Red by Ted Dekker

than twenty-one days due to massive hemorrhaging in your heart and lungs and liver. You will have less than twenty-four hours from the onset of symptoms to your death. I know it all sounds a bit harsh, but then I’m assuming none of you has the time for games.”
    Olsen’s smug grin vanished.
    â€œI also suspect that within one week you will lead a motion to give in to Svensson’s demands. That’s not from the Books of Histories, you understand. It’s my judgment based on what I’ve observed of you today. If I’m right, you are the kind of man the rest in this room must resist.”
    Gains chuckled nervously. “I’m sure Thomas isn’t entirely sincere. He has unique . . . wit, as I’m sure you can see. Are there other questions?”
    â€œAre you serious?” Olsen demanded, looking at Gains. “You actually have the audacity to parade a circus act in front of us at a time like this?”
    â€œDead serious!” Gains said. “We’re here today because we didn’t listen to this man two weeks ago. He told us what, he told us where, he told us when, and he told us why, and we ignored him. I suggest you take every word he speaks as though it were from God himself.”
    Thomas cringed. He hardly faulted the group for their doubt. They had no reference against which to judge him.
    â€œSo you learned about all of this because it’s all recorded in some history books in another reality?” the navy-suited woman asked.
    â€œYour name?” Thomas asked.
    â€œClarice Morton,” she said, glancing at the president. “Congresswoman Morton.”
    â€œThe answer is yes, Ms. Morton. I really did. Any number of events can confirm that. I knew about the Raison Strain over a week ago. I reported it to the State Department and then to the Centers for Disease Control. When neither was helpful, I flew to Bangkok myself. In an admittedly desperate act, I kidnapped Monique de Raison—perhaps you heard about that. I was attempting to help her understand how dangerous her vaccine really was. Needless to say, she now understands.”
    â€œSo you convinced her before this all happened?”
    â€œShe demanded specific information from me. I went into the histories and retrieved the information. She knew then. That was before Carlos shot me and took her. They’re undoubtedly using her now to create the antivirus.”
    â€œYou were shot?”
    â€œA very long story, Ms. Morton. Moot at this point.”
    Gains was having difficulty suppressing a small grin.
    â€œSo if this really is all true, if you can get information about the future as a matter of history—and for the moment I’m going to believe you can—then can you find out what happens next?”
    â€œIf I could find the Books of Histories, technically, yes. I could.”
    She glanced at the president. “And if you can find out what is going to happen, then we might be able to find out how to stop it, right?”
    â€œWe might be able to, yes. Assuming history can be changed.”
    â€œBut we have to assume it can be, or all of this is all moot, as you say.”
    â€œAgreed.”
    â€œSo then can you find out what happens next?”
    Thomas had understood where she was going, but not until now did her simple suggestion strike a chord in his mind. The problem, of course, was that the Books of Histories were no longer available. He’d lived with that realization for fifteen years. But rumor was they still existed. He’d never had reason to search them out. Defending the forests from the Horde and celebrating the Great Romance had been his primary passion in the forest. Now he had a very good reason to search them out. They might provide a way out of this mess, precisely as Clarice was suggesting.
    â€œActually, the Books of Histories . . . are not presently available.”
    A murmur rippled through the room. It was as if this little bit