Jazz nodded. “Yeah. And Malek sometimes snores, so I might crash on the couch in the basement.”
All of them felt a bit stir-crazy, but they knew they still needed to lie low and not do anything for a while.
“I want to give you something,” Jazz told her. “Your father said if after three weeks we hadn’t heard from him, he wanted me to give you this.”
Once again someone was giving her a folded note from her missing father.
“Thanks,” she said to Jazz.
In a lot of ways, she already knew the truth. He knew it himself. He basically knew what was going to happen to him.
“I don’t have any sort of wisdom or encouragement to offer,” Jazz said.
“Sometimes there’s none to give.”
He nodded.
She reached out and gave him a hug. “Thank you. And thank you for continuing to keep watch over me the way he wanted you to.”
“Sure thing. I’m billing by the hour.”
Wishing her a good night, Jazz left the bedroom. She walked over and sat on the bed near the lamp. Then she opened the letter from her father.
My dearest Cheyenne,
If you haven’t heard from me by now, there’s a reason. But just as the first time I sent you a letter, I want to ask you to do something again. I want you to come find me.
I don’t want you to be sad, okay? I believe I’m in a better place, Cheyenne.
I want you to consider this.
You believe that your father loves you, right? Despite my flaws. Then consider this: There is a God, and He is perfect and holy, and He loves you. Enough to send His own Son to die for you and everyone else.
All you have to do is believe, Cheyenne.
If you’re reading this, I’m probably in a better place now. Know this.
I want you to see this place too.
I want you to see the power in faith.
It’s not a fantasy. It’s not scientific, and it’s not computer generated.
There won’t be algorithms in heaven. God doesn’t need them.
Let that curiosity you shared with me lead you to something greater. Just like the work you did at PASK. You’re on a much bigger quest than just solving riddles in algorithms.
I love you, Cheyenne. But you know something incredible? God loves you even more.
Daddy
The tears felt like the only real and living things on her. As one streamed slowly past her nose and onto her lip, she tried to taste it, but there was nothing inside it. Nothing but emptiness. Cheyenne wiped her face and finally folded the letter after reading it several times.
Her heart ached for her father and for the words he’d written to her. She still didn’t understand why he had to leave them, why he needed to be a decoy for the Reckoner. Hadn’t he—hadn’t all of them—done enough?
Maybe all of this would never make sense, including the faith part. Maybe she would spend the rest of her life trying to figure it out like algorithms. Maybe the complexities would drive her to insanity or, worse, would force her to finally stop trying to figure them out. Perhaps she would give up seeking any sort of answers.
In the glow of the lamp in her room and the comfort of the bed she rested against, Cheyenne wondered what it would be like to have her father’s sort of faith. A kind that didn’t fear dying and didn’t wrap itself in regret at the thought of losing everything, including her. What would it be like to have this sort of blind belief that made you do the unthinkable and improbable?
What would it be like to suddenly stop your vehicle as it was heading down the highway at ninety miles an hour? To not only stop, but to suddenly take a side road and begin heading down an entirely different road? One that was unknown and uncharted. One that you trusted would lead to something bigger and better.
It would be nice to have a soul believing in that.
2.
Stepping outside onto the gravel parking lot, Cheyenne felt numb but was navigating through this. Not long ago she assumed her father might never be found again. He had found her and given her a gift. A chance to say goodbye. And hope, at least in his eyes.
Cheyenne didn’t see it yet. Her eyes were still too blurry from her tears. Yet days after reading that letter from her father, she refused to give up on her own hope, a kind that said he might still be out there. He might still be alive.
On Sunday Malek and Jazz urged her to come with them, so the three of them drove to this warehouse to meet with everybody else. Cheyenne went reluctantly, knowing the pastor whose home they were staying in was leading the service. She imagined it would be like the gathering the Parschauers went to. The thought was both comforting and haunting.
Every day for the past few weeks, more people had shown up, thanking them and telling them how brave they were for taking down Acatour and Jackson Heyford. Saying how amazing it was to share God’s grace the way they did.
She didn’t tell any of these people how wrong they happened to be, how she really didn’t do anything, how she still didn’t understand that grace they were talking about.
She didn’t say any of that but rather stayed quiet.
Nobody needed to know that really, deep down, she just wanted to go back to her old apartment in Incen Tower and sleep in her old bed. But the PASK division had been shut down, and she would have been left without a job if she had stayed. Jackson Heyford and a dozen other leaders of Acatour had been arrested. After two weeks of riots, fires, and destruction, Chicago remained in a partial lockdown mode with a curfew and the National Guard securing the streets.
The shadow of Acatour hung over every single person on this earth. Cheyenne knew that.
After entering the building, she was greeted by the friendly-faced Pastor Brian, along with his wife, son, and daughter. In this warehouse they were surrounded by vintage furniture she might have shopped for in another life. About thirty people were there this morning, all of them people she had met at some point in the last few weeks. There seemed to be a buzz in the room for some reason, but she wasn’t sure why.
Several minutes after they arrived, the door behind them opened, and another new face approached. He was older, maybe in his forties, with a somber expression and dark rings under heavy eyes. Following him was a pretty woman and three young girls, all of whom remained silent and looked apprehensive. The man leading them scanned the room with suspicion, and then Pastor Brian walked over to him and gave him a hug.
Is this the Reckoner? She couldn’t help thinking that. Maybe everybody was thinking that.
The pastor turned to them with a smile on his face. “This is Will Stewart. His wife, Amy, and his daughters, Shaye, Bella, and Callie.”
There was a pause, and Cheyenne could see that even Jazz and Malek weren’t sure who this family was.
“Will was helping the Reckoner,” Pastor Brian told them. “Personally helping him with getting the message to everybody.”
Will nodded and looked down at the ground for a moment. Cheyenne could see the heaviness on his face. Will gave them a sad and weary smile.
Jazz, Malek, Cheyenne, and everybody else began to introduce themselves. She couldn’t help watching the young girls, seeing how scared they looked, especially the younger twins. Cheyenne went up to them and tried to make them comfortable by telling them how she liked their cute outfits.
After they had talked for ten minutes, Pastor Brian asked everybody to sit down so they could start their meeting. While they sat on the sofas and chairs gathered in a half circle, the pastor asked one of the new guests to talk to them. Will stood and appeared nervous and unsure what to say.
“So,” Will said, “here we are.” He chuckled and paused for a minute to gather his thoughts.
Cheyenne looked around the room, seeing the variety of people here. Old and young, men and women, boys and girls. She couldn
’t help thinking about what Susan Parschauer told her about her husband, Tom. “Sometimes he fancies himself one of the early disciples, like the ones he spoke about today.”
Then she thought about something else, something Tom told her, this statement even more poignant. “Don’t you think they spent the rest of their lives talking about being rescued? And that every single day they could still see that massive ship slowly sinking into the dark ocean?”
The words stung. Cheyenne knew she’d been rescued but from what? For what?
“I don’t have much to say, except to say thanks to those of you who have been a part of this rather miraculous thing,” Will said, looking at her and Malek and Jazz. “It’s nice to see people finally waking up to what’s really happening in this world. In a lot of ways, I’m one of them. It’s amazing our family ended up here.” Will grinned and looked at his wife.
“The man all of you know as the Reckoner wanted me to tell you something. He said his work wasn’t finished. That our work isn’t finished. That it’s only started. He wanted to thank all of you and to leave you with some encouragement. They’re not his words but those of the King. The words Jesus told His disciples in John.”
Will looked at all of them, wiping his eyes and giving them a relieved and tired smile.
“ ‘I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.’ ”
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Shannon Marchese and Alex Field for this opportunity. They indicated that they were “looking for a particular kind of project” and graciously asked me to send them some ideas. It’s rare to have a project you think will never happen actually turn into a wonderful book like this. I’m also grateful for the rest of the team at WaterBrook and Multnomah, as well as Penguin Random House. It’s an honor to be published by you.
I appreciate the impact that both William Leonard Thrasher Jr. and Barry Smith each had on this book. William is my father, and I’m eternally grateful to him for not making me William Leonard Thrasher III and instead making me a William Travis. When I was in fourth grade, my parents became born-again believers, and ever since then I have witnessed my dad’s desire to wake up those who don’t have an authentic relationship with Jesus Christ and those who are nominal believers not living out their faith. My father has always approached the Christian walk in the way the apostle Paul did—direct and head-on, sometimes leaving you reeling from the collision. Over the years, my father’s urgency to proclaim the message of Christ has grown inside of me, so it felt only natural to pour all of that into this novel. My father is a writer too and has written half a dozen nonfiction books, his latest called Consider This.
Barry Smith, a former colleague at Tyndale House Publishers, has remained my best friend since I left the company in 2007. He’s like my father in two ways: first, he believes in me and is one of my biggest fans—despite not caring for the fiction genre; and second, his desire is to make God known (and yeah, if you didn’t see the dedication, check that out again). When dealing with hardships in his life, Barry has clung to his faith and made Christ his most important focus. He’s been a steady rock in my life, and I’m so thankful for him.
So does the fact that I’m married with three girls and we ended up moving to Michigan sound familiar? Hmmm. Here’s the beauty of fiction: you can put parts of your life in it, but the most obvious ones aren’t always factual. I’m indebted to my loving and patient wife, Sharon, who has endured living with a full-time artist and all that that means. Kylie, Mackenzie, and Brianna have all done so great with our big move, and I’m truly blessed to be their father. I’m so thankful for our new home, neighborhood, friends, and community.
There are many others I should probably acknowledge, but the orchestra has started to play. However, I absolutely need to thank my faithful readers. Some of you have been with me since the start of this publishing journey in 2000 when The Promise Remains was released. What a ride it’s been. Fiction has been, and will always be, my true love, and I will never stop writing it. It’s been a while since I had a novel like this published, so thank you for being patient. I’ve written this book to be a satisfying stand-alone novel, but I hope to be able to continue the American Omens saga because I’ve always imagined this to be a series with lots of characters and storylines. (Those of you who know me are thinking, Of course you did…)
One last thing: I’m thankful to be in a country where I’m still able to write a book like this, where faith isn’t a feeling but rather is someone called Jesus Christ.
About the Author
Best-selling author Travis Thrasher has written more than fifty books, spanning genres in fiction, nonfiction, and children’s literature. His inspirational stories have included collaborations with filmmakers, musicians, athletes, celebrities, and pastors.
Thrasher’s childhood goal, starting in third grade, was to pursue a writing career. After graduating college, he worked at Tyndale House Publishers for thirteen years, and his experience working as an author relations manager allowed him to understand the writing life and learn how to work with a variety of personalities. This experience has proven to be invaluable in the decade that he’s been a full-time writer.
His novels are as diverse as the people he’s worked with, ranging from love stories to supernatural thrillers. Publishers Weekly said, “Sara and Ethan are two of the most real and sensitive lovers to grace the genre” when reviewing his first novel, The Promise Remains. They also stated that “Thrasher demonstrates a considerable talent for the horror genre” in a review for Isolation years later. His readers have enjoyed the unpredictability of his novels, whether it’s due to a unique style or a twist they never saw coming.
Thrasher’s storytelling ability has also allowed him to work with others on their books, from musicians such as country superstar Scotty McCreery and Journey keyboardist Jonathan Cain to the Robertsons of Duck Dynasty. He has also penned novels based on songs, such as Paper Angels with Jimmy Wayne, and novelizations for films including Indivisible and God’s Not Dead 2. Upcoming projects continue to expand his talents, including Olympic Pride, American Prejudice that sheds light on the lives of the other seventeen American black athletes who competed alongside Jesse Owens in the 1936 Olympic Games in Berlin, and Baby Don’t Hurt Me about comedian Chris Kattan’s life and his time on Saturday Night Live.
Travis lives with his wife and three young daughters in the Grand Rapids, Michigan, area.
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