by Ted Dekker
“Thomas.” She rubbed his back. “You okay?”
He tried to smile. “Not really. I’ve gone from being terrified that there’s a comet coming to being horrified that no one believes there’s a comet coming.”
“What do you expect? There’s been a comet coming every year for two thousand years. It never lands. So now a twenty-five-year-old in jeans claims to live in his dreams, where he learns the world is about to end. He threatens to blow up the castle unless the king believes him. Why should the secretary of state break his meeting with the prince of Persia to take your call?”
“Thanks for the encouragement, sis.”
“Look, I know none of this matters if no one will listen, but there is another way, you know.”
He studied her face. They walked away from the desk. “You mean go back . . .”
“Well?” Kara said. “I know sleeping seems like the wrong thing here, but why not? For starters, if you don’t sleep soon, you’re going to fall into a coma anyway. And it’s worked before, right? What if you could find out where she is?”
He shook his head. “This is different. The other stuff was a matter of histories. This is too specific. And like I said, I don’t want to go back to the black forest, which is the only place I think I can get information.”
He said it with so much conviction. He really did live with the constant awareness of his dreams. And he was changing.
The Thomas she knew as her brother had always been articulate, but he carried himself with a greater purpose now. He talked with more authority. Not enough to convince the French and the British, but enough to exchange a few rounds with some pretty powerful people before being sent packing, for his brazen approach to diplomacy as much as anything.
Her brother had somehow been chosen. She didn’t understand how or why, and, truthfully, she wasn’t ready to think it all through just yet. But she couldn’t escape the growing certainty that this man who worked in the Java Hut in Denver just a few days ago was becoming someone very, very important.
“Then don’t go back to the black forest. But there’s a connection between your dreams and what’s happening here, Thomas. Your dreams caused this, after all. There has to be a way to get more information. Go to sleep; nothing’s happening here anyway.”
He sighed. “You’re right, I’ve got to sleep.”
“You still can’t remember the antivirus.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“I wish there was a way you could take me.”
“Take you there? I’m not actually going anywhere, am I?”
“No. Your mind is though. Maybe there’s a way to take my mind with you.” She smiled. “Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah, crazy. I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Neither is breathing in a lake,” she said.
“Sir!”
Tom spun. It was Raison’s secretary, holding up a phone.
“I have the deputy secretary of the United States. Merton Gains. He’s agreed to talk to you.”
Deputy Secretary Merton Gains sat at the end of the conference table, listening to the others express opinions on a dozen different ways to look at yet another looming budget crisis. Paul Stanley was still out of town, but the secretary of state had never shown a reluctance to throw Gains in the mix when he was unavailable.
Half the cabinet was present, most of the notable ones excluding defense, Myers. A dozen aides. President Robert Blair sat across and down the table from Gains, leaning back as his advisers begged to differ. The subject was tax cuts again. To cut or not to cut. How hard to push. The economic fallout or gain, the political fallout or gain. Some things never changed, and the argument over taxes was one of them.
Which was only part of the reason Gains found his mind wandering. The rest of the reason was Thomas Hunter.
Fact: If his daughter hadn’t died from a vaccine two years ago, he never would have spearheaded legislation to heighten scrutiny of new vaccines.
Fact: If he hadn’t written the bill, his friend Bob Macklroy never would have thought to call him about Thomas Hunter.
Fact: If Hunter hadn’t called Bob and told him about the winner to the Kentucky Derby, Joy Flyer, Gains wouldn’t have taken Hunter’s call.
Fact: Hunter’s prediction had been accurate.
Fact: Hunter had gone to the CDC and reported the potential outbreak. And he’d been pretty much stuffed.
Fact: Hunter had kidnapped Monique de Raison, the one person, he claimed, who could stop the virus by not shipping it in the first place.
Fact: Monique had been kidnapped again by someone else who now wanted the Raison Vaccine.
This was where the facts started fusing with Hunter’s claims.
Claim: The party that took Monique did so because they, like Thomas, knew the vaccine could be turned into a deadly weapon and hoped to get what they needed through coercion.
Claim: This party also could have access to an antidote within reach.
Claim: If the world didn’t get off its collective high horse, find Monique de Raison, and develop an antidote, very bad times that would make the budget crisis look like a game of dominoes were only days around the corner.
Hearing Thomas Hunter lay down the entire story, Gains couldn’t help but entertain the few chills that had swept through his bones. This wasn’t unlike the kinds of scenarios he’d pitched to the Senate more than once. And here it was, staring him in the face as a claim by a brazen man who was either totally deluded or who knew more than any man had any business knowing. There was something about Hunter’s sincerity that tempted him to listen to more. And so he had.
Much more.
He’d even promised any help he could in the matter of Monique de Raison. What if? Just what if? Obviously old man Raison hadn’t thrown Hunter out on his ear.
“.. . Merton?”
Gains cleared his throat. “No, I don’t think so.” He glanced up. The president was looking at him with that lazy I-can-read-your-mind look. It meant nothing, but it had won him the presidency.
“Just one thing,” Gains said. “I assume you all heard about the kidnapping in Bangkok yesterday. Monique de Raison, daughter of Jacques de Raison, founder of Raison Pharmaceutical.”
“Don’t tell me,” President Blair said. “It was one of our military boys.”
“No.”
“My understanding is that the man originally involved was blindsided by a third party who now holds the woman,” CIA Director Phil Grant said. “We’re shifting some assets to lend a hand. I wasn’t aware there was any new movement in the case.”
“There isn’t .But I’ve run across some information that I’ll get over to your office, Phil. It seems there’s a question about the stability of the Raison Vaccine, the real subject of this kidnapping. It’s an airborne multipurpose vaccine that was supposed to enter the market today. Let’s just say the incident in Bangkok has exposed the possibility, however slight, that the vaccine may not be stable.”
“I haven’t heard about this,” the health secretary said. “I had the understanding the FDA was ready to approve this vaccine next week.”
“No, this is new and, I might add, hearsay. Just a heads-up.”
The table remained quiet.
“I’m not sure I understand, Merton,” the president said. “I know you have a unique interest in vaccines, but how does this affect us?”
“This has nothing to do with the Gains Bill. It probably doesn’t affect us. But if there is any truth to Hunter’s claims and an unstable airborne vaccine does become a deadly virus, we could have a very significant health challenge on our hands. Just wanted to get the thought on the table.” Wrong time, wrong place. You don’t just stand up in a cabinet meeting, inform the leaders of the country that the sky might soon fall, and expect straight faces. Time for a bit of spin.
“Anyway, I’ll get the report to each of you. It could affect health and finance at the least. Possibly homeland security. If word of this leaks, the country c
ould react badly. People get very nervous about viruses.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“Seems straightforward enough,” the president said. “Anyone else?”
25
Tom awoke to excited shouts outside the cottage. His confusion from the transition lasted only a moment. It was becoming customary. Every time he woke up, he had to make the switch, this time from a discussion with Deputy Secretary of State Merton Gains. They were making progress, real progress. He threw on his tunic and rushed from the house.
What greeted his eyes vanquished all thoughts of Bangkok and his success with Merton Gains.
There was a gigantic bright light suspended against the colored forest halfway up the sky. That the bright light hung in the sky wasn’t so surprising—suns were known to do that. That the forest was up there as well was a different matter.
He jerked his head up and stared at the sky. Only there was no sky. The green forest was above him!
The people streamed toward the center of the village, chattering excitedly, dancing in delight as though their world suddenly going topsy-turvy was a great thing.
Tom turned, his mouth gaping, and gazed at the changed landscape. The forests rose from where they should have been and curved upward to where the sky had been. Far above him he could see meadows. And there, just to his right, at an elevation that must be over ten thousand feet, he was sure he saw a herd of horses galloping through a vertical meadow.
“It’s upside down!”
“Yes, it is.”
Tom whirled to find Michal squatting next to him, smiling at their new world.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
“Do you like it?” the Roush asked with a childish smirk.
“I . . . I don’t know what it is.”
“Elyon is playing,” Michal said. “He does this often, actually.” Then he turned and leaped into the air after the others running for the Thrall. “Come. You will see.”
Tom ran after Michal, almost tripping over a carving that someone had left in the yard. “You mean this is supposed to happen? Everything is safe?”
“Of course. Come. You will see.”
It was as if the entire landscape had been painted on the inside of a gigantic sphere. The effects of gravity had been somehow reversed. Directly ahead of them, the road leading to the lake curved upward to meet it, only now the lake was slanted upward and the waterfall thundered horizontally. The only thing missing was the black forest.
The scale of things also had changed dramatically, so that the sky, which should have been many hundreds of miles above them, seemed much closer. Conversely, the other villages, which should have been visible, were not. Tom could see creatures running through the fields at impossible angles. Tens of thousands of birds dived about crazily. Half as many Roush swooped through the air as far as Tom could see, twisting and turning and flying in giant loops that reminded Tom of Gabil. It was nothing less than a circus.
They reached the Thrall and joined the others who, like Tom, stared with wide eyes at the sight before them.
It was Johan who first discovered that the atmosphere had changed as well. Changed so much, in fact, that he could stay in the air longer than usual when he jumped. Tom saw the young boy jumping, as if in slow motion.
“See, Thomas. See this?” Johan jumped again, harder this time.
He floated ten feet up and hung there.
“Thomas!” he cried. “I’m flying!”
Sure enough, Johan floated higher, about a hundred feet above the ground now, faltering slightly, screaming with laughter. Three other boys joined Johan in the air. Then the air began to fill with others who took to the air like children in their dreams.
“Tom,” Michal said. Tom stood frozen by the sight. “Tom, try it.”
Tom looked at the Roush with apprehension. “I can fly?”
“Of course. Elyon has changed the world for us. You’d better do it while you can because it won’t last forever, you know. He is just playing. Try it.”
Tom reached out instinctively and grasped the fur on Michal’s head for stability. He jumped tentatively and found a lightness that surprised him. He smiled and jumped again, with more force. This time he floated several feet off the ground. The third time he leaped with all his strength, and he soared off balance into the air.
Johan buzzed by, squealing with delight. He had obviously learned how to maneuver. Tom found that he could gain momentum by shifting his body weight. There was just enough gravity to allow forward motion.
Within minutes, Tom flew with the rest of them. It wasn’t long before Rachelle, Johan, and Michal joined him, and they set off to explore their new world. Chattering like children between peals of laughter, they flew to the inverted globe’s highest crest and looked down on the village far below. They landed on a meadow, its flowers hanging upside down and pointing to the village now barely visible below. They walked upside down, hearts fluttering like butterflies, stepping carefully at the odd angle. Then they leaped off the grass, skimmed the trees down one side to the lake, and plunged into its jade waters.
In the warm green waters flush with light, they heard delighted laughter through the full range of the scale, from a deep, rumbling chuckle to a high, piercing giggle. And with wide-eyed glances to see if the others had also heard, they knew at the first chuckle that it was Elyon. If they were beside themselves with the staggering scope of the adventure, Elyon was beside himself at bringing it to them. And they laughed with him.
The hours fled. They played like children in an amusement park. There were no lines, and all rides were open. They flew and explored and twisted and turned, and it wasn’t until after midday that the world began to reshape itself.
Within an hour it was back to normal.
And Thomas remembered Bangkok.
Rachelle approached him, laughing throatily. “Now that, my dear Thomas, is what I call a fabulously good time!” She spontaneously threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.
Tom was so surprised that he neglected to return the hug. Rachelle pulled back, but she didn’t release him. She cocked her left leg behind her and stared into his eyes.
“Would you like to kiss me?”
“Kiss?” He could smell her sweet breath.
“I am helping you restore your memory, or have you forgotten that as well?”
“No.” He swallowed.
“So then I would like to help you remember what it is like to kiss. I will have to show you, of course.”
“Have you kissed anyone before? I mean, another man?”
“No. But I’ve seen it done. It’s very clear in my mind. I’m sure I could show you exactly how it’s done.” Her eyes flashed. She ran a tongue over her lips. “Perhaps you should wet your lips first; they look quite dry.”
He did it.
She leaned forward and touched her lips gently to his.
Tom closed his eyes. For a moment everything seemed to shut down. But in that same moment, a new world blossomed into existence.
No, not a new world. An old world.
He had done this before.
Rachelle’s lips separated from his. “Trust me, dear, you’re not in a dream. We’ll see if that sparks your memory.”
Heat spread down Tom’s neck. He’d done this before. He’d kissed a woman before! He was sure of it.
He must have looked stunned, because Rachelle offered a satisfied smile. It was true, her kiss had taken his breath away, but there was more. It had brought something back.
“Tanis is coming to speak to you,” she said. “He still insists that you’re his apprentice in the fighting arts, but I think he’s more interested in the histories.” She put a finger on his lips. “Just remember, they’re dreams. Don’t get carried away.”
Rachelle turned and stepped down the path, looking pleased and supremely confident despite her best efforts to appear nonchalant.
Tom’s mind immediately chased a new thought that had present
ed itself while she warned him about the histories. Suppose both realities were not only real, but woven together? Like the boy had said at the upper lake, the lion and the lamb, both real. Both images of the same truth.
The same reality.
What if . . .
“Rachelle?”
She turned back. “Yes?”
If the two realities were interwoven, maybe he was meant to rescue in both. Rachelle here, Monique there. Could Rachelle lead him to Monique?
“You’re staring at me,” Rachelle said. “Is something wrong?”
“That was very wonderful,” he said. Very wonderful?
She winked. “It was meant to be.”
“Could I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“If there was one place from which you would like to be rescued, where would it be?”
“That is your job. To rescue me.”
He hurried forward, taken with the possibility that worked his mind. “Yes, but if there was one place. Say you were trapped and I was to rescue you. Where would that be? Please, I have to know so that I can rescue you.”
“Well, I’m not exactly a storyteller. But . . .” She faced the forest and considered the question. “I would say that I would be held in a . . .” She spun toward him. “A great white cave full of bottles. Where a river and the forest meet.”
“Really? Have you ever seen such a cave?”
“No. Why should I have? I am fabricating this for you, like a storyteller would.”
“Is it here, in this forest, or somewhere far away?”
“Close by,” she said after a moment’s thought.
“And how would I find this cave?”
“By following the river, of course.”
“And which direction is it from here?”
She looked at him curiously, as if objecting to his pressing for details. “That way,” she said, pointing to her right. “East.”
“East.”
“Yes, east. I’m sure of it. The cave is a day’s walk to the east.”
