Chaos

by Ted Dekker

  He snatched it up and dove for the rear compartment door. The sign above a yellow leather pouch read PARACHUTE. But he had no clue how to use it. Taking it, however tempting, would prove useless. He was a goner, but he’d already accepted that.

  Unless …

  He tried to shove the gun into his pocket, fumbled it, shoved harder, and managed to get it in. The book …

  He glanced back and saw that Miranda was staggering to her feet, dazed but otherwise unharmed that he could see. Frantic and completely out of options, he thrust the book into his belt. Grabbed the lever he’d watched the charter pilot shut to seal the door.

  Jerked it up. The door cracked, then flung wide. Wind tugged at him with a roar. He grabbed the parachute and glanced back at Miranda, who was lifting her gun.

  Johnis threw himself into the wind.

  MIRANDA STARED AT THE OPEN DOOR, REFUSING TO BELIEVE that Johnis had actually jumped.

  The jet had lost some altitude but wasn’t leveling.

  He had the book. Shed watched him shove it into his jeans before throwing himself from the aircraft. How could anyone be so committed to any idea as to throw his life away for it? If he’d jumped for love, that would be one thing. But he’d jumped for one reason only: that she would not have all seven books. Nothing else made sense.

  He was protecting his mission, Elyon.

  Miranda blinked. She pulled the door to the cockpit open. “Note our position. Turn around and head back to Denver.”

  “Ma’am, that’s a good hour back the way—”

  “Now!” she screamed. “Turn back now!”

  JOHNIS FELL THROUGH THE DARKNESS LIKE A ROCK.

  The jet zoomed away at a rapid rate, a speck against the black sky now. Air howled past his ears, tugging at his shirt. He couldn’t see the ground yet, so he gripped the book at his belt and tried see past the wind.

  Three minutes she’d said. How anyone could be so high as to fall for three long minutes was beyond him, but his life now depended on it.

  He fell for what seemed an eternity—looking, looking, and seeing nothing. And then that nothingness darkened, and he realized he was falling through a cloud. Closer to the ground then.

  The idea that he could slam into hard earth at any moment sent his heart into another fit. He’d been falling for all of a minute or two, but it felt more like an hour.

  He broke out of the clouds and saw the ground below, rushing toward him. So close already? This would never work! Never! At this speed he would be flattened like a bug splattering on the Chevy’s glass.

  The ground was there, just there, so close but still way too far away.

  Johnis shoved his right forefinger into his mouth and bit deeply into his flesh. Warm blood wet his tongue—salty and alive. With his left hand he held the book in his belt right and held his breath. He could see the trees now, the branches, the field beneath him, screaming for him.

  Then, when he was sure he’d waited too long, he thrust his bloody finger onto the book. The gateway into the skin-world gapped suddenly, a ring of shimmering air before him. He threw himself through it, squinting against the impending crash of earth against his body.

  For a moment, pure silence.

  And then … white.

  Karas had told them about how the books had been separated from them when she and Darsal had used them to enter the simulation between the worlds. Johnis had to return now, while the book was still in his hand.

  Before he was really anywhere, before he could fully arrive at the world between the worlds, Johnis lifted his finger from the book and shoved it back down.

  The reversal into darkness happened before he could see any detail in the white world he’d been heading toward. He was back again, falling through the darkness after having jumped from the airplane. But as he’d hoped, his descent had been interrupted and now started over from a distance of less than a tree’s height from the ground.

  Johnis was so delighted at his success that for a split second he forgot that, although it might not be as destructive as falling from the clouds, falling from ten feet was dangerous enough.

  The image of his leg bones slicing up through his belly flashed in his mind. Then the ground slammed into his feet, and his flying ended in a terrible crash. Johnis stood and tested his legs and arms. No breaks. Fantastic!

  He looked around at a ring of trees, tall and dark, like claws reaching to the sky. His limbs were shaking, and his heart was pounding, but he’d thrown himself from a jet and lived to tell.

  More importantly, he had the book.

  It took him only a minute to shoot through his shackles using the gun, imitating the way Miranda had used it. An amazing weapon.

  The chains still hung from his wrists and his legs, but he was free to move unrestricted. He had to get to civilization, find a phone, and call the number Karas had given him before Miranda reached them.

  Hold on, Silvie. Hold on to the books; I’m coming.

  Johnis ran into the night, fast, fester than seemed possible.

  he Spartan Hotel was a veritable fortress that rose against the dark Denver skyline, a tower of glass and steel and, of course, lights. Lights were everywhere in this world.

  Silvie paced in front of a window that filled an entire wall of the fortieth-floor suite Karas had whisked them away to after her announcement. The room overlooked Denver; it was an expansive suite with a separate bedroom on one side and a conference room on the other. Silvie and Karas stood in the lounge between the two, staring at the city lights.

  “You’re sure the message got through?”

  “Trust me, if Alucard is alive, he got the message. And we know that Miranda heard of your little stunt in Las Vegas quickly enough. She’s obviously on the Net. Your message was heard by the whole world, loud and clear.”

  “Then how long?”

  “Even with our delays getting to the stadium, they couldn’t have been more than an hour ahead of us.”

  “It’s been an hour,” Silvie muttered.

  She flipped her bone-handled knife in her right hand for the comfort it brought her. They’d made it clear to a number of well-placed staff members at the concert that if anyone came looking for them or for the books, they would be in Karas’s suite at the Spartan. Two guards from her team waited at each entrance, ready for any possible breach.

  They had invited Miranda, but they wanted her to come on their terms, not her own.

  “Just remember”—Karas glanced at the three books on the crystal coffee table—“no trade without Johnis.”

  “That’s the whole point.”

  Karas humphed. “Don’t think she won’t try something.”

  “Which is why you have this place armed to the teeth. And we aren’t exactly helpless.” Silvie spun her knife into the air and caught it lightly in her palm.

  “And if it’s Alucard who comes?” Karas bit her fingernail. “I doubt we would be a match for him.” And then she added as a muttered afterthought. “Not without a silver bullet, anyway.”

  “Bring him on!” Silvie snapped. “I’m sick of this whole business!” She tried to stem the tide of emotions that flooded her mind but failed miserably.

  “Look at us! We started out with visions of slaughtering the Horde to protect the forests, and that’s simple enough, right? I could cut the heads off ten of the diseased Scabs and not suffer a single wound. I was Silvie! I could kill Horde! That’s why I was chosen!”

  She was yelling.

  “But no, instead I followed Johnis into the desert and became a Scab!” Tears leaked down her cheek. “Instead of killing the Horde, I followed him into their city to rescue one! And then I followed him here, into hell itself. And he’s lost.” She struggled not to cry. “I’m lost, Karas.”

  “You love him,” Karas came toward her.

  “And does he love me?”

  “Foolish question. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

  “But not enough to sacrifice his mission for me.”


  Karas stilled for a moment. “So that’s it? You’re angry because he seems to put this quest to save the world ahead of you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You would sacrifice the mission for his sake, but you don’t think he would do the same for you,” Karas said. “Am I right?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You said it yourself: he was chosen because of his loyalty to an idea. He doesn’t distinguish his love for you from his loyalty to Elyon. To him they are one and the same.”

  She made sense, but it didn’t ease Silvie’s sadness, which she herself didn’t understand. “You’re right. I’m being childish.”

  “I doubt that’s a bad thing in this situation. And I think Johnis loves you as much as he knows how to love. He’s only sixteen, Silvie. So are you. In this world people don’t marry nearly so young. Give yourself time, for the sake of love!”

  “Time.” Silvie looked into the older girl’s eyes. “Time is something the Horde never gave us.”

  Karas’s walkie-talkie squawked. “We have an unidentified helicopter circling the roof. Just a heads-up.”

  JOHNIS HAD RUN THROUGH THE TREES FOR ONLY A SHORT time before stumbling upon the dirt road. And then he ran on the dirt road for about an hour before a house lit up the valley below.

  He was hardly winded despite running at a full sprint for so long—at the moment this oddity was a small encouragement in the face of his predicament. But he seized it for what it was worth and ran harder. Faster. Perhaps twice the speed he could have mustered back in Middle.

  He flew up the steps that led to the farmhouse, twisted the handle, and shoved the door hard without bothering to knock.

  With a splinter of wood the door swung open and Johnis stood in the frame, facing a family of four seated around a table, sharing a meal.

  They stared back with round eyes. The father dove for the kitchen, and judging by the scowl on his face, he wasn’t running away. There was a weapon in his sight.

  Johnis threw up both hands. “No harm! I just need a phone. Please, I’m no enemy!”

  The man of the house swung into view, holding a long gun in his arms. Johnis’s second encounter with a shotgun since coming into the Histories.

  “Don’t shoot!”

  “Elvis!” The wife stood. “Don’t you dare pull that trigger!”

  The two seated boys gawked at him. “Shoot ‘im, Dad!” the smaller said.

  “You broke our door,” Elvis said. “I have every right to shoot you where you stand.”

  “And I wouldn’t blame you. But the truth is, I only need to make a call, and then I’ll leave. Please, it’s urgent.”

  “What’s so urgent?”

  “I’m lost.”

  “No, you ain’t. Not no more.”

  “Please, please, I beg you. If I don’t make the call, the world as you know it could be in terrible trouble!”

  They stared in silence, considering his words.

  “Shoot him, Dad,” the older child said.

  “Don’t you dare,” the wife snapped. “For heaven’s sake, let him make his call.”

  “YOU’RE RIGHT,” SILVIE SAID, TAKING A DEEP BREATH. STILL no sign of any approach except for the helicopter, which hadn’t been reported again. “I’m just a bit emotional.”

  Karas offered a comforting smile. “You’re doing much better than I did. Then again, I was a ten-year-old brat dumped into Las Vegas. You should try that …”

  A thump sounded down the hall, cutting her off. They both turned toward the door. The cell phone Karas had set down on the coffee table vibrated, loud in the sudden silence. Silvie picked it up and handed it to Karas.

  “Answer it,” Karas said softly, stepping toward the door.

  Silvie flipped the thin black wafer open and pressed it to her ear, the way she’d seen Karas do a hundred times since their meeting. “Yes?”

  Johnis’s voice filled her ear. She froze. “Johnis?”

  “Silvie! Thank Elyon, Silvie. You’re safe?”

  “I … oh, dear Elyon, thank you,” She was trembling. “Are you okay? Yes, I’m safe, of course, I’m safe. Where are you?”

  “Listen to me, Silvie. Just listen carefully. Miranda is on her way. You can’t give her the books. I have one. I have Karas’s book. Do you hear me? Do not give up the three books.”

  So he was safe then!

  “I hear you. I—”

  “There’s more. Alucard has the other three in Romania. He’s been here for over two thousand years, waiting for us. And Miranda … I think she may have been infected by him. I hit her with enough force to break her back. You hear what I’m saying? She’s not any ordinary woman.”

  “Johnis, I—”

  The door suddenly crashed open in front of Karas. Miranda stood in the opening, gun leveled, lips twisted.

  “Not one move.” Her eyes flashed to Silvie. “Drop the phone, honey.”

  “She’s here! At the Spartan—”

  The gun spit a bullet at her. She jerked and felt it slit the air by her left ear.

  Miranda dove like a cat attacking a mouse. She twisted as she passed Karas, striking her jaw with her heel. Karas staggered backward, stunned by the sudden assault.

  And Miranda, this woman Johnis claimed had been infected by Alucard, was already halfway to Silvie, with her gun extended.

  Silvie’s instincts kicked in. She threw herself back and to the right, knowing the coffee table with the three books rested there, just behind her.

  She felt her body flip into the air and complete a full loop, flying farther than she’d anticipated before slamming into the window.

  Two bullets punched holes in the window.

  “Do you really want a fight, lover girl?” Miranda crouched between Karas and Silvie. “Because, believe me, I can. I will.”

  She plucked the phone from the carpet and spoke into it. “Good-bye, Johnis.” The device shattered in her hand.

  Silvie stood.

  “You may have brought a few tricks from this other world of yours, but I have it on excellent authority that you can’t stop bullets. My aim is much better if I want it to be.”

  Silvie looked at Karas for direction.

  “How did you get past my men?” Karas asked.

  “I’ll assume that was a rhetorical question.” Miranda whipped out two sets of shackles and tossed one to each of them. “If you think Johnis is out of the woods yet, you don’t know me well. We track every step he makes. Put the cuffs on, and I promise you’ll see him again. Refuse and I’ll be forced to kill you now. So sad.”

  Silvie blinked. She had no doubt that Miranda could and would do precisely what she said.

  “We don’t have all night. The helicopter is waiting.”

  ilvie? Silvie! Silvie, for the sake of Elyon, answer me!” Johnis screamed the last, unable to stem the fear that raged through his mind.

  He could hear the miserable witch in the background. Do you really want to fight, lover girl?

  “Fight her, Silvie! Kill her!”

  Miranda answered. “Good-bye, Johnis.”

  Click.

  He pulled the phone back and stared at it. Then yelled into it again. “Silvie? Silvie!”

  The family of four stared at him. He slammed the phone on the counter and paced a quick circle, hands kneading his face, mumbling, “This can’t be, this can’t be, this can’t be …”

  “Easy, man,” the former said. “You’re not making sense.”

  The small one gained the courage to voice his curiosity. “Who’s Alucard?”

  Johnis spun to the father. “Do you have a jet?”

  “A jet? No.”

  “I have to get to Romania, man. You have to help me get to Romania! There’s a castle up in the mountains, with a dungeon. Worms larger than a grown man, a Shataiki. Alucard. He has Silvie …”

  They just looked at him, dumbfounded. A candidate for the fruit farm. How could they understand a word he was saying with their limited knowledge?


  “Then how about Denver? You’ve heard of the Spartan?”

  “The hotel? Denver’s a good two hundred miles—”

  “And I need to get there. It is absolutely imperative that I get there before that witch leaves.”

  Miranda was probably already gone, but there was a chance that Silvie and Karas had evaded capture. Or managed to hide the three books before Miranda could get her paws on them.

  “You’re nuts.”

  “Do you have a Chevy?”

  “I have a Ford truck, but if you think—”

  “I’ll buy it.” Johnis withdrew two coins and tossed them in one palm so they clinked loudly. “These are gold. I’m told gold is very rare here. You could buy two Chevys with this gold. I’ll buy your Ford, and you drive me to Denver.”

  The man eyed the coins skeptically. “How do I know they’re real? You don’t drive?”

  “I do. Most excellently. But that’s my offer, I buy, you drive.”

  THE JOURNEY TO DENVER IN THE TRUCK WAS A HAIR-RAISING affair, because Ted Blitzer insisted on “learning you how to drive proper,” as he put it. The road was rough, and the car bounced like a frantic mare, wearing a blister in Johnis’s right palm. He found himself yearning for a Chevy. At the very least, a good stallion.

  Ted jabbered like a monkey, but Johnis’s mind was on Silvie. And the books. And Alucard. And the Roush ordering him into the Black Forest to meet Teeleh. Honestly, he had difficulty remembering exactly how he’d come to this place, bucking down the road in a Ford truck, listening to Farmer Ted talk about how the government was conspiring to steal all the land from rightful owners.

  A war is brewing, Ted insisted. He couldn’t know how little any war meant compared to what would happen if seven ancient, leather-bound books got in the wrong hands. It could all be over in just a few hours now. In a day or two the whole world would know just how critical the words they’d heard Silvie speak from the stage at Tony Montana’s concert really were.

  They’d all seen her hold up three books and cry out her challenge to Alucard. The earth hung in the balance of those three books, the three in Alucard’s lair, and the one inside his belt.