Lucifer's Hammer

“Yes, there was one of those. It’s underwater now—”

“How deep?”

She looked at him sharply. He looked terrible, but his eyes were quite sane. He knew what he was asking. “I don’t know. It will be on Al Hardy’s maps. Is it important?”

“I think so — ” He stopped abruptly. He was listening. In the other room they were talking about a nuclear power plant. Forrester stood up. He had to hold onto the chair. “Would you help me go in there, please?” His voice was apologetic, but somehow there was no way to refuse him. “Oh — one more thing. A filling station. I’ll need some drums of grease solvent.”

Maureen, mystified, helped Forrester down the hall toward the living room. “I don’t know. We have a filling station here, but it was very small. There were bigger ones in Porterville, of course, but they were under the dam and were flooded pretty badly. Why? What can you make with all that?”

Forrester had reached the living room and went in hanging on Maureen’s arm. Joh

Mayor Seitz was nearest to him and got up from the couch. He went back to the library for a folding chair while Forrester took the Mayor’s place on the couch. Forrester blinked rapidly at the others. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Did someone ask where the San Joaquin Nuclear Plant is?”

“Yes,” Al Hardy said. “I know it was out there somewhere, but hell, it has to be underwater. It was right in the middle of the valley. It can’t be working—”

“It was on Buttonwillow Ridge,” Forrester said. “I looked on a map, and that’s about forty feet higher than the land around it. But I thought it would be flooded too, and I wasn’t able to get down to the edge of the San Joaquin Sea because of the ca

Hardy looked thoughtful. Eileen Hamner hurried out and came back with a map. She spread it out on the floor in front of the Senator and he and Hardy stared at it.

Maureen Jellison went across the room and sat on the floor near Joh

“We have that area about fifty feet underwater,” Al Hardy a

“The Angels think so. As I said, it set them wild.”

“Why?” Christopher asked.

“It’s a Holy War,” Hugo Beck said. “The Angels of the Lord exist only to destroy the forbidden works of man. What’s left of industry. I watched them tear into what was left of a coal-powered station. They didn’t use guns or dynamite. They swarmed over it with axes and clubs and hands. It was already wrecked, you understand. It had been flooded. But when they got through, you couldn’t tell what it had been. And all the time Armitage was shouting at them to do the work of the Lord!

“He preaches every night, same theme. Destroy the works of man. Then three days ago — I think it was three days…” Hugo counted on his fingers. “Yeah. Three days ago they heard that nuclear plant was still going. I thought Armitage would burst a blood vessel! From that moment on it was constant: Destroy that Citadel of Satan. Look, nuclear power! Kind of the epitome of everything the Angels hate, you know? It even had Jerry Owen excited. He used to talk about how they might save a few things. Hydroelectric plants, maybe, if they could be rebuilt without hurting the Earth. But he hated nuclear power plants before Hammerfall.”

“Do they destroy all technology?” Al Hardy asked.

Hugo Beck shook his head. “Sergeant Hooker and his people kept anything they think they can use, anything that might have military value. But they were all agreed, they didn’t want that nuclear plant in the valley. Jerry Owen talked about how he knew ways to wreck it.”

“We can’t let them do that,” Dan Forrester said. He leaned forward and spoke intently. He had forgotten where he was, the long tramp northward, possibly even Hammerfall itself. “We have to save the power plant. We can rebuild a civilization if we have electricity.”

“He’s right,” Rick Delanty said. “It’s important—”

“It’s important that we stay alive, too,” Senator Jellison said. “But we have heard that the New Brotherhood has over a thousand troops, possibly many more. We can put five hundred in the field, and many of them will not be well armed. Few have any training. We will be lucky to save this valley.”

“Dad,” Maureen said. “I think Dr. Forrester has some ideas about that. He asked me about… Dan, why did you want to know about grease solvents and swimming-pool supply shops? What were you thinking about?”

Dan Forrester sighed again. “Maybe I shouldn’t suggest it. I had an idea, but you may not like it.”

“For God’s sake, man,” Al Hardy said. “If you know something that can help us, say it! What?”

“Well, you’ve probably already thought of it,” Forrester said.

“Goddamm — ” Christopher began.

Senator Jellison held up his hand. “Dr. Forrester, believe me, you won’t offend us. Please, what did you have in mind?”

Forrester shrugged. “Mustard gas. Thermite bombs. Napalm. And I think we can make nerve gas, but I’m not sure.”

There was a long silence, then Senator Jellison said, low and under his breath but everybody heard, “I will be dipped in shit.”

The Expedition

Tim Hamner ate his di

Eileen looked up. “What?”

“From the introduction of a science fiction story by Gordon Dickson. I don’t know if it’s a real quote or something Dickson made up. It went, ‘Trouble rather the tiger in his lair than the sage among his books. For to you Kingdoms and their armies are things mighty and enduring, but to him they are but toys of the moment, to be overturned with the flick of a finger.’ ”

“Can he really do it?” Eileen asked.

“Forrester? He’s a magician. If Forrester says he can make napalm and bombs and mustard gas, he can do it.” Tim sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to. I was brought up to hate poison gas. Of course, I don’t suppose it matters whether it’s gas or a bullet; dead is dead.” He reached for his rifle, then took an oily rag from a bag on the table and began wiping the barrel.

“Do you have to go?” Eileen demanded.

“We agreed not to talk about it,” Tim said.

“I don’t care what we agreed. I don’t want you to go… I-”

“I don’t like the idea much myself,” Tim said. “But what can we do? Forrester insisted. He’ll stay here and make terrible weapons to defend the Stronghold if we send reinforcements to the power plant.” Tim shook his head in admiration. “He’s the only man in the world who could blackmail both the Senator and George Christopher. You wouldn’t think he’d have the nerve, with all those apologies and eye blinking and everything, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to say one word more about weapons until they promised.”

“But why you?” Eileen demanded. She packed a newly knitted pair of socks. The wool had been carded from dog fur.

“What else am I good for?” Hamner asked. “You know better than me. You helped Hardy work up the schedules. I can’t farm, I’m not as good an engineer as Brad, I don’t ride horses well so I can’t go with Christopher’s Paul Revere troop… I may as well be part of the suicide squad.”