Horace came down the hall to greet her, wagging his rear end and grinning that slightly mad grin of which only Corgis seem capable. He bowed before her, paws splayed, and Julia gave him a brief scratch behind the ears - it was his sweet spot.
Andrea was sitting on the couch, drinking a glass of tea.
'Sorry about the music,' she said, turning it down. 'I couldn't sleep.'
'It's your house, honey,' Julia said. 'And for WOK, that really rocks.'
Andi smiled. 'It's been uptempo gospel ever since this afternoon. I feel like I hit the jackpot. How was your meeting?'
'Good.'Julia sat down.
'Want to talk about it?'
'You don't need the worry. What you need is to concentrate on feeling better. And you know what? You look a little better.'
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.'
'Was Horace a good boy?'
'Very good. We played ball, and then we both slept a little. If I look better, that's probably why. Nothing like a nap to improve a girl's looks.'
'What about your back?'
Andrea smiled. It was an oddly knowing smile, without much humor in it. 'My back isn't bad at all. Hardly a twinge, even when I bend over. Do you know what I think?'
Julia shook her head.
'I think that when it comes to drugs, the body and the mind are co-conspirators. If the brain wants drugs, the body helps out. It says, "Don't worry, don't feel guilty, it's okay, I really hurt." It's not exactly hypochondria I'm talking about, nothing so simple. Just...' She trailed off and her eyes grew distant as she went somewhere else.
Where? Julia wondered.
Then she came back.'Human nature can be destructive. Tell me, do you think a town is like a body?'
'Yes,'Julia said instantly
'And can it say it hurts so the brain can take the drugs it craves?'
Julia considered, then nodded. 'Yes.'
'And right now, Big Jim Rennie is this town's brain, isn't he?'
'Yes, hon. I'd say he is.'
Andrea sat on the couch, head slightly lowered.Then she snapped off the little battery radio and got to her feet. 'I think I'll go up to bed. And do you know, 1 think I might actually be able to sleep.'
'That's good.' And then, for no reason she could have articulated, Julia asked: 'Andi, did anything happen while I was gone?'
A.ndrea looked surprised. 'Why, yes. Horace and I played ball.' She bent down without the slightest wince of pain - a movement she would only a week ago have claimed was impossible for her - and held out one hand. Horace came to her and allowed his head to be stroked. 'He's very good at fetching.'
2
In her room, Andrea settled on her bed, opened theVADER file, and began to read through it again. More carefully this time. When she finally slid the papers back into the manila envelope, it was close to two a.m. She put the envelope into the drawer of the table next to her bed. Also in the drawer was a.38 pistol, which her brother Douglas had given her for her birthday two years ago. She had been dismayed, but Dougie had insisted that a woman living alone should have protection.
Now she took it out, popped the cylinder, and checked the chambers. The one that would roll under the hammer when the trigger was pulled for the first time was empty, as per Twitch's instructions. The other five were full. She had more bullets on the top shelf of her closet, but they would never give her a chance to reload. His little army of cops would shoot her down first.
And if she couldn't kill Rennie with five shots, she probably didn't deserve to live, anyway.
'After all,' she murmured as she put the gun back in the drawer, 'what did I get straight for, anyway?'The answer seemed clear now that the Oxy had cleared her braim she'd gotten straight to shoot straight.
'Amen to that,' she said, and turned out the light.
Five minutes later she was asleep.
3
Junior was wide awake. He sat by the window in the hospital room's only chair, watching the bizarre pink moon decline and slip behind a black smudge on the Dome that was new to him. This one was bigger and much higher than the one left by the failed missile strikes. Had there been some other effort to breach the Dome while he'd been unconscious? He didn't know and didn't care. What mattered was that the Dome was still holding. If it hadn't been, the town would have been lit like Vegas and crawling with GI Joes. Oh, there were lights here and there, marking a few diehard insomniacs, but for the most part, Chester's Mill slept. That was good, because he had things to think about.
Namely Baaarbie and Barbie's friends.
Junior had no headache as he sat by the window, and his memories had come back, but he was aware that he was a very sick boy. There was a suspicious weakness all down the left side of his body, and sometimes spit slipped from that side of his mouth. If he wiped it away with his left hand, sometimes he could feel skin against skin and sometimes he couldn't. In addition to this, there was a dark keyhole shape, quite large, floating on the left side of his vision. As if something had torn inside that eyeball. He supposed it had.
He could remember the wild rage he'd felt on Dome Day; could remember chasing Angie down the hall to the kitchen, throwing her against the fridge, and hoicking his knee into her face. He could remember the sound it made, as if there were a china platter behind her eyes and his knee had shattered it. That rage was gone now. What had taken its place was a silken fury that flowed through his body from some bottomless source deep inside his head, a spring that simultaneously chilled and clarified.
The old f**k he and Frankie had rousted at Chester Pond had come in to examine him earlier this evening. The old f**k acted professional, taking his temperature and blood pressure, asking how his headache was, even checking his knee reflexes with a little rubber hammer. Then, after he left, Junior heard talk and laughter. Barbie's name was mentioned. Junior crept to the door.