Under the Dome

Someone shook Barbie awake just before dawn on Sunday morning. He came to reluctantly, coughing, turning instinctively to the Dome and the fans beyond. When the coughing finally eased, he looked to see who had awakened him. It was Julia. Her hair hung lankly and her cheeks were blooming with fever, but her eyes were clear. She said, “Benny Drake died an hour ago.”

“Oh, Julia. Jesus. I’m sorry.” His voice was cracked and hoarse, not his own voice at all.

“I have to get to the box that’s making the Dome,” she said. “How do I get to the box?”

Barbie shook his head. “It’s impossible. Even if you could do something to it, it’s on the ridge, almost half a mile from here. We can’t even go to the vans without holding our breaths, and they’re only fifty feet away.”

“There’s a way,” someone said.

They looked around and saw Sloppy Sam Verdreaux. He was smoking the last of his cigarettes and looking at them with sober eyes. He was sober; entirely sober for the first time in eight years.

He repeated, “There’s a way. I could show you.”

WEAR IT HOME, IT’LL LOOK LIKE A DRESS

1

It was seven thirty AM. They had all gathered round, even the late Benny Drake’s wretched, red-eyed mother. Alva had her arm around Alice Appleton’s shoulders. All that little girl’s former sass and spunk was gone now, and as she breathed, rales rattled in her narrow chest.

When Sam finished what he had to say, there was a moment of silence… except, of course, for the omnipresent roar of the fans. Then Rusty said: “It’s crazy. You’ll die.”

“If we stay here, will we live?” Barbie asked.

“Why would you even try to do such a thing?” Linda asked. “Even if Sam’s idea works and you make it —”

“Oh, I t’ink it’ll work,” Rommie said.

“Sure it will,” Sam said. “Guy named Peter Bergeron told me, not long after the big Bar Harbor fire back in forty-seven. Pete was a lot of things, but never a liar.”

“Even if it does,” Linda said, “why?”

“Because there’s one thing we haven’t tried,” Julia said. Now that her mind was made up and Barbie had said he would go with her, she was composed. “We haven’t tried begging.”

“You’re crazy, Jules,” Tony Guay said. “Do you think they’ll even hear? Or listen if they do?”

Julia turned her grave face to Rusty. “That time your friend George Lathrop was burning ants alive with his magnifying glass, did you hear them beg?”

“Ants can’t beg, Julia.”

“You said, ‘It occurred to me that ants also have their little lives.’ Why did it occur to you?”

“Because…” He trailed off, then shrugged.

“Maybe you did hear them,” Lissa Jamieson said.

“With all due respect, that’s bullshit,” Pete Freeman said. “Ants are ants. They can’t beg.”

“But people can,” Julia said. “And do we not also have our little lives?”

To this no one replied.

“What else is there to try?”

From behind them, Colonel Cox spoke up. They had all but forgotten him. The outside world and its denizens seemed irrelevant now. “I’d try it, in your shoes. Don’t quote me, but… yes. I would. Barbie?”

“I’ve already agreed,” Barbie said. “She’s right. There’s nothing else.”

2

“Let’s see them sacks,” Sam said.

Linda handed over three green Hefty bags. In two of them she had packed clothes for herself and Rusty and a few books for the girls (the shirts, pants, socks, and underwear now lay carelessly discarded behind the little group of survivors). Rommie had donated the third, which he’d used to carry two deer rifles. Sam examined all three, found a hole in the bag that had held the guns, and tossed it aside. The other two were intact.

“All right,” he said, “listen close. It should be Missus Everett’s van that goes out to the box, but we need it over here first.” He pointed to the Odyssey. “You sure about the windows bein rolled up, Missus? You gotta be sure, because lives are gonna depend on it.”

“They were rolled up,” Linda said. “We were using the air-conditioner.”

Sam looked at Rusty. “You’re gonna drive it over here, Doc, but the first thing you do, is turn off the fac’try air. You understand why, right?”

“To protect the environment inside the cabin.”

“Some of the bad air’ll get in when you open the door, sure, but not much if you’re quick. There’ll be good air inside still. Town air. The folks inside can breathe easy all the way to the box. That old van’s no good, and not just because the windows’re open—”

“We had to,” Norrie said, looking at the stolen phone company van. “The air- conditioning was busted. G-Grampy said. ” A tear rolled slowly out of her left eye and cut through the dirt on her cheek. There was dirt everywhere now, and soot, almost too fine to see, sifting down from the murky sky.

“That’s fine, honey,” Sam told her. “The tires ain’t worth a tin shit, anyway. One look and you know whose used car lot that pup came from.”

“Guess that means my van if we need another vehicle,” Rommie said. “I’ll get it.”

But Sam was shaking his head. “It better be Missus Shumway’s car, on account of the tires are smaller and easier to handle. Also, they’re brand-new. The air inside them’ll be fresher.”

Joe McClatchey broke into a sudden grin. “The air from the tires! Put the air from the tires in the garbage bags! Homemade scuba tanks! Mr. Verdreaux, that is genius!”

Sloppy Sam grinned himself, showing all six of his remaining teeth. “Can’t take the credit, son. Pete Bergeron gets the credit. He told about a couple of men got trapped behind that fire in Bar Harbor after it went and crowned. They were okay, but the air wasn’t fit to breathe. So what they did was bust the cap off a pulp-truck tire and took turns breathin right from the stem until the wind cleared the air. Pete said they told him it was nasty-tasting, like old dead fish, but it kep em alive.”

“Will one tire be enough?” Julia asked.

“Might be, but we dassn’t trust the spare if it’s one of those little emergency doughnuts built to get you twenty miles down the highway and no more.”

“It’s not,” Julia said. “I hate those things. I asked Johnny Carver to get me a new one, and he did.” She looked toward town. “I suppose Johnny’s dead now. Carrie, too.”

“We better take one off the car as well, just to be safe,” Barbie said. “You’ve got your jack, right?”

Julia nodded.

Rommie Burpee grinned without much humor. “I’ll race you back here, Doc. Your van against Julia’s hybrid.”