Stephen King - Under The Dome (v0.9) (html) by [email protected]

Author:[email protected]
Language: eng
Format: azw

17

'That's right, cry!'

The voice was coming from far away. Barbie struggled toward it, but it was hard to open his burning eyes.

'You've got a lot to cry about!'

The person making these declarations sounded like he was crying himself. And the voice was familiar. Barbie tried to see, but his lids felt swollen and heavy. The eyes beneath were pulsing with his heartbeat. His sinuses were so full his ears crackled when he swallowed.

'Why did you kill her? Why did you kill my baby?'

Some sonofabitch Maced me, Denton? No, Randolph.

Barbie managed to open his eyes by placing the heels of his hands over his eyebrows and shoving upward. He saw Andy Sanders standing outside the cell with tears rolling down his cheeks. And what was Sanders seeing? A guy in a cell, and a guy in a cell always looked guilty.

Sanders screamed, 'She was all I had!'

Randolph stood behind him, looking embarrassed and shuffling like a kid twenty minutes overdue for a bathroom pass. Even with his eyes burning and his sinuses pounding, Barbie wasn't surprised that Randolph had let Sanders come down here. Not because Sanders was the town's First Selectman, but because Peter Randolph found it almost impossible to say no.

"Now, Andy,' Randolph said. 'That's enough. You wanted to see him and I let you, even though it was against my better judgment. He's jugged good and proper, and he'll pay the price for what he did. So now come on upstairs and I'll pour you a cup of—'

Andy grabbed the front of Randolph's uniform. He was four inches shorter, but Randolph still looked scared. Barbie didn't blame him. He was viewing the world through a deep red film, but he could see Andy Sanders's fury clearly enough.

'Give me your gun! A trial's too good for him! He's apt to get off, anyway! He's got friends in high places, Jim says so! I want some satisfaction! I deserve some satisfaction, so give me your gunV

Barbie didn't think Randolph's desire to please would go so far as handing over his weapon so that Andy could shoot him in this cell like a rat in a rainbarrel, but he wasn't entirely sure; there might be a reason other than the craven need to please that had caused Randolph to bring Sanders down here, and to bring hirn down alone.

He struggled to his feet. 'Mr Sanders.' Some of the Mace had gotten into his mouth. His tongue and throat were swollen, his voice an unconvincing nasal croak. 'I did not kill your daughter, sir. I did not kill anyone. If you think about this you'll see that your friend Rennie needs a scapegoat and I'm the most convenient—'

But Andy was in no shape to think about anything. He dropped his hands to Randolph's holster and began clawing at the Glock there. Alarmed, Randolph struggled to keep it where it was.

At that moment, a large-bellied figure descended the stairs, moving gracefully despite his bulk.

'Andy!' Big Jim boomed. 'Andy, pal—come here!'

He opened his arms.

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