Under the Dome: A Novel (101 page)

Piper Libby opened the door and let them in. She looked curiously at Norrie. “Who are you?”

“Damn if that isn’t my granddaughter,” Ernie said, coming into the room. He had a glass of lemonade in one hand and a grin on his face. “Come here, girl. I’ve been missing you.”

Norrie gave him a strong hug and kissed him as her mother had instructed. She hadn’t expected to obey those instructions so soon, but was glad to do so. And to him she could tell the truth that torture would not have dragged from her lips in front of the guys she hung with.

“Grampa, I’m so scared.”

“We all are, honey-girl.” He hugged her more tightly, then looked into her upturned face. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but now that you are, how about a glass of lemonade?”

Norrie saw the urn and said, “I’d rather have coffee.”

“So would I,” Piper said. “I got it all loaded with high-test and ready to go before I remembered I have no power.” She gave her head a little shake, as if to clear it. “This keeps hitting me in different ways.”

There was another knock at the back door and Lissa Jamieson came in, her cheeks high with color. “I stashed my bike in your garage, Reverend Libby. I hope that’s okay.”

“Fine. And if we’re engaging in criminal conspiracy here—as Rennie and Randolph would no doubt contend—you better call me Piper.”

18

They were all early, and Piper called the Chester’s Mill Revolutionary Committee to order at just past nine o’clock. What impressed her initially was how uneven the sexual division was: eight females and only four males. And of the four males, one was past retirement age and two weren’t old enough to get into an R-rated movie by themselves. She had to remind herself that a hundred guerrilla armies in various parts of the world had put guns in the hands of women and kids no older than these here tonight. That didn’t make it right, but sometimes what was right and what was necessary came into conflict.

“I’d like us to bow our heads for a minute,” Piper said. “I’m not
going to pray because I’m no longer sure just who I’m talking to when I do that. But you might want to say a word to the God of your understanding, because tonight we need all the help we can get.”

They did as she asked. Some still had their heads down and their eyes closed when Piper raised her own head to look at them: two recently fired lady cops, a retired supermarket manager, a newspaperwoman who no longer had a newspaper, a librarian, the owner of the local restaurant, a Dome-widow who couldn’t stop spinning the wedding ring on her finger, the local department store tycoon, and three uncharacteristically solemn-faced kids sitting scrunched together on the sofa.

“Okay, amen,” Piper said. “I’m going to turn the meeting over to Jackie Wettington, who knows what she’s doing.”

“That’s probably too optimistic,” Jackie said. “Not to mention hasty. Because I’m going to turn the meeting over to Joe McClatchey.”

Joe looked startled. “Me?”

“But before he gets going,” she went on, “I’m going to ask his friends to serve as lookouts. Norrie in front and Benny in back.” Jackie saw the protest on their faces and raised a hand to forestall it. “This isn’t an excuse to get you out of the room—it’s important. I don’t need to tell you it might not be good if the powers that be caught us in conclave. You two are the smallest. Find some nice deep shadows and slide in. If you see someone coming who looks suspicious, or any of the town police cars, clap your hands like this.” She clapped once, then twice, then once more. “You’ll be filled in on everything later, I promise you. The new order of the day is pooled information, no secrets.”

When they were gone, Jackie turned to Joe. “This box you told Linda about. Tell everyone. From beginning to end.”

Joe did it on his feet, as if reciting in school. “Then we came back to town,” he finished. “And that bastard Rennie had Rusty arrested.” He wiped sweat from his forehead and sat back down on the couch.

Claire put an arm around his shoulders. “Joe says it would be bad for Rennie to find out about the box,” she said. “He thinks Rennie
might want it to keep on doing what it’s doing instead of trying to turn it off or destroy it.”

“I think he’s right,” Jackie said. “So its existence and location is our first secret.”

“I don’t know …” Joe said.

“What?” Julia asked. “You think he
should
know?”

“Maybe. Sort of. I need to think.”

Jackie pushed on without questioning him further. “Here’s the second order of business. I want to try and break Barbie and Rusty out of jail. Tomorrow night, during the big town meeting. Barbie’s the guy the President designated to take over the town administration—”

“Anybody but Rennie,” Ernie growled. “Incompetent sonofabitch thinks he owns this burg.”

“He’s good at one thing,” Linda said. “Stirring up trouble when it suits him. The food riot and the newspaper being burned … I think both of those were done according to his orders.”

“Of course they were,” Jackie said. “Anyone who could kill his own
pastor
—”

Rose goggled at her. “Are you saying
Rennie
killed Coggins?”

Jackie told them about the basement workroom in the funeral parlor, and how the marks on Coggins’s face matched the gold baseball Rusty had seen in Rennie’s study. They listened with dismay but no disbelief.

“The girls, too?” Lissa Jamieson said in a small, horrified voice.

“I’ve got his son down for that.” Jackie spoke almost briskly. “And those murders were probably not related to Big Jim’s political machinations. Junior collapsed this morning. At the McCain house, incidentally, where the bodies were found. By him.”

“What a coincidence,” Ernie said.

“He’s in the hospital. Ginny Tomlinson says it’s almost certainly a brain tumor. Which can cause violent behavior.”

“A father-son murder team?” Claire was hugging Joe more tightly than ever.

“Not a team, exactly,” Jackie said, “Call it the same wild strain of behavior—something genetic—coming out under pressure.”

Linda said, “But the bodies being in the same place strongly suggests that if there
were
two murderers, they were working together. The point is, my husband and Dale Barbara are almost certainly being held by a killer who’s using them to build a grand conspiracy theory. The only reason they haven’t already been killed in custody is because Rennie wants to make an example of them. He wants them executed in public.” Her face cramped for a moment as she fought off tears.

“I can’t believe he’s gotten as far as he has,” Lissa said. She was twisting the ankh she wore back and forth. “He’s a
used car dealer,
for heaven’s sake.”

Silence greeted this.

“Now look,” Jackie said after it had stretched out a bit. “By telling you what Linda and I mean to do, I’ve made this a
real
conspiracy. I’m going to ask for a vote. If you want to be a part of this, raise your hand. Those who don’t raise their hands can leave, contingent on a promise not to blab about what we’ve discussed. Which you wouldn’t want to do, anyway; if you don’t tell anybody who was here and what was discussed, you won’t have to explain how you heard. This is dangerous. We might end up in jail, or even worse. So let’s see some hands. Who wants to stay?”

Joe raised his hand first, but Piper, Julia, Rose, and Ernie Calvert were not far behind. Linda and Rommie raised their hands together. Lissa looked at Claire McClatchey. Claire sighed and nodded. The two women raised their hands.

“Way to go, Mom,” Joe said.

“If you ever tell your father what I let you get into,” she said, “you won’t need James Rennie to execute you. I’ll do it myself.”

19

“Linda can’t go into the PD after them,” Rommie said. He was speaking to Jackie.

“Who, then?”

“You and me, hon. Linda’s gonna go to the big meeting. Where six or eight hundred people can testify that they saw her.”

“Why can’t I go?” Linda asked. “That’s my
husband
they’ve got.”

“That’s why,” Julia said simply.

“How do you want to do it?” Rommie asked Jackie.

“Well, I suggest we wear masks—”

“Duh,”
Rose said, and made a face. They all laughed.

“Lucky us,” Rommie said. “I got a great selection of Halloween masks at the store.”

“Maybe I’ll be the Little Mermaid,” Jackie said, a little wistfully. She realized everyone was looking at her, and blushed. “Whatever. In any case, we’ll need guns. I have an extra at home—a Beretta. Do you have something, Rommie?”

“I put away some rifles and shotguns in the store safe. Got at least one wit’ a scope. I won’t say I saw this comin, but I saw
somethin
comin.”

Joe spoke up. “You’ll also need a getaway vehicle. And not your van, Rommie, because everyone knows it.”

“I got an idea about that,” Ernie said. “Let’s take a vehicle from Jim Rennie’s used car lot. He’s got half a dozen high-mileage phone company vans he picked up last spring. They’re out in the back. Using one of his’d be, whatdoyacallit, poetic justice.”

“And exactly how you gonna get the key?” Rommie asked. “Break into his office at the showroom?”

“If the one we pick doesn’t have an electronic ignition, I can hotwire it,” Ernie said. Fixing Joe with a frowning glance, he added: “I’d prefer you didn’t tell my granddaughter that, young man.”

Joe did a lip-zipping pantomime that made them all laugh again.

“The special town meeting is scheduled to start at seven tomorrow night,” Jackie said. “If we go into the PD around eight—”

“We can do better than that,” Linda said. “If I have to go to the damn meeting, I might as well do some good. I’ll wear a dress with big pockets and carry my police radio—the extra that’s still in my personal vehicle. You two be in the van, ready to go.”

Tension was creeping into the room; they all felt it. This was starting to be real.

“At the loadin dock behind my store,” Rommie said. “Out of sight.”

“Once Rennie really gets going on his speech,” Linda said, “I’ll give you a triple break on the radio. That’s your signal to roll.”

“How many police will there be at the station?” Lissa asked.

“I might be able to find out from Stacey Moggin,” Jackie said.

“There won’t be many, though. Why would there be? So far as Big Jim knows, there are no real Friends of Barbie—just the straw men he’s set up.”

“He’ll also want to make sure his tender ass is well protected,” Julia said.

There was some laughter at this, but Joe’s mother looked deeply troubled. “There’ll be
some
at the police station no matter what. What are you going to do if they resist you?”

“They won’t,” Jackie said. “We’ll have them locked in their own cells before they know what’s happening.”

“But if they do?”

“Then we’ll try not to kill them.” Linda’s voice was calm, but her eyes were those of a creature who has screwed its courage up in some final desperate effort to save itself. “There’s probably going to be killing anyway if the Dome stays up much longer. The execution of Barbie and my husband in War Memorial Plaza will only be the start of it.”

“Let’s say you get them out,” Julia said. “Where will you take them? Here?”

“No way,” Piper said, and touched her still-swollen mouth. “I’m already on Rennie’s shit list. Not to mention that guy who’s now his personal bodyguard. Thibodeau. My dog bit him.”

“Anywhere near the center of town’s not a great idea,” Rose said. “They could do a house-to-house. God knows they’ve got enough cops.”

“Plus all the people wearing the blue armbands,” Rommie added.

“What about one of the summer cabins out at Chester Pond?” Julia asked.

“Possible,” Ernie said, “but they could think of that, too.”

“It still might be the best bet,” Lissa said.

“Mr. Burpee?” Joe asked. “Have you got any more of that lead roll?”

“Sure, tons. And make it Rommie.”

“If Mr. Calvert can steal a van tomorrow, could you sneak it behind your store and put a bunch of precut pieces of lead roll in the back? Ones big enough to cover the windows?”

“I guess so….”

Joe looked at Jackie. “And could you get hold of this Colonel Cox, if you had to?”

“Yes.” Jackie and Julia answered together, then looked at each other in surprise.

Light was dawning on Rommie’s face. “You’re thinking about the old McCoy place, aren’t you? Up on Black Ridge. Where the box is.”

“Yeah. It might be a bad idea, but if we all had to run … if we were all up there … we could defend the box. I know that sounds crazy, since it’s the thing causing all the problems, but we can’t let Rennie get it.”

“I hope it don’t come to refighting the Alamo in an apple orchard,” Rommie said, “but I see your point.”

“There’s something else we could do, too,” Joe said. “It’s a little risky, and it might not work, but …”

“Spill it,” Julia said. She was looking at Joe McClatchey with a kind of bemused awe.

“Well … is the Geiger counter still in your van, Rommie?”

“I t’ink so, yeah.”

“Maybe someone could put it back in the fallout shelter where it came from.” Joe turned to Jackie and Linda. “Could either of you get in there? I mean, I know you got fired.”

“Al Timmons would let us in, I think,” Linda said. “And he’d let Stacey Moggin in for sure. She’s with us. The only reason she’s not here right now is because she’s got the duty. Why risk it, Joe?”

“Because …” He was speaking with uncharacteristic slowness, feeling his way. “Well … there’s radiation out there, see?
Bad
radiation. It’s just a belt—I bet you could drive right through it without any protection at all and not get hurt, if you drove fast and didn’t try it too often—but
they
don’t know that. The problem is, they don’t know there’s radiation out there at all. And they won’t, if they don’t have the Geiger counter.”

Jackie was frowning. “It’s a cool idea, kiddo, but I don’t like the idea of pointing Rennie right at where we’re going. That doesn’t fit with my idea of a safe house.”

“It wouldn’t have to be like that,” Joe said. He was still speaking slowly, testing for weak spots. “Not exactly, anyway. One of you could get in touch with Cox, see? Tell him to call Rennie and say they’re picking up spot radiation. Cox can say something like, ‘We can’t exactly pinpoint it because it comes and goes, but it’s pretty high, maybe even lethal, so watch out. You don’t happen to have a Geiger counter, do you?’”