Red (5 page)

“I knew it!” She stood and walked away.

Of course, he'd gone for the explosives! His mind scrambled. “How long have I been unconscious?”

She shrugged. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes! I told you ten!”

“I didn't wake you. You woke on your own. Maybe it was Elyon waking you to go and lead your men.”

“No, I have to go back!”

She looked at him. “Go back where?”

“I didn't have enough time. I have to get back to learn how to make explosives.”

“This is nonsense. What would you have me do? Hit you on the head with another rock?”

“Yes!” He clamored to his feet. “It works. I'm dreaming again. I was there, Mikil!”

“And what did you do there?”

“I fought a man who was trying to shoot me with a gun. It's another kind of explosive device. He fights—he's very good. I think he knocked me out.”

Thomas turned from her, remembering. “And Kara—” An ache in his shoulder stopped him.

There was a gash about three inches long just above his right bicep. He ran a finger along it, trying to recall if it had come from the battle below or from his dreams.

“Did I have this cut?” he asked her.

“You must have. I don't remember when—”

“No! It wasn't here when I came up. No one cut me while I was sleeping?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it's from my dreams!” He grabbed Mikil's arm. “Knock me out! Now! Hurry! I have to get back to save my sister!”

“You don't have a sister.”

“Hit me!” he cried. “Just hit me.”

“It's not within me to strike my commander twice in the space of ten minutes, even if—”

“I order it.” A tremor ran through his hands. “Pretend I'm not your commander. I'm a Scab and smell of rotten meat and I will knock your head off your shoulders if you don't defend—”

She was airborne and he made no attempt to deflect her blow. The leather sole of her boot struck him above his right ear, and he collapsed.

6

KARA'S HAND found the cold steel. She'd never felt such an intense sense of relief. She wrapped her fingers around the gun.

But her relief was premature. She was on her stomach, face planted in the carpet, useless. She twisted and rolled to her back. The gun clanged against the metal bedframe. A thunderous roar ripped through the cramped space.

She'd discharged the gun! Had she hit anyone? Put a hole in the wall or window? Maybe she'd hit Carlos. Or Thomas.

She twisted and saw that Thomas still lay on his back by the far wall. No bullet holes that she could see.

Something bounced on the bed. Carlos.

She fired into the mattress, wincing with the explosion. Again.
Boom,
boom.

She watched Carlos's feet land on the floor. Two long strides and he was into the hall.

Kara jerked the trigger and sent another shot in his general direction.

Carlos vanished toward the adjoining suite at the end of the hall. The door banged.

What if he hadn't really left? What if he was hiding around the wall, waiting for her to stand up and put the gun down before he rushed in and cut her throat?

She scooted into daylight, keeping the gun trained on the doorway as best she could considering all her nervous energy. She carefully stood, edged to the door, and circled to her left in a wide arc until she could see through the door into the hall.

No Carlos.

The door at the end of the hall was open. This man hadn't acted alone. Someone in the hotel had helped him access their suite through the one next to it.

“Thomas?”

Kara ran around the bed and knelt beside him. “Thomas!” She slapped his cheek lightly.

Someone was banging on the front door. They'd heard the shots. Carlos had fled because he knew they would hear the shots. Her accidental discharge may very well have saved both of their lives.

“Thomas, wake up, honey.”

He groaned and slowly opened his eyes.

THOMAS AND Kara sat on the sofa in Merton Gains's suite, waiting for the deputy secretary of state to end a string of calls. He'd greeted them briefly, noted the details of the attack on Thomas, ordered more security for his own suite, and then excused himself for a few minutes. The world was unraveling behind closed doors, he said.

They could hear the secretary's muffled voice down the hall behind them. Kara spoke quietly, nearly a whisper.

“Fifteen? Fifteen years? You're sure?”

“Yes. I'm quite sure.”

“How's that possible? You're not fifteen years older, are you?”

“My body isn't, nay—”

“Nay?”

“Sorry.”

“Nay,” she said. “Sounds . . . old.”

“As I was saying, I'm about forty there. Honestly I feel forty here as well.”

Amazing.

“So these wounds of yours are a definite change in the rules between these two realities,” she said, indicating Thomas's arm. “Knowledge and skills have always been transferable both ways, but before the colored forest turned black, your injuries in that world didn't cross over here; only injuries from this world crossed over there. Now it goes both ways?”

“Evidently. But it's blood that transfers, not merely injuries. Blood has to do with life. Actually, blood defiles the lakes, the boy said. It's one of our cardinal rules. In any case, it's going both ways now.”

“But when you first hit your head—when this whole thing first started—it bled in both worlds.”

“Maybe I really did wound it in both worlds at the same time. Maybe that's what opened this gateway.” He sighed. “I don't know, sounds crazy. We'll assume that knowledge, skills, and blood are transferable. Nothing else.”

“And that you're the only gateway. We're talking about
your
knowledge, your skills, your blood.”

“Correct.”

“It would explain why you haven't aged here,” Kara said. “You get cut there and you get cut here, but you don't age the same, or gain weight the same, or sweat the same. Only specific events tied to the spilling of blood show up in both realities.” She paused. “And you're a general over there?”

“Commander of the Forest Guard, General Thomas of Hunter,” he said without batting an eye.

“How did that happen?” she asked. “Not that I don't think you couldn't be Alexander the Great himself, you understand. It's just a lot to digest. A little detail would help.”

“Must sound pretty crazy, huh?” A grin played on his lips. This was the Thomas she knew.

He squeezed the leather cushion by his side. “This is all so . . . so strange. So real.”

“That's because it
is
real. Please tell me you're not going to attempt another leap off the balcony.”

He released the pillow. “Okay. Obviously both places are real. At least we're still assuming so, right? But you have to understand that after fifteen years in another world, this one here feels more like the dream. Forgive me if I behave rather oddly now and then.”

She smiled and shook her head. He was half “rather oddly” and half the old Thomas.

“It's funny?” he asked.

“No. But just listen to you. ‘Forgive me if I behave rather oddly now and then.' No offense, brother, but you sound a bit conflicted. Tell me more.”

“After the Shataiki spread their poison through the colored forest, a terrible disease overtook the population. It makes the skin flake on the surface and crack underneath. It's very painful. The eyes turn gray and the body smells, like sulfur or rotten eggs. But Elyon made a way for us to live without the effects of this disease. Seven forests—regular forests, not colored ones—still stand, and in each forest is a lake. If we bathe in the lake each day, the disease remains in remission. The only condition we have for living in the forest is that we bathe regularly and keep the lakes from being defiled with blood.”

She just looked at him.

“Unfortunately, I'm in a battle with the Horde at this very moment that may end it all.”

“What about the prophecy?”

“That Elyon will bring down the Horde with one blow? Maybe dynamite is Elyon's answer.” He stood, eager to move forward with this plan. “I have to figure out how to make dynamite before I go back.”

“So I take it you're still dreaming,” Gains said behind them.

Kara stood with her brother. Hearing the conviction in his voice and seeing the light in his eyes when he talked, she was tempted to think that the real drama was unfolding in a different reality, that the Raison Strain was only a story and the war in Thomas's desert was the real deal.

Gains brought her back to earth.

“Good,” he said, rounding the sofa. “I have a feeling we're going to need these dreams of yours. Never imagined I would ever say something like that, but then again, I never imagined we would ever face such a monster either. Can I get either of you a drink?”

Neither responded.

“Again, the lack of security for your suite was my oversight. I hate to admit it, but we've underestimated you from the beginning, Thomas. I can guarantee you that has just changed.”

Thomas said nothing.

Gains eyed him. “You sure you're okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“Okay.” He glanced at Kara, then back. “We need you on this, son.”

“I'm not sure I can help anymore. Things have changed.”

Gains stepped forward, took Thomas's arm, and guided him toward the window. “I'm not sure you realize the full extent of what's going on, but it's not looking good, Thomas. Raison Pharmaceutical has just concluded the examination of a jacket that was left on a coatrack in the Bangkok International Airport. A man reportedly harassed several flight attendants before walking to the first-aid station, hanging his coat on the rack, and leaving. Any guesses as to what's on the coat?”

“The virus,” Kara said.

“Correct. The Raison Strain. As promised by Valborg Svensson. As predicted by none other than Thomas Hunter, which makes you a very, very important man, Thomas. And yes, the virus is airborne. Which means that if the three of us aren't already infected, we will be before we leave for D.C. Half of Thailand will be infected by week's end.”

“Leaving for D.C.?” Thomas asked. “Why?”

“The president has suggested that you tell a committee he's pulling together what you know.”

“I'm not sure I have anything to add to what you know.”

Gains smiled nervously. “I know this hasn't been the easiest week for you, Thomas, but I'm not sure you're seeing the picture clearly here. We have a serious situation on our hands, and we don't have the first idea how to effectively deal with it. But you predicted the situation, and you seem to know more about it than anyone else at the moment. That makes you a guest of the president of the United States. Now. By force if necessary.”

Thomas blinked. He glanced at Kara.

“Makes sense to me,” she said.

“Any word on Monique?” Thomas asked.

“No.”

“But you do understand what's happening now,” Thomas said. “Svensson may not have the antivirus yet, but with her help, he will. When that happens, we're finished.”

This was more like her old brother.

“I don't know what we are. At this point it's been taken out of my hands—”

“You see? I tell you something and you start in with the doubt. Why should I think that Washington will be any different?”

“I'm not doubting you! I'm just saying that the president has taken this over. I'm not the one who needs persuading; he is.”

“Okay. I'll go. But I need your help too. I have to figure out how to create an explosion large enough to knock down a cliff before I fall sleep again.”

Gains sighed.

Thomas stepped up, took Gains by the arm in almost the same fashion that Gains had taken his, and walked him slowly toward the same window.

“I'm not sure you realize the full extent of what's going on, but it's not looking good, Merton,” he mimicked. “Let me help you. As we speak I am leading what remains of my army, the Forest Guard, in a terrible battle against the Horde. We number fewer than five thousand now. They number a hundred thousand. If I don't find a way to bring the cliff down on top of them, they'll overrun us and slaughter our women and children. That may be so much hogwash to you, fine. But there's another problem. If I die there, I die here. And if I'm dead here, I won't be of much help to you.”

“Isn't that a bit of a stretch?”

Thomas thrust out his arm and pulled up his sleeve. “This bandage on my forearm covers a wound I received in battle today. My sheets upstairs are covered with blood. Carlos didn't cut me while I was sleeping. Who did? My temples are throbbing from a rock I took in the head. Believe me, the other reality is as real as this one. If I die there, I can guarantee you I die here.”