by Ted Dekker
Mike returned to his desk and stared at his notes. He’d spent most of the last two days scouring the electronic highways and making discreet phone calls in his attempt to piece this puzzle together, and now that it was together, he wasn’t sure his effort had been a good idea.
Fact: The president had gone underground for the last four days. The official word was that, due to health concerns, he’d canceled three fund-raising dinners and an alternative-energy lobbying trip to Alaska. He was having some polyps on his colon checked out—routine stuff, they said. He had even gone to the hospital on two occasions. Maybe there was some truth to the polyps story.
Fact: The Russian premier had canceled a trip to the Ukraine due to pressing matters connected with Russia’s energy crisis. Another good cover. But Russia’s entire naval fleet had also been recalled and was now converging on several major ports. For what purpose?
Fact: No fewer than eighty-four military transport columns had been spotted headed east in the last two days alone. The rails were no exception. There was a lot of military hardware headed to the East Coast. Nothing that would spark a wave of concern to anyone who didn’t see the whole picture, but surely some of the officers in charge suspected something, especially if they married this movement of arms with the steady repositioning of navy vessels headed to various eastern seaports.
Fact: The French government had gone virtually AWOL. Two sessions of the National Assembly had been canceled, and a number of papers were asking some troubling questions about the sudden departure of their prime minister, supposedly on an unscheduled vacation. To make matters even more interesting, the bulk of the French army had been called to its northern border for what they called emergency exercises.
Fact: The highest offices in England, Thailand, Australia, Brazil, Germany, Japan, and India, plus another six nations, had gone oddly silent over the past three days.
These were five of twenty-seven facts that Mike had painstakingly compiled over the past forty-eight hours. And they all said that the most powerful people in the world were as concerned with something as Theresa was with this Raison Strain. Maybe more so.
And why had he compiled all of this information? Because Mike knew he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long. When he did open his mouth and let the world know what was really happening while they went about daily life as if all was just peachy, he would have to substantiate his claims with his own data, not data that pointed to Theresa. He felt bound to certain rules, even if the world was in a countdown.
“This is nuts,” he mumbled.
Yesterday he’d dropped the finance anchor, Peter Martinson, at the airport for a flight to New York. “Hypothetical question,” Mike had said.
“Shoot.”
“Let’s say you had some information that you knew would affect the markets tomorrow. Say you knew the markets were going to crash, for example. You have an obligation to report it?”
Peter chuckled. “Depends on the source. Insider trading? Off-limits.”
“Okay then, let’s say you knew that a comet was going to wipe out Earth, but you were sworn to secrecy by the president of the United States because he didn’t want to start a panic.”
“Then you go out in a flame of glory, spilling your guts to the world just before dying with the rest.”
He’d forced a small laugh and changed the subject. Peter had prodded him once but then let it go. He left promising to return with the definitive word on whether the market was going to crash in the next week or so.
A knock sounded on Mike’s door. He shuffled the papers together. “Come in.”
Nancy Rodriguez, his coanchor on their late-afternoon show, What Matters, poked her head in. “You going down to the meeting?”
He’d forgotten that the news director had called the meeting to review a new evening lineup. “Go ahead. I’ll be right down.”
She pulled the door closed.
He stuffed the papers in his right-hand drawer. Why was he going to a meeting about a new lineup anyway? Why wasn’t he back in North Dakota visiting his parents and friends? Why wasn’t he bungee jumping at Six Flags or buying a Jaguar or stuffing lobster down his mouth? Or better still, why wasn’t he down at the church confessing to the priest? The thought stopped him.
A slow wave of heat spread over his head and down his back. This was really happening, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just a story. It was his life. Everyone’s life.
How could he not tell them?
The door opened. “I’ll try to get you the paper,” Monique whispered. She was speaking about the antivirus.
Thomas twisted. Carlos walked into the room, followed by a man Thomas hadn’t yet met. He was tall and walked slowly with a white cane, favoring his right leg. His black hair was greased back. Svensson. He’d seen pictures in Bangkok.
The Swiss looked like he was smothering a temptation to gloat. Carlos, on the other hand, looked more grim.
The man from Cypress pulled the chair from the desk to the middle of the room, walked up to Thomas, grabbed his handcuffs, and hauled him up. Thomas stood and staggered backward before his shoulder joints were unreasonably strained.
“Sit,” Carlos ordered, pointing four fingers at the chair. His fingernails were long but neatly manicured. He smelled like European soap.
Thomas walked to the chair and sat. Carlos herded Monique to the sink, where he handcuffed her to the towel rack. Why?
Svensson moved around Thomas slowly. “So this is the man who has given us both the world and a world of trouble. I must say, young man, you look younger than your pictures.”
Thomas stared at Monique. He could take care of the old man—even with handcuffs it would hardly be a challenge. But Carlos was another matter. Carlos walked behind him and made the thought pointless by quickly securing his ankles to the chair legs with duct tape.
“I understand you have a few skills that make you quite valuable,” Svensson said. “You found us; Armand regards that with some fascination. He wants you in France. But I have some questions of my own to ask first, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you answer them.”
“You need both of us alive until the end,” Thomas said.
The scientist chuckled. “Is that so?”
“Only a fool would eliminate the two people who first made this all possible with information they alone had.”
Svensson stopped circling. “Perhaps. But I now have that information. At some point your usefulness becomes a matter of history.”
“Maybe. But when?” Thomas asked. “When does the virus mutate again? What kind of antivirus will be needed then? Only we know the answers, and even then, we don’t know all of them yet. Armand is right.”
He didn’t know who Armand was, but he assumed it was a person Svensson worked for.
“There will be no more mutations,” Svensson said easily. “But I’m happy to announce the formulation of the first antivirus.” He pulled a small syringe filled with a clear fluid from his blazer. Now his gloating did spread to his mouth. “And I thought it would be appropriate for both of you to see the fruit of your labor.”
He slapped the crux of his left arm with two fingers, removed the plastic shield from the needle with his teeth, and clenched his fist. He found a blue vein in his arm and pushed the needle into it. Two seconds and the liquid was in his bloodstream. He jerked the syringe out and put it into his jacket pocket.
“You see. I am now the only person alive who won’t die. That will change shortly, of course, but not before I extract my price. Thank you, both of you, for your service.”
He waited as if expecting an answer.
“Carlos.”
Monique saw the long stainless-steel needle before Thomas did, and the bottom of her stomach seemed to fall out. Carlos stepped up to Thomas and let the point hover over his shoulder.
“Penetrating the flesh isn’t so painful,” Svensson said. “But when he tries to push the needle through your bones, it will be.”
“W
hat are you thinking?” Monique cried.
All three looked back to where she stood by the sink.
Svensson was the one who answered. “Loftier thoughts than you, I’m sure. Please try to control yourself.”
They hadn’t even started on him yet and already her eyes were blurry from tears. She clenched her teeth and tried to still the trembling in her hands.
“It’s okay, Monique,” Thomas said. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve seen how this ends.”
She doubted that he had. He was only trying to confuse them and ease her mind.
“Then let’s start with this knowledge of yours,” Svensson said. “How did you find us?”
“I talked to a large white bat in my dreams. He told me that you were in a mountain named Cyclops.”
Svensson regarded him with a frown. Glanced at Carlos.
The man from Cypress pushed the needle into Thomas’s shoulder about a centimeter.
Thomas closed his eyes. “There are books in my dreams called the Books of Histories. They’ve recorded everything that has happened here. That’s how I first learned about the virus.”
“History books? I’m sure there are. Then tell me what happens next.”
Thomas hesitated. He opened his eyes and looked directly at Monique. She could hardly stand to watch him with that needle sticking out of his arm.
“Over half the world dies from the Raison Strain,” Thomas said. “You get your weapons. The times of the Great Tribulation begin.”
He kept his eyes on hers. They were speaking to each other in this strange way, she thought. She wouldn’t look at his arm. She would look only into his eyes, to give him strength.
“Yes, of course, but I was referring to the next few days, not weeks. It doesn’t require any precognition to guess how this will end. I want to know how we will get there. Or more to the point, what the Americans will do in the next few days.”
He thought about the demand. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do. We know you’ve met with the president. Tell me what his plans are.”
Monique felt her chest tighten. This wasn’t about his dreams. They wouldn’t stop until they knew what had passed between Thomas and Robert Blair.
“They didn’t tell me what their plans were.”
Svensson glanced at Carlos again.
“You want me to make something up?” Thomas said. “I told you, I don’t know what the United States will do.”
“And I don’t believe you.”
Carlos pushed and the needle slid in easily before abruptly stopping at the bone. Thomas closed his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the tremble that overtook his cheeks.
Carlos leaned on the needle.
Thomas groaned. His body suddenly relaxed and slumped. He’d passed out! Thank God, he’d passed out.
Carlos grunted and withdrew the needle.
“Just a little aggressive, are we?” Svensson said, eying the man.
“I would have expected more from him,” Carlos said.
“He still has drugs in his system.”
Svensson walked over to the computer, ripped the cord from the wall. He picked up Monique’s notes and the pencils she’d used earlier. Satisfied that he’d confiscated her basic tools, he moved toward the door.
“We’ll have plenty of time later. I want them ready to move by nightfall.”
16
A LOUD bang jerked Thomas from sleep. He cried out and was rolling from the bed before he rightly knew where he was.
The floor greeted him hard, pounding the scream from his lungs.
“Thomas!”
He was in his own house. Rachelle had slammed through the swinging door.
“What is it?” She dropped by his side and helped him to his feet. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, I just . . .”
“What’s this?” She touched his shoulder, where a small trickle of blood ran down his arm. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing. It’s just a scratch. Nothing.” He wiped the blood away, images of this nothing bright in his mind. Carlos had shoved a needle into his arm. The pain had been unbearable. But he had to think it through before telling Rachelle.
He shook the dream from his head and reacquired his sense of this reality.
They’d returned from the desert last night, and one of his men had blurted out the details of how Justin had saved their hides in the desert. The news spread throughout the village like fire.
They were only a day away from the Gathering, and the population had swelled to nearly a hundred thousand, including the large group from the Southern Forest. The air was full of celebration.
He’d slept late.
“What time is it?”
“I’m not sure I believe you. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you. But you came in here in an awful hurry. What’s going on?”
She seemed to remember why she’d flown in. “They’re calling for you. In the Valley of Tuhan. We have to hurry.”
“Who’s calling for me?”
“The Council. The people. Justin’s coming. There’s been word all morning; he’s coming through the Valley of Tuhan. Half the village is gathered there to receive him already.”
“To receive him? Whose idea is this? The valley isn’t for magicians and politicians!”
She rested her finger on his lips. “Yes, I know, the valley is for mighty warriors. And any man who saves the life of my husband must be a mighty warrior.”
“Then it was your idea?”
“No. It was rather spontaneous, I think. Dress, dress. We have to go.”
“Why do the people want me there?”
“Someone suggested you might want to thank him.”
Thomas was bent, strapping his boot, and he nearly fell over at the suggestion.
“Thank him? Who is he, our new king?”
“To hear the people from the Southern Forest, you might think so. Are you jealous? He’s harmless.”
“Harmless? He’s the man I may fight at the challenge tomorrow!”
“Even if there is a fight, you have the option of banishment.”
“The Council will want his death. This is the price for disregard of Elyon’s love. If he’s found guilty, they’ll want his death.”
“And banishment is death! A living death.”
“The Council—”
“The Council is mad with jealousy!” Rachelle said. “Stop this talk. There will be no fight anyway. The people love him!”
“I can’t go to the Valley of Tuhan and pay him homage. It would look ridiculous.”
“To whom? Your Guard? They’re as jealous as the Council. It would look petty if you don’t pay a man who saved your life the appropriate respect.”
“But the Valley of Tuhan? That’s not for every soldier who saves their commander’s life. We’ve only used the valley several times.”
“Well, it’s being used today, and you will come.”
He finished dressing and strapped the Book of History to his waist with a broad band of canvas. Rachelle had examined the book upon their return and declared it useless. Yes, he knew, but he wouldn’t be separated from it. It might play a role in his mission yet.
They left the house. Evidence of the Gathering was everywhere. White tuhan flowers he liked to call lilies covered the streets; lavender puroon garlands hung from every door. People were dressed for the celebration— light-colored tunics accessorized with hair flowers and bronze bracelets and tin headbands. Not a person they passed didn’t acknowledge Thomas with a kind word or a head dipped in respect. Each of their villages had been saved by his Forest Guard numerous times.
He returned each kind word with another. Although the village was brimming with people, it wasn’t as crowded as he would have expected the day before the annual Gathering. The people had gone to the valley. The Council would be furious.
They left through the main gate and walked a well-worn path that led directly to the Valley of Tuhan, roughly a mile from the outski
rts.
Rachelle glanced back to make sure they were alone.
“So, now tell me. What happened?”
The dream.
“We found Monique.”
Her eyes grew round. “I knew it!” She skipped once like a child in her enthusiasm. “It’s all true. I told you to believe me, Thomas. That I was there in that white room.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips, nearly knocking him off the trail.
“I did believe you,” he said. “As I recall, it was you who didn’t believe me once upon a time.”
“But that was before. So you rescued me?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Tell me everything.”
He told her. Everything except for the torture.
“So you not only failed to rescue Monique, but now we’re both in the dungeon,” Rachelle said when he’d finished. She stopped, eyes wide. “This is terrible news. We’re in mortal danger!”
“We’ve always been in danger.”
“Not like this.”
“The virus presents more of a danger than this. At least we know that the antivirus now exists, and I’m in the vicinity of the people who have it. Maybe I can find a way out.”
“We’re both in the dungeon, for goodness’ sake! We’ll be killed, both of us.”
He took her hand and they walked on. “That’s not going to happen.” He looked at the forest. The sound of a distant celebration whispered on the wind.
Thomas sighed. “All around us people are preparing for a celebration and we’re talking about being tortured in a dungeon—”
“Tortured? What do you mean tortured?”
“The whole thing. It’s torture. Svensson’s torturing us with this imprisonment of his.”
She seemed satisfied by his quick recovery.
“If you and I live in both worlds, isn’t it possible that we all live in both worlds?” she asked.
“I’ve thought about it. But we may only be sharing the dreams and realities of people in the other world.”
“Either way, who is Qurong there? And who is Svensson here? If we could find Svensson here and kill him, wouldn’t he die there?”