Chaos

by Ted Dekker

  It took them only a few minutes to reach their prison and shuffle him into a plain white holding room with a table and chairs, all made of a white material like wood, but smoother and more uniform, Johnis had never felt as lost as he did now.

  “CALL ME SERGEANT CRAMSEY,” THE OFFICER SAID, OFFERing his hand and sitting across the table from Johnis. “What would your name be?”

  Seated here so helplessly, Johnis considered his options with growing pessimism. Silvie was out there, completely lost without him. They had no idea where Darsal or Karas were or how to get word to them. He was no longer sure if Las Vegas really was a Horde city from the past or some kind of mix between human and Scab.

  What he did know was that he felt sick for having lost Silvie. The forlorn sound of her voice crying for him from beyond the wall made his belly rise each time he thought about it, and he couldn’t get her cry out of his mind. Tears threatened to overtake his eyes. He turned away from the man, unsure if he should tell him his name.

  Then again, the only way to find Silvie, Darsal, or Karas was to make his whereabouts known, Johnis faced the Cramsey, “My name is Johnis.”

  “Last name?”

  “Just Johnis. Johnis of Middle.”

  “Well, Johnis Middle, seems you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble.” He flipped through a report in his hands. “Reckless driving, speeding, stolen vehicle, disrupting the peace, attempted manslaughter … What the heck were you thinking, boy?”

  “I was thinking they wanted to execute me.”

  “You expect me to believe that you raced into the Excalibur with real weapons and put a blade to a man’s throat because you believed someone was after you?”

  Johnis looked up at a thin glass box with moving pictures. Another amazing invention from the Histories. It was all far more than he could grasp.

  “What is that?”

  The officer looked at the glass box. “A Net screen. The Net, the news. I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen the Net.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

  A box on the man’s waist burped, and he lifted it to his ear. He listened, eyes flittering to the Net, then Johnis. He lifted another instrument with multiple buttons and waved it at the glass box. The Net. The picture changed to a fuzzy one of a woman on a stage. The one behind held a knife to the other’s neck. The picture grew larger.

  Johnis jumped to his feet. “Silvie?” How was that possible? She was in the box, or an image of her was in the box.

  Silvie was on a stage, holding a singer hostage, surrounded by a dozen panicked onlookers.

  “You know her?” Cramsey asked. He pressed another burton, and voices spoke from the box. Johnis watch in stunned amazement.

  “… moments ago an unidentified assailant rushed in from the side of the stage and took Mira Silver, lead singer of the band The Crying Shame, hostage at knife point … uh … honestly, this is quite unprecedented. The show was being aired live, Gene. What we’re seeing is live. I repeat, we are live at the Excalibur in Las Vegas, where an unknown …”

  The sound went dead.

  “You know her?”

  “It’s Silvie! Yes, yes, I know her,” Johnis scrambled over to the Net and slapped its side, “What happened to her voice?”

  As if by magic, the box spoke again, and he jumped back. Silvie was screaming now.

  “You hear me? Not a hundred yards from here they took my lover, Johnis of Middle. He was guilty of nothing but following the directives of the Roush to find the lost Books of History, three of which are in this world.”

  She paused, panting, eyes wide. Her strained voiced came again, wavering in fear this time.

  “I realize these are extreme measures, but …” A close-up showed her face, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “You give me no choice. I know you have him. Give me Johnis, and I will let this one live.”

  Johnis spun to Cramsey, who was eyeing him carefully. “You have to take me to her. She’ll kill her!”

  No sign of concern crossed the man’s face.

  Johnis plopped in a chair. “Then her blood is on your head. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. Believe me when I say I know Silvie. She’d gut a hundred Scabs before one could put a blade in her. This will not end well!”

  He knew that he was overly expressive, but his eagerness to undo what he had drawn Silvie into was overpowering.

  Silvie was talking again. “I mean no harm. But don’t think we can be discounted easily. My name is Silvie of Southern, and I will not rest until I have Johnis of Middle in my arms again.” She caught herself, then pushed forward.

  “We did not come here to cause any trouble but to save humanity before the Dark One enslaves us all. You must set him free. I beg you!”

  Johnis slammed his fist on the table. “Free us!”

  “Settle down, boy. If I free you now, it’ll be right into the custody of the fruit farm. You want that?”

  “As long as I’m with her”—he stood and shoved his finger at the box—“you may put me wherever you wish.”

  “Then talk her in. Tell her this is all a mistake. We can sort out the ‘Books of History’ business later.”

  Silvie was pulling her hostage backward now, her knife pressed tight against her skin. Mira Silver looked like she’d swallowed a lemon, but she wasn’t a hysterical mess like others around her. The picture jerked to show the audience who’d come to watch The Crying Shame perform.

  They both walked off stage, disappeared behind the curtain.

  Johnis stared after Silvie, wishing her to reappear. The announcer came back on, explaining what she’d already said. Cramsey silenced the box.

  “If I can see her on this box, can she see me?” Johnis demanded.

  “I don’t know what you two are up to, but you’ve just bought yourself more trouble than you can imagine.”

  “I have to talk to her! Can she see me?”

  The door opened and another officer walked in. He glanced up at the muted Net. “You see that?”

  “Yes, sir. I did.”

  “She has Mira Silver held up in her dressing room. The mayor wants the casino evacuated. This thing’s playing on every channel on the Web.” The man glanced at Johnis. “Get anywhere with him?”

  “They’re partners, sir. He wants to talk to her.”

  The superior frowned. “Mira Silver, of all people. She might as well have taken the president hostage. This doesn’t look good, Jake. The news is reporting that this one made a fool of our boys on the south side.”

  “Then you must let me talk to her now,” Johnis said. “Before she makes fools of even more of your men.”

  “She ain’t making fools of my men. Because when she comes out, we’re going to put her down.”

  ilvie paced before the mirror, absently twirling both bone-handled knives by her side. The soft whirring sound was a faint reminder of her place in another world where she was Silvie of Southern, chosen from one thousand young fighters to lead. A hero, skilled with knives and, above all, Forest Guard in the service of Thomas of Hunter.

  Yet here …

  Here she was a fugitive who’d taken a singer hostage in desperation, lost from Johnis, whom she loved. Here she was a mouse among elephants, a spider in the lake, an emotional wreck with a captive who was far more at ease than she.

  “You know you’re toast down here,” Mira said.

  “Hush! I’m trying to think.”

  Silvie looked at the woman studying her with an even gaze. Mira looked to be in her early twenties, a dancer who could sing as well as anyone Silvie had heard in the forests. The dance moves she’d seen the performer execute were more rigid and precise than those the dancers in Southern preferred, but even in the few moments she watched through the curtains before her attack, Silvie could see that she was a master of her craft.

  “I can help you think,” Mira said.

  “You take me for a fool who needs the help of an artist?”

  “The
thought had crossed my mind. Why are you dressed up like that?”

  “I’m a fighter, not a dancer who prances about in a short skirt.”

  “A fighter who’s looking for the lost Books of History,” Mira said. “Right, I’d forgotten. Problem is”—she stood, against Silvie’s orders, and started for the door—“no one here has any clue who this Johnis is or what the Books of History are. You’re wasting your time.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  Silvie sprang for the singer, dragged her back to her seat, and pushed her down. “I told you I’d bind you if you tried to get away.”

  “Ouch. Not so hard!”

  “I told you: I’m a warrior not a dancer. Breaking your neck is something I could do with one hand. Don’t test me.”

  Silvie snatched up a tubular contraption with a cord attached and wound the cord around Mira’s wrists, then tied it off. “Stay!”

  “Tell me about these little white, fuzzy creatures again.”

  She’d made the mistake of telling Mira about the Roush and the Shataiki in an attempt to gain her understanding. Her explanations had gained her only the kind of sympathy you might have for an idiot.

  “The Roush,” she said.

  “Sounds like fun. But here, in the real world, there are no little fuzzy bats. You just have to accept that, Silvie. No Roush are coming to your rescue. Outside this room, they’ll shoot you dead for what you’ve done. I may be your prisoner for the moment, honey, but trust me, I’m the only one around here who can help you.”

  “And how would you do that?” Silvie snapped. She felt like dropping to her knees and sobbing, right there in front of Mira. “They took Johnis!”

  “You’re in love with Johnis, and I can appreciate that. But you don’t take a girl hostage for love. Not if you want to stay out of prison—and especially nor a famous pop star!”

  “He’s not just the one I love! He’s the chosen one, singled out by the Roush and by Elyon himself to recover the seven lost Books of History before the—”

  “—Dark One enslaves the world,” Mira finished. “Yes, I know. But you have to get a grip here, honey. They’re going to crucify you out there.”

  “But you believe me, right?”

  “Well, yes, I can help you.”

  “Fine. Tell me.”

  “For starters, you have to start communicating,” Mira said.

  “How?”

  “There’s no phone in here; you’ll have to pass them a note. Tell them there’s been a misunderstanding. Get some dialogue going. Turn on the Net and find out what they’re saying on the news. Get a feeling for what you’ve done.”

  “What’s a Net?”

  Mira grinned. “Come on, don’t do that.”

  “I’m not doing anything. Where Johnis and I come from, there is no such thing that I’ve heard of.”

  “Okay, fine. See that black box over there?” She motioned to a glass box with her chin. “You push the little green button below the screen.”

  Silvie walked up to the Net, keeping Mira in her peripheral view in the event this was a ploy. “How do I know this isn’t some fancy weapon that will finish me off?”

  “Let me turn it on, if you doubt me.” “No.”

  “Then push the button! It won’t bite.”

  Silvie pushed the button. A picture filled the glass surface, and she jumped back, ready to defend against any attack.

  “See, no harm. Now hand me the remote.” Mira nodded at a black object on the counter. She handed the remote to her prisoner, who pressed another button.

  The picture on the Net changed. A woman with dark hair was talking earnestly about what they were calling “the Mira Silver kidnapping.” But what amazed Silvie even more was the smaller box to the woman’s right on which the events of the kidnapping were being played out nearly identically as …

  No, it was an actual replay of what had happened. Silvie watched herself behind Mira, crying out for all to hear her demands.

  “That’s us!”

  “You really don’t know what the Net is?”

  The picture suddenly changed. An image of a prison filled the glass. Vertical bars behind which stood a man.

  Johnis.

  “It’s …” Silvie took a step back, stunned at the sight. “Its Johnis.” They had Johnis in a prison! “I told you!” she cried.

  Mira didn’t reply.

  The picture of him grew until his whole face filled the screen, showing clearly his dusty cheeks, his small, smudged nose. A cut on his lip—from his fight in the arena or from torture, she couldn’t tell.

  Then his voice, as clear as if he were standing in that very room, was talking to her.

  “Silvie …” He paused, glancing to his right. “I’ve made a deal to tell them everything I know in exchange for going on the Net, so I hope you can hear me. I saw what you did, Silvie. And I’m moved that you would put yourself in such danger for me. For us. None of them seem to have a clue about the Books of History, but I believe that when this is all over, you will be remembered as much as …”

  He glanced off to his right and snapped at whoever was watching him on the other end. “I’ll say what I want; that is what we agreed to!”

  He returned his attention to the screen. “Forgive me. You will be remembered for your bravery. The Roush are watching, Silvie. History itself is watching. For all we know, Thomas Hunter is watching.”

  “Who?” Mira asked.

  “Thomas Hunter,” Silvie said absently. “Supreme commander of the Forest Guard.”

  “The Thomas Hunter?”

  Silvie ignored her. She moved closer to the Net.

  Johnis took a deep breath. “They’ve shown me the forces gathered around the Excalibur, Silvie. Chevys too many to count. ‘Police cars,’ they’re called. Officers armed with the fire sticks. Shotguns. The only hope we have is for you to join me here, where they’ve given me their word they will listen to our story.”

  She could read the pleading lines in his face, no sign that he was saying one thing while sending a different signal.

  “If they were the Horde, I would tell you to fight your way out or die trying. But I don’t think they are. Stupid, yes, but not wrong in what they are doing. And Darsal, Karas, if you see me or hear me, please come to our aide. Our lives may now depend on you.”

  He paused again, then spoke softly.

  “I love you, Silvie.”

  “And I love you, Johnis,” she said. Tears flooded her eyes. “I love you!”

  The picture changed to the announcer again. “Well, there you have it, ladies and gentleman, in this most unusual …”

  Silvie spun to her prisoner. “Take me to him! Make me your captive and protect me. Just take me to him. It’s all I ask.”

  A faint smile crossed Mira’s mouth. “You love him.”

  “I do! More than you know!”

  “Just like that?”

  “Don’t you see? He’s used this invention of yours to call out to Darsal and Karas. You said this will be seen by many,”

  “By half the world. And you’ll be lucky if they don’t lock you up,”

  “Without Darsal and Karas our mission is lost. If they’re alive, I hope they will have seen us on this Net of yours. Take me to Johnis.”

  Mira didn’t jump and run for the door as any weaker captive might have. She studied Silvie with what could be interpreted as empathy. Mira was a true romantic at heart, likely what inspired her performances on stage.

  “You’re in a predicament, honey.”

  he stood in the main library, eyes fixed on the large screen that replayed the events half a world away in Las Vegas, Nevada. So then, he was right. They weren’t the quiet type, these chosen ones.

  Desire sliced through her chest. It had begun, hadn’t it? The fate of so many after so much time rested in what so few would do in the next few days.

  A voice spoke behind her, soft but as definite as a hammer to the forehead. “Bri
ng them to me.”

  She turned casually. He was dressed in the black cape.

  “The books and Johnis, as planned.”

  “I know my role,” she snapped. “Concern yourself with yours.”

  “Yet you’re still here.”

  She strode toward the door.

  “Remember, Mirandaaaaa …” He let her name fade in a breath. She stopped at the door but did not face him. “If you fail me now, you’ll be dead before they are. I don’t need you.”

  She resisted the temptation to explain to him how wrong he was. Useless. In the seven years they’d known each other, she’d never known him to make even the slightest miscalculation in his judgment. Except this one.

  “Godspeed,” he said.

  Oh, the irony of it all.

  ohnis and Silvie sat in the same jail cell, waiting for the authorities to make some sense of the psychiatrists findings, though Silvie couldn’t imagine that the results of such an absurd test could have any bearing on guilt or innocence.

  The fact was, they were both guilty of all of it. They had stolen a Chevy. Fled the police. Driven recklessly. Caused a disturbance at the Excalibur. Kidnapped a world-famous pop star. And lived to tell.

  This morning their faces had filled the Net screen nonstop. It was now afternoon, and already the attention had shifted to other interests, which was fine by them.

  “The doctors a charlatan!” Johnis snapped, walking the length of their ten-by-ten cell. They’d been permitted to share the cell, as negotiated by Johnis as part of Silvie’s surrender.

  “Agreed.” Silvie said.

  “Boxes and triangles and … bah!” Johnis dismissed the examination with a flip of his wrist.

  “So we just wait?”

  “What else?”

  Johnis had explained his reasoning. Silvie’d been right: he’d used the Net to reach Darsal and Karas. But neither had.

  “For all we know, they’re dead,” Silvie said.

  “Then so are we.”

  “You don’t believe that. We’ve been in worse predicaments. In Teeleh’s lair. In the Horde city.”