by Ted Dekker
It was the rising sun that saved him. A very soft glow in the east. Tom pulled up in a clearing. If that was east, then the river was directly ahead, north.
A black canopy moved against the dim sky.
“Get away!” Tom shouted, waving the dagger.
Shrieks echoed and the canopy lifted from the trees. Then settled again. Somewhere out there Teeleh watched.
Watched and waited.
He hit the river an hour later. No Crossing. The question was: Right or left? His back and chest burned with deep cuts. If he couldn’t find the Crossing soon, he would just jump into the river and swim across. Could he do that?
Tom turned east and jogged along the river. The bats followed in the trees. On the other side of the river, the colored forest glowed like a rainbow.
Tom was seriously considering a dive into the river when he caught the glint of white directly ahead.
He pulled up, panting. There, arching lazily over the bubbling green waters, a white bridge stretched from the dark, harsh ground on which he stood to a lush landscape, bursting with color and life.
The Crossing.
He swallowed at the sight and surged forward on wobbly legs. He had made it.
He had actually made it! Twice now he’d talked to Teeleh and survived. The big, ugly bat wasn’t all that powerful after all. It was simply a matter of knowing how to defeat him. Knowledge was the key. You know what to do, and you—
Tom stopped midstride.
There, near the bridge on the opposite shore, silhouetted by the lucent forest, stood the unmistakable figure of a human.
Tanis!
The man stared at Tom, frozen like a statue. In his hands he held a red sword like Tom’s .A sword?
A rush filled the air. Teeleh settled to the ground, directly opposite Tanis. He was no longer the black creature, but the beautiful bat, glowing blue and gold. A chill swept down Tom’s spine.
The Shataiki folded his wings and opened his mouth wide. At first nothing happened. And then he began to make a noise.
The sound that issued past Teeleh’s trembling pink tongue was unlike any Tom had ever heard. It was not speech. It was song. A song with long, low, terrifying notes that seemed to crackle in heavy vibration, slamming into Tom’s chest.
It was as though the beast had harbored the song for a thousand years, perfecting each tone, each word. Saving it for this day.
Words came with the song now.
“Firstborn,” the leader sang out, spreading his wings. In his right wing he carried a fruit. “My friend, come in peace.”
The song reverberated through the air. A lovely song. A song of peace and love and joy and fruit so delicious that no person could possibly resist.
And Tom knew that he must, at all costs.
Tanis watched Teeleh with bulging eyes.
Tom found his voice. He began to yell, to scream at Tanis. But Teeleh only sang louder, drowning him out.
There were two melodies, spun as one, twisted and entwined into a single song. On one strand, beauty. Breathtaking life. On the other, terror. Endless death.
He looked at Tanis. The expression of delight plastered on the man’s face told Tom that Tanis could not hear the other notes. The twisted ones. He heard only the lovely song. The pure tones of song that rivaled those spun by Johan, or those sung by—
And then he recognized one of the melodies. It was from the lake! A song from Elyon!
Tom struggled to his feet as the song’s meaning became clear. He forced air through his lungs. “Run, Tanis!” Tom screamed across the river. “Run!”
Tanis stood transfixed by the large Shataiki.
“Tanis, run!” Tom bellowed.
He reached the Crossing and staggered up its arch. His vision swam from exhaustion and pain, but he forced his feet on. Behind him, Teeleh’s song continued to fill the air.
“Get out of here!” Tom gasped. He crashed into Tanis. Knocked him from his feet. The sword spun into the river.
“Have you lost your mind?”
The man stammered something and scrambled to his feet.
“Run! Just run!” Tom propelled Tanis into the forest.
Behind them Teeleh’s voice rang out a new chorus. “I have powers beyond your imagination, Tanisssss!”
And then the sounds from the Crossing fell away.
They reached the clearing in which Tom had first been healed, fifty paces from the river, and Tom knew that he could not manage another step. His world tipped crazily, and he collapsed on the grass. For a moment he was vaguely aware of Tanis kneeling over him with a fruit in his hands.
Then he was aware of nothing but the distant beating of his heart.
31
Tom sagged on the couch, looking peaceful and sad at the same time, Kara thought. But behind his closed eyes, only God knew what was really happening. He’d been sleeping two hours, but if she was right, two hours could be two days in the colored forest, assuming he didn’t sleep there.
Amazing. If only there was a way for him to bring Rachelle back with him. Or for her to go with Tom.
The bustle of security and secretaries and white-coated lab technicians had eased for the moment, leaving them alone in the large room they were coming to think of as their situation room.
Six hours had passed since Raison had ordered the tests. And still no answer. No definitive answer, anyway. There’d been a ruckus just after Tom had fallen asleep, when Peter had barged into the situation room, mumbling incoherently. Peter turned on his heels and hurried into Raison’s office, white smock flying behind.
But when Kara ran in, Raison insisted the results weren’t conclusive. Even mixed. They had to be sure. Absolutely positive. Another test.
She glanced at her watch. If she didn’t wake him soon, he wouldn’t sleep well tonight, when he might very well need to. She shook him gently.
“Thomas?”
He bolted up. “Tanis!”
Tom’s eyes jerked about the room. He yelled the name of the firstborn from the colored forest. “Tanis!”
“You’re in Bangkok, Thomas,” Kara said.
He looked at her, closed his eyes, and dropped his head. “Man. Man, oh man, that was bad.”
“What happened?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I went into the black forest.”
“And? Did you learn anything?”
“There’s no ship. He’s black! Teeleh is—” He swallowed.
Kara rubbed his back. “Easy. It’s okay. You’re here now.”
He quickly reoriented himself.
“Did you learn anything about the Raison Strain?”
“No . . . he wouldn’t tell me. I . . .” Tom gripped his head, and she saw that his hands were trembling. “Crazy. It was crazy, Kara.”
She put her arm around him and pulled him close. “You’re okay, Thomas. Easy.”
He looked up. “Did anything happen?”
“Nothing positive. They’re still testing.”
Tom sighed and sat back into the couch. Kara stood and paced the carpet, thinking. “You sure you’re okay? I’ve never seen you wake this upset.”
“I’m fine,” he said, but he wasn’t fine.
“Maybe we should bring in a psychologist,” Kara said. “Maybe there’s more of a connection to your dreams than we’re understanding. Or maybe there’s a way to control them more. Give you suggestions while you’re sleeping or something.”
“No. The last thing I want is a shrink crawling around in this crazy mind of mine. The fact is, they have the Raison Strain by now, and I know Teeleh will never tell me what we need to know. It’s hopeless.”
“And is it hopeless there as well?”
“Where?”
“In the colored forest?”
He stood abruptly, gaze lost. He walked to the window and peered out.
He’s fried to the bone.
“I don’t know,” Tom said. He faced her. “If I don’t get back, it might be! Something’s happening to
Tanis. If he crosses . . .” Tom hurried over to her. “I have to get back, Kara. You have to help me get back!”
“You just woke up! We need you here. And you’re asleep there right now, right?”
“I’m unconscious there,” he said.
“You’ll wake when you wake. It doesn’t matter how long you’re awake here. The times don’t correlate, remember? For all you know, someone could be kneeling over you right now, waking you. You can’t control that. What you can control is how long you stay awake here. We need you to be awake now. We need your mind here. The results from the tests will be coming down any minute.”
He thought about it and then nodded. They sat on the couch, side by side.
“You’re sure that you can’t get any more information from the black forest?”
“I’m sure.”
“And Rachelle wasn’t helpful?”
“No.”
“Then what do we have left?”
He frowned in thought. “Monique. I think there’s something about Monique. We need to find her. Maybe there’s something else I can do in the colored forest to find her.”
“I think you’re right; she’s the key.”
“I had her, Kara. She was right there in my arms. I could have thrown her over my shoulders and made it. At the very least, I should have stayed.”
“You had Monique in your arms?”
“She kissed me; that was her distraction while she told me about Svensson and the virus. But that’s not the point.”
“Maybe it is the point,” Kara said. “You obviously have a thing for her, and you hardly know her.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe not. Any other time, maybe. But right now it makes sense.” She stood from the couch. “All this talk of rescuing Rachelle, while at the same time Monique is in desperate need of exactly that. And maybe the connection is even stronger. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you have to rescue Monique. Maybe it’s not a matter of stopping Svensson, but rescuing Monique. Maybe your dreams are telling you that. Why else are you falling in love with her?”
He started to object but thought better of it.
“I mean, from everything I’ve heard, stopping someone from spreading a virus is almost impossible anyway. Fine, let the authorities do that.”
“Great, and Tom goes after Monique. No need for professionals, CIA, Rangers, SWAT teams. No fear, Tom is here.”
“You managed pretty well this morning,” Kara said.
He turned back to the window, hands on hips. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Yes, you can,” Kara said. “And for all we know, it’s just starting. Maybe you need a few new skills.”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m serious, Tom. Look at you. You don’t die; you don’t fight like any man I’ve seen. You—”
“Trust me, that guy could break my neck with one kick. Fact is, he did kill me. Twice.”
“You don’t sound very dead to me. Listening to you on the phone, you’re sounding anything but dead these days. You’re even turning into a bit of a romantic. Stop being so stubborn about this. I’m just supporting you.”
He took a deep breath. “I’m just Tom, Kara. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to do this. I’m tired, and I feel like a wet rag.” He suddenly looked like he was on the verge of tears.
Kara walked up to him and put an arm around his waist. He lowered his head on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Tom. I don’t know what else to say. Other than I love you. You’re right, you’re just Tom. But I have a feeling Tom is a much bigger person than anyone, including myself, can possibly guess. I think we’ve all just seen the beginning.”
The door flew open to their right. Jacques de Raison stepped in, face blank.
“So?” Tom said. “You have it?”
“Monique’s right. You’re right. The vaccine mutates at 179.47 degrees. As far as we can tell, the resulting virus is extremely contagious and very probably quite lethal.”
“What a surprise,” Thomas said.
Valborg Svensson wore a soft smirk that refused to budge from his face. In his right hand he held a sealed vial of yellow fluid that diffused the glare of an overhead spotlight. His left hand rested on his lap, quivering slightly. He squeezed his fingers together.
“Who would ever have guessed?” he said. “History changed because of a few drops of such an innocuous-looking yellow liquid and one man who had the stomach to use it.”
Eight technicians milled in the lab below, talking, stealing furtive glances up at the window behind which he sat. Mathews, Sestanovich, Burton, Myles . . . the list went on. Some of the world’s most accomplished and, as of late, highest-paid virologists. They had sold their souls for his cause. All in the name of science, of course. With a little misdirection from him. They were simply developing lethal viruses for the sake of antiviruses. How many of them truly believed what they were doing was so innocuous, Svensson didn’t care. The fact was, they all took his money. More important, they all understood the price of compromising confidentiality.
“Bring her up,” he said.
Carlos left without a word.
How many billions had he invested in this venture? Too many to count offhand. They meticulously explored the most advanced science, and yet, in the end, it came down to a vaccine and a bit of luck.
Svensson knew the history of biowarfare well enough to recite in his sleep.
1346: Tartars send soldiers infected with the plague over the wall in the siege of Caffa on the Black Sea.
1422: Attacking forces launch decaying cadavers over castle walls in Bohemia.
American Revolution: British forces expose civilians to smallpox in Quebec and Boston. The Boston attempt fails; the one in Quebec ravages the Continental Army.
World War I: Germans target livestock being shipped into Allied countries. Overall impact on war: negligible.
World War II: Unit 731 of the Imperial Japanese Army directs biowarfare on a massive scale against China. As many as ten thousand die in Manchuria in 1936. In 1940, bags of plague-infected fleas are dropped over the cities of Ningbo and Quzhou. By the end of the war, the Americans and the Soviets have developed significant bioweapons programs.
Cold War: Both the United States and the Soviet Union bioweapons programs reach new heights, exploring the use of hundreds of bacteria, viruses, and biological toxins. In 1972, more than one hundred nations sign the Biological and Toxin Weapons Convention, banning production of biological weapons. There is no enforcement. In 1989, Vladimir Pasechnik defects to Britain and tells of the Soviets’genetically altered superplague, an antibiotic-resistant inhalation anthrax. The Soviet program employs thousands of specialists, many who scatter when the Soviet Union crumbles. Some of these specialists take up residence in Iraq. Others take up residence in the Swiss Alps, under the thumb of Valborg Svensson.
Dawn of the twenty-first century: The first truly successful use of any biological weapon is unleashed. The Raison Strain redefines modern power structures.
The last wasn’t yet a matter of history, of course. But the vial in Svensson’s hand said it would be soon. In reality, biological weapons were still in their infancy, unlike nuclear weapons. Anyone who understood this also understood that whoever won the unspoken race to perfect the right bioweapon would wield more power than any man who had ever preceded him. Period.
The door opened and Carlos marched a disheveled Monique de Raison forward.
“Sit,” Svensson said.
She sat with a little encouragement from Carlos.
“Do you know what would happen if I dropped this vial?” Svensson asked. He didn’t expect an answer. “Nothing for three weeks, if your friend is right. And I will say that our people think he very well may be. He was right about the virus, why not about the incubation period?”
Still no reaction. She believed this much already.
“If you only knew the trouble we’ve accepted over numerous years to be in this posi
tion today. Monoclonal antibody research, gene probes, combinatorial chemistry, genetic engineering—we’ve scoured every corner of Earth for the right breakthrough.”
Her eyes remained on the vial.
“And today I have that breakthrough. The Raison Strain—it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? What I need now is the antivirus, or an antidote. There are two ways I can proceed with this task. One: I can have my people work on the numbers we already have. They will eventually develop precisely what I need. Or, two: I can persuade you to develop what I need. You know more about these genes than anyone alive. Either way, I will have an antivirus. But I rather prefer a quick solution to one that drags out for days or weeks or months, don’t you?”
“You honestly think I would lift a finger to help you with any part of this . . . this insanity?” She had the look of someone who was seriously considering an assault. If her hands weren’t bound, she might have tried. Her spirit was entirely noble.
“You already have,” he said. “You’ve created the vaccine, and You’ve provided more research than I could have hoped for. Now it’s time to help us with the cure. A cure doesn’t interest you, Monique?”
“Without the antivirus, you have nothing.”
“Not true,” Svensson said. “I have the virus. And I will use it. Either way.”
“Then throw it on the floor now,” she said evenly. “We’ll die together.”
He smiled. “Don’t tempt me. But I won’t ,because I know that you will help us. If nothing else, the fact that this virus now exists will force your hand. Every day that passes without a way to protect the world’s population against this disease is a day closer to your torment.”
“You think my father isn’t already working on an antivirus?”
“But how long will it take him? Months, best case. I, on the other hand, have some idea where to begin. I’m confident we can do it in a week. With your help, of course.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
She would change her mind within twenty-four hours.
“I’ll give you twelve hours to change your mind on your own. Then I will change it for you.”
She didn’t react.
“No more word, Carlos?”
