—
- •If the Dome wasn't bad enough, weird enough, there's the Selectman from Hell.
- •If he was in the storage building, though… that might be a problem.
- •It was a lot to think about, and thinking was easier these days when he was smoked up.
- •In the background she heard the swish of a car, and Benny, faint but clear, hailing someone: 'Dr Rusty! Yo, dude, whoa!'
- •It was Ginny Tomlinson, walking slowly up the hallway toward them.
- •INever mind. I'll be back as soon as I can, Hari. Keep 'em flying.'
- •It isn't a migraine making him do that. At least not any migraine I ever heard of.
- •It all seemed so long ago.
- •If was. She slipped in, a pale and limping ghost.
- •I'm all right. It's just overwork. Nothing seven hours of sleep won't cure.
- •I no longer want this job. No. Not even a little bit.
- •I have gone to the hospital. There has been a shooting there.
- •It had to begin with letting Barbie know he wasn't alone. Then he could plan his own actions accordingly.
- •If you were here, Colonel Cox, I'd give you a taste of what I gave Coggins. With God as my witness, I would.
- •It: was a joke.
- •Isn 't it more likely that the counter's malfunctioning? You could be giving yourself a lethal dose of gamma rays at this very second. The damn thing's a cold war relic.
- •Instead he approached the box again and dropped to his knees before it, a posture too much like worship for his liking.
- •I 'Oh my goodness, Ginny's in love,' Rusty said, grinning.
- •It was true. Andi was still pale, and much too thin, but the dark circles under her eyes had faded a little, and the eyes themselves had a new spark. 'Thanks for saying so.'
- •It now read c fee and doare ot free.
- •It took a moment for Carter to get it. 'She was just having a bunch of dope-ass hallucinations, wasn't she?'
- •I follow it.'
- •It was Chief Randolph, trudging up the hill and mopping his bright red face with a handkerchief.
- •If he sees us, I'm going to run him down, she thought. The idea brought a certain perverse calm.
- •It's an eighth of a mile at most, but Henry doesn't argue. 'Put her in the front seat of my car.'
- •I'm not your son, your son is dead. Carter thought… but didn't say. He went into the bunkrooni to see if there were any candybars on the shelves in there.
- •I'm crazy, he thought. It can't be. No one could have lived through that firestorm.
- •I pushed the wrong button, that's all.
- •It was almost as dark in the ruins of the Town Hall conference room as in the shelter, but with one big difference: the air was worthless.
- •I did. On purpose. Who the hell wants to turn forty? What is it?'
- •II hear you. Give it your best shot.'
- •I don't know, Barbie thought. J don't know what's happening.
- •Very young; barely out of the nursery, in fact. It speaks.
I'm not your son, your son is dead. Carter thought… but didn't say. He went into the bunkrooni to see if there were any candybars on the shelves in there.
Around ten o'clock that night, Barbie fell into a troubled sleep. with Julia close beside him, their bodies spooned together. Junior Rennie danced through his dreams: Junior standing outside his cell in The Coop. Junior with his gun. And this time there would be no rescue because the air outside had turned to poison and everyone was dead.
These dreams finally slipped away, and he slept more deeply, his head—and Julia's—cocked toward the Dome and the fresh air seeping through it. It was enough for life, but not: enough for ease.
Something woke him around two o'clock in the morning. He looked through the smudged Dome at the muted lights of the Army encampment on the other side. Then the sound came again. It was coughing, low and harsh and desperate.
A flashlight gleamed off to his right. Barbie got up as quietly as he c0uld, not wanting to wake Julia, and walked to the light, stepping over others who lay sleeping in the grass. Most had stripped down to their underwear. The sentries ten feet away were bundled up in duffle coats and gloves, but over here it was hotter than ever.
Rusty and Ginny were kneeling beside Ernie Calvert. Rusty had a stethoscope around his neck and an oxygen mask in his hand. It was attached to a small red bottle marked CRH AMBULANCE DO NOT REMOVE ALWAYS REPLACE Nome and her mother looked on anxiously, their arms around each other.
'Sorry he woke you,' Joanie said. 'He's sick.'
'How sick?' Barbie asked.
Rusty shook his head. 'I don't know. It sounds like bronchitis or a ibad cold, but of course it's not. It's bad air. I gave him some from the ambo, and it helped for awhile, but now…' He shrugged. 'And I don't like the sound of his heart. He's been under a lot of stress, and he's not a young man anymore.'
'You have no more oxygen?' Barbie asked. He pointed to the red bottle, which looked quite a lot like the kind of fire extinguisher people keep in their kitchen utility closets and always forget to recharge. 'That's it?'
Thurse Marshall joined them. In the beam of the flashlight he looked grim and tired. 'There's one more, but we agreed—Rusty, Ginny, and me—to save it for the little kids. Aidan's started to cough too. I moved him as close to the Dome—and the fans—as I could, but he's still coughing. We'll start giving Aidan, Alice, Judy, and Janelle the remaining air in rationed whiffs when they wake up. Maybe if the officers brought more fans—'
'No matter how much fresh air they blow at us,' Ginny said, 'only so much comes through. And no matter how close to the Dome we get, we're still breathing in that crap. And the people who are hurting are exactly the ones you'd expect.'
'The oldest and the youngest,' Barbie said.
'Go back and lie down, Barbie,' Rusty said. 'Save your strength. There's nothing you can do here.'
'Can you?'
'Maybe. There's also nasal decongestant in the ambo. And epinephrine, if it comes to that.'
Barbie crawled back along the Dome with his head turned to the fans—they were all doing this now, without thinking—and was appalled by how tired he felt when he reached Julia. His heart was pounding and he was out of breath.
Julia was awake. 'How bad is he?'
'I don't know,' Barbie admitted,'but it can't be good. They were giving him oxygen from the ambulance, and he didn't wake up.'
'Oxygen! Is there more? How much?'
He explained, and was sorry to see the light in her eyes dim a little.
She took his hand. Her fingers were sweaty but cold. 'This is like being trapped in a mine cave-in.'
They were sitting now, facing each other, shoulders leaning against the Dome. The faintest of breezes sighed between them. The steady roar of the Air Max fans had become background noise; they raised their voices to speak over it, but otherwise didn't notice it at all.
We'd notice it if it stopped, Barbie thought. For a few minutes, anyway. Then we wouldn't notice anything, ever'again.
She smiled wanly. 'Quit worrying about me, if that's what you're doing. I'm okay for a middle-aged Republican lady who can't quite catch her breath. At least I managed to get myself rogered one more time. Right, good, and proper, too.'
Barbie smiled back. 'It was my pleasure, believe me.'
'What about the pencil nuke they're going to try on Sunday? What do you think?'
'I don't think. I only hope.'
'And how high are your hopes?'
He didn't want to tell her the truth, but the truth was what she deserved. 'Based on everything that's happened and the little we know about the creatures running the box, not very.'
'Tell me you haven't given up.'
'That I can do. I'm not even as scared as I probably should be. I think because… it's insidious. I've even gotten used to the stench.'
'Really?'
He laughed. 'No, How about you? Scared?'
'Yes, but sad, mostly. This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a gasp.' She coughed again, curling a fist to her mouth. Barbie could hear other people doing the same thing. One would be the little boy who was now Thurston Marshall's little boy. He'll get some better stuff in the morning, Barbie thought, and then remembered how Thurston had put it: Air in rationed whiffs. That was no way for a kid to have to breathe.
No way for anyone to have to breathe.
Julia spat into the grass, then faced him again. 1 can't believe we did this to ourselves. The things running the box—the leather-heads—set up the situation, but I think they're only a bunch of kids watching the fun. Playing the equivalent of a video game, maybe. They're outside. We're inside, and we did it to ourselves.'
'You've got enough problems without beating yourself up on that score,'Barbie said.'If anyone's responsible, it's Rennie. He's the one who set up the drug lab, and he's the one who started raiding propane from every source in town. He's also the one who sent men out there and caused some sort of confrontation, I'm sure of it.f
^But who elected him?' Julia asked. 'Who gave him the power to do those things?'
'Not you. Your newspaper campaigned against him. Or am I wrong?'
'You're right,' she said, 'but only about the last eight years or so. At first the Democrat—me, in other words—thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. By the time I found out what he really was, he was entrenched. And he had poor smiling stupid Andy Sanders out front to run interference for him.'
'You still can't blame—'
'I can and do. If I'd known that pugnacious, incompetent sonofabitch might end up in charge during an actual crisis, I'd have… have… I'd have drowned him like a kitten in a sack.'
He laughed, then started coughing. 'You sound less like a Republican all the ti—' he began, then broke off.
'What?' she asked, and then she heard it, too. Something was rattling and squeaking in the dark. It got closer and they saw a shambling figure tugging a child's wagon.
'Who's there?' called Dougie Twitchell.
When the shambling newcomer answered, his voice was slightly muffled. By an oxygen mask of his own, it turned out.
'Well, thank God,' Sloppy Sam said. 'I had me a little nap side of the road, and I thought I'd run out of air before I got up here. But here I am. Just in time, too, because I'm almost tapped out.'
6
The Army encampment at Route 119 in Motton was a sad place that early Saturday morning. Only three dozen military personnel and one Chinook remained. A dozen men were loading in the big tents and a few leftover Air Max fans that Cox had ordered to the south side of the Dome as soon as the explosion had been reported. The fans had never been used. By the time they arrived, there was no one to appreciate the scant air they could push through the barrier. The fire was out by six p.m., strangled by lack of fuel and oxygen, but everyone on the Chester's Mill side was dead.
The medical tent was being taken down and rolled up by a dozen men. Those not occupied with that task had been set to that most ancient of Army jobs: policing up the area. It was make-work, but no one on the shit patrol minded. Nothing could make them forget the nightmare they had seen the previous afternoon, but grubbing up the wrappers, cans, bottles, and cigarette butts helped a little. Soon enough it would be dawn and the big Chinook would fire up. They'd climb aboard and go somewhere else. The members of this ragtag crew absolutely could not wait.
One of them was Pfc Clint Ames, from Hickory Grove, South Carolina. He had a green plastic Hefty bag in one hand and was moving slowly through the beaten-down grass, picking up the occasional discarded sign or flattened Coke can so if that hardass Sergeant Groh glanced over he'd look like he was working. He was nearly asleep on his feet, and at first he thought the knocking he heard (it sounded like knuckles on a thick Pyrex dish) was part of a dream. It almost had to be, because it seemed to be coming from the other side of the Dome.
He yawned and stretched with one hand pressing into the small of his back. As he was doing this, the knocking resumed. It really was coming from behind the blackened wall of the Dome.
Then, a voice. Weak and disembodied, like the voice of a ghost. It gave him the chills.
'Is anybody there? Can anybody hear me? Please… I'm dying.'
Christ, did he know that voice? It sounded like—
Ames dropped his litter bag and ran to the Dome. He put his hands on its blackened, still-warm surface. 'Cow-kid? Is that you?'