by Ted Dekker
“It’s true!” the robed one cried, stepping back. “The prophecy is as I, Ba’al, servant of Teeleh, swore it to be. The lion has surrendered to the lamb, seen here as the firstfruits. The son of Qurong has surrendered to the Albino and intends to lead all Horde into damnation!”
This was Ba’al. The one who’d first poisoned me. Did he recognize my face?
“It’s a lie,” Jacob said, rising to his feet. “The prophecy speaks of peace for all, not suffering.”
“And yet you come in heresy and deception.” Ba’al lifted a crooked finger to me. “She’s the 49th turned into Horde to blind us to her deception! I see her face now, from the pit of hell itself. By sorcery and the twisting of minds she’s blinded the son of Qurong as only a sorcerer can.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.
My words stopped them all. So I said more.
“It’s true, I am the 49th Mystic, but I didn’t deceive Jacob. I love him. I loved him while he was still Horde.”
“And now you seek to deceive us!” Ba’al cried. “You come to trick us with clever words.” He spun to Qurong, who stared unblinking at Jacob. “The Elyonites have sent you your son, diseased and lost to us forever. We must prevail, or this”—he stabbed his finger at Jacob—“this will be the fate of all Horde!”
“No!” Jacob snapped. “Do I look diseased to you?”
“See there,” Ba’al returned. “The disease has blinded his mind as well. He doesn’t even know he’s diseased. We must take the 49th and force her to betray all Mystics, all Albinos, all that would force us into a submission of death.”
Talya chuckled. “How blind you all are, Horde and Albino both. Freedom stares you in the face and yet you run back to the prison, thinking it will protect you from the shadow.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“So I will say what I have come to say and we will be on our way. Jacob will go to see his mother as any son has the right to do. The 49th will go with me to face her greatest fears. And you are free to wage your war. But you must know what I told the others. If you live by the sword, you will die by the sword. You reap what you sow. If you sow in fear, you will reap more fear. If in love, then love. The choice is yours—remember that when the blood reaches your ankles.”
“Liar!” Ba’al cried.
My eyes were on Qurong, who may not have heard a word. His eyes were still fixed on Jacob.
The ruler suddenly dropped to his knees, eyes misted with tears. At first I thought he might be yielding to Jacob, but in the next moment he grabbed his hair, threw his head back, and wailed.
Jacob stepped forward. “Father . . .”
Qurong clawed at his shirt, ripped it open and wept in mourning, a father who’d just lost his only son. The sound of his anguish made me shiver.
“Father, please—”
“Away from me!” Qurong’s eyes were red with rage. He shoved a thick finger at the desert. “Away!”
“We must take them!” Ba’al snapped.
“Leave!” Qurong roared. He slumped over his knees and shook with sobs.
Ba’al glared, resolute. The commanders stood with firm jaws, hands on their swords. Jacob stumbled back to his horse and swung into his saddle.
Talya dipped his head. “As you wish.”
Judah rose and trotted west, toward the deep desert. Without a second look, Talya followed. Jacob and I fell in behind, torn by mixed emotions.
None of us spoke for the next half hour as we passed through the Horde untouched, or when we’d left them behind.
I was Horde and didn’t know what to make of myself.
Jacob was Albino and didn’t know what to make of his father’s sorrow.
Talya was Mystic and didn’t make anything of our confusion, which annoyed me even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to hold a grievance.
What is seeing beyond what you think should be?
I let the finger point but couldn’t see what it was pointing to. How could I, when I was blind again?
“But of course you are,” Talya said, pulling his mount to a halt. “And your journey is now to see light in that darkness. Isn’t that what the Third Seal on your arm tells you?” He shoved his chin at the mountains to the north. “To this end, I will take you where few dare tread.” He looked at me with a raised brow. “The Fourth and Fifth Seals call to you.”
I didn’t want to go where few dared tread. Jacob was staring west, face set. When he turned to me I saw the marks left by tears on his cheeks.
“Say your good-byes,” Talya said. “Both worlds await you, 49th. Time is short.”
Ancient Earth was so distant in my mind in the wake of becoming Horde. When I slept that night, I would awaken there in my dream, stripped of identity by the MEP.
And if I died there?
I would die here.
But I slipped from my horse, eager to offer Jacob whatever comfort I could. He was already on the sand by the time I rounded my mount. He wrapped me up in his strong arms. Bound together, we let ourselves cry.
Only two days ago our conditions had been reversed and we’d loved each other. Now we did the same, oblivious to my condition for the moment. In his embrace, I had no disease.
Jacob took my cheeks in his hands and kissed my cracked lips. “I have to go, you understand? I’m called to my mother, but I’ll return, I swear it. Promise me you’ll be here when I return.”
“I will,” I whispered through the ache in my throat.
He lifted my sleeve, and for the first time I saw that the seals were still on my arm, unaffected by the flaking skin. “Do whatever you have to do. Find the seals. If that means you must surrender me, then surrender me. But please, I beg you, come to me alive.”
“I’ll never surrender you, Jacob.”
To this he said nothing. Instead he kissed me again. “I love you. I love you as life itself.”
16
I WAS FAR too familiar with the dense fog that normally clogged my brain whenever I woke from sleep. The ever-present drugs had that effect—a tiny price to pay for the benefits they brought me.
This time it was different. I was in a dreamless sleep one moment, and the next awake. But even to say that I was familiar with the fog of drugs or that my waking this time was different is misleading.
I awoke with no recollection of anything. No drugs, no name, no memories at all, and no idea that I should even have memories.
I was simply . . . well . . . I was.
It was an awareness more than a thought, and it lasted for what felt like a very long time.
I was staring at a bright light above me, powered by electricity. I was in a body. A female body that was lying on a bed with light blue sheets in a room with humming machines.
Something was in my arm.
I turned my head and saw a man with an instrument—a syringe—stuck in my arm. His eyes met mine and he pulled the needle out.
“There we go. Sorry for waking you so quickly,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “But we don’t have much time.”
“Hi,” I said, amazed to be seeing a man attending to me. His hair was blond and curly and his eyes were blue. There was sweat on his forehead.
“Hi, Rachelle.” He smiled at me. “Rachelle, that’s your name. My name’s Steve. Do you remember?”
I tried to, but nothing came to me, so I shook my head.
“Not a problem, there’s nothing to worry about. You just need to do exactly as I say, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good.” He grabbed a stack of clothes from a chair next to him. “Hurry, put these clothes on.”
Without any concern, I sat up, took the blue jeans, and pulled them on. Then the black T-shirt and the socks and shoes as he talked in a hurried voice.
“Remember everything I’m about to tell you, okay? You’re in the recovery room at DARPA. They erased your memories, so everything will seem new to you, but you’ve actually been here for four months. Not all your memories, only
personal memories. That’s why you don’t know who you are. Does that make sense?”
Did it? “I guess.” None of it alarmed me.
“Do you know what danger is?”
“Danger?” I said, pulling on my right shoe. “Of course I do.”
“Do you feel any danger now?”
“No.”
He paced as I pulled on my left shoe and laced it up. A perfect tie. They were Converse shoes. I liked them. A lot.
“No, of course you don’t. But I need you to. Cruel, I know. Normally you would be eased out of innocence, but I need you to understand that staying here will end very badly for you. There’s someone out there named Vlad who wants to stop you.”
“Stop me from what?” I asked, standing. Steve wanted me to go with him before someone named Vlad stopped me.
“That isn’t important right now. We have to get you out of here. If anyone tries to stop us, we have to get past them. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He picked up a green apple from the cart next to the bed and tossed it to the side. “Catch.”
I flew to it and snatched it from the air just before it hit the ground. Fast, faster than lightning. I grinned at him. “Like that?”
“Like that.” He seemed pleased. “If anyone tries to stop us, move quick, like that. Stop them from stopping us, okay? Distract them or something. If you have to, hurt them.”
I tossed the apple into the trash can. “Hurt how?”
“Stop them. Just make it so they can’t hurt us.”
“Why would they hurt us?”
He peered through the blinds before turning back. “Think of it like a game. A rough one. Don’t worry, they won’t be hurt for long.” He rolled a wheelchair up to me. “Sit here.”
When I sat down, he threw a blanket over my lap and chest, adjusting it so most of my body was covered.
“We’re going down the hall to an elevator. When we get to the garage, we’ll leave the wheelchair and run to my car. I need you to hide behind the front seat. Once we’re clear of the facility, you can climb up front. Okay?”
He was breathing hard. Excited.
“Sure.”
“Can you still read minds?”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind.” He took one last glance through the blinds. “Don’t say anything to anyone. In fact, pretend you’re sleeping, it’s better that way.”
“Close my eyes?”
“Until I tell you to open them.”
“Okay.”
He grabbed the chair from behind and wheeled me backward toward the door.
“Now?” I asked.
“Now what?”
“Close my eyes now?”
“Yes.”
I heard him open the door. Felt the chair roll as he spun me around and hurried down the hall. I did peek through my eyelashes once halfway down the hall, but that was it. I could feel us turning a corner and hear distant voices from another room. Then the sound of elevator doors opening. Ding. He rolled me in.
“Can I open—”
“Shh,” he said. “Wait.”
So I did, wondering why I should keep my eyes closed in an elevator. But when the door closed he tapped me on the shoulder.
“Okay.”
“Now?”
“You can open your eyes.”
I smiled up at him. “Well, that was easy.”
“We’re not out yet. We have to get past the guards.”
The bell dinged again and the metal doors slid open to a parking facility. I saw the guard as soon as we exited the elevator, a man dressed in black with a gun on his belt. He was leaning against the wall to our right, reading something on his phone.
But I didn’t feel any concern or fear. That was just a man with a gun reading a phone.
Steve wheeled me toward a line of black cars.
“Steve?” the guard called out. “What’s going on?”
“Hey, Curt. Taking her to evaluation in the east building. Crazy business out there, huh?”
“They have DC locked down.” He paused. “The east building? You’ll have to take the tunnel. Director’s orders, no one leaves these premises without her authorization.”
“Seriously?” We stopped halfway to the cars. “It’s faster to swing around the block with the construction. Last time I was down there, the train wasn’t running.”
“Running now. I’m sorry, you’ll have to head back down. I could call if you want.”
Steve turned the chair to face him. He left me there and walked up to the guard named Curt. “Look, she’s just been through a horrible ordeal. I’m sure you heard we were at the church bombing. We had to sedate her—”
“The whole world knows she was there. All the more reason. I’m sorry, man. Orders.”
I could see that the guard’s mood had shifted. He was glancing between us now, concerned. Maybe now was when I was supposed to stop him from stopping us, though I had no idea how I, a person half his size, could stop him from doing anything.
“You have the latest feeds?” Steve asked, nodding at the man’s phone.
“’Course.”
“What are they saying?”
Curt looked at his phone and when he did, Steve rushed him, slamming him back against the wall.
The startled guard grunted and grabbed at his gun, but Steve was too quick. He slapped the gun away, clamped his hand over Curt’s mouth, and shoved his head back into the concrete. The guard swung back wildly, only missing Steve’s head by a smidge.
I watched it all as if it was happening in slow motion, captivated by the movements. What if Curt had pulled his gun and shot Steve?
The first stab of fear I could remember hit me with that thought. And then Curt got his teeth around the fingers at his mouth and bit down hard. Steve roared.
I didn’t consciously think about what I was doing. I just moved, as if I had always known exactly how to deal with a situation like this.
I bolted from the chair and ran low, leaning into each flying stride, and reached them before either one knew I’d left my chair. From there, it was simple. I just brought my hand up into Curt’s chin as I straightened.
My palm connected with the underside of his jaw, snapping it back with enough force to knock him out. With a grunt, he went limp and dropped to the concrete.
I jumped back. Stared at Curt’s crumpled body, surprised by my handiwork.
“Stop him like that?” I said.
“Run!”
Steve ignored his bloody hand, spun me around and ran, half dragging me until I caught up. “Will he be okay?”
“He’ll be fine.” He crashed into his car and threw the back door wide. “In! Lie on the floor!”
So I crawled in and lay facedown. The door slammed shut at my feet. Then he was around and sliding in. The electric car whirred to life as we backed up.
But I was still thinking of Curt, who was on the ground, hurt. I’d done that. Steve said to pretend it was a game, but how could it be? If it was, Steve wouldn’t have a bloody hand, right? Did people play those kinds of games?
The car flew over a bump and I bounced a foot off the floor. Muffled voices were yelling outside the car. We smashed through something but kept moving, faster now. We took a corner at full speed and my head plowed into the far door.
“Ouch! Slow down, I’m getting hurt back here.”
“I can’t slow down!” he shouted. “Hold on!”
We flew around another corner.
“We’re in one of the company’s clean cars and I’ve disabled the private link so it’s untraceable, but we have to get clear of sight.” He was short of breath and scared, and suddenly I was too. “We’re gonna make it, just another minute.”
I hunkered down for another minute, but I didn’t like the feelings running through me. What if I’d hit Curt too hard? What if he was dead? Steve wanted me to feel danger, and I did, I thought. But I didn’t like it.
“Okay,” Steve finally said. “We’re clear
for now, but every patrol in town probably already knows we’re on the run. Maybe it’s best for you to stay where you are.”
I popped up and looked between the seats. “Why? They already saw the car, right?”
“True. Okay, jump up.”
I clambered over the seats and dropped into the passenger’s side.
“How do you know Curt’s okay?” I asked. “I think I hit him pretty hard.”
“There’s a lot more at stake here than Curt. I’ll explain as soon as I can, but I have to get out of the city. Friend of mine’s father-in-law has a cabin near Shenandoah National Park. No one lives out there. I know where they hide the key. I have to get you there so we can stop and figure this out.”
“Figure what out?” I looked out the front windshield. We’d pulled onto a large highway, surrounded by dozens of cars, some with drivers, some without. “I don’t like this. Why can’t you explain now?”
He kept looking in the mirrors, hands gripping the wheel as if he was afraid it might get away from him.
“Steve?”
“Sorry. I was just . . . I just hope I’m doing the right thing.”
“Why would you be doing the wrong thing?” I asked, looking over my shoulder. No one was following us that I could see. But my heart was now pounding like a drum.
“I’m not. They’re gonna pin the church bombing on you. I should have seen something like this coming!” He slammed the steering wheel and I flinched.
“What church bombing? And why do I know some things but not other things?”
“Like I said, your history is gone—your declarative, episodic memory that stores contextual information like time and place and the things that happened in those contexts. But your procedural and semantic memory are still intact. You have your learned skills and can speak. You know facts, like the car, but you have no memory of ever being in one. Assuming whatever they gave you works like the MEP.”
“What’s MEP?” Now I was truly alarmed.
“I’m so sorry, Rachelle.” He was shaking his head, looking at me with sympathy, which only made things worse. Then looking forward again.
“MEP, Memory Editing Protocol. It’s a cutting-edge technology that erases and replaces memory. In your case, hopefully only erase. Normally a few weeks of controlled acclimation are required with a clean wipe because a new mind has no context for danger or fear. Like a child. You can fear but have no context for it. These things are learned. Learning too quickly can be devastating.”
