The Heaven Trilogy (116 page)
J
ACK
H
AYFORD
“I enthusiastically recommend
Blessed Child
. It is a compelling story of the transforming power of the Holy Spirit.”
J
OSH
M
CDOWELL
“A good novel with a strong message.”
S
IR
J
OHN
M. T
EMPLETON
“. . . stimulating and enlightening reading . . . Congratulations . . .!”
D. J
AMES
K
ENNEDY
, Ph.D.
“ A real page turner . . . a captivating portrayal of God's unwavering commitment.”
J
AMES
R
OBISON
“
Blessed Child
is most inspiring and amazing . . . a must read . . .”
P
AUL
C
ROUCH
“A brilliant and heart-touching novel . . . powerful writing . . . I commend it to everyone. I believe it will have a lasting influence . . . on every reader's life!”
O
RAL
R
OBERTS
HEAVENS WAGER
“[
Heaven's Wager
is] genuinely exciting . . . fast paced . . . spine-tingling . . .”
P
UBLISHERS
W
EEKLY
“Well, well, guess what I've found. A fiction writer with a rare knack for a compelling story, an expansive reservoir of clever ideas, and a unique dry wit that makes me laugh.”
F
RANK
P
ERETTI
, best-selling author
“Rarely does a novel grip a reader's heart and soul the way
Heaven's Wager
does. Dekker is among a very small number of writers who have mastered the challenge of blending sound theology with knock-your-socks-off storytelling.”
R
OBERT
L
IPARULO
, novelist and contributing editor of
New Man
magazine
“Readers will be lining up for the next sequel. Strongly recommended.”
“Easily one of the most visionary, gripping and inspiring Christian novels ever written.”
M
ARK
O
LSEN
, author and fiction editor
“From the opening paragraphs of
Heaven's Wager,
I was caught in the human drama where life intersects with spiritual reality. It's a page-turner and I look forward to many more books from this talented writer.”
W. T
ERRY
W
HALIN
, best-selling author and fiction reviewer, journalist
“Not since the day a manuscript called
This Present Darkness
came to me for consideration have I come across a story as gripping and with such spiritual insight as
Heaven's Wager
.”
J
AN
D
ENNIS
, editor and publisher,
This Present Darkness, Piercing the Darkness, The Prophet
J
ACK
H
AYFORD
W
HEN HEAVEN WEEPS
“When Heaven Weeps
displays more of God's love than any other book I've read, save the Bible. It'll make anyone who is forgiven stand up and shout. It is a beautiful story . . . exquisite.”
S
TEPHEN
B
LACKMON
,
ConsumingFire.com
“Ted Dekker is one of the most remarkable creative writers of our time . . . engrossing and spiritually inspiring . . . highly recommended!”
B
ILL
B
RIGHT
, Founder and President, Campus Crusade for Christ International
“
When Heaven Weeps
is a first in Christian fiction: a bold, knock-your-socks off, four-hankie, romantic supernatural thriller. And a brilliantly written one to boot. Hang on for something brand new.”
M
ARK
O
LSEN
, author and editor
“Although I don't read much Christian fiction, this romantic thriller had me turning page after page.”
J
OSH
S
PENCER
, editor,
Stranger Things
magazine
“Dekker is a brilliant storyteller.”
J
EREMY
R
EYNALDS
, Assist Communications
T
HUNDER OF
H
EAVEN
© Copyright 2002 by Theodore R. Dekker
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or otherâexcept for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc. titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Publisher's Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Dekker, Ted, 1962â
Thunder of heaven / Theodore R. Dekker.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-8499-4517-5 (repak)
ISBN 978-0-8499-4292-1 (sc)
I. Title.
PS3604.E53 T48 2002
813'.6dc21Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 2002016712
Printed in the United States of America
07 08 09 10 11 12 RRD 11 10 9 8 7 6 5
The story you are about to read is a part of the Martyr's Song series because the events of Tanya's life would not have been possible if the events recorded in
The
Martyr's Song
had never happened as they did.
There is no order to the Martyr's Song novels, you may read any in any order. Each is a stand alone story that in no way depends on the others. Nevertheless, if there is one book we recommend you read first, it is
The Martyr's Song
, the story that started it all.
For LeeAnn, my wife,
without whose love I
would be only a shadow
of myself. I will never
forget the day you saw heaven.
Table of Content
Eight Years Ago
“It's starting again, Bill.”
“Again? These things start every time we turn around.”
She ignored the pastor. “I had another vision.”
The line was silent for a moment.
“You're walking again?”
“No. But I'm praying. I want you to join me.”
“What was the vision?”
Helen paused. “I'm not sure.”
“You had a vision but you're not sure what it was?”
“Something terrible is happening, and somehow its outcome rests in my hands.
In our hands.”
“Our hands? God can't deal with this on his own?”
“Please don't be smart. I'm too old for games.”
“Forgive me.” He let out a long breath. “I'm not sure I'm ready for another
round, Helen.”
“I don't think anyone is this time.” A tremor laced her voice. “He who is faithful
in little will be given much. This feels like much. And, frankly, I'm a little
scared.”
The line was silent.
“Who is it?” Bill finally asked.
“Tanya,” Helen said.
THOSE WHO know call that part of the jungle the hellhole of creation for good reason. And they call the Indians who live there the fiercest humans on earth for even better reason. It's why no one wants to go there. It's why no one
does
go there. It's why those who do rarely come out alive.
Which is also why the lone American girl who ran through the jungle really had no business being there. At least according to those who know.
Tanya Vandervan jogged to a halt atop a cleared knoll and tried to still her heavy breathing. She'd run most of the way from her parents' mission station, hidden by trees a mile behind, and in this heat, a mile's run tended to stretch the lungs.
She stood still, her chest rising and falling, hands on hips, her deep blue eyes sparkling like sapphires through long blond hair. The rugged hiking boots she wore rose to clearly defined calves. Today she had donned denim shorts and a red tank top that brightened her tanned skin.
Still drawing hard but through her nose now, she lifted her eyes to the screeching calls of red-and-blue parrots flapping from the trees to her left. Long trunks rose from the forest floor to the canopy, like dark Greek columns supporting tangled wads of foliage. Vines dripped from the canopyâthe jungle's version of silly string. Tanya watched a howler monkey swing suspended by a single arm, whether provoking or protesting the parrots' sudden departure, she could not tell. She smiled as the brown mammal reached a flimsy arm out and nabbed a purple passionfruit from a vine before arching back into the branches above.
A gunshot suddenly echoed through the valley and she jerked toward the plantation. Shannon!
An image of him filled Tanya's mind and she ran down the knoll, her heart thumping steady again.
To her right, the clearing butted against hills that rose to a black cliff, looming a mile to the plantation's north. The Richtersons' large two-story white house sat still in the midday air, white like a marshmallow on a sea of green.
On Tanya's left grew fifty acres of the plantation's exotic crop:
Cavash
coffee beans, commonly regarded among connoisseurs as the finest coffee in the world. Shannon could be there working the fields, but she doubted itâhe'd never taken much interest in his father's farming.
His father, Jergen, had fled Denmark and carved out this living because of his hatred toward the West.
The West is trampling out the earth's soul
, he would say in his booming voice.
And Washington's leading the charge. One of these days
America will wake up and their world will be different. Someone will teach them
a lesson and then they might listen
. They were just words, nothing else. Jergen was a coffee farmer, not a revolutionary.
Shannon spouted his father's rhetoric on occasion, but really, it was love, not hate, that drove his world. Love for the jungle.
And love for Tanya.
The thunder of gunfire boomed again. Tanya smiled and broke to her left, sprinting around the fields toward the firing range.
Tanya saw them when she cleared the last coffee bushâthree blond Scandinavian heads bent over a rifle with their backs to her. Shannon's father, Jergen, stood on the left, dressed in khaki green. The visiting uncle, Christian, stood to the right, a brother look-alike.
The bare-chested young man between them was Shannon.
Tanya's heart jumped at the sight and she pulled up, stepping lightly.
Shannon stood tall for eighteen, over six feet, and wrapped in muscles that seemed to grow larger each day. Countless hours in the sun had darkened his skin and lightened his long blond hair. She often teased him, suggesting he take a comb to his head, but in reality she rather liked the way those loose strands fell down his neck and into those bright emerald eyes. It meant she could sweep his hair aside with her fingers, and she liked touching his face that way. His pectoral muscles flared from a rippling stomach and met broad shoulders. Today he wore only loose black shortsâno shoes on this man.