The Girl Behind the Red Rope

by Ted Dekker

  Praise for New York Times Bestselling Author

  Ted Dekker

  “Ted Dekker is a master of suspense.”

  Library Journal

  “An absorbing thriller that convincingly blurs the lines between fantasy and reality.”

  Publishers Weekly on Red

  “[Dekker’s writing] may be a genre unto itself.”

  New York Times on A.D. 30

  “Ted Dekker is a true master of thrillers.”

  Nelson DeMille, New York Times bestselling author, on BoneMan’s Daughters

  “A daring and completely riveting thriller.”

  Booklist on The Priest’s Graveyard

  “Beguiling, compelling, challenging, and riveting.”

  Steve Berry, New York Times bestselling author, on The Priest’s Graveyard

  “A tour-de-force of suspense that demands to be read in one sitting.”

  James Rollins, New York Times bestselling author, on BoneMan’s Daughters

  “Utterly compelling and completely original.”

  Douglas Preston, co-creator of the famed Pendergast series, on The Priest’s Graveyard

  “[It] will haunt you—long after you want it to.”

  Brad Meltzer, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Book of Fate and The Inner Circle, on The Priest’s Graveyard

  Praise for Rachelle Dekker

  “Dekker’s debut is worth choosing.”

  Publishers Weekly on The Choosing

  “The story vacillates between the sweetness of a tender coming-of-age romance and moments that almost resemble a Dean Koontz thriller.”

  Serena Chase, USA Today, on The Choosing

  “A swiftly moving plot puts readers in the center of the action, and the well-described setting adds to the experience. Deeper themes of value and worth will appeal to both young adult and adult readers.”

  Romantic Times on The Choosing

  “Rachelle, daughter of Ted Dekker, is carving out a space of her own. Her debut novel is a rich statement about the author’s future and her impact on Christian fiction.”

  Family Fiction on The Choosing

  “Dekker pens another striking science fiction thriller including a well-developed dystopian society and strong depictions of good versus evil that can be easily read as a standalone.”

  Publishers Weekly on The Returning

  © 2019 by Ted Dekker and Rachelle Dekker

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-1956-2

  Ted Dekker is represented by Creative Trust Literary Group, LLC, 210 Jamestown Park Drive, Suite 200, Brentwood, TN 37027, www.creativetrust.com

  Rachelle Dekker is represented by The FEDD Agency, Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Contents

  Cover

  Endorsements

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Back Ads

  Cover Flaps

  Back Cover

  Chapter

  One

  IT WAS HOT THAT DAY IN THE HILLS OF TENNESSEE. I remember because the aged boards that made up the tiny church’s floor creaked with every step. As if to say, I’m tired of all you meat sacks treading on me. Be still.

  But we couldn’t be still. Not on that day.

  I was only a child, six years old, but my memories of what happened on that Sunday are clear. Or maybe hearing the retelling over and over has crystalized a distorted version of them in my mind. Either way, I remember.

  It was late August in Clarksville, a small town along Route 254 in the hills west of Knoxville. I was seated on the third pew next to my mother, who cradled my newborn brother, Lukas, in her arms. From the first time I laid eyes on his tiny fingers and heard his soft cooing as he stared up at me, all I dreamed about was having a baby like Lukas of my own one day.

  My older brother, Jamie, fidgeted to my left. The small, decaying building that housed Holy Family Church needed a new air-conditioning unit the congregation couldn’t afford, so the windows had been opened. But without a morning breeze, the sanctuary felt like a sauna, slowly cooking the faithful as if extracting punishment for hidden sins—a helpful reminder of the hell to come for all who did not adhere to the dictates of a holy God.

  It was the tenth Sunday since the flock of Holy Family had received the prophecy of the destruction that would soon visit the earth. We all accepted the word given to Rose Pierce as truth. She was a devout woman who loved Jesus and his church, a dedicated servant of Christianity. We had repeated the prophecy until it was etched first in our brains, then on our hearts, which is why none of us could be still that Sunday.

  In three years’ time, a great scourge would cleanse the earth.

  We were a small community of the purest faith, the bride of Christ, the elect, ever diligent to obey the teachings of righteousness from the word and always on guard against the sinful ways of the world. Only seventy-two in that day, the Holy Family was seen as radical and fringe to many in our small town. Fringe, a word I only understood because my mother had explained it to me and my brother after we’d overheard her arguing again with our father.

  Arguing because my dad didn’t buy into all the fear-mongering, as he liked to call it. Billy Carter, a redheaded boy my age, called him faithless to my face, and it was clear the whole church thought the same. Half of me thought so too. Either way, my dad had stopped attending the services, so he wasn’t there that hot August Sunday. If he had been, he would have become an instant believer in the prophecy Rose had delivered.

  Because in the space of five terrifying minutes, everything about all of our lives was forever and irreversibly changed.

  Our shepherd, Harrison Pierce, husband to Rose, had prefaced his sermon with a few remarks that I don’t recall before pausing and holding the congregation in silence, eyeing us each with care. Then, in a gentle but gripping voice, he repeated the prophecy.

  “In three years’ time, because the world has turned away from holiness, the world’s sin will rise up against them in monstrous form and destroy the wicked. But those with true sight will be shown what is to come and delivered from the great fury. The chosen remnant shall seek refuge away from the world and wai
t until the ground has been cleansed of sin. For then those with eyes to see and vigilant of faith will be spared from destruction and inherit the earth as the pure bride under the law of a holy God. So be it.”

  “So be it,” we all repeated.

  Each one of us believed that we were those called to receive true sight, but none of us knew what that sight would show us. We only knew that an angel named Sylous had appeared to Rose and delivered truth, so we could remain true to the end and be presented as a pure bride to Christ.

  Having spoken the prophecy, Harrison glanced at his wife, dipped his head once, and took a deep breath. He nervously scanned the flock. “Today, dearly beloved, is the day we have been waiting for. Today . . . Today we will all be given eyes to see what is to come.”

  I sensed Sylous before I heard the door at the back of the small sanctuary softly closing. I knew it was him before I saw him. Every hair on my body stood on end. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, much less turn to see.

  It was as if my soul knew who he was before my mind could catch up.

  I had expected an angel with wings and a choir, maybe because I was only six and naïve, but when I finally turned with the rest, Sylous was nothing like anything I had imagined.

  There, standing at the back of the room, stood a man dressed head to toe in white. Pants, suit jacket, shoes, all pristine white. His skin was tanned, tight across a chiseled jaw. Red lips and warm smile, but it was the bright blue of his eyes that has always wandered into my dreams. Beautiful and terrifying at once. Intriguing and dangerous.

  For a moment, I forgot he was an angel. Maybe he wasn’t—no one really knew, not even Rose, because according to the Bible, even angels could show up as men and you wouldn’t know the difference.

  No one moved. No one dared speak. All eyes were fixed on the man standing at the end of the center aisle.

  Rose was the first to kneel. I saw her from the corner of my eye, there on the end of the pew, sinking to the floor with head bowed in reverence. Her husband followed suit beside the podium, eyes wide, face white.

  Without further hesitation the rest of us knelt, sliding off the pews to our knees. My heart was pounding. My eyes were fixed on the angel sent to save us. Then, without warning, my excitement shifted into something else. Fear. My brother Jamie must have felt the same, because he grabbed my hand, trembling. I glanced at little Lukas, who slept soundly in my mother’s tight embrace.

  Sylous started forward, his slick shoes clicking across the creaking wood. All the way to the stage, where Harrison knelt. He stepped up to the podium and turned to face us, eyes moving slowly across the pews.

  When they met mine, I was sure he’d peeled back my skin and was seeing what hid inside me. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. None of us could.

  “The purity of your hearts has been acknowledged,” he began. “You are ready to see what few have ever seen.” His voice was gentle and kind, with unmistakable authority. “Will the bride say yes to Jesus?”

  “Yes,” Rose whispered from where she knelt.

  Then others and all: “Yes.”

  “Then you are ready,” Sylous replied.

  A long beat of silence held us on edge.

  “In three years’ time, because the world has turned away from holiness, the world’s sin will rise up against them in monstrous form and destroy the wicked.”

  The floor under our knees began to vibrate. The old wooden pews shook, knocking against the floorboards. I was aghast, terrified, but Sylous continued without a concern in the world.

  “Today you will be shown a foretaste of the destruction to come so you might be delivered. Seeing what you see today, you will seek refuge away from the world and wait for that day of reckoning. When it comes, you will be spared in a safe haven as you wait for the world to be cleansed of sin.”

  Dust fell from the ceiling onto my shoulder, and a back pew rattled loose enough to slap against the floor. A shutter to my left fell from its hinges. Hands were extended everywhere, searching for something sturdy as the building felt like it was going to collapse.

  “For then those with eyes to see and vigilant of faith will be spared from destruction and inherit the earth as the pure bride under the law of a holy God.”

  With the last utterance of the prophecy, the shaking stopped and, but for dust in the air, all was still again. My mother was breathing heavily beside me; Jamie’s hand was clenching mine with enough force to leave a mark. Only little Lukas remained oblivious in his deep sleep—how, I have no idea.

  “Now I give you eyes to see,” Sylous said.

  The sound of rushing wind filled the church. It surrounded us, behind and in front, to the right and to the left. What the rest of the world couldn’t see, we saw.

  And what we saw struck terror in our hearts.

  Screams ripped through the chapel. Cries for protection, weeping from some. All in the blink of an eye, as what couldn’t possibly be real closed in around us.

  My bones rattled and my skin went numb. No one could experience what visited us that day and remain the same.

  Through all the chaos, Sylous’s words whispered through my mind.

  Now I give you eyes to see.

  And so we saw.

  Chapter

  Two

  Thirteen Years Later

  I took a deep breath and tucked my fingers into my palms. Anxiously glanced at the thin silver watch that decorated my wrist. The hands hadn’t moved since I’d looked at it last. It felt as though time itself had slowed. Jamie should be here by now. I looked back at my watch and stared until the small hand ticked forward. Other than the simple wedding band that circled my finger, it was the only piece of jewelry I was permitted to wear.

  Both pieces were new. Both received five months earlier on my wedding day as gifts. One from Andrew Marks, the man I now called husband, the other from Rose Pierce. Receiving a gift from her had humbled me. Rose loved me and I loved her for that love.

  I often considered leaving the watch safely in my room, but I wasn’t sure what Rose might think if she saw me without it. I feared disappointing her more than harming the watch, so I wore it and made sure to protect it, as I did with everything of value. My eyes, my mind, my voice, my body, my heart, my soul.

  I was betraying all of that by being here now.

  I shuddered, closed my eyes, and wished this moment was different. Harrison Pierce’s words spoken from the pulpit filled my ears. “To keep another’s transgression in the darkness, never bringing it to the light, is to participate in transgression yourself.”

  It was true, yet there I stood, participating in transgression by helping my older brother venture beyond the perimeter. I hadn’t followed him past the boundary—God forbid—but I was definitely participating. So wasn’t his sin my own?

  A railway car stood against the edge of the forest fifty feet from me. We couldn’t see the town from the abandoned tracks, which is why Jamie had me wait by them. But looking at the old cars only reminded me of the danger we were both facing. Jamie had always been headstrong, but now he’d lost his mind.

  I heard a rustle to my left and turned, hoping to see Jamie. Nothing but the trees. The forest stretched for miles in every direction, protecting the valley we’d moved to after Sylous had opened our eyes to the truth.

  The perimeter was marked by a thick red rope staked six inches off the ground. Staying behind that red rope was a matter of life and death. We all knew the terrible danger of being exposed beyond that line of safety. Hell. Death. The Fury.

  We had all seen the Fury. Our eyes had all been opened thirteen years earlier on that hot Sunday, and we’d all seen exactly what the coming judgment looked like.

  The words used to describe what we’d witnessed varied, but we’d seen darkness itself in form. We referred to them collectively as the Fury, a name that felt appropriate because they were what were left when God removed his hand of protection. They were death itself, and that death could ravage not only our minds but
our bodies.

  We’d all seen them, erupting from the air as if they’d been waiting for a thousand years to show themselves. No one could experience what we had and not be permanently altered.

  Even as the rest of the world remained in blindness, we had been given true sight to see the evil coming to destroy the earth, straight from hell, unstoppable and more terrifying than one could imagine.

  Three years after we’d been given sight to see the coming scourge, and only six months after Rose had led us to the safety of Haven Valley, the Fury swarmed the earth. We didn’t see them this time, but the world had gone dark and lightning had ripped jagged tears in the sky. Crackling thunder punctuated the terrible howling and screams that echoed from the hills beyond our perimeter.

  But we in Haven Valley were spared, as Sylous had promised.

  They had come alright. For sure. And even now they were out there, beyond the red rope that kept us safe, hunting and feeding on every wayward soul, and they would continue until the whole earth was cleansed of wickedness. They had been present ten years, so maybe the purging would end soon, but not yet. Not until Sylous told Rose it was time to leave the valley and inherit a new, purified earth.

  And yet Jamie had broken the law and ventured out already. And I’d helped him. What had I been thinking?

  Again I glanced at my wrist, trying to push away the frightening thoughts. More of Harrison’s wisdom echoed in my mind. “To truly love someone is to hold them accountable. As God loves us with a fierce wrath, so we should love one another.”

  I should have locked Jamie in his room. Or tied him to his bed. At the very least, I should have told someone. But I couldn’t betray my brother. So what was I to do?

  I turned away from the forest, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly through my nose. “What should I do, Lukas?” I whispered.

  Lukas had died twelve years ago, just before his first birthday, and I’d cried for days. When I spoke to him he never answered me, but sometimes I imagined he did. He was my own little angel, always there in my mind when I became confused. With so much to worry about in Haven Valley, he was a bright light of innocence that gave me comfort. If he’d lived, he would now be thirteen, but I still saw him as the adorable one-year-old with blond hair and blue eyes, a much younger version of Jamie.