There were phrases for that sort of run, the most common being in the zone. But the one Big Jim liked was feeling it, as in 'She's really feeling it now.' As though the game had some divine texture beyond the reach of ordinary players (although sometimes even ordinary players felt it, and were transformed for a brief while into gods and goddesses, every bodily defect seeming to disappear during their transitory divinity), a texture that on special nights could be touched: some rich and marvelous drape such as must adorn the hardwood halls ofValhalla.
Hanna Compton had never played her junior year; the championship game had been her valedictory. That summer, while driving drunk, her father had killed himself, his wife, and all three daughters while driving back to Tarker's Mills from Brownie's, where they had gone for ice cream frappes.The bonus Cadillac had been their coffin.
The multiple-fatality crash had been front-page news in western Maine - Julia Shumway's Democrat published an issue with a black border that week - but Big Jim had not been grief-stricken. Hanna never would have played college ball, he suspected; there the girls were bigger, and she might have been reduced to role-player status. She never would have stood for that. Her hate had to be fed by constant action on the floor. Big Jim understood completely. He sympathized completely. It was the main reason he had never even considered leaving The Mill. In the wider world he might have made more money, but wealth was the short beer of existence. Power was champagne.
Running The Mill was good on ordinary days, but in times of crisis it was better than good. In times like that you could fly on the pure wings of intuition, knowing that you couldn't screw up, absolutely couldn't.You could read the defense even before the defense had coalesced, and you scored every time you got the ball. You were feeling it, and there was no better time for that to happen than in a championship game.
This was his championship game, and everything was breaking his way. He had the sense - the total belief- that nothing could go wrong during this magical passage; even things that seemed wrong would become opportunities rather than stumbling blocks, like Hanna's desperation half-court shot that had brought the whole Derry Civic Center to its feet, the Mills fans cheering, the Castle Rockers raving in disbelief.
Feeling it. Which was why he wasn't tired, even though he should have been exhausted. Which was why he wasn't worried about Junior, in spite of Junior's reticence and pale watchfulness. Which was why he wasn't worried about Dale Barbara and Barbara's troublesome coterie of friends, most notably the newspaper bitch. Which was why, when Peter Randolph and Andy Sanders looked at him, dumbfounded, Big Jim only smiled. He could afford to smile. He was feeling it.
'Close the supermarket?' Andy asked. 'Won't that get a lot of people upset, Big Jim?'
"The supermarket and the Gas and Grocery,' Big Jim corrected, still smiling. 'Brownie's we don't have to worry about, it's already closed. A good thing, too - it's a dirty little place.' Selling dirty little magazines, he did not add.
'Jim, there's still plenty of supplies at Food City,' Randolph said. 'I spoke to Jack Cale about that just this afternoon. Meat's thin, but everything else is holding up.'
'I know that,' Big Jim said. 'I understand inventory, and Cale does, too. He should; he's Jewish, after all.'
'Well... I'm just saying everything's been orderly so far, because people keep their pantries well stocked.' He brightened. 'Now, I could see ordering shorter hours at Food City. I think Jack could be talked into that. He's probably already thinking ahead to it.'
Big Jim shook his head, still smiling. Here was another example of how things broke your way when you were feeling it. Duke Perkins would have said it was a mistake to put the town under any extra stress, especially after this night's unsettling celestial event. Duke was dead,; however, and that was more than convenient; it was divine.
I Closed up,' he repeated.'Both of them. Tight as ticks. And when they reopen, we'll be the ones handing out supplies. Stuff will last longer, and the distribution will be fiirer. I'll announce a rationing plan at the Thursday meeting.' He paused. 'If the Dome isn't gone by then, of course.'
(Andy said hesitantly,'I'm not sure we have the authority to close down businesses, Big Jim.'
'In a crisis like this, we not only have the authority, we have the responsibility.' He clapped Pete Randolph heartily on the back. The Mill's new Chief wasn't expecting it and gave out a startled squeak.
'What if it starts a panic?' Andy was frowning.
'Well, that's a possibility' Big Jim said. 'When you kick a nest of mice, they're all apt to come running out. We may have to increase the size of our police force quite a bit if this crisis doesn't end soon. Yes, quite a bit.'
Randolph looked startled. 'We're going on twenty officers now. Including - ' He cocked his head toward the door.
'Yep,' Big Jim said, 'and speaking of those fellers, better bring em in, Chief, so we can finish this and send them home to bed. I think they're going to have a busy day tomorrow.'
And if they get roughed up a little, so much the better. They deserve it for not being able to keep their jackhandles in their pants.
2
Frank, Carter, Mel, and Georgia shuffled in like suspects onto a police lineup stage. Their faces were set and defiant, but the defiance was thin; Hanna Compton would have laughed at it. Their eyes were down, studying their shoes. It was clear to Big Jim that they expected to be fired, or worse, and that was just fine with him. Fright was the easiest of emotions to work with.
'Well,' he said. 'Here are the brave officers.'
Georgia Roux muttered something under her breath.
'Speak up, honeybunch.' Big Jim cupped a hand to his ear.
'Said we didn't do nothing wrong,' she said. Still in that teacher's-being-mean-to-me mumble.