Under the Dome

6

In times of crisis, folks are apt to fall back on the familiar for comfort. That is as true for the religious as it is for the heathen. There were no surprises for the faithful in Chester’s Mill that morning; Piper Libby preached hope at the Congo, and Lester Coggins preached hellfire at Christ the Holy Redeemer. Both churches were packed.

Piper’s scripture was from the book of John: A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another, as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. She told those who filled the pews of the Congo church that prayer was important in times of crisis—the comfort of prayer, the power of prayer—but it was also important to help one another, depend on one another, and love one another.

“God tests us with things we don’t understand,” she said. “Sometimes it’s sickness. Sometimes it’s the unexpected death of a loved one.” She looked sympathetically at Brenda Perkins, who sat with her head bowed and her hands clasped in the lap of a black dress. “And now it’s some inexplicable barrier that has cut us off from the outside world. We don’t understand it, but we don’t understand sickness or pain or the unexpected deaths of good people, either. We ask God why, and in the Old Testament, the answer is the one He gave to Job: ‘Were you there when I made the world?’ In the New—and more enlightened—Testament, it’s the answer Jesus gave to his disciples: ‘Love one another, as I have loved you.’ That’s what we have to do today and every day until this thing is over: love one another. Help one another. And wait for the test to end, as God’s tests always do.”

Lester Coggins’s scripture came from Numbers (a section of the Bible not known for optimism): Behold, ye have sinned against the LORD, and be sure your sin will find you out.

Like Piper, Lester mentioned the testing concept—an ecclesiastical hit during all the great clustermugs of history—but his major theme had to do with the infection of sin, and how God dealt with such infections, which seemed to be squeezing them with His Fingers the way a man might squeeze a troublesome pimple until the pus squirted out like holy Colgate.

And because, even in the clear light of a beautiful October morning, he was still more than half convinced that the sin for which the town was being punished was his own, Lester was particularly eloquent. There were tears in many eyes, and cries of “Yes, Lord!” rang from one amen corner to the other. When he was this inspired, great new ideas sometimes occurred to Lester even as he was preaching. One occurred to him this day, and he articulated it at once, without so much as a pause for thought. It needed no thought. Some things are just too bright, too glowing, not to be right.

“This afternoon I’m going out to where Route 119 strikes God’s mysterious Gate,” he said.

“Yes, Jesus!” a weeping woman cried. Others clapped their hands or raised them in testimony.

“I reckon two o’clock. I’m going to get on my knees out there in that dairy field, yea, and I’m going to pray to God to lift this affliction.”

This time the cries of Yes Lord and Yes Jesus and God knows it were louder.

“But first—” Lester raised the hand with which he had whipped his bare back in the dark of night. “First, I’m going to pray about the SIN that has caused this PAIN and this SORROW and this AFFLICTION! If I am alone, God may not hear me. If I am with two or three or even five, God STILL may not hear me, can you say amen.”

They could. They did. All of them were holding up their hands now, and swaying from side to side, caught up in that good-God fever.

“But if YOU ALL were to come out—if we were to pray in a circle right there in God’s grass, under God’s blue sky… within sight of the soldiers they say are guarding the work of God’s righteous Hand… if YOU ALL were to come out, if WE ALL were to pray together, then we might be able to get to the bottom of this sin, and drag it out into the light to die, and work a God-almighty miracle! WILL YOU COME? WILL YOU GET KNEEBOUND WITH ME? ”

Of course they would come. Of course they would get knee-bound. People enjoy an honest-to-God prayer meeting in good times and bad. And when the band swung into “Whate’er My God Ordains is Right” (key of G, Lester on lead guitar), they sang fit to raise the roof.

Jim Rennie was there, of course; it was Big Jim who made the car-pool arrangements.

7

END THE SECRECY!

FREE CHESTER’S MILL!

DEMONSTRATE!!!!

WHERE? The Dinsmore Dairy Farm on Route 119 (Just look for the WRECKED TRUCK and the MILITARY AGENTS OF OPPRESSION)!

WHEN? 2 PM, EOT (Eastern Oppression Time)!

WHO? YOU, and every Friend you can bring! Tell them WE WANT TO TELL OUR STORY TO THE MEDIA! Tell them WE WANT TO KNOW WHO DID THIS TO US!

AND WHY!

Most of all, tell them WE WANT OUT!!!

This is OUR TOWN! We need to fight for it!

WE NEED TO TAKE IT BACK!!!

Some signs available, but be sure & bring your own (and remember that Profanity is counterproductive).

FIGHT THE POWER!

STICK IT TO THE MAN!

The Committee to Free Chester’s Mill

8

If there was one man in town who could take that old Nietzschean saying “Whatever does not kill me makes me stronger” as his personal motto, that man was Romeo Burpee, a hustler with a daddy-cool Elvis pomp and pointed boots with elastic sides. He owed his first name to a romantic Franco-American mother; his last to a hardass Yankee father who was practical to his dry pinchpenny core. Romeo had survived a childhood of merciless taunts—plus the occasional beating—to become the richest man in town. (Well… no. Big Jim was the richest man in town, but much of his wealth was of necessity hidden.) Rommie owned the largest and most profitable indie department store in the entire state. Back in the eighties, his potential backers in the venture had told him he was mad to go with such a frankly ugly name as Burpee’s. Rommie’s response had been that if the name hadn’t hurt Burpee Seeds, it wouldn’t hurt him. And now their biggest summer sellers were tee-shirts reading MEET ME FOR SLURPEES AT BURPEES. Take that, you imagination-challenged bankers!

He had succeeded, in large measure, by recognizing the main chance and pursuing it ruthlessly. Around ten that Sunday morning—not long after he’d watched Sloppy Sam hauled off to the copshop—another main chance rolled around. As they always did, if you watched for them.

Romeo observed children putting up posters. Computer-generated and very professional-looking. The kids