Circle Series 4-in-1

by Ted Dekker

  “Even more delicious! It’s a wonderful twist! The point is, you don’t bear the mark on your forehead, so you are eligible for any woman. You will fall madly in love and be united!”

  “This is crazy! I hardly know who I am—romance is the farthest thing from my mind. For all I know, I’m in love with another woman in my own village.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be the case. You would bear another mark.”

  Surely they didn’t expect him to pursue this woman out of obligation. “I still have to choose her, right? But I can’t. Not in this condition. I don’t even know if I’ll like her.”

  The two Roush stared, stupefied.

  “I’m afraid you don’t understand,” Michal said. “It’s not a matter of liking. Of course you’ll like her. It is your choice, otherwise it wouldn’t be choosing. But—and you must trust me on this—your kind abound in love. He made you that way. Like himself. You would love any woman who chooses you. And any woman you choose would choose you. It’s the way it is.”

  “What if I don’t feel that way?”

  “She’s perfect!” Gabil said. “They all are. You will feel that way, Thomas. You will!”

  “We’re from different villages. She would just go away with me?”

  Michal raised his eyebrow. “Minor details. I can see this memory loss could be a problem. Now we really should be leaving. It will be slow on foot, and we have quite a road before us.” He turned to his friend. “Gabil, you may fly, and I will stay with Thomas Hunter.”

  “We must go,” Gabil said. He unfurled his wings and leaped into the air. Thomas watched in amazement as the white furry’s body lifted gracefully from the earth. A puff of air from the Roush’s thin wings lifted the hair from his forehead.

  Thomas stared at the magnificent forest and hesitated. Michal looked back at him patiently from the tree line. “Shall we go?” He turned back to the forest. Thomas took a deep breath and stepped after the Roush without a word.

  They proceeded through the colored forest for ten minutes in silence. The sum of it was that he lived here, somewhere, perhaps far away, but in this wonderful, surreal place. Surely when he saw his friends, his village, his . . . whatever else was his, his memory would be sparked.

  “How long will it take to return me to my people?” Thomas asked.

  “These are all your people. What village you live in isn’t terribly significant.”

  “Okay, but how long before I find my own family?”

  “Depends,” Michal said. “News is a bit slow and the distances are great. It could take a few days. Maybe even a week.”

  “A week! What will I do?”

  The Roush pulled up and stopped. “What will you do? Are your ears not working as well? You’ve been chosen!” He shook his head and continued. “Dear, dear. I can see this memory loss is quite impossible. Let me give you some advice, Thomas Hunter. Until your memory returns, follow the others. This confusion of yours is disconcerting.”

  “I can’t pretend. If I don’t know what’s happening, I can’t—”

  “If you follow the others, perhaps everything will come back to you. At the very least, follow Rachelle.”

  “You want me to pretend to be in love with her?”

  “You will be in love with her! You just don’t remember how it all works. If you were to meet your mother but didn’t remember her, would you stop loving her? No! You would assume you loved her and thereby love her.”

  The Roush had a point.

  Gabil suddenly swept down from the treetops and lit next to Thomas, plump face grinning. “Are you hungry, Thomas Hunter?” He held up a blue fruit with his wing. Thomas stopped and stared at the fruit.

  “No need to be afraid, no sir. This is very good fruit. A blue peach. Look.” Gabil took a small bite out of the fruit and showed it to Thomas. The juice glistening in the bite mark had the same green, oily tinge he recognized from the river.

  “Oh, yes,” Michal said, turning back, “another small detail, in the event you don’t remember. This is the food you eat. It’s called fruit and it, too, along with the water, has been touched by Elyon.”

  Thomas took the fruit gingerly in his hands and looked at Michal.

  “Go ahead, eat it. Eat it.”

  He took a small bite and felt the cool, sweet juice fill his mouth. A flutter descended into his stomach, and warmth spread through his body. He smiled at Gabil.

  “This is good,” he said, taking another bite. “Very good.”

  “The food of warriors!” Gabil said. With that the short creature trot-waddled a few feet, leaped off the ground, and flew back into the sky.

  Michal chuckled at his companion and walked on. “Come. Come. We must not wait.”

  Thomas had just finished the blue peach when Gabil brought another, a red one this time. With a swoop and a shrill laugh, he dropped the fruit into Thomas’s hands and took off again. The third time the fruit was green and required peeling, but its flesh was perhaps the tastiest yet.

  Gabil’s fourth appearance consisted of an aerobatics show. The Roush screamed in from high above, looping with an arched back then twisting into a dive, which he managed to pull out of just over Thomas’s head. Thomas threw up his arms and ducked, sure the Roush had miscalculated. With a flurry of wings and a screech, Gabil buzzed his head.

  “Gabil!” Michal called out after him. “Show some care there!”

  Gabil flew on without a backward glance.

  “Mighty warrior indeed,” Michal said, stepping back along the path.

  Less than a mile later, the Roush stopped on a crest. Thomas stepped up beside the furry creature and looked down on a large green valley covered in flowers like daisies, but turquoise and orange, a rich carpet inviting a roll. Thomas was so surprised at the sudden change in landscape that he didn’t at first notice the village.

  When he did, the sight took his breath away.

  The circular village that nestled in the valley below sparkled with color. For a moment, Thomas thought he must have stumbled onto Candyland, or possibly Hansel and Gretel lived here. But he knew that was a lost story from the histories. This village, on the other hand, was very, very real.

  Several hundred square huts, each glowing with a different color, rested like children’s playing blocks in concentric circles around a large pinnacled structure that towered above the others at the village’s center. The sky above the dwellings was filled with Roush, who floated and dived and twisted in the afternoon sun.

  As his eyes adjusted to the incredible scene, he saw a door open from a dwelling far below. Thomas watched a tiny form step from the door. And then he saw that dozens of people dotted the village.

  “Does it jog any memories?” Michal asked.

  “Actually, I think it does.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “Well, nothing in particular. It’s just all vaguely familiar.”

  Michal sighed. “You know, I’ve been thinking. There may be some good that comes out of your little adventure in the black forest. There’s been talk of an expedition—an absurd idea that Tanis has somehow latched onto. He seems to think it’s time to fight the Shataiki. He’s always been inventive, a storyteller. But this latest talk of his has me in fits. Maybe you could talk him out of it.”

  “Does Tanis even know how to fight?”

  “Like no other man I know. He’s developed a method that is quite spectacular. More flips and twirls and kicks than I would know what to do with. It’s based on certain stories from the histories. Tanis is fascinated with them—particularly the histories of conquests. He’s determined to wipe out the Shataiki.”

  “And why shouldn’t he?”

  “The Shataiki may not be great warriors, but they can deceive. Their water is very inviting. You’ve seen. Maybe you could talk some sense into the man.”

  Thomas nodded. He was suddenly eager to meet this Tanis.

  Michal sighed. “Okay, stay here. You must wait for me to return. Do you understand?”
/>
  “Sure, but . . .”

  “No. Just wait. If you see them leaving for the Gathering, you may go with them, but otherwise, please stay here.”

  “What’s the Gathering?”

  “To the lake. Don’t worry; you can’t miss it. There’ll be an exodus just before dusk. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  Michal unfolded his wings for the first time in two hours and took to the air. Thomas watched him disappear across the valley, feeling abandoned and unsure.

  He could see now that the dwellings must have been made out of the forest’s colored trees. These were his people—a strange thought. Maybe not his very own people, as in father, mother, brother, sister, but people just like him. He was lost but not so lost after all.

  Was the woman Rachelle down there?

  He sat cross-legged, leaned against a tree, and sighed. The houses were small and quaint—more like cottages than houses. Paths of grass separated them from one another, giving the town the appearance of a giant wheel with spokes converging on a large, circular building at the hub. The structure was at least three times as high and many times wider than any of the other dwellings. A meeting place, perhaps.

  To his right, a wide path led from the village to the forest, where it vanished. The lake.

  Thoughts ran circles around his mind. It occurred to him that Michal had been gone a long time. He was looking for an exodus and he was looking for Michal, but neither was coming fast. He leaned his head back on the tree and closed his eyes.

  So strange.

  So tired.

  8

  THOMAS OPENED his eyes and knew immediately that it had happened again.

  He was lying on the beige chaise in the apartment in Denver, Colorado. Covered by a batik quilt. Light streamed through a gap in the drapes on his left. On his right, the back of the couch, and beyond it, the locked door. Above, the ceiling. Orange-peel texture covered by an off-white paint. Could be clouds in the sky, could be a thousand worlds hiding between those bumps. Thomas lay perfectly still and drew a deep breath.

  He was dreaming.

  Yes, of course he was dreaming. This couldn’t be real because now he knew the truth of the matter. He’d been knocked on the head while in the black forest. The blow had robbed his memories and kicked him into these strange dreams where he actually thought he was alive on ancient Earth, being chased by some men with ill intent, as Michal had put it.

  He was, at this very moment, dreaming of the histories of ancient Earth.

  Thomas sat up. Amazing! It all looked so real. His fingertips could actually feel the texture of the quilt. Kara’s mosaic of masquerade masks looked as real as real could be. He was breathing, and he could taste his musty morning mouth. He was engaging this dream with nearly as much realism as if he were actually awake, touching the trees of the colored forest, or biting into the sweet fruit brought to him by Gabil. This wasn’t quite as real, but very convincing.

  At least he knew what was happening now. And he knew why the dream felt so real. What an incredible trip.

  He swung his feet to the floor and pushed the quilt aside. So, what could he do in his dreams that he couldn’t do in real life? He stretched his fingers and curled them. Could he float?

  He stood. As he expected, no ache in his head. ’Course not, this was only a dream. He bounced on the balls of his feet.

  No floating.

  Okay, so he couldn’t float like in some of his dreams, but he was sure there were plenty of unusual things he could do. He couldn’t get hurt, truly hurt, in his dreams, which gave him some interesting possibilities.

  Thomas took a few steps and then stopped. Interestingly enough, dream steps actually felt very similar to real steps, although he could tell the difference. His legs didn’t feel totally real. In fact, if he closed his eyes— which he did—he couldn’t really feel his legs. He could feel his feet, sure, but as far as he knew there could be air rather than flesh and bone connecting his feet to his hips.

  Dream standing. Incredible.

  He walked around the room in awe of how utterly real everything felt. Not quite as real as walking with Michal and Gabil, of course, but if he didn’t know he was in a dream, he might actually think this room was real. Amazing how the mind worked.

  He ran his hand over a black cassowary carving he’d imported from Indonesia. He could feel every bump and nick. It probably even— Thomas bent to sniff the wood—yes, it did smell like smoke, exactly as he’d imagined. The wood had been hardened by burning. Had the carver been dreaming when he carved—

  “Thomas?”

  He wondered if that was Michal calling him. The Roush had returned from wherever he’d flown off to and was trying to wake him. Thomas wasn’t sure he wanted to be awakened quite yet. This dream—

  “Thomas.”

  Actually, the voice sounded higher, more like Gabil’s voice.

  “What are you doing?”

  He turned around. Kara stood by the couch, dressed in a blue- flowered camisole and boxers. He should’ve known. He was still dreaming.

  “Hi, sis.”

  She wasn’t really his sister, of course, because she didn’t really exist. Well, in this dream reality she did, but not in real reality.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure. Never been better. Don’t I look okay?”

  “So . . . so you’re not freaking out over what happened last night, I take it?”

  “Last night?” He paced to his right, wondering if Michal might wake him up at any moment. “Oh, you mean the chase through the alleys and the shot to the head and the way I handily dispatched the bad dudes? Actually, this may come as a shock to you, but none of that really happened.”

  “What do you mean? You made that all up?” Her face lightened a shade.

  “Well, no, not really. I mean, it did happen here. But here isn’t really real. The cow can’t really jump over the moon, and when you dream that you’re falling but you never actually land, it’s because you’re not really falling. This isn’t real.” He grinned. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Her eyes shifted to the end table where the bottle of pain pills sat. “Did you take any more medication?”

  “Ah, yes. That would be the Demerol. No, I didn’t, and no, I’m not hallucinating.” He stretched out his arms and announced the truth of the matter. “This, dear sister, is a dream. We’re actually in a dream!”

  “Stop messing around. You’re not funny.”

  “Say whatever you like. But this isn’t really happening right now. You’ll say I’m crazy because you don’t know any better—how can you? You’re part of the dream.”

  “What do you call the bandage on your head? A dream? This is insane!” She headed for the breakfast bar.

  Thomas felt the bandage around his head. “I’m dreaming about this cut because I fell on a stone in the black forest. Although not everything correlates exactly, because I don’t have a broken arm here like I did there.”

  Kara faced him, incredulous. For a moment she said nothing, and he thought she might be coming to her senses. Maybe with the right persuasion, dream-people could be convinced that they lived only in your dreams.

  “Have you given our situation with the New Yorkers any more thought?” she asked.

  Nope. She was still in denial.

  “You’re not listening, Kara. There was no chase last night. This cut came from the black forest. This is a dre—”

  “Thomas! Stop it! And stop smiling like that.”

  Her sincerity certainly sounded real. He flattened his mouth.

  “You can’t be serious about this nonsense,” Kara said.

  “Dead serious,” he said. “Think about it. What if this really is a dream? At least consider the possibility. I mean what if all of this”—he swept his arms about—“what if it’s all just in your mind? Michal told me this was happening, and it is, exactly like he said it was. Trust me, that was no dream. I was attacked by Shataiki. You wo
uldn’t know about those, but they’re big black bats with red eyes . . .”

  He stopped. Maybe he should go light on the details. To Kara such realities would sound preposterous without having lived them firsthand.

  “In reality, I live in the future. I’m waiting for Michal, but he’s taking forever, so I sat down and put my head back on a tree. I just fell asleep. Don’t you see?” He grinned again.

  “No, actually I don’t.”

  “I just fell asleep, Kara. I’m sleeping! Right at this very minute, I’m asleep under a tree. So you tell me, how could I be standing here if I know I’m asleep under a tree waiting for Michal? Tell me that!”

  “So you live in a world with big black bats and . . .” She sighed. “Listen to yourself, Thomas! This isn’t good. I need you sane now. Are you sure you didn’t take any more of those pills?”

  Thomas felt his frustration building, but he remained calm. It was, after all, just a dream. He could feel however he wanted to in a dream. If a great big ghost with fangs rushed him right now, he could just face it and laugh and it would vanish. No need to trounce all over Kara—she could hardly be blamed. If he couldn’t convince her, he would just play along. Why not? Michal would wake him up at any moment.

  “Fine, Kara. Fine. But what if I can prove it to you?”

  “You can’t. We have to figure out what we’re going to do. I need to get dressed and then get you to the hospital. You have a concussion.”

  “But what if I can prove we’re in a dream? I mean really? I mean, just move your hand around like this.” He swept his hand through the air. “Can’t you tell that it’s not real? I can. Can’t you feel that something’s not quite right? The air feels thinner—”

  “Please, Thomas, you’re starting to scare me.”

  He lowered his hand. “Okay, but what if I could prove it logically?”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “What if I could tell you how the world is going to end?”

  “Now you’re a prophet? You live in a world with black bats, and you can read the future? None of that sounds stupid to you? Think, Thomas, think! Wake up.”