by Ken Follett
"Somewhere in the next five or ten miles," she said.
"What's the time?"
"Just after one."
They had cut it fine. The seismic window would open in half an hour and close fifty minutes later.
Melanie directed Priest down a side turning that crossed the flat valley floor. It was not really a road, just a track cleared through the boulders and scrub. Although the ground seemed almost level, the main road disappeared from view behind them, and they could see only the tops of high trucks passing.
"Pull up here," Melanie said at last.
Priest stopped the truck, and they both got out. The sun beat down on them from a merciless sky. The 'Cuda pulled up behind them, and Star and Oaktree got out, stretching their arms and legs after the long drive.
"Look at that," Melanie said. "See the dry gulch?"
Priest could see where a stream, long ago dried up, had cut a channel through the rocky ground. But where Melanie was pointing, the gulch came to an abrupt end, as if it had been walled off. "That's strange," Priest said.
"Now look a few yards to the right."
Priest followed her moving finger. The streambed began again just as abruptly and continued toward the middle of the valley. Priest realized what she was pointing out. "That's the fault line," he said. "Last time there was an earthquake, one whole side of this valley picked up its skirts and shifted five yards, then sat down again."
"That's about it."
Oaktree said: "And we're about to make it happen again, is that right?" There was a note of awe in his voice.
"We're going to try," Priest said briskly. "And we don't have much time." He turned to Melanie. "Is the truck in exactly the right place?"
"I guess," she said. "A few yards one way or another up here on the surface shouldn't make any difference five miles down."
"Okay." He hesitated. He almost felt he ought to make a speech. He said: "Well, I'll get started."
He got into the cabin of the truck and settled into the driver's seat, then started the engine that ran the vibrator. He threw the switch that lowered the steel plate to the ground. He set the vibrator to shake for thirty seconds in the middle of its frequency range. He looked through the rear window of the cab and checked the gauges. The readouts were normal. He picked up the remote radio controller and got out of the truck.
"All set," he said.
The four of them got into the 'Cuda. Oaktree took the wheel. They drove back to the road, crossed it, and headed into the scrub on the far side. They went partway up the hillside, then Melanie said: "This is fine."
Oaktree stopped the car.
Priest hoped they were not conspicuous from the road. If they were, there was nothing he could do about it. But the muddy colors of the 'Cuda's paint job blended into the brown landscape.
Oaktree said nervously: "Is this far enough away?"
"I think so," Melanie said coolly. She was not scared at all. Studying her face, Priest saw a hint of mad excitement in her eyes. It was almost sexual. Was she taking her revenge on the seismologists who had rejected her, or the husband who had let her down, or the whole damn world? Whatever the explanation, she was getting a big charge out of this.
They got out and stood looking across the valley. They could just see the top of the truck.
Star said to Priest: "It was a mistake for us both to come. If we die, Flower has no one."
"She has the whole commune," Priest said. "You and I are not the only adults she loves and trusts. We're not a nuclear family, and that's one very good reason why."
Melanie looked annoyed. "We're a quarter of a mile from the fault, assuming it runs along the valley floor," she said in a cut-the-crap tone of voice. "We'll feel the earth move, but we're not in any danger. People who are hurt in earthquakes generally get hit by parts of buildings: falling ceilings, bridges that collapse, flying glass, stuff like that. We're safe here."
Star looked over her shoulder. "The mountain isn't going to fall on us?"
"It might. And we might all be killed in a car wreck driving back to Silver River Valley. But it's so unlikely that we shouldn't waste time worrying about it."
"That's easy for you to say--your child's father is three hundred miles away in San Francisco."
Priest said: "I don't care if I die here. I can't raise my children in suburban America."
Oaktree muttered: "This has to work. This just has to work."
Melanie said: "For God's sake, Priest, we don't have all day. Just press the damn button."
Priest looked up and down the road and waited for a dark green Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited to pass. "Okay," he said when the road was clear. "This is it."
He pressed the button on the remote control.
He heard the roar of the vibrator immediately, though it was muted by distance. He felt the vibration in the soles of his feet, a faint but definite trembling sensation.
Star said: "Oh, God."
A cloud of dust billowed around the truck.
All four of them were taut as guitar strings, their bodies tensed for the first hint of movement in the earth.
Seconds passed.
Priest's eyes raked the landscape, looking for signs of a tremor, though he guessed he would feel it before he saw it.
Come on, come on!
The seismic exploration crews normally set the vibrator for a seven-second "sweep." Priest had set this one for thirty seconds. It seemed like an hour.
At last the noise stopped.
Melanie said: "Goddamn it."
Priest's heart sank. There was no earthquake. It had failed.
Maybe it was just a crazy hippie idea, like levitating the Pentagon.
"Try it again," said Melanie.
Priest looked at the remote control in his hand. Why not?
There was a sixteen-wheel truck approaching along U.S. 395, but this time Priest did not wait. If Melanie was right, the truck would be unaffected by the tremor. If Melanie was wrong, they would all be dead.
He pressed the button.
The distant roar started up, there was a perceptible vibration in the ground, and a cloud of dust engulfed the seismic vibrator.
Priest wondered if the road would open up under the sixteen-wheeler.
Nothing happened.
The thirty seconds passed more quickly this time. Priest was surprised when the noise stopped. Is that all?
Despair engulfed him. Perhaps the Silver River Valley commune was a dream that had come to an end. What am I going to do? Where will I live? How can I avoid ending up like Bones?
But Melanie was not ready to give up. "Let's move the truck a ways and try again."
"But you said the exact position doesn't matter," Oaktree pointed out. " 'A few yards one way or another up here on the surface shouldn't make any difference five miles down,' that's what you said."
"Then we'll move it more than a few yards," Melanie said angrily. "We're running out of time, let's go!"
Priest did not argue with her. She was transformed. Normally she was dominated by Priest. She was a damsel in distress, he had rescued her, and she was so grateful, she had to be eternally submissive to his will. But now she was in charge, impatient and domineering. Priest could put up with that as long as she could do what she had promised. He would bring her back into line later.
They got into the 'Cuda and drove fast across the baked earth to the seismic vibrator. Then Priest and Melanie climbed into the cab of the truck and she directed him as he drove, while Oaktree and Star followed in the car. They were no longer following the track, but cutting straight through the brush. The truck's big wheels crushed the scrubby bushes and rolled easily over the stones, but Priest wondered if the low-slung 'Cuda would suffer damage. He guessed Oaktree would honk if he had trouble.
Melanie scanned the landscape for the telltale features that showed where the fault line ran. Priest saw no more displaced streambeds. But after half a mile Melanie pointed at what looked like a miniature cliff about four feet high.
"Fault scarp," she said. "About a hundred years old."
"I see it," Priest said. There was a dip in the ground, like a bowl; and a break in the rim of the bowl showed where the earth had moved sideways, as if the bowl had cracked and been glued together clumsily.
Melanie said: "Let's try here."
Priest stopped the truck and lowered the plate. Swiftly he rechecked the gauges and set the vibrator. This time he programmed a sixty-second sweep. When all was set he jumped out of the truck.
He checked his watch anxiously. It was two o'clock. They had only twenty minutes left.
Again they drove the 'Cuda across U.S. 395 and up the hill on the far side. The drivers of the few vehicles that passed continued to ignore them. But Priest was nervous. Sooner or later someone would ask what they were doing. He did not want to have to explain himself to a curious cop or a nosy town councilman. He had a plausible story ready, about a university research project on the geology of the dried-up riverbed, but he did not want anyone to remember his face.
They all got out of the car and looked across the valley to where the seismic vibrator stood near the scarp. Priest wished with all his heart that this time he would see the earth move and open. Come on, God--give me this one, okay?
He pressed the button.
The truck roared, the earth trembled faintly, and the dust rose. The vibration went on for a full minute instead of half. But there was no earthquake. They just waited longer for disappointment.
When the noise died away, Star said: "This isn't going to work, is it?"
Melanie threw her a furious look. Turning to Priest, she said: "Can you alter the frequency of the vibrations?"
"Yes," Priest said. "Right now it's set near the middle, so I can go up or down. Why?"
"There's a theory that pitch may be a crucial factor. See, the earth is constantly resounding with faint vibrations. So why aren't there earthquakes all the time? Maybe because a vibration has to be just the right pitch to dislodge the fault. You know how a musical note can shatter a glass?"
"I never saw it happen, except in a cartoon, but I know what you mean. The answer is yes. When they use the vibrator in seismic exploration, they vary the pitch over a seven-second sweep."
"They do?" Melanie was curious. "Why?"
"I don't know, maybe it gives them a better reading on the geophones. Anyway, it didn't seem the right thing for us, so I didn't select that feature, but I can."
"Let's try it."
"Okay--but we need to hurry. It's already five after two."
They jumped into the car. Oaktree drove fast, skidding across the dusty desert. Priest reset the controls of the vibrator for a sweep of gradually increasing pitch over a period of sixty seconds. As they raced back to their observation point, he checked his watch again. "Two-fifteen," he said. "This is our last chance."
"Don't worry," Melanie said. "I'm out of ideas. If this doesn't work, I'm giving up."
Oaktree stopped the car, and they got out again.
The thought of driving all the way back to Silver River with nothing to celebrate depressed Priest so profoundly that he felt he would want to crash the truck on the freeway and end it all. Maybe that was his way out. He wondered if Star would like to die with him. I can see it now: the two of us, an overdose of painkillers, a bottle of wine to wash down the pills ...
"What are you waiting for?" said Melanie. "It's two-twenty. Press the damn button!"
Priest pressed the button.
As before, the truck roared and the ground trembled and a cloud of dust rose from the earth around the pounding steel plate of the vibrator. This time the roar did not stay at the same moderate pitch but started at a profound bass rumble and began slowly to climb.
Then it happened.
The earth beneath Priest's feet seemed to ripple like a choppy sea. Then he felt as if someone took him by the leg and threw him down. He landed flat on his back, hitting the ground hard. It knocked the wind out of him.
Star and Melanie screamed at the same time, Melanie with a high-pitched shriek and Star with a roar of shock and fright. Priest saw them both fall, Melanie next to him and Star a few steps away. Oaktree staggered, stayed on his feet, and fell last.
Priest was silently terrified. I've had it, this is it, I'm going to die.
There was a noise like an express train thundering past close by. Dust rose from the ground, small stones flew through the air, and boulders rolled every which way.
The ground continued to move as if someone had hold of the end of a rug and would not stop shaking it. The feeling was unbelievably disorienting, as if the world had suddenly become a completely strange place. It was terrifying.
I'm not ready to die.
Priest caught his breath and struggled to his knees. Then, as he got one foot flat on the ground, Melanie grabbed his arm and pulled him down again. He screamed at her: "Let me go, you dumb cunt!" But he could not hear his own words.
The ground heaved up and threw him downhill, away from the 'Cuda. Melanie fell on top of him. He thought the car might turn over and crush both of them, and he tried to roll out of its path. He could not see Star or Oaktree. A flying thornbush whipped his face, scratching him. Dust got into his eyes, and he was momentarily blinded. He lost all sense of direction. He curled up in a ball, covering his face with his arms, and waited for death.
Christ, if I'm going to die, I wish I could die with Star.
The shaking stopped as suddenly as it had started. He had no idea whether it had lasted ten seconds or ten minutes.
A moment later the noise died away.
Priest rubbed the dust out of his eyes and stood up. His vision cleared slowly. He saw Melanie at his feet. He extended a hand and pulled her up. "Are you okay?" he said.
"I think so," she replied shakily.
The dust in the air thinned, and he saw Oaktree getting to his feet unsteadily. Where was Star? Then he saw her a few steps away. She lay on her back with her eyes closed. His heart lurched. Not dead, please God, not dead. He knelt by her side. "Star!" he said urgently. "Are you okay?"
She opened her eyes. "Jesus," she said. "That was a blast!"
Priest grinned, fighting back tears of relief.
He helped Star to her feet. "We're all alive," he said.
The dust was settling fast. He looked across the valley and saw the truck. It was upright and seemed undamaged. A few yards from it there was a great gash in the ground that ran north and south in the middle of the valley as far as he could see.
"Well, I'll be darned," he said quietly. "Look at that."
"It worked," said Melanie.
"We did it," Oaktree said. "Goddamn it, we caused a motherfucking earthquake!"
Priest grinned at them all. "That's the truth," he said.
He kissed Star, then Melanie; then Oaktree kissed them both; then Star kissed Melanie. They all laughed. Then Priest started to dance. He did a red Indian war hop, there in the middle of the broken valley, his boots kicking up the newly settled dust. Star joined in, then Melanie and Oaktree, and the four of them went round and round in a circle, shouting and whooping and laughing until the tears came to their eyes.
PART TWO
Seven Days
8
Judy Maddox was driving home on Friday at the end of the worst week in her FBI career.
She could not figure out what she had done to deserve this. Okay, she had yelled at her boss, but he had been hostile to her before she blew her cool, so there had to be another reason. She had gone to Sacramento yesterday with every intention of making the Bureau look efficient and competent, and somehow she had ended up giving an impression of muddle and impotence. She felt frustrated and depressed.
Nothing good had happened since her meeting with Al Honeymoon. She had been calling seismology professors and interviewing them by phone. She would ask whether the professor was working on locations of critically stressed points on fault lines. If so, who had access to their data? And did any of those people have connecti
ons with terrorist groups?
The seismologists had not been helpful. Most of today's academics had been students in the sixties and seventies, when the FBI had paid every creep on campus to spy on the protest movement. It was a long time ago, but they had not forgotten. To them the Bureau was the enemy. Judy understood how they felt, but she wished they would not be passive-aggressive with agents who were working in the public interest.
The Hammer of Eden's deadline ran out today, and there had been no earthquake. Judy was deeply relieved, even though it suggested she had been wrong to take the threat seriously. Maybe this would be the end of the whole thing. She told herself she should have a relaxing weekend. The weather was great, sunny and warm. Tonight she would make stir-fried chicken for Bo and open a bottle of wine. Tomorrow she would have to go to the supermarket, but on Sunday she could drive up the coast to Bodega Bay and sit on the beach reading a book like a normal person. On Monday she would probably be given a new assignment. Maybe she could make a fresh start.
She wondered whether to call her girlfriend Virginia and see if she wanted to go to the beach. Ginny was her oldest friend. Also the daughter of a cop, and the same age as Judy, she was sales director of a security firm. But, Judy realized, it was not feminine company she wanted. It would be nice to lie on the beach beside something with hairy legs and a deep voice. It was a year since she had split up with Don: this was the longest time she had been without a lover since her teens. At college she had been a little wild, almost promiscuous; working at Mutual American Insurance, she had had an affair with her boss; then she had lived with Steve Dolen for seven years and almost married him. She often thought about Steve. He was attractive and smart and kind--too kind, maybe, for in the end she came to think of him as weak. Maybe she asked the impossible. Perhaps all considerate, attentive men were weak, and all the strong ones, like Don Riley, ended up shtupping their secretaries.
Her car phone rang. She did not need to pick up the handset: after two rings it connected automatically in hands-free mode. "Hello," she said. "This is Judy Maddox."
"This is your father."
"Hi, Bo. Will you be home for supper? We could have--"
He interrupted her. "Turn on your car radio, quick," he said. "Tune to John Truth."
Christ, what now? She touched the power switch. A rock music station came on. She jabbed at a preset button and got the San Francisco station that broadcast John Truth Live. His nasal twang filled the car.