'Do you promise?'

'Yes.'

Her arms tightened around his neck. It was one of the best things Junior had ever felt in his life.

4

The western side of Chester's Mill was the least populated part of town, and by quarter of nine that morning it was almost entirely clear. The only police car left on Little Bitch was Unit 2. Jackie Wettington was driving and Linda Everett was riding shotgun. Chief Perkins, a smalltown cop of the old school, would never have sent two women out together, but of course Chief Perkins was no longer in charge, and the women themselves enjoyed the novelty. Men, especially male cops with their endless yee-haw banter, could be tiring.

'Ready to go back?' Jackie asked. 'Sweetbriar'll be closed, but we might be able to beg a cup of coffee.'

Linda didn't reply. She was thinking about where the Dome cut across Little Bitch. Going out there had been unsettling, and not just because the sentries were still standing with their backs turned, and hadn't budged when she gave them a good morning through the car's roof speaker. It was unsettling because there was now a great big red X spray-painted on the Dome, hanging in midair like a sci-fi hologram. That was the projected point of impact. It seemed impossible that a missile fired from two or three hundred miles away could hit such a small spot, but Rusty had assured her that it could.

'Lin?'

She came back to the here and now.'Sure, I'm ready if you are.'

The radio crackled. 'Unit Two, Unit Two, do you read, over?'

Linda unracked the mike.'Base, this is Two. We hear you, Stacey, but reception out here isn't very good, over?'

'Everybody says the same,' Stacey Moggin replied. 'It's worse near the Dome, better as you get closer to town. But you're still on Little Bitch, right? Over.'

'Yes,' Linda said. 'Just checked the Killians and the Bouchers. Both gone. If that missile busts through, Roger Killian's going to have a lot: of roast chickens, over.'

'We'll have a picnic. Pete wants to talk to you. Chief Randolph, I mean. Over.'

Jackie pulled the cruiser to the side of the road. There was a pause with static crackling in it, then l^andolph came on. He didn't bother with any overs, never had.

'Did you check the church, Unit Two?'

'Holy Redeemer?' Linda asked. 'Over.'

'That's the only one I know out there, Officer Everett. Unless a Hindu mosque grew overnight.'

Linda didn't think Hindus were the ones who worshipped in mosques, but this didn't seem like the right time for corrections. Randolph sounded tired and grouchy. 'Holy Redeemer wasn't in our sector,' she said. 'That one belonged to a couple of the new cops. Thibodeau and Searles, I think. Over.'

'Check it again,' Randolph said, sounding more irritable than ever. 'No one's seen Coggins, and a couple of his parishioners want to canoodle with him, or whatever they call it.'

Jackie put a finger to her temple and mimed shooting herself. Linda, who wanted to get back and check on her kids at Marta Edmunds's house, nodded.

'Roger that, Chief,' Linda said. 'Will do. Over.'

'Check the parsonage, too.' There was a pause. 'Also the radio station. The damn thing keeps bellowing away, so there must be someone there.'

'Will do.' She started to say over and out, then thought of something else. 'Chief, is there anything new on the TV? Has the President said anything? Over?'

'I don't have time to listen to every word that guy drops out of his silly mouth. Just go on and hunt up the padre and tell him to get his butt back here. And get your butts back, too. Out.'

Linda racked the mike and looked at Jackie.

'Get our butts back there?'Jackie said. 'Our buttsT

'He's a butt,' Linda said.

The remark was supposed to be funny, but it fell flat. For a moment they just sat in the idling car, not talking. Then Jackie spoke in a voice that was almost too low to be heard. 'This is so bad.'

'Randolph instead of Perkins, you mean?'

'That, and the new cops.' She gave the last word verbal quotation marks. 'Those kids. You know what? When I was punching in, Henry Morrison told me Randolph hired two more this morning. They came in off the street with Carter Thibodeau and Pete just signed em up, no questions asked.'

Linda knew the sort of guys who hung out with Carter, either at Dipper's or at the Gas & Grocery, where they used the garage to tune up their finance-company motorcycles. 'Two more? Why?'

'Pete told Henry we might need em if that missile doesn't work. "To make sure the situation doesn't get out of hand," he said. And you know who put that idea in his head.'

Linda knew, all right. 'At least they're not carrying guns.'

'A couple are. Not department issue; their personals. By tomorrow—if this doesn't end today, that is—they all will be. And as of this morning Pete's letting them ride together instead of pairing them with real cops. Some training period, huh? Twenty-four hours, give or take. Do you realize those kids now outnumber us?'

Linda considered this silently.

'Hitler Youth,'Jackie said.'That's what I keep thinking. Probably overreacting, but I hope to God this thing ends today and I don't have to find out.'

'I can't quite see Peter Randolph as Hitler.'

'Me, either. I see him more as Hermann Goering. It's Rennie I think of when I think of Hitler.' She put the cruiser in gear, made a K-turn, and headed them back toward Christ the Holy Redeemer Church.

The church was unlocked and empty, the generator off.The parsonage was silent, but Reverend Coggins's Chevrolet was parked in the little garage. Peering in, Linda could read two stickers on the bumper. The one on the right: IF THE RAPTURE'S TODAY, SOMEBODY GRAB MY STEERING WHEEL! The one on the left boasted MY OTHER CAR IS A 10-SPEED.

Linda called the second one to Jackie's attention. 'He does have a bike—I've seen him riding it. But I don't see it in the garage, so maybe he rode it into town. Saving gas.'

'Maybe,' Jackie said. 'And maybe we ought to check the house to make sure he didn't slip in the shower and break his neck.'

'Does that mean we might have to look at him naked?'

'No one said police work was pretty,'Jackie said. 'Come on.'

The house was locked, but in towns where seasonal residents form, a large part of the population, the police are adept at gaining entry. They checked the usual places for a spare key. Jackie was the one who found it, hanging on a hook behind a kitchen shutter. It opened the back door.