The soldiers, afraid of being hit by the ATV (the eye which sees nothing to block an oncoming object triggers powerful instructs), fell off to either side, leaving a nice big hole and sparing Rory the need of telling them to move away from a possible explosive blowout. He wanted to be a hero, but didn't want to hurt or kill anybody to do it.
He had to hurry. The people closest to his stopping point were the ones in the parking lot and clustered around the Summer Blowout Sale tent, and they were running like hell. His father and brother were among them, both screaming at him to not do whatever he was planning to do.
Rory yanked the rifle free of the bungee cords, socked the butt-plate into his shoulder, and aimed at the invisible barrier five feet above a trio of dead sparrows.
'No, kid, bad idea!' one of the soldiers shouted.
Rory paid him no mind, because it was a good idea.Ths people from the tent and the parking lot were close, now. Someone - it was Lester Coggins, who ran a lot better than he played guitar - shouted: 'In the name of God, son, don't do that!"
Rory pulled the trigger. No; only tried to. The safety was still on. He looked over his shoulder and saw the tall, thin Treacher from the holy-roller church blow past his puffing, red-faced father. Lester's shirttail was out and flying. His eyes were wide. The cook from Sweetbriar Rose was right behind him. They were no more than sixty yards away now, and the Reverend looked like he was just getting into fourth gear.
Rory thumbed off the safety.
'No, kid, no!' the soldier cried again, simultaneously crouching on his side of the Dome and holding out his splayed hands.
Rory paid no attention. It's that way with big ideas. He fired.
It was, unfortunately for Rory, a perfect shot. The hi-impact slug struck the Dome dead on, ricocheted, and came back like a rubber ball on a string. Rory felt no immediate pain, but a vast sheet of white light filled his head as the smaller of the slug's two fragments thumbed out his left eye and lodged in his brain. Blood flew in a spray, then ran through his fingers as he dropped to his knees, clutching his face.
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'I'm blind! I'm blind!' the boy was screaming, and Lester immediately thought of the scripture upon which his finger had landed: Madness and blindness and astonishment of the heart.
'I'm blind! I'm blind!'
Lester pried away the boy's hands and saw the red, welling socket. The remains of the eye itself were dangling on Rory's cheek. As he turned his head up to Lester, the splattered remains plopped into the grass.
Lester had a moment to cradle the child in his arms before the father arrived and tore him away. That was all right. That was as it should be. Lester had sinned and begged guidance from the Lord. Guidance had been given, an answer provided. He knew now what he was to do about the sins he'd been led into by James Rennie.
A blind child had shown him the way.
CHAPTER 7
THIS IS NOT AS BAD AS IT GETS
1
What Rusty Everett would recall later was confusion. The only image that stuck out with complete clarity was Pastor Coggins's naked upper body: fishbelly-white skin and stacked ribs.
Barbie, however - perhaps because he'd been tasked by Colonel Cox to put on his investigator's hat again - saw everything. And his clearest memory wasn't of Coggins with his shirt off; it was of Melvin Searles pointing a finger at him and then tilting his head slightly - sign language any man recognizes as meaning We ain't done yet, Sunshine.
What everyone else remembered - what brought the town's situation home to them as perhaps nothing else could - were the father's cries as he held his wretched, bleeding boy in his arms, and the mother screaming 'Is he all right, Alden? IS HE ALL RIGHT?' as she labored her sixty-pounds-overweight bulk toward the scene.
Barbie saw Rusty Everett push through the circle gathering around the boy and join the two kneeling men - Alden and Lester. Alden was cradling his son in his arms as Pastor Coggins stared with his mouth sagging like a gate with a busted hinge. Rusty's wife was right behind him. Rusty fell on his knees between Alden and Lester and tried to pull the boy's hands away from his face. Alden - not surprisingly, in Barbie's opinion - promptly socked him one. Rusty s nose started to bleed.
'No! Let him help!' the PA's wife yelled.
Linda, Barbie thought. Her name is Linda, and she's a cop.
'No, Alden! No!' Linda put her hand on the farmer's shoulder and he turned, apparently ready to sock her. All sense had departed his face; he was an animal protecting a cub. Barbie moved forward to catch his fist if the farmer let it fly, then had a better idea.
'Medic here!' he shouted, bending into Alden's face and trying to block Linda from his field of vision. 'Medic! Medic, med - '