She said, 'Let's see what happens with the missile. If it doesn't work, I'll tell you everything. If it does, I'll sit down with the County Attorney when the dust settles… and, in the words of Ricky Ricardo, James Rennie will have some splainin to do.'

'You're not the only one waiting to see what happens with the missile.Tonight, butter wouldn't melt in Rennie's mouth. If the Cruise bounces off instead of punching through, I think we may see his other side.'

She snapped off the Penlite and looked up. 'See the stars,' she said. 'So bright. There's the Dipper… Cassiopeia… the Great Bear. All just the same. I find that comforting. Do you?'

'Yes.'

They said nothing for a little while, only looked up at the glimmering sprawl of the Milky Way. 'But they always make me feel very small and very… very brief.' She laughed, then said—rather timidly: 'Would you mind if I took your arm, Barbie?'

'Not at all.'

She grasped his elbow. He put his hand over hers. Then he walked her home.

9

Big Jim adjourned the meeting at eleven twenty. Peter Randolph bade them all good night and left. He planned to start the evacuation on the west side of town at seven a.m. sharp, and hoped to have the entire area around Little Bitch Road clear by noon. Andrea followed, walking slowly, with her hands planted in the small of her back. It was a posture—with which they had all become familiar.

Although his meeting with Lester Coggins was very much on his mind (and sleep; he wouldn't mind getting a little damned sleep), Big Jim asked her if she could stay behind a moment or two.

She looked at him questioningly. Behind him, Andy Sanders was ostentatiously stacking files and putting them back in the gray steel cabinet.

'And close the door,' Big Jim said pleasantly.

Now looking worried, she did as he asked. Andy went on doing the end-of-meeting housework, but his shoulders were hunched, as if against a blow. Whatever it was Jim wanted to talk to her about, Andy knew already. And judging by his posture, it wasn't good.

'What's on your mind, Jim?' she asked.

'Nothing serious.'Which meant it was. 'But it did seem to me, Andrea, that you were getting pretty chummy with that Barbara fellow before the meeting. With Brenda, too, for that matter.'

'Brenda? That's just…' She started to say ridiculous, but that seemed a little strong. 'Just silly. I've known Brenda for thirty yea—'

'And Mr Barbara for three months. If, that is, eating a man's waffles and bacon is a basis for knowing him.'

'I think he's Colonel Barbara now.'

Big Jim smiled. 'Hard to take that seriously when the closest thing he can get to a uniform is a pair of bluejeans and a tee-shirt.'

'\fou saw the President's letter.'

'I saw something Julia Shumway could have composed on her own gosh-darn computer. Isn't that right, Andy?'

'Right,' Andy said without turning around. He was still filing. And then refiling what he'd already filed, from the look of it.

'And suppose it was from the President?' Big Jim said. The smile she hated was spreading on his broad, jowly face. Andrea observed with some fascination that she could see stubble on those jowls, maybe for the first time, and she understood why Jim was always so careful to shave. The stubble gave him a sinister Nixonian look.

'Well…'Worry was now edging into fright. She wanted to tell Jim she'd only been being polite, but it had actually been a little more, and she guessed Jim had seen that. He saw a great deal. 'Well, he is the Commander in Chief, you know.'

Big Jim made a. pshaw gesture. 'Do you know what a commander is, Andrea? I'll tell you. Someone who merits loyalty and obedience because he can provide the resources to help those in need. Its supposed to be a fair trade.'

'Yes" she said eagerly.'Resources like that Cruiser missile thing!'

'And if it works, that's all very fine.'

'How could it not? He said it might have a thousand-pound warhead!'

'Considering how little we know about the Dome, how can you or any of us be sure? How can we be sure it won't blow the Dome up and leave nothing but a mile-deep crater where Chester's Mill used to be?'

She looked at him in dismay. Hands in the small of her back, rubbing and kneading at the place where the pain lived.

'Well, that's in God's hands,' he said. 'And you're right, Andrea—it may work. But if it doesn't, we're on our own, and a commander in chief who can't help his citizens isn't worth a squirt of warm pee in a cold chamberpot, as far as I'm concerned. If it doesn't work, and if they don't blow all of us to Glory, somebody is going to have to take hold in this town. Is it going to be some drifter the President taps with his magic wand, or is it going to be the elected officials already in place? Do you see where I'm going with this?'

'Colonel Barbara seemed very capable to me,' she whispered.

"Stop calling him that!' Big Jim shouted. Andy dropped a file, and Andrea took a step backward, uttering a squeak of fear as she did so.

Then she straightened, momentarily recovering some of the Yankee steel that had given her the courage to run for Selectman in the first place. 'Don't you yell at me, Jim Rennie. I've known you since you were cutting out Sears catalogue pictures in the first grade and pasting them on construction paper, so don't you yell.

'Oh gosh, she's offended' The fierce smile now spread from ear to ear, lifting his upper face into an unsettling mask of jollity. 'Isn't that too cotton-picking bad. But it's late and I'm tired and I've handed out about all the sweet syrup I can manage for one day. So you listen to me now, and don't make me repeat myself.' He glanced at his watch. 'It's eleven thirty-five, and I want to be home by midnight.'

'I don't understand what you want of me!'

He rolled his eyes as if he couldn't believe her stupidity. 'In a nutshell? I want to know you're going to be on my side—mine and Andy's—if this harebrained missile idea doesn't work. Not with some dishwashing johnny-come-lately.'

She squared up her shoulders and let go of her back. She managed to meet his eyes, but her lips were trembling. 'And if I think Colonel Barbara—Mr Barbara, if you prefer—is better qualified to manage things in a crisis situation?'

'Well, I have to go with Jiminey Cricket on that one,' Big Jim said. 'Let your conscience be your guide.' His voice had dropped to a murmur that was more frightening than his shout had been. 'But there's those pills you take. Those OxyContins.'