by Ted Dekker
Thomas Hunter had gone to sleep, learned Monique de Raison’s location, gone to that location, and brought back virtual proof that the virus was in fact in the works.
“He would like to speak to you.”
“Put him on,” Gains said. “Thomas? How are you?”
“I’m not doing exceptionally well, sir. I hope you’re going to be reasonable now, as we agreed.”
“Now hold on, son. You have to slow down on me.”
“Why? Svensson’s obviously not slowing down.”
He had a point. “Because, for starters, we don’t know there actually is a virus yet. Right? Not until they run the tests.”
“Then the Raison Strain will come into existence in exactly two hours. I’m giving you a head start. You have to stop Svensson!”
“We don’t even know where this Valborg Svensson is!”
“Don’t tell me no one could find this guy. He’s not exactly unknown.”
“We will find him. But we have no probable cause to—”
“I gave you probable cause! Monique told me he was planning on using the virus; what more do you need?”
Two words pounded in Merton Gains’s mind. What if? What if, what if, what if? What if Hunter really was right and they were only days away from an unstoppable pandemic? Everyone knew that technology would eventually be used for something other than improving the human condition. The cool air spilling from the vent above his desk suddenly felt very cold. His door was closed, but he could hear the soft footfalls of someone passing by in the hall.
America was purring down the proverbial highway like a well-oiled truck. Banks were trading billions in dollars; Wall Street was noisily swapping nearly as many stocks. The president was due to make a speech on his new tax plan in two hours. And Merton Gains, deputy secretary of state, had a phone to his ear, hearing someone five thousand miles away tell him that in three weeks four billion people would be dead.
Surreal. Impossible.
But what if?
“First of all, I need you to slow down. I’m with you, okay? I said I would be with you, and I am. But you understand how the world runs. I need absolute proof if we expect anyone to listen. These are incredible claims we’re dealing with. Can you at least give me that?”
“By the time I get you proof, it will be too late.”
“I need you to work with me, at my pace. The first thing we need is the results of those tests.”
“But you can at least find Svensson,” Thomas said. “Please tell me you can find this guy. The CIA or the FBI?”
“Not in two hours, we can’t . I’ll get the ball rolling, but nothing happens that fast. If we have a B2 in the air circling Baghdad, we can drop a bomb in an hour, but we don’t have B2s in the air or even out of the hangar. We don’t even know where Baghdad is on this one; you got me?”
Hunter sighed. “Then I’ll tell you what, Mr. Gains. We’re toast. You hear me? And Monique . . .” His voice trailed off.
What if? What if?
Gains stood and paced, phone held tightly to his ear. “I’m not saying we can’t do anything—”
“Then do something!”
“As soon as we hang up, I’ll be on the phone with the director of the CIA, Phil Grant. I’m sure they’re already all over this thing. For all we know, the Thai police already have whoever picked up the package in custody. At least the car. The kidnapping case is in full swing now, but the virus is a different matter altogether. So far, this looks like corporate espionage to everyone but you and maybe Raison.”
“You don’t know how slow the wheels of justice turn in Southeast Asia. And it’s the virus that will bite us in the backside, not corporate espionage.”
“I’ll make some calls. But I need proof!”
“And in the meantime I twiddle my thumbs?”
Gains thought about that. “Do what You’ve been doing. You’ve done some pretty amazing things in the last few days. Why stop now?”
“You want me to go after Monique? Isn’t this just a bit over my head now?”
“I think this is over everyone’s head. You’re the one with the dreams. So dream.”
“Dream. Just like that? Dream.”
“Dream.”
The three segments—alive, dead, alive—still buzzed madly in Tom’s brain. He couldn’t talk about them. They terrified him.
“What did he say?” Kara asked.
“He told me to wait.”
“Just wait? Doesn’t he realize we don’t have time to wait?”
“And he told me to dream.”
Kara walked around the couch. “So he believes you.”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s at least beginning to believe that your dreams have some significance. And he’s right—you have to dream. Now.”
“Just” —he snapped his fingers—“like that, huh?”
“You want me to knock you out? The secretary is only half right. You don’t just have to dream, you have to do the right things in your dreams. Which means doing whatever it takes to get more information on the Raison Strain.”
“The black forest,” he said.
“If that’s what it takes.”
Thomas now had two very compelling reasons to return to the black forest, one reason for each reality. The situation here had become critical—he had to accept more risk in uncovering the truth about the histories. And in the colored forest, if he recalled correctly, he was beginning to wonder if he really had crash-landed on a spacecraft.
“Maybe I can talk to Rachelle again. Find out where she wants to be rescued from again. It worked once, right?”
“It did. And what exactly does that mean? Is she somehow Monique? You’re talking to Monique in your dreams?”
He sighed. “I don’t have a clue. Okay. Knock me out.”
Kara dug in her pocket and handed him three tablets.
29
Tom sat up. It was morning. He was in Rachelle’s house.
For several long moments he sat there, frozen by a barrage of thoughts from his dream in Bangkok. The situation had gone critical—he had to uncover the truth about the Raison Strain.
True enough, unless that was all a dream.
But there was another reason, wasn’t there? He had to learn the truth about Teeleh’s claim that Bill and the spacecraft were real. He had to eliminate the confusing possibilities, or he would never settle into the truth.
And yesterday Tanis had shown him how he might be able to mount his own little expedition into the black forest. The colored sword. It was poison to Teeleh.
He jumped out of bed, splashed water on his face, and pulled on his clothes. After leaving Tanis and Johan yesterday, Tom had intended to eat the nanka that Johan had brought him and fall asleep. But as it turned out, he didn’t need any help sleeping just yet. By the time he reached the village, it was almost time for the Gathering. He couldn’t miss the Gathering.
Something strange had happened to him that evening while he was in the lake’s waters. A momentary shift in his perspective. He’d imagined being shot in the head, but the vision was fleeting.
When he got back from the Gathering, they ate a feast of fruits as they had the first night. Johan sang and Rachelle danced along with Karyl and Palus told a magnificent tale.
But what was Tom’s gift?
Dreaming stories, he told them. He didn’t dance like Rachelle or sing like young Johan or tell stories like Palus and Tanis, but he sure could dream stories.
And so he did. He dreamed about Bangkok.
“Good morning, sleepy dreamer.” Rachelle leaned against the door, backlit by the sun’s rays. “What did we do in your dreams? Hmm? Did we kiss?”
Tom stared at her, caught by her beauty. The sound of women giggling drifted in from outside.
“Yes, my tulip, I believe I did dream about you.”
She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “Maybe this dreaming of yours has more possibilities than I first imagined.”
In fact he had dreamed about Rachelle. Or at least he had dreamed of talking about his dream of Rachelle. Could he talk to her as if she were Monique?
He crossed to her and leaned against the wall. “If you were held captive and would like me to rescue you, where would—”
“We did this just yesterday,” she said. “Are you forgetting again? You still haven’t rescued me from the cave with the bottles.”
“Well, no . . . you couldn’t be rescued.”
“You never tried,” she said.
He stared at her for a moment, lost. Clearly it wasn’t so simple.
“I think I’ll go to the forest and think about how to do it,” he said.
She stepped aside. “Be my guest.”
The women he’d heard laughing were up the path when he stepped past her into the sunlight. They glanced back, whispering secrets.
“Okay, I’ll be back.”
“Don’t be long,” Rachelle said. “I want to hear what You’ve concocted. All of the delicious details.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
He made it out of the village after being stopped only twice. Thankfully not by Johan or Tanis. Even more thankfully not by Michal or Gabil. He didn’t need the distraction at the moment. Or any dissuasion. He had to keep his mind on this task of his, and if Rachelle wasn’t going to shed light on his dreams of Monique, he had to try the black forest before he lost his resolve.
It took him an hour to find the exact clearing where he’d met Tanis yesterday. There, twenty feet to his left, lay the sword. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Tanis had returned for it himself. But he hadn’t .
He picked up the sword and swung it through the air like a swash-buckler, thrusting and parrying into thin air filled with imaginary Shataiki. It felt uncommonly good. There wasn’t much of a handle, but the stick fit his grip perfectly. The blade was thin enough to see through and sharp enough to cut.
He would at least test the Shataiki’s reaction to this new weapon of his. What did he have to lose? Surely the beasts would have sentries posted. Within minutes of his appearance at the Crossing, the place would be covered with the bats, and he would pull out the sword and see how they reacted. If the test went especially well, he would see where it might lead.
Tom glanced at the sun. It was midmorning. Plenty of time.
He reached the white bridge in well under an hour at a steady run. A few days ago it would have taken him longer. He was as fit as he could ever recall.
He stopped at the last line of trees and studied the Crossing. The arching bridge looked unchanged. The river still bubbled green beneath the plain white wood. The black trees on the opposite bank looked as stark as he remembered—like a papier-mâchéforest created by a child, branches jutting off at ungainly angles.
The unmistakable flutter of wings drifted across the river. Sentries. Tom pulled back and dropped to one knee. For a moment the whole notion struck him as both ridiculous and absurdly dangerous. Who was he to think that he could fight off a thousand black Shataiki with a single sword?
He lifted the weapon and ran his finger along its edge. But it wasn’t just any sword. If he was right, the wood alone would scatter the vermin. A surge of confidence rippled down his back.
A small stick lay at his knee, red like the sword in his hand. Not too different from what he imagined a small dagger might look like. Tom snatched it up and slipped it under his tunic at his back. Grasping the sword with both hands, he stood and stepped into the open.
He walked slowly, sword before him. Within twenty paces he reached the bridge. No sign of the bats. He paused at the foot of the bridge, then walked up the planks.
Still no sign of the Shataiki.
He reached the crest of the bridge before he saw them. A dozen, two dozen, a thousand, he couldn’t tell, because they were hidden just beyond the tree line with only a few red, beady eyes to show for their presence. But they were most definitely there.
He made a slight waving motion with the sword. The bats made no move. Were they afraid? Or were they just waiting for their leader? Wafts of acidic sulfur drifted past his nostrils. They were definitely there.
“Come out, you filthy beasts,” he muttered, straining to see them. Louder now, “Come out, you filthy beasts!”
The eyes didn’t move. Only an occasional shift among them even told him they were alive. He took a step forward and called again. “Bring me your leader.”
For a long minute there was no movement. Then motion. To his left.
Teeleh’s magnificent blue wings wrapped around his golden body and dragged on the ground as he stepped into the open. Tom had forgotten just how beautiful the larger bat looked. Now, with the sun shining off his skin, the creature looked as though he had just flown down from the upper lake. At thirty paces, only his green, unblinking eyes disconcerted Tom. He would never grow accustomed to pupil-less eyes.
Teeleh refused to look directly at Tom, but aimed a stately gaze across the river. No other bats followed.
Tom swallowed, shifted the sword in his sweating palms, and brought it to his left to bear on the Shataiki leader. The creature gave Tom a fleeting glance and returned his eyes to the opposite bank. With a loud flap, he unfolded his wings to their full breadth, shrugged his shoulders, and then wrapped them around his body once again.
“So. You think with your new sword you have power over me. Is that it, human?” The beast still refused to look at him.
Tom could think of nothing smart in response.
The Shataiki finally shifted his piercing gaze to Tom. “Well? Are you going to just stand there all day? What is it you want?”
Tom cleared his throat. “I need to know more about the histories. About the Raison Strain. And then I want you to show me the ship,” he said quietly.
“We have an agreement,” Teeleh said. “You bring me Tanis, and I show you the ship. Is your memory still slipping? Until you can keep your agreements, you can forget about the histories as well. What does it matter anyway? They are only dreams. Your reality lies behind me, in the black forest, where we have already repaired it.”
“I didn’t break any agreement. You said you would trade a repaired ship for Tanis. I want to see the ship first. He is waiting to come when I call him.”
The Shataiki’s eyes widened. Tom knew then that the Shataiki didn’t know what happened outside their miserable black forest. Teeleh was having difficulty finding a response, and Tom knew in that moment that he could beat this beast.
“You’re lying,” Teeleh said. “You are as deceiving as the others who’ve filled you full of lies.”
Tom slowly stepped over the bridge toward the Shataiki. “I lie, you say. And what would this lie gain me? Surely you, the father of lies, should know that lies are spun for gain. Isn’t that your chief weapon? And what do I gain by this lie?”
The Shataiki remained silent, face taut, eyes unblinking. Tom stepped off the bridge and the bat took a step backward. The stench of sulfur from the forest was almost unbearable. “Now, I think that you will show me my ship. What harm is there in that? You didn’t lie to me, did you?”
The black leader considered the words. He suddenly relaxed and grinned. “Very well. I will show you. But no tricks. No more lies between us, my friend. Just cooperation. I’ll help you, and you can help me.”
Tom had no intention of helping this creature, and the fact that Teeleh didn’t seem to understand that gave him even more courage. In the end he was just a big bat with pretty skin and green cherries for eyes.
Tom walked forward, sword extended.
On the other hand, Tom had just crossed the bridge and now stood in the black forest. Was he crazy? No, he had to continue. He had to know. If there was a ship as Teeleh claimed, the histories meant nothing. If there was no ship, he would trade information on the histories for another promise to deliver Tanis. He would never fulfill his promise, of course. This was the battle of the minds, and Tom could beat this overgrown fruit fly.
Teeleh stepped to the side and kept a respectable distance from the sword. A flock of wings took noisy flight when he reached the tree line. Tom glanced back at the colored trees one last time before stepping into the dark forest.
30
The moment Tom stepped into the black forest, Teeleh took to the trees with a mighty swoosh. Tom gripped the red sword with renewed intensity. No fruit, no green, nothing but black. Like walking through a burned-out forest at night.
He stopped. “Which way?”
Teeleh looked down from a tree just ahead. The bat looked too large for the spindly branch he clung to. His beady eyes stared at Tom, a cross between wonder and disbelief. Or was Tom simply projecting his own disbelief that he was actually heading in willfully?
Teeleh swept into the air and flew on without responding. He wanted Tom to follow.
Tom followed. His heart hammered steadily. He knew he didn’t belong here, but still he kept pushing one foot in front of the other.
Clicking and fluttering all around him. No voices. Only the sound of endless wings beating the air and countless claws grabbing at branches as the bats moved from tree to tree.
The air was cool. It was dark down here on the forest floor. Without leaves to block the sun, he would’ve thought . . .
Tom looked up. The trees did have a canopy—a hundred thousand black bats directly above, peering down with red eyes. Wordless. Flapping, clicking. They formed a giant black umbrella that followed him deeper and deeper into the forest.
Light from a clearing dawned ahead, and Tom picked up his pace, drawn by the prospect of getting out from under the living canopy.
Coming into the forest was a mistake. He knew that now. He didn’t care if there was a spaceship ahead; the shroud of evil hovering above him would never allow him to escape alive. He would catch his breath in this clearing and return to the Crossing. Maybe he could negotiate with—
Tom stopped. Sunlight reflected off a shiny metal surface across the bare meadow. A ship?
His heart bolted.
A spaceship.
