shadowed. “Lucy got stoned and drove her car off the Point.”
Isabella took a sip of tea. “You were all members of a commune?”
Henry chuckled. “I believe the politically correct term is intentional community. What can I say? We were young and determined to find an enlightened path.”
“America has a long tradition of intentional communities,” Fallon said. “Goes all the way back to those folks who got off the boat in Plymouth.”
“True,” Henry agreed. “Well, here in the Cove we were into meditation, self-sufficient eco-living, serious philosophical inquiry and, oh, yeah, free love.”
Vera rolled her eyes. “In hindsight I think it is safe to say that as far as the Asshole and the other men were concerned, it was the free love that was the big attraction.”
“Which was probably what destroyed your community,” Fallon said.
Everyone except Walker stared at him as if he had just spoken in tongues.
He shrugged. “Sex is the most powerful force in any social group. It has to be controlled and regulated in some manner or else it tears the fabric of the community apart. It’s a fact that when a commune or intentional community disintegrates, it’s invariably because of the sexual dynamics.”
“Sure was fun while it lasted, though,” Henry said somewhat wistfully. He winked at Vera.
“But it only lasted about six months,” Vera said crisply. “The Seekers discovered what every other intentional community learns the hard way. Human emotions trump Utopian ideals every damn time.”
“‘Hearts full of passion, jealousy and hate,’”
Isabella quoted softly.
“Yeah,” Henry said. “Fallon’s right. Turns out the free love thing is one of those interesting concepts that just doesn’t work out in the real world. Anyhow, six months into what we called the Grand Experiment, we met at the Scar and officially dissolved the community. Not that there was much left to dissolve by that time. The Asshole was already gone. One of the women went with him.”
Walker stiffened. “Rachel.”
Vera nodded. “That’s right, Walker. Rachel Stewart went with him.”
“Tell me about the vault,” Fallon said.
“Right,” Henry said. “The vault. Well, it’s all connected, you see. The black-ops people showed up about a month before Gordon Lasher and Rachel left. There were three of them. They weren’t interested in the Cove. All they wanted was this lodge. It was empty at the time.”
“What was it about the Sea Breeze that attracted them?” Isabella asked.
Walker rocked. “The vault.”
Henry put down his coffee mug. “Like Walker says, they wanted the vault. Come with me. I’ll show you.”
Fallon set his mug aside and got to his feet. Isabella rose, too. Together with Vera and Walker they followed Henry through the kitchen and out the back door into the yard.
Fallon sensed Isabella heightening her talent. She halted abruptly beside him. He heard her take a sharp breath.
“See anything?” he asked quietly.
“Oh, yes,” she said in low tones. “There is some serious fog out here. I’ve never noticed it before because I’ve never been behind the lodge.”
“We don’t bring a lot of people back here,” Henry explained.
“Why not?” Fallon asked
Henry pointed to a large, circular steel plate set into the ground. The steel had to be three inches thick, Fallon thought. It was secured with a heavy chain and a lock.
“What in the world?” Isabella asked. “It looks like a large manhole cover.”
“It’s the entrance to what we call the vault,” Vera said. “But it’s actually an old bomb shelter. It must have been constructed sometime back in the late nineteen-fifties or early sixties. In those days a lot of folks believed that a full-on atomic war between the U.S. and what used to be the U.S.S.R. was pretty much inevitable.”
“The real paranoids like the man who owned the lodge at the time built private bunkers underground in their backyards,” Henry
Isabella took a sip of tea. “You were all members of a commune?”
Henry chuckled. “I believe the politically correct term is intentional community. What can I say? We were young and determined to find an enlightened path.”
“America has a long tradition of intentional communities,” Fallon said. “Goes all the way back to those folks who got off the boat in Plymouth.”
“True,” Henry agreed. “Well, here in the Cove we were into meditation, self-sufficient eco-living, serious philosophical inquiry and, oh, yeah, free love.”
Vera rolled her eyes. “In hindsight I think it is safe to say that as far as the Asshole and the other men were concerned, it was the free love that was the big attraction.”
“Which was probably what destroyed your community,” Fallon said.
Everyone except Walker stared at him as if he had just spoken in tongues.
He shrugged. “Sex is the most powerful force in any social group. It has to be controlled and regulated in some manner or else it tears the fabric of the community apart. It’s a fact that when a commune or intentional community disintegrates, it’s invariably because of the sexual dynamics.”
“Sure was fun while it lasted, though,” Henry said somewhat wistfully. He winked at Vera.
“But it only lasted about six months,” Vera said crisply. “The Seekers discovered what every other intentional community learns the hard way. Human emotions trump Utopian ideals every damn time.”
“‘Hearts full of passion, jealousy and hate,’”
Isabella quoted softly.
“Yeah,” Henry said. “Fallon’s right. Turns out the free love thing is one of those interesting concepts that just doesn’t work out in the real world. Anyhow, six months into what we called the Grand Experiment, we met at the Scar and officially dissolved the community. Not that there was much left to dissolve by that time. The Asshole was already gone. One of the women went with him.”
Walker stiffened. “Rachel.”
Vera nodded. “That’s right, Walker. Rachel Stewart went with him.”
“Tell me about the vault,” Fallon said.
“Right,” Henry said. “The vault. Well, it’s all connected, you see. The black-ops people showed up about a month before Gordon Lasher and Rachel left. There were three of them. They weren’t interested in the Cove. All they wanted was this lodge. It was empty at the time.”
“What was it about the Sea Breeze that attracted them?” Isabella asked.
Walker rocked. “The vault.”
Henry put down his coffee mug. “Like Walker says, they wanted the vault. Come with me. I’ll show you.”
Fallon set his mug aside and got to his feet. Isabella rose, too. Together with Vera and Walker they followed Henry through the kitchen and out the back door into the yard.
Fallon sensed Isabella heightening her talent. She halted abruptly beside him. He heard her take a sharp breath.
“See anything?” he asked quietly.
“Oh, yes,” she said in low tones. “There is some serious fog out here. I’ve never noticed it before because I’ve never been behind the lodge.”
“We don’t bring a lot of people back here,” Henry explained.
“Why not?” Fallon asked
Henry pointed to a large, circular steel plate set into the ground. The steel had to be three inches thick, Fallon thought. It was secured with a heavy chain and a lock.
“What in the world?” Isabella asked. “It looks like a large manhole cover.”
“It’s the entrance to what we call the vault,” Vera said. “But it’s actually an old bomb shelter. It must have been constructed sometime back in the late nineteen-fifties or early sixties. In those days a lot of folks believed that a full-on atomic war between the U.S. and what used to be the U.S.S.R. was pretty much inevitable.”
“The real paranoids like the man who owned the lodge at the time built private bunkers underground in their backyards,” Henry
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