Chaos

by Ted Dekker

  “Did Teeleh have shotguns? Or flying cars? Do you see Roush or the Guard rushing to our defense? We don’t even have the books we came with. The authorities took everything!”

  Their battle dress and the books had been confiscated, along with their knives. They now wore the white-and-brown striped slacks and smocks common among all prisoners here.

  Silvie walked up to the bars and gripped them with both hands. “We have each other.”

  No response from Johnis. When she turned, she saw that he was nibbling on his fingernail, lost in thought.

  “You forget so quickly?” Silvie demanded.

  “What? What—no. Yes, we have each other. It’ll have to do.”

  “Have to do? You threw yourself in a cage for your mother. You nearly gave up your life for Karas. But for me it’ll just ‘have to do ?”

  “No.” He gripped his hair and paced. “That’s not what I meant.”

  The poor boy was reeling; she had no business testing his love at such a time. But the urge to act on her emotions felt irresistible.

  She closed her eyes and bit her lip. You’re as frantic as he, Silvie. Control yourself. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder, pulling her close. Warmth filled her belly. He’d seen her disappointment and rushed to her side.

  Johnis held her in his arms and spoke quickly into her ear. “I’m stronger and faster than I was before. They can’t know, but there’s a chance we may be superior to them.” A few breaths in her ear, enough for her to realize that his embrace was for communication rather than consolation, “Have you noticed?”

  She swallowed. “Yes, but not strong enough to take them on.”

  “But fast enough.”

  “You said yourself, we don’t stand a chance!”

  No response. His suggestion was one of raw desperation.

  A bang on the bars startled them. “Okay, love birds, I’ve got good news for both of you.”

  The guard they called “Guns” grinned at them from beyond the cage. He slapped his palm with a black stick. “The Kook says you two are not. Kooks, that is. You’re as sane as I am, which, to be perfectly honest with you, ain’t saying a lot.”

  He twitched, and nearby another guard chuckled.

  “Now the bad news. Seeing as you aren’t headed to the fruit form right quick, they’re going to ship you down to the main jail, where they send the hard cases.” His twisted grin said it all. “If I was you, I’d think twice about this ‘we’re from another world’ routine, ‘we got no money, no kin, no guilt’ junk, and start making sense.”

  “Back off, Guns.” The detective who’d struck the deal with Johnis spoke from down the hall—Cramsey. “Open it up.”

  Guns sprang the latch, pulled the gate wide. Cramsey stepped up and stared at them. “Seems you have attracted attention from a friend in high places. Mira has suddenly decided to drop all kidnapping charges, and the DA has inexplicably dropped the others, paid off, if you ask me. They’ve made arrangements to release you. But if I see your face again, it wont go easy, you hear? And drop the stupid act. It never works.” Then to someone down the hall, “They’re all yours.”

  A woman walked into view, and Silvie felt her muscles tense. She was slightly older, perhaps in her early twenties, though she carried herself like someone who’d been around much longer.

  Short, well formed, dressed in the blue trousers so many here wore, wearing shoes with high heels, which was also customary in this world, no matter how crippling they seemed. Her blouse was black; she wore a silver necklace with a large onyx pendent in the shape of a circle. Long, brown hair. Green eyes staring at them in wonder. Stern. Silvie knew this woman. She couldn’t place her name, but they’d met.

  For a moment neither spoke. Then the woman dipped her head enough to acknowledge a bond. “Hello, Silvie.” Beat. “It’s been a long time.”

  Johnis took a step forward. “Karas?”

  “Hello, Johnis.”

  s soon as Johnis said it, Silvie knew he was right. This was either Karas or her twin sister, ten years older! “What … how?”

  “Not here,” the woman said. “I have transportation waiting.” Then to Cramsey, a bite in her voice, “Bring them!” “Of course, Ms. Longford.”

  Silvie exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Johnis and followed. The woman walked with clean steps, elegant despite the tall shoes, as those with privilege and authority walked.

  “We came through after she did,” Johnis mumbled to himself. “So long?”

  Karas looked over her shoulder. “Not now.”

  They followed her through the station, out into the open, to a long, black car that waited at the curb. An attendant opened the door for them.

  “Climb in. After you.”

  Silvie and Johnis slid into a richly upholstered chamber with two feeing leather benches, Karas took the seat opposite them and waited for the attendant to close the door.

  Silence engulfed them. Karas stared for a long time, still not smiling, and for a moment Silvie felt more alarm than relief. Then the girl’s eyes flooded with tears that spilled down her cheeks. She lowered her head into one hand and sobbed quietly.

  The car began to move.

  “Is it really you?” Johnis asked.

  Karas lifted her face and beamed through her tears. “Yes, it’s me, you scrapper!” She fell forward on her knees and threw her arms around their necks, pulling them into an embrace that threatened to choke them.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day! Elyon, dear Elyon, I knew it would come!”

  The last of Silvie’s lingering doubts fell like loosed chains. Karas slid back on the leather sear and wiped her cheek with her fingers. “I could hardly believe my eyes when I played the tape last night. I’m sorry; I would have come sooner, but I was at a concert in Amsterdam, How long have you been here?”

  Johnis still looked like he’d been kicked by a mule. “Two days?”

  “Two days!” Karas cried, then cackled with laughter. “So, then, you think the worlds turned inside out.”

  Johnis swallowed. “It has.”

  “What do you know? You’ve seen the lights, the cars? Well, obviously the cars—you’re riding in one. And you were both on the Net. A bit overwhelming, I’m sure.”

  “I’ve mastered the Chevy,” Johnis said.

  She smiled wide. “So I heard.” She began to cry again. “I knew I hadn’t lost my mind. For ten years I’ve had to wonder if it really was all a dream. The forests, the Horde, bathing in the lakes. All of it! But it’s true, isn’t it?”

  “True?” Silvie looked out the window, “The question is, is this true?” She turned back to Karas. “Are you true? I mean, you’re real, of course, but … look at you!”

  “You’re a woman,” Johnis said. There was more than a hint of wonder in his voice, and Silvie wasn’t sure she wanted to share his enthusiasm. She wasn’t just a woman; she was a beautiful woman of significant wealth and influence.

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “Twenty-one. But I tell them ail I’m twenty-four—it suits my place as an entertainment manager in this world. They have a hard enough time believing that someone in her midtwenties could have accomplished what I have. If they knew how young I really was, they’d dig even deeper than they do.”

  “Younger?” Johnis said. “You look old enough.”

  “There’s so much to cover,” Karas said, smiling through her tears. “I’ve hoped for this day for as long as I can remember. Nothing else matters. I’ve done it all hoping that one day I would find you. I just had no idea you would both be so … young still.”

  “We’re sixteen,” Silvie said. “Is that so young?”

  “No. Although in the United States, sixteen isn’t the age of marrying and waging war.” She stopped, clearly overwhelmed. “It’s so … refreshing to talk to someone besides my therapist about Other Earth. Did you know that Thomas Hunter was once a great hero here?”

  “So, he was here?” Johnis asked
in amazement. “This is the place from his dreams?”

  “From what I can tell, Other Earth—that’s what I call it—is the far future of Earth. At some point in the future here, this Earth is destroyed and everything starts over. Thomas Hunter found a way from this reality into that future.”

  “Then … can we?”

  “I don’t know. Not with only one book. Maybe with all four.”

  Karas reached into a box on the seat beside her. She carefully lifted out the brown book Johnis had used and then the green one that had brought Silvie through.

  “I have the black one,” Karas said, brushing her fingers over the covers as if they held the essence of her very life—which they might well.

  “And Darsal?” Johnis asked.

  She lifted her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “Then we have to find her,”

  Once again, tears filled Karas’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a sap. So much has transpired in these last ten years. It’s so good to see you.”

  It occurred to Silvie that, for her and Johnis, only two days had passed since they’d left their world to find themselves here, in the Histories. But Karas had survived here, in this hell, for more than ten years. She wouldn’t have guessed such a thing was possible, especially for a ten-year-old. The poor girl had suffered enormously.

  “So much has happened.” Karas looked at the two Books of History on her lap. “I hardly know where to start.”

  “Tell us everything,” Johnis said.

  “In good time, my friend. In good time.” The car slowed, then stopped. “We’re here.”

  They exited the car behind Karas and stood before a long, tubular vehicle with fixed wings. It was one of the birds they’d seen fly overhead. Two large mouths were attached to the body, and from these mouths came a high-pitched whine that made Silvie step back.

  “Ever dreamed of flying?” Karas asked, beaming.

  The idea startled Silvie. “In the sky?”

  “Yes, in the sky. Like a bird.”

  “In that thing?”

  “In that thing.”

  Johnis’s eyes were round. “Is it a Chevy?”

  “No, it’s a Citation 20. And it’s faster than a Chevy.”

  “Fantastic,” Johnis said.

  FLYING OVER EARTH AT TWENTY THOUSAND FEET WAS AN experience that made Silvie forget all the disadvantages the Histories had presented up to this point. Neither she nor Johnis seemed to be able to hide their grins, peering out through the round windows.

  “One of these contraptions would end the war with the Horde,” Johnis said.

  “How so?”

  “You could fly over them and drop boulders without any fear of being cut down.”

  “Trust me, Johnis, you could drop more than rocks to end the war with the Horde,” Karas said. “But you wouldn’t want to kill so many others like me.”

  She still has a soft spot in her heart for the Scabs, Silvie thought, returning her attention to the clouds beneath the airplane.

  They talked about the short past they’d shared, beginning with the details of Karas’s rescue from the Horde City. She wanted to rehearse every detail from her memory, just to be sure she’d remembered it all as it really had happened.

  Then she quickly told them about her journey through the desert with Darsal. Meeting Alucard in the Black Forest. Their escape into the cover of this world, a virtual reality that could be accessed by touching any of the seven books with blood—which is what Billos had done when he’d gone renegade on them.

  “I’ve done it a dozen times since,” Karas said. “It’s like walking into a simulation of this reality. Paradise, every time. The point is, Paradise, Colorado, is real. I’ve been there.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing.”

  “But that was before we arrived with our two books,” Johnis said. “Until our books entered this reality, there were only two books here: yours and Darsal’s.”

  Which begged the question Silvie voiced. “No sign of Darsal at all?”

  Karas stared out at the blue sky. “I’ve searched, trust me. When all of my efforts felled, I followed this path.” She motioned to the jet, meaning her life as a manager. “If I couldn’t find you two or Darsal, I wanted to make sure you could find me. So I’ve used what skills I have to make myself highly visible. As it turned out, you managed more visibility in one day than I have in five years.”

  An exaggeration, but point well made.

  “Darsal’s never contacted me. Which means she’s either dead …”

  “Or hasn’t come through yet,” Johnis finished. “For all we know, she may not come through for another ten years.”

  “Correct. As is the case with Alucard.”

  “So … if Darsal hasn’t come through yet, only our three books have come through thus far. The other three books hidden here may not even be visible yet?”

  “Possibly,” Karas said. “If Darsal did come through, she’s clearly run into trouble, or she would have contacted me. Whoever has her book might know about me. If so, they’re probably waiting for you two to surface before they expose themselves and go for all of our books at once.”

  The soft rush of air from the engines outside filled the cabin.

  “No sign of that beast?” Silvie asked. “Alucard?”

  “Signs?” Karas frowned. “Everywhere you look. What is Alucard but raw wickedness in the form of Shataiki? It’s everywhere. But no, I haven’t seen any Shataiki floating through the night sky.”

  “Then let’s keep our fingers crossed,” Johnis said. “With any luck, we find the seven books before he comes through.”

  “We have to assume he’s through as well, biding his time, waiting for you two to show up,” Karas said. “And we might be wise to assume the worst.”

  Johnis frowned. “That he has Darsal’s book. That he’s killed her and is biding his time.”

  It seemed rather pessimistic to Silvie, and she made as much clear.

  “Maybe,” Karas said. “But I’ve run through every possible scenario a thousand times over the years, and I assure you, we’d better be prepared for the worst, because I have a nasty feeling your little stunt on the Net set into motion much more than you bargained for.”

  Karas’s speculation put a bit of a damper on the flight, but it was quickly overcome by the jet’s sudden descent and frightening maneuvering over a sprawling compound of white buildings and small bodies of blue water she called “swimming pools.”

  They were flying over her house, A small town by all measures, nestled in the hills above the city of angels: Los Angeles. They would set down on a private airstrip, freshen up, and change into clothing more suitable than the prison smocks they currently wore.

  All this according to Karas, who gave them a running commentary. Silvie wasn’t entirely sure what it all meant, but she took it in wearing the same look of dumb wonder that was plastered on Johnis’s face. Though she suspected by the comments he kept making that he was under the illusion he understood perfectly.

  They landed, exited the airplane, and took a car to the main house. More accurately, the mansion. Towering white columns supported a huge ceiling that arched over the main atrium. Several servants greeted them, one at the front door, one in the kitchen, another near the pool area that overlooked the city below.

  It was all a bit much for Silvie, but Karas glided around on her bare feet as naturally as a sparrow who’d come home to her nest.

  They would eat at seven, she informed the cook—after the concert. Lobster and aged Kobe beef for the guests tonight; lets show them what the Histories have to offer.

  She effortlessly ran through a stack of notes handed to her by a secretary wearing jeans and named Rick Cumberland, directing the man on a number of urgent issues, as though doing so were as natural as eating a meal.

  The butler showed Sylvie and Johnis to two bedrooms where he’d laid out several outfits of new clothing as instructed by Karas. They reconvened on
the patio—Johnis dressed in loose-fitting jeans with a black T-shirt, and Silvie in a black skirt with a white, sleeveless top. Johnis opted for boots. Silvie, sandals.

  Karas looked them over and nodded her approval. “Not bad. You’ll fit right in.”

  “Fit right in where?”

  “I’m introducing one of my singers, Tony Montana, at a concert in the Rose Bowl, Something I foolishly agreed to do when a client wins in their respective categories at all major awards shows, which Tony did at the 12th annual VH2 Awards last week. We’ll leave for the Rose Bowl by helicopter in an hour.”

  “A bowl?”

  “A little larger than a bowl, actually,” Karas laughed.

  hey sat around a round table, staring out at the city, with a light breeze in their hair, the orange sun dipping to their sides, and delicacies at their fingertips. Karas, known here as Kara Longford, told them her story, and hearing it all, Silvie couldn’t stop shaking her head in wonder.

  She’d arrived in Nevada, as they had—why Nevada, she didn’t know. A ten-year-old girl, she was lost and terrified on a highway that led to the big city of lights. She tried to be brave those first few days but couldn’t stop crying.

  There was no shortage of people willing to help a little girl who needed food and money, but none of them had any answers for her, and they all looked at her as if she’d lost her mind when she asked about the Horde or the Shataiki.

  She took up with an old man who lived under a bridge after a week of wandering. “Scotty,” he called himself, after a character from an old show called Star Trek. Unlike others, Scotty’s eye lit up when she talked about the Horde and the Books of History. And thank Elyon, because if not for Scotty, she would have undoubtedly been committed to the fruit farm, a colloquial expression for a mental hospital.

  Outside of Scotty’s protective oversight, she became known as the little girl who would take your head off at the drop of a hat. A mental case, to be sure.

  It wasn’t until she went through therapy years later that she figured out what was wrong those first few months. Her emotions had been affected by the transition between the future and the Histories.