Under the Dome

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 pinchpe

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 cop-shop— 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—most on bikes, a couple on skateboards—were doing a good job of covering Main Street. A protest demonstration out on 119. Romeo wondered whose idea that had been.

He caught up with one and asked.

'It was my idea,'Joe McClatchey said.

'No shit?'

'No shit whatsoever,'Joe said.

Rommie tipped the kid five, ignoring his protests and tucking it deep into his back pocket. Information was worth paying for. Rommie thought people would go to the kid's demonstration. They were crazy to express their fear, frustration, and righteous anger.

Shortly after sending Scarecrow Joe on his way, Romeo began to hear people talking about an afternoon prayer meeting, to be held by Pastor Coggins. Same by-God time, same by-God place.

Surely a sign. One reading SALES OPPORTUNITY HERE.

Romeo went into his store, where business was lackadaisical. The people Sunday-shopping today were either doing it at Food City or Mill Gas & Grocery. And they were the minority. Most were either at church or at home watching the news. Toby Ma

'Shut off that quack and close down your register,' Romeo said.

'Really, Mr Burpee?'

'Yes. Drag the big tent out of storage. Get Lily to help you.'

'The Summer Blowout Sale tent?'

'That's the baby' Romeo said. 'We're go

'Alden Dinsmore's field? What if he wants money to use it?'

'Then we'll pay him.' Romeo was calculating. The store sold everything, including discount grocery items, and he currently had roughly a thousand packs of discount Happy Boy franks in the industrial freezer behind the store. He'd bought them from Happy Boy HQ in Rhode Island (company now defunct, little microbe problem, thank God not E. coli), expecting to sell them to tourists and locals pla

Serve them on those little garden-sticks from Taiwan, he thought. I've still got a billion of those bastards. Call them something cute, like Frank-A-Ma-Bobs. Plus they had maybe a hundred cartons ofYummy Tummy Lemonade and Limeade powder, another discount item on which he'd expected to take a loss.

'We're going to want to pack up all the Blue Rhino, too.' Now his mind was clicking away like an adding machine, which was just the way Romeo liked it to click.

Toby was starting to look excited. 'Whatcha got in mind, Mr Burpee?'

Rommie went on inventorying stuff he'd expected to record on his books as a dead loss. Those cheapshit pinwheels… leftover Fourth of July sparklers… the stale candy he'd been saving for Halloween…

'Toby,' he said, 'we're going to throw the biggest damn cookout and field day this town has ever seen. Get moving. We've got a lot to do.'

9

Rusty was making hospital rounds with Dr Haskell when the walkie-talkie Linda had insisted he carry buzzed in his pocket.

Her voice was ti

Rusty groaned.

'I'll have to leave the girls with Marta after all.' Linda sounded defensive and worried, a woman who knew there was suddenly not enough of her to go around. 'I'll fill her in on Ja

'Okay.' He knew if he told her to stay home, she would… and all he'd accomplish would be to worry her just when her worries were starting to settle a bit. And if a crowd did show up out there, she'd be needed.

'Thank you,' she said. 'Thank you for understanding.'

'Just remember to send the dog to Marta's with the girls,' Rusty said. "You know what Haskell said.'

Dr Ron Haskell—The Wiz—had come up big for the Everett family this morning. Had come up big ever since the onset of the crisis, really. Rusty never would have expected it, but he appreciated it. And he could see by the old guy's pouched eyes and drooping mouth that Haskell was paying the price. The Wiz was too old for medical crises; snoozing in the third floor lounge was more his speed these days. But, other than Gi

Haskell, although pushing seventy, had stayed at the hospital with Rusty last night until eleven, when Rusty had literally forced him out the door, and he'd been back by seven this morning, when Rusty and Linda arrived with daughters in tow. Also with Audrey, who seemed to take the new environment of Cathy Russell calmly enough. Judy and Janelle had walked on either side of the big golden, touching her for comfort. Janelle had looked scared to death.