The Hammer of Eden

And today of all days! If Dale had heard the news — as Priest had, an hour ago, sitting in a stationary car listening to the radio — he would know that California was in a panic. The airports were mobbed, and the freeways were jammed with people fleeing the cities and all neighborhoods close to the San Andreas fault. Governor Robson had called out the National Guard. The vice president was on a plane, coming to inspect the damage at Felicitas. More and more people — state senators and assemblymen, city mayors, community leaders, and journalists — were urging the governor to give in to the demand made by the Hammer of Eden. But Dale knew nothing of all this.

Priest was not the only one to be shocked by the announcement. Apple burst into tears, and at that Poem started crying, too. Melanie was the first to speak. She said: “But Dale — why?”

“You know why,” he said. “This valley is going to be flooded.”

“But where will you go?”

“Rutherford. It’s in Napa Valley.”

“You have a regular job?”

Dale nodded. “In a winery.”

It was no surprise that Dale had been able to get a job, Priest thought. His expertise was priceless. He would probably make big money. The surprise was that he wanted to go back to the straight world.

Several of the women were crying now. Song said: “Can’t you wait and hope, like the rest of us?”

Poem answered her tearfully. “We have three children. We have no right to take risks with their lives. We can’t stay here, hoping for a miracle, until the waters start rising around our homes.”

Priest spoke for the first time. “This valley is not going to be flooded.”

“You don’t know that,” Dale said.

The room went quiet. It was unusual for someone to contradict Priest so directly.

“This valley is not going to be flooded,” Priest repeated.

Dale said: “We all know that something’s been going on, Priest. In the last six weeks you’ve been away more than you’ve been home. Yesterday four of you were out until midnight, and this morning there’s a dented Cadillac up there in the parking circle. But whatever you’re up to, you haven’t shared it with us. And I can’t risk the future of my children on your faith. Shirley feels the same.”

Poem’s real name was Shirley, Priest recalled. For Dale to use it meant he was already detaching himself from the commune.

“I’ll tell you what will save this valley,” Priest said. Why not tell them about the earthquake — why not? They should be pleased — proud! “The power of prayer. Prayer will save us.”

“I’ll pray for you,” Dale said. “So will Shirley. We’ll pray for all of you. But we’re not staying.”

Poem wiped her tears on her sleeve. “I guess that’s it. We’re sorry. We packed last night, not that we have much. I hope Slow will drive us to the bus station in Silver City.”

Priest stood up and went to them. He put one arm around Dale’s shoulders and the other around Poem’s. Hugging them to him, he said in a low, persuasive voice: “I understand your pain. Let’s all go to the temple and meditate together. After that, whatever you decide to do will be the right thing.”

Dale moved away, detaching himself from Priest’s embrace. “No,” he said. “Those days are gone.”

Priest was shocked. He was using his full persuasive power, and it was not working. Fury rose inside him, dangerously uncontrollable. He wanted to scream at Dale’s faithlessness and ingratitude. He would have killed them both if he could. But he knew that showing his anger would be a mistake. He had to maintain the facade of calm control.

However, he could not summon up the grit to bid them a gracious farewell. Torn between rage and the need for restraint, he walked silently, with as much dignity as he could muster, out of the cookhouse.

He returned to his cabin.

Two more days and it would have been okay. One day!

He sat on the bed and lit a cigarette. Spirit lay on the floor, watching him mournfully. They were both silent and still, brooding. Melanie would follow him in a minute or two.

But it was Star who came in.

She had not spoken to him since she and Oaktree had driven away from Felicitas last night in the Toyota minivan. He knew she was angered and distressed by the earthquake. He had not yet had time to talk her down.

She said: “I’m going to the police.”

Priest was astonished. Star loathed cops passionately. For her to enter a precinct house would be like Billy Graham going to a gay club. “You’re out of your mind,” he said.

“We killed people yesterday,” she said. “I listened to the radio on the drive back. At least twelve people died, and more than a hundred were hospitalized. Babies and children were hurt. People lost their homes, everything they had — poor people, not just rich. And we did that to them.”

Everything is falling apart — just when I’m about to win!

He reached for her hand. “Do you think I wanted to kill people?”

She backed away, refusing to take his hand. “You sure as hell didn’t look sad when it happened.”

I’ve got to hold it together for just a little longer. I must.

He made himself look penitent. “I was happy the vibrator worked, yes. I was glad we were able to carry out our threat. But I didn’t intend to hurt anyone. I knew there was a risk, and I decided to take it, because what was at stake was so important. I thought you made the same decision.”

“I did, and it was a bad decision, a wicked decision.” Tears came to her eyes. “For Christ’s sake, can’t you see what’s happened to us? We were the kids who believed in love and peace — now we’re killing people! You’re just like Lyndon Johnson. He bombed the Vietnamese and justified it. We said he was full of shit, and he was. I’ve dedicated my whole life to not being like that!”

“So you feel you made a mistake,” Priest said. “I can understand that. What’s hard for me to dig is that you want to redeem yourself by punishing me and the whole commune. You want to betray us to the cops.”

She was taken aback. “I hadn’t looked at it that way,” she said. “I don’t want to punish anyone.”

He had her now. “So what do you really want?” He did not give her time to answer for herself. “I think you need to be sure it’s over.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

He reached out to her, and this time she let him hold her hands. “It’s over,” he said softly.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“There will be no more earthquakes. The governor will give in. You’ll see.”

* * *

Speeding back to San Francisco, Judy was diverted to Sacramento for a meeting at the governor’s office. She grabbed another three or four hours’ sleep in the car, and when she arrived at the Capitol Building she felt ready to bite the world.

Stuart Cleever and Charlie Marsh had flown there from San Francisco. The head of the FBI’s Sacramento office joined them. They met at noon in the conference room of the Horseshoe, the governor’s suite. Al Honeymoon was in the chair.

“There’s a twelve-mile traffic jam on I-80 with people trying to get away from the San Andreas fault,” Honeymoon said. “The other major freeways are almost as bad.”

Cleever said: “The president called the director of the FBI and asked him about public order.” He looked at Judy as if all this was her fault.

“He called Governor Robson, too,” Honeymoon said.

“As of this moment, we do not have a serious public order problem,” Cleever said. “There are reports of looting in three neighborhoods in San Francisco and one in Oakland, but it’s sporadic. The governor has called out the National Guard and stationed them in the armories, although we don’t need them yet. However, if there should be another earthquake …”

The thought made Judy feel ill. “There can’t be another earthquake,” she said.

They all looked at her. Honeymoon made a sardonic face. “You have a suggestion?”

She did. It was a poor one, but they were desperate. “There’s only one thing I can think of,” she said. “Set a trap for him.”

“How?”

“Tell him Governor Robson wants to negotiate with him personally.”