Lucifer's Hammer

“I can’t stand it,” Tim said.

“Me either.” Eileen took his hand and squeezed. “Mr. Wagoner. Brad…”

“Yeah?”

“Come on. Pile in.” Eileen waited until the Wagoners had got into the Blazer, adults in the back seat, children on the floor behind that. She turned and drove down the hill. “I wish we had a good map.”

“Maps I have,” Wagoner said. He took out a soggy paper from an i

Eileen eased the Blazer to a stop and examined the map. “That bridge there, is that the one that’s out?”

“Yeah.”

“Look, Tim, if we backtrack and go south, there’s a road up into the hills—”

“Which beats hell out of spending more time on the Southern Pacific,” Tim said.

“Southern Pacific?” Rosa Wagoner asked.

Tim didn’t explain. They drove south until they found a sheltered place on the road, partway up a hill, and they pulled off to sleep. They took turns letting the Wagoners use the seats while they huddled under the plastic tarp.

“High ground,” Tim said. “It goes north. And east. And that road’s not on the map.” He pointed. The road was gravel, but it looked in good condition — and it looked traveled. It ran in the right direction.

Eileen was ru

There were four big men, big like football stars or TV mafia goons. Guns and size made them look unfriendly, and they weren’t smiling. Tim got out alone, wonderingly. One of the men came down to meet him. The others stood aloof. One of the men looked elusively familiar. Someone he’d seen on the Senator’s ranch? That wouldn’t help, and it was another of the armed men who had come to the barrier.

Tim told them, crisply (while very aware of how like a wandering tramp he looked ), “We’re on our way to visit Senator Jellison.” The imperious voice cost Tim most of his reserves of self-control.

It hadn’t impressed. “Name?”

“Tim Hamner.”

The man nodded. “Spelled how?”

Tim spelled it, and was somehow glad that the name was not known. The man called behind him, “Chuck, see if Hamner’s on the Senator’s list. H-A-M-N-E-R.”

One of the guards reacted to that. He came down toward the barricade. Tim was sure he’d seen him before.

“We’ve got a list of people to let through,” the first guard said. “And, buddy, it’s a short list. We’ve got another list of professions. Are you a doctor?”

“No—”

“Blacksmith? Machinist? Mechanic? Tool-and-die maker?”

“What have you got for playboy, retired? Or astronomer?” Tim remembered Brad Wagoner. “Or building contractor?” He had a thought as he said it, but he was interrupted.

A voice came from a parked truck. “No Hamner.”

“Sorry,” the guard said. “We don’t want you blocking the road, so we’d be obliged if you’d move that car to where we can’t see it. And don’t come back.”

If you tell your dreams, they won’t come true. Tim started to turn away. But—

But you don’t go off to die without even trying. He saw Eileen and Rosa Wagoner staring out at him from the car. Their faces said it all. They knew.

Other roads in? Nuts. The car was almost out of gas, and suppose they found one? These people knew the country. If there was a good way in, they had it covered.

Walk? Senator Jellison’s ranch ended at a great white monolith the size of an apartment building, and maybe they could get that far — and get shot—

And anyway, Tim thought, if I’m good for anything, it’s talking. No use at all creeping around in the bushes… He turned back to the barricade. The guard looked disappointed. His rifle wasn’t quite pointed at Tim. “Your car works fine, and you’re not hurt,” the man said. “I’d leave it at that—”

“Chescu,” Tim shouted. “Mark Chescu!”

“That’s Czescu,” one of the men answered. “Hello, Mr. Hamner.”

“You were going to let me leave? Without even talking to me?”

Mark shrugged. “I’m not really in charge here.”

“Fucking-A you’re not,” one of the big men said.

“But… Mark, can we talk?” Tim demanded. “I have an idea — ” He thought fast. There was something Wagoner had said. He built apartments. But…

“We can talk,” Mark told him. “It won’t do a lot of good.” He handed his rifle to one of the others and came around the barrier. “What’s to talk about?”

Tim led him to the Blazer. “Brad, you said you built apartments. Contractor or architect?”

“Both.”

“I thought so,” Tim said. He spoke quickly, words in a rush. “So you know concrete. And construction work. You could build a dam!”

Wagoner frowned. “I suppose—”

“See!” Tim was triumphant. “Dams.” He pointed to the Auto Club map. “See, there are powerhouses, dams, all along the road up from here, all the way up into the Sierra, and those dams will be gone, but some of the little powerhouses will still be there, and I know enough about electricity to get them ru

And he did know the theory, even if he was a bit hazy about the practical aspects of polyphase alternators.

Mark looked thoughtful.

“Goddammit,” Tim shouted. “I gave Jellison fifty thousand dollars back when that was real money! You can at least tell him I’m here!”

“Yeah. Let me think about it,” Mark said. The story made sense. And Tim Hamner had been a friend of Harvey Randall’s. If Hamner had gone off without recognizing him Mark could have forgotten that, but not now. Harv would find out, and Harv might not like it. And fifty big ones. Mark hadn’t spent much time with the Senator, but Jellison had this old-fashioned air and he might think that was important. And besides, that bit about dams and powerhouses — it added up. Mark would have let them in. Only he couldn’t. The Christophers wouldn’t let him. But they still listened to Jellison.

Mark eyed the other man in the car. A big man. “Army?” he asked.

“Marine Corps,” Wagoner said.

“Can you shoot?”

“All Marines are riflemen first. Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll give it a try.” Mark went back to the roadblock. “This guy seems to be an old friend of the Senator’s,” Mark said. “I’ll go tell him.”

The big guard looked thoughtful. Tim held his breath. “He can wait,” the man said finally. He raised his voice. “Pull off to the side. And stay in the car.”

“Right.” Tim got into the Blazer. They jockeyed it until it was almost in the ditch. “If somebody comes here in a fighting mood, we don’t want to get hit by stray bullets,” he said. He watched Mark kick a motorcycle to life and drive away.

“Is fighting likely?” Rosa Wagoner asked.

“I don’t know,” Tim said. He huddled in the seat. “Now we wait. And see.”

Eileen laughed. She pictured Tim trying to rewind a huge generator. “Cross your fingers,” she said.

“You knew him, I didn’t,” Senator Jellison said. “Any use?”

Harvey Randall looked thoughtful. “I honestly don’t know. He got here. That’s a lot in his favor. He’s a survivor.”

“Or lucky,” Jellison said. “Hamner, as in Hamner-Brown. He wasn’t lucky for the world. Yeah, I know, discovery isn’t invention. Mark, you say the other guy’s an ax-Marine?”

“Says he is. Looks it, Senator. That’s all I know.”

“Six more people. Two women and two kids.” Jellison looked thoughtful. “Harvey, you put any stock in this scheme to get the power plants working again?”

“The idea sounds useful—”