“He made sense. He always made sense. All right, go on. What drove him nuts, and why would he tell you about it?”
“Why, it was part of his speech! He told us how he knew the Hammer of God was bringing an end to the world. He warned the world as best he could—radio, television, newspaper—”
“That part’s straight,” George said.
“And on the last day he took fifty good friends, not just members of his congregation, but friends, and his family, up to the top of a mountain to watch. They saw three of the strikes. They went through that weird rain that started with pellets of hot mud and ended like Noah’s Flood, and Armitage waited for the angels.
“None of us laughed when he said that. But then it wasn’t just the prisoners listening, a lot of the…Angels of the Lord, they call themselves, were circled around listening. Every so often they’d shout, ‘Amen!’ and wave their guns at us. We didn’t dare laugh.
“Armitage waited for the angels to come for his flock. They never came. By and by they went downhill again, looking for safety.
“They went along the shore of the San Joaquin Sea, and everywhere they saw corpses. Some of Armitage’s friends lost hope and died. He was in despair. They found all kinds of horrors, places where the cannibals had been. Some of them got sick, a couple got shot when they tried to go up to a half-submerged school—”
“Get on with it,” said the Senator.
“Yessir, I’m trying. The next part’s hazy. All this time Armitage was trying to figure out where the hell all the angels had gone—so to speak. Somewhere in his wanderings he got it. Also, Jerry Owen fits in somehow.”
“Owen?”
“Yes. This was the group he’d joined. According to Jerry, it was him who put new life into Armitage. I don’t know if any of that’s true. I do know that just after Jerry hooked up with him, Armitage ran into the cannibal band, and now it’s calling itself the New Brotherhood Army, and it’s led by the Angels of the Lord.”
“And Jerry Owen is their general?” George Christopher said. He seemed to think that was funny.
“No, sir. I don’t know what he is. He’s some kind of leader, but I don’t think he’s all that important. Let me tell this please. I have to tell somebody.” He lifted the whiskey glass and stared at it. “This is what Armitage told the cannibals, and this is what he told us.”
Hugo gave himself time to think by finishing the whiskey. Hugo was doing fine, Harry thought; he was not going to disgrace Harry.
“‘The work of Hammerfall is not finished,’” said Hugo. “‘God never intended to make an end of mankind. It is God’s intent that civilization be destroyed, so that man can live again as God intended. In the sweat of his brow he shall eat his bread. No longer shall he pollute the earth and the sea and the air with the garbage of an industrial civilization that leads him further and further from God’s way. Certain of us were spared to finish the work done by the Hammer of God.’
“And these who were spared for that work are the Angels of the Lord. They can do no wrong. Murder and cannibalism are something they do when they must, and it doesn’t stain their souls. Armitage urged us to join the Angels.
“Now a couple of hundred people were waving machine guns and shotguns and cleavers and butcher knives, and this one girl was waving a fork, I swear it, the kind of two-pronged fork that comes with a carving set—and all that was pretty convincing. But Armitage was convincing. Mr. Christopher, you’ve heard him, he can be damned convincing.” Christopher was silent.
“And the others were shouting ‘Hallelujah’ and ‘Amen,’ and by God there was Jerry out there, waving a hatchet and shouting with the rest of them! Jerry had bought it, all of it, I could see it in his eyes. He looked at me like he’d never met me before, like I hadn’t let him live on my place for months.”
The Senator looked up from his thronelike chair. He’d been listening with half-closed eyes. Now he said, “Just a minute, Hugo. Didn’t you found the Shire with just this in mind? Natural living, everything organic and self-sufficient, no dominance games and no pollution. Wasn’t that just what you were after? Because it sounds like this Armitage wants the same things.”
The suggestion startled Hugo Beck. “Oh, no, sir. No. I just about had enough of that before Hammerfall, and afterward…Senator, we’d never realized just how much modern stuff we had. Hey, we had two microwave ovens! And that goddam windmill never made enough electricity to keep batteries charged, much less run the microwaves, and after the Hammer hit, it blew over in the hurricane! We tried growing the garden with no sprays, just organic fertilizer, and it wasn’t humans that ate most of that crop, it was bugs! After that I wanted to spray, but we didn’t, and every damned day somebody had to sit there in the dirt picking bugs off the lettuces. And we had the truck, and a rototiller, and a power mower. We had a hi-fi and Galadriel’s record collection and strobe lights and electric guitars. We had a dishwasher and a clothes dryer, and we hung the clothes out to dry because it saved gas. Oh, sure, we washed clothes by hand sometimes, too, but there was always some special occasion when we didn’t want to bother.
“And aspirin, and needles and pins, and a sewing machine, and a big cast-iron stove made in Maine for God’s sake.”
“I take it you did not agree with Armitage, then,” Senator Jellison said.
“No. But I kept my mouth shut and watched Jerry. He seemed important, and I figured if he could join up and get his own hatchet, so could I. Cheryl and I talked about it, in whispers, because they didn’t put up with any of us interrupting Armitage, and we agreed, we’d join up. I mean, what choice did we have? So we joined. As a matter of fact, all of us joined. That time. Two backed down later, at the last—”
It seemed that Hugo’s throat closed on him. His haunted gaze roamed about the room and found no sympathy. All in a rush he said, “First we have to kill the ones who won’t join. We’d have been given knives for that, I think, but I don’t know because everybody joined. Then we’d stew them. That we did, because four prisoners were dead from gunshot wounds. A rabbity little guy told us we couldn’t use two of them because they didn’t look healthy enough. Only the healthy ones! I talked to him later, and…” Hugo blinked.
“Never mind. There were two big stewpots. We had to do the butchering. Cheryl kept getting sick. I had to help her. They gave us knives, and we cut those people up, and this rabbity doctor inspected everything before it went into the pot. I saw one woman pick up a butcher knife and stand there looking at this…bottom half of a dead man, and then she threw up, and then she ran at a guard and they shot her and the rabbity man looked her over and then we butchered her, too.
“And all the time the…stew…was cooking, Armitage kept preaching. He could go for hours without stopping. All the Angels said that was a miraculous sign, that a man his age could preach without getting tired. He kept shouting that nothing was forbidden to the Angels of the Lord, that our sins were forgiven, and then it was time, and we ate, and one guy got through the butchering all right, but he couldn’t eat, and they made us hold him down and cut his throat.” Hugo ran out of breath, and the room was silent.
“And you ate,” Senator Jellison said.
“I ate.”
“You didn’t really think you could stay here after that?” George Christopher spoke almost in kindness.
Harry was looking at the women. Eileen was composed, but Harry had not seen her eyes meet Hugo’s, not once. But the Soviet kosmonaut was staring at him in naked horror. Harry remembered the way his sister had stared at an enormous spider crawling in the bathtub she had been about to fill. The woman’s eyes were wide, and she seemed to be forcing herself back in her chair. She couldn’t turn away.
Now, notice! The typical capitalist shows certain predictable tendencies under stress, of which murder and cannibalism…
Harry hoped to God nobody looked his way. Nobody else was fighting an urge to laugh. And if it had been Harry up there in front of the table, Harry would have been under the
table.
“No. Not really,” said Hugo, “not here, not anywhere. That’s their power. Once you’ve eaten human meat, where can you go? You’re one of them then, with the crazy preacher to tell you it’s all right. You’re an Angel of the Lord. You can do no wrong, except if you run, and then you’re an apostate.” His voice dropped and became toneless. “It’s their power, and it works. Cheryl wouldn’t leave with me. She was going to turn me in. She was, she really was. So I killed her. It was the only way I could get out, and I killed her, and…and I wish I hadn’t had to, but what could I do?”
“How long were you with them?” Al Hardy said.
“About three weeks. We had another war, and we got more prisoners. It went the same as before, only now I was outside the wire carrying a pistol and shouting hallelujah. We moved north again, toward Mr. Wilson’s place, and when I saw Harry I didn’t dare speak to him. But when they let him go—”
“They let you go?” Senator Jellison said.
“Yes, sir. But they took my truck,” Harry said. “I have a message for you, from the Angels of the Lord. That’s why they let me go. When they caught me I told them I was your mailman, that I was under your protection, and I showed them that letter you wrote. They laughed, but then Jerry Owen said—”
“Owen again,” Christopher said. “I knew we should have killed him.”
“No, sir, I don’t think you should have,” Harry said. “If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be here.”
“So Owen is one of the leaders,” Al Hardy said. Harry shrugged. “They listen to him. But he doesn’t give any orders, or at least I never saw him give any. But he said I’d be the perfect one to bring you a message, and I’ve got it here. I’d got a couple of miles along the road when Hugo caught up to me, and after he told me what it was like back there I thought you ought to hear that before you read the letter they sent.”
“Yes. You’ve done well, Harry,” Jellison said. “Well, George? It was on your orders that Beck was expelled.”
Christopher looked stunned by all that he’d heard. “Twenty-four hours? Let him stay overnight, and give him three meals fit for a man to eat.”
“I think we ought to read that message before we decide anything,” Al Hardy said. “And there’s a lot more information we need. Hugo, what’s their strength? You said a thousand. How good is that estimate?”
“It’s what Jerry Owen said Sergeant Hooker had told him. I think it’s about right. But they’ve got more. They’ve got Bakersfield. It isn’t organized yet, but they own it, and their people are sifting through what’s left of the city, looking for weapons. And recruits.”
“So there’s more than a thousand?”
“Yes, I think so, but maybe not all armed. And maybe not recruited all the way. They will be.”
“So they could possibly double that strength after they have an…initiation ceremony,” Hardy said. “We’re in trouble. You mentioned Sergeant Hooker. Who is he?”
Beck shrugged. “He’s as close to a leader as anyone they have. A big black Army man, Army uniform anyway. There are generals and like that, but Sergeant Hooker outranks them all. I didn’t see him much. He has his own tent, and when he goes anywhere they drive him in a car with plenty of bodyguards. And Armitage always talks polite to him, as polite as he ever is to anybody.”
“A black man,” George Christopher said. He looked around at Rick Delanty, who had sat silently during Beck’s story. Then he looked hurriedly away.
“There are other black leaders,” Beck said. “They spend a lot of time with Hooker. And you never say anything bad about blacks, or chicanos, or anybody else. First couple of days they just slap you for it, like if a black man says ‘honky’ or a white dude says ‘nigger,’ but if you don’t learn fast they figure you’re not really converted…”
“Don’t mind me,” Rick Delanty said. “I’ve got all the equality I ever wanted.”
Harvey Randall and Tim Hamner came into the room. They brought folding chairs from the library. Eileen went to Tim and whispered hurriedly, and everyone tried to ignore the growing horror on Hamner’s face. Alice Cox brought in lighted kerosene lamps. Their cheery yellow glow seemed out of place. “Shall I light a fire, Senator?” Alice asked.
“Please. Hugo, did you see their arsenal?”
“Yes, sir. There were a lot of guns. Machine guns, and some cannon, and mortars—”
“I need details,” Al Hardy said. “We all do, and things are getting busy around here. It might take more than one day to get all the useful information he has. Mr. Christopher, could you reconsider?”
Christopher looked as if he were going to be ill. “I don’t want him here. He can’t stay here.”
Hardy shrugged. “And the Governor? Hugo, what do you know about Lieutenant Governor Montross?”
“Nothing, except he’s there,” Hugo said. “He stays in officer country, and when he goes anywhere there’s a lot of bodyguards. Like Sergeant Hooker. The Governor never did talk to us, but we got messages in his name sometimes.”
“But who’s in control of this group?” Hardy demanded.
“I don’t know! I think it’s a committee. I never got to talk to the top bosses—mine was a black woman named Cassie, and she was big, and she was mean, and did she ever believe! The real bosses were Armitage and Sergeant Hooker. The Governor, maybe. A black city man named Alim Nassor—”
“Alim Nassor? I know him,” Randall said. “We did an interview with him once. A natural leader. Very powerful in the Watts area.”
Eileen left Tim and went to kneel next to Randall. As she whispered, Harry watched with curiosity. Could a TV reporter be shocked? Yes. Definitely. And scared shitless, if Harry was any judge. He wasn’t the only one. Deke Wilson had been looking sicker and sicker. It wasn’t surprising that Deke’s territory had been smaller every time Harry went down there. And now the New Brotherhood was at Deke’s main area.
George looked disgusted. Finally he said, “I want to throw up every time I look at him. Senator, how much whiskey do you have left? I’ll trade you a pint of my cheap stuff for one stiff drink right now.”
“The trade isn’t needed,” Jellison said. “Eileen, would you bring a bottle, please? I think we could all use a drink. And I gather there’s more news. Harry, you mentioned a letter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Perhaps I should read it while we all have a drink.”
Harry got up and went to the Senator’s chair. He took an envelope from an inner pocket and gave it to Jellison. The Senator opened it carefully and took out several sheets of paper. They were handwritten by someone who’d used a broad-nib pen, someone with excellent handwriting. Harry wanted very badly to see what that letter said, but he went back to his seat.
Eileen brought in a full bottle of Old Fedcal and poured for everyone. No one refused. She filled Hugo Beck’s glass, and he gulped it eagerly.
And he’ll stay drunk the rest of his life if he can find booze, Harry thought.
“Are they starving or just hungry?” Christopher asked.
“Not even hungry,” Hugo said. “Their doctor—the rabbity guy—says they find enough vitamin pills, and I ate well myself.” He saw their faces close up and cried, “No! I only ate human meat twice! At the rituals! Most of what they fed us came from supermarkets, but there were some animals, too. They don’t need cannibalism. They only do it when there’s new recruits. It’s a ritual.”
“A damn useful ritual,” said Harvey Randall. Heads turned toward him. “Look at Hugo. They’ve circumcised his soul. It’s a mark on him that anyone can recognize. That’s what it feels like, doesn’t it, Hugo?” Hugo nodded.
“Suppose I told you it isn’t visible at all?” Hugo looked puzzled. Harvey said, “Right. You know it’s there.”
“Some of them like the taste,” Hugo whispered, but they heard him.
Deke Wilson spoke in a voice filled with terror. “And I’m next! They’re coming for me in four days!”
“P
erhaps we can stall them.” Jellison looked up from the letter. “This is an interesting document. There is a proclamation of authority by Acting Governor Montross. Then there is a letter to me, inviting me to discuss the terms under which my organization can be integrated into his own. It’s politely worded, but quite peremptory, and although he doesn’t threaten us directly, there is discussion of unfortunate incidents in which various groups refused to recognize his authority, and had to be treated as rebels.” Jellison shrugged. “But there’s no mention of cannibals or Angels of the Lord.”
“You don’t mean…don’t you believe me, Senator?” Hugo Beck asked in despair.
“I believe you,” Jellison said. “We all do.” He looked around the room and got nods from the others. “Incidentally, this gives us two weeks, and mentions Deke’s White River area as well as our own. That may be simply to get Deke off his guard, but it may also mean they’ve delayed their attack—”
“I think they won’t fight you just yet,” Hugo Beck said. “They’d just found out about…another place. I think they’ll go there first.”
“Where?” Hardy demanded.
Visibly, Hugo considered trying to bargain, and decided against it. “The San Joaquin Nuclear Project. They just found out the plant’s still operating. It set them crazy.”
Johnny Baker spoke for the first time. “I didn’t know there was a nuclear plant in the San Joaquin Valley.”
“It wasn’t on line yet,” Harvey Randall said. “It’s still under construction. I think they got it to the testing stage before Hammerfall. There wasn’t much publicity, because of the environmentalists.”
The kosmonauts spoke in excited Russian. Baker and Delanty joined in, speaking much more slowly. Then Baker said, “We were looking for an operating power plant. We thought Sacramento might have survived. Where is this San Joaquin plant? We’ve got to save it.”
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