The Season of Passage

by Christopher Pike

  THE SEASON OF PASSAGE

  CHRISTOPHER PIKE

  PROLOGUE

  It was a nightmare. But Lauren Wagner did not know that. It's often that way with bad dreams.

  [T-minus five minutes and counting.]

  'We are not evil,' a voice said, deep inside Lauren's mind. 'We just enjoy our duty.'

  Lauren felt anxious. The countdown was ending. At last she was leaving for Mars. Soon the shuttle's rockets would ignite and she would be hurtled into space. All lights on the shuttle's control board shone green. Yet something was wrong. The lights were blurred, as if she were seeing them underwater. She tilted her head and found the rest of the cockpit also cloudy. She tried opening and closing her eyes to clear her vision, but it did not help. In fact, her sight grew worse. The cloudiness puzzled her, as did her thoughts of duty, and evil.

  [T-minus four minutes, thirty seconds, and counting.]

  The computer's voice droned on. Lauren tried to move, but found her limbs strangely heavy, as if a massive hand pressed down on her body. Of course, she had experienced such a sensation before, while undergoing high-gravity training in the centrifuge. Yet now the pressure made no sense. They were still on the ground, still on Earth. For a moment Lauren thought the problem might be associated with her safety straps. However, when she checked the

  belts, she found that they were not tight. Her puzzlement deepened. It did not seem right, that a hold so weak should feel so strong.

  [T-minus four minutes and counting.]

  Lauren looked to her left, in the direction of the shuttle's pilot, Gary Wheeler. Crouched over a dark blue screen, he wore a white flight suit similar to her own. Because of his helmet, she could not see his face, not unless he had the occasion to look directly at her. Lauren knew it was Gary, though. Only an hour earlier they had boarded the ship together. It had been at... When had it been? That was odd - suddenly she couldn't remember exactly when they had entered the shuttle. She couldn't even remember if it had been in the morning, or in the dead of night.

  [T-minus three minutes, thirty seconds, and counting.]

  'Gary,' Lauren called, squirming in her seat. Suddenly, for no reason, her lower abdomen began to cramp, making her feel nauseated. 'Gary,' she repeated, 'I'm having trouble with my eyes. Gary?'

  He didn't answer. He continued to stare at his dark blue computer screen, sitting as still as a statue.

  'Gary, what's wrong?' Lauren asked.

  'His soul has been bled,' a voice said inside her mind, the same voice that had spoken of duty and evil.

  Lauren shook her head, trying to free her mind of the disturbing thoughts. But they weren't really thoughts, not her own at least. She recognized that peculiar fact even though she was having trouble recognizing much else. The shuttle was all wrong. Four windows that should have been looking up into clear blue skies were missing. Flickering rows of sober-colored lights had taken their place, purple lights that reminded her of spoiled flesh, red ones that could have been smeared with blood. Plus the shuttle's multiple computer screens were crawling with faint silver

  lines that turned with spiked edges into a dizzy infinity. Realization hit Lauren hard.

  This was not the shuttle!

  She was in the Hawk, the Martian lander!

  [T-minus three minutes and counting.]

  'Gary!' Lauren screamed. She tried throwing herself against the straps, in an effort to break free and reach Gary. Maybe he could tell her what the hell was going on. Unfortunately, the cramps in her abdomen tightened further, into knots of cold pain, and she could barely move.

  Her struggle was lost on Gary. He continued to sit silently, the faceplate of his helmet turned slightly away from her, an empty shadow.

  [T-minus two minutes and counting.]

  'Gary, are we on Mars?' Lauren cried. 'Why are we in the Hawk?'

  'A little pinch and then, sweet,' the voice said inside her mind.

  Lauren's anxiety now bordered on terror. Twisting to the right, she groped for a button that would unshield a window and let her see outside. The tip of her finger just reached it, and as the window's metal cover slid aside, she gasped in shock. Outside was a sea of molten lava, a turbulent landscape of incandescent mud and erupting geysers. Even as she watched, a shower of sparks splattered the window, leaving behind a filth of dark glowing embers. There was no mistaking what was happening.

  They were sinking slowly into the sea of lava.

  'Gary!' Lauren screamed again. She was having trouble breathing. The air was suddenly filled with sulfur fumes. They seemed to sweep up from beneath her seat and loop around her head like an invisible garrote, choking her.

  [T-minus one minute and counting.]

  Summoning the last of her failing strength, Lauren threw

  herself again against the straps. This time she was able to move several inches. She reached over to touch Gary's leg. But instead of feeling the smooth surface of his flight suit, her fingers encountered a scaly hide, oozing with sticky mucus.

  [T-minus thirty seconds and counting.]

  'No,' Lauren moaned, snapping back her head in revulsion and pressing herself as deep as possible into her seat. It was then, finally, that Gary slowly began to turn toward her.

  At last Lauren's vision cleared.

  Grinning at her from inside his helmet was a skull. Not an old skull, something that had lain abandoned in a sandy desert for a century or two, but a fresh skull, white and moist, a fresh victim of unspeakable crimes. It was as if Gary's head had just been picked clean by a swarm of maggots.

  'Kiss me, baby,' the voice inside her head said. 'Lick me.'

  The hollow sockets were black as deep space, lightless holes that had never looked upon a bright sun, not even in life. Yet within them Lauren sensed a cruel intelligence. The naked jawbone moved. Again the voice spoke inside her mind, and now there was no question about its origin. The skull was talking to her.

  'Do you wish to be immortal?' it asked. 'Certainly you don't want to die. I understand that. It's what makes us so alike.'

  A bony hand reached out. The flesh had been chewed away from the fingers as well, although they dripped mucus. They grabbed her leg and clawed up her inner thigh. The cold knots inside her abdomen hardened into lumps of ice and the skull chuckled obscenely. It was then that Lauren finally recognized its purpose, and rape was the smallest part of it. Together they would return from the

  fourth planet, from a world no human being could have imagined. Together they would be made immortal, but in a way no god or angel had ever meant. It was all part of the plan, she realized, part of the curse. She began to weep.

  The thing stood up. The skull stared down at her with gloating pleasure. A second sharp hand, a claw, reached out and pinched the inside of her leg, tearing her flesh, bringing the flow of blood inside her suit. She couldn't move, not an inch. She was numb to the bone, yet she felt everything in the sharpest way. Her blood was as cold as the ice in her guts.

  [T-minus five seconds and counting. Four. Three. Two. One.]

  The shuttle's rockets fired, and as they did, the thing bent over her, and its shadow covered her in a thick blanket of despair. Yet not so thick that Lauren did not cry out one last time for someone to save her. She cried...

  BOOK ONE The Garden

  ONE

  'Don't touch me!' Lauren Wagner screamed. Still caught in the web of her nightmare, she shoved at the small hand that held her arm. Jennifer, her younger sister, fell to the ground atop a scattering of pine needles. But Jennifer quickly sprang to her feet and reached out once more.

  'Jenny,' Lauren said, disgusted when she saw what she had done. Her T-shirt was drenched with sweat and her heart was pounding. She gave Jennifer a quick hug. 'Are you
OK? I didn't mean to push you. I was having a nightmare.'

  'I'm fine,' Jennifer said, more serious than startled.

  'I'm sorry.' Lauren busied her hands over her sister's clothes. She realized she was trembling, and had to make a conscious effort to stop. Jennifer watched her closely, her clear blue eyes alert.

  'You called someone, Lauren,' she said. 'Whose name did you call?'

  Lauren hugged her thirteen-year-old sister again, tighter this time, and buried her face in Jennifer's brilliant hair. The chair she had dozed off in rocked forward on the forest floor. 'Was I talking in my sleep?' she asked. 'I had the strangest dream.'

  Jennifer undid Lauren's hands and took a step back. Behind her, the orange light of the evening sun shone on

  the tops of the surrounding pine trees. Wash Lake, a hundred yards off to their left, was a deep blue, calm and clear in the quiet of the forest. The fragrance of wild dandelions and blooming sunflowers was in the air. Yet in that moment it seemed to Lauren that Jennifer was not standing in the beautiful mountains of Wyoming, but in another place, a place where there was little beauty, and no sweet smells. Jennifer's gaze was far away and troubled.

  'Whose name did you call?' Jennifer repeated.

  Lauren forced a laugh and squeezed Jennifer's shoulders. 'You just startled me, is all. That's why I jumped. My dream - why, I can't even remember it. It was nothing. It was only a nightmare.'

  Jennifer looked doubtful. She gestured to a stump near Terry's cabin. 'I was reading a book. Then you called me.'

  Lauren wanted to change the subject. 'What book are you reading?' She started to run her fingers through Jennifer's long blond hair, but Jennifer shook her head and stepped away.

  'Just a story,' she said. 'It's nothing.' Turning, she walked over to the stump and picked up her book. She sat down and began to read, without looking back up.

  Lauren frowned. Jennifer was a paradox, she thought, full of joy one moment, troubled and serious the next. Sometimes she wondered if Jennifer spent too much time with her nose in books. It was not unusual for Jennifer to go through five novels a week, all kinds of novels: science fiction, fantasy, adventure books, and westerns. Lauren never censored them. She didn't understand why Jennifer hadn't answered her question.

  But that reminded Lauren. She still had to read Terry's article. Terry Hayes was her fiancé, a newspaper reporter for the Houston Herald. Lauren picked up the paper from where it had fallen when she jumped up out of her

  nightmare. The front page was dominated by a color picture that Terry had taken of the crew members of America's first expedition to Mars. Lauren was in the middle, down in front.

  It was odd - she had been looking at the picture when she had fallen asleep. She knew her nightmare had had something to do with Mars. She called over to Jennifer. 'Terry wanted me to critique the second part of his article, but I've only got the first part. Didn't you tell me that boyfriend of yours could get me a copy of the Herald.

  Jennifer glanced up and blushed. 'He's not my boyfriend.'

  'Then why were you holding his hand?'

  'I didn't hold his hand. I didn't.'

  'I understand. He was holding your hand.'

  Jennifer had forgotten her book. 'Were you spying on us?'

  'I wouldn't dream of it.'

  'Right.' Jennifer said sarcastically.

  Lauren was thoughtful. 'But I do seem to remember seeing him kiss you. Accidentally seeing you, that is. It was on the cheek.'

  'He never!' Jennifer said indignantly.

  'On the cheek but not far from your lips. A very long kiss, if my memory serves me correctly.'

  Jennifer seemed about to make another sharp retort when she burst out laughing. 'You're just jealous because he thinks I'm prettier than you.'

  Lauren blinked, surprised. 'He said that?'

  Jennifer nodded, smug. Of course, Lauren had to agree with the young man. Jennifer was an exceptional beauty, one of those children who could turn a dozen heads in a crowded mall. Her features showed an interesting play of contradictory genes. They were clearly defined, yet also

  delicate, waiflike. She spent many hours outdoors, and as a result always had a decent tan, which went well with her blue eyes. The latter possessed a cerulean clarity that was seldom found except in newborn babies. But it was her hair that was her crowning glory: long and curly, naturally blond to the point of looking bleached. On sunny days it swirled around her sleek shoulders like a protective aura. To look at Jennifer was to see something beautiful; it was as simple as that.

  'You told me his name,' Lauren said. 'What is it? Dave?'

  'Daniel.'

  'I see, Daniel. Not Dan or Danny, but Daniel.'

  'I thought calling him by his proper name would make him feel more important,' Jennifer explained.

  'Did you read that in a book?'

  Jennifer shook her head.

  'Are you sure?' Lauren asked.

  'No. Yes! I like that name, Daniel.'

  Lauren eyed her sister's discarded book. 'What are you reading, anyway?'

  Jennifer bowed her head and touched the book's dull red cover. 'Just something I found at the library.'

  'And it's a secret?'

  Jennifer hesitated. 'It's a love story.'

  Lauren laughed. 'I bet Danny - Daniel told you to read it. I'm going to make sure Terry watches you closely the next two years.' Instantly, Lauren regretted mentioning her leaving, although it was something they had talked about enough. She knew Jennifer preferred not to discuss the expedition to Mars while they were in Wyoming. It was strange - her sister had no trouble with the subject when they were in Houston. Lauren added, 'Will Daniel be here soon?'

  Jennifer brightened. 'He said yesterday that he'd be here

  at six. He's going to show me one of his weapons.'

  'Sounds like a date to me.' Lauren checked the position of the sun. 'He should be here any minute. Do you want me to take a walk?'

  'You don't have to,' Jennifer said, although she quickly stood, like maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea. Lauren took the hint and got up, tucking Terry's newspaper in her white shorts. The air was warm and dry, and the feel of the sun on her bare legs was delicious.

  'I need the exercise,' Lauren said. 'What did you mean, he's going to show you one of his weapons? Is he in the service?'

  Jennifer giggled. 'No. He's only fourteen. He collects weapons. He's part Indian.'

  Lauren nodded. 'That explains it. Is he going to show you how to shoot a bow and arrow?'

  'No. He's bringing an elephant rifle.'

  'Great. My little sister's chasing an Indian who hunts elephants in a pine forest.' Jennifer thought that was funny. Lauren continued, 'I bought some Cokes in town yesterday, if you want to give your friend a drink. And Jenny, if Terry comes, have Daniel give a blast on his gun.'

  'What if he doesn't bring any bullets?'

  Lauren was already among the trees, the pine needles crackling under her bare feet. 'Then have him send up smoke signals,' she called.

  Soon Lauren reached the shore of the lake, where she turned west, heading in the direction of the sun. It was not long before she entered the shallows and broke into a jog, and then began to run. She loved to race along the shore and feel the sand between her toes and the water splashing up her back. She ran for five hard minutes, and covered at least a mile - for she was in excellent shape, and had always been fast on her feet. She only stopped when she came to

  a wide stream, which from experience she knew to have the slipperiest rocks in all of Wyoming. She had a tiny dent on the back of her skull courtesy of the stream.

  She was hot, and the lake was tempting. Unfortunately, she didn't have her suit, and her shorts and T-shirt felt like lead weights when they were wet. Plus she was something of a celebrity these days, what with the launch date only a couple of weeks away. It wouldn't do to have one of NASA's leading public relations specimens to be photographed nude.

  Then again, it might do wonders for their budget
.

  Lauren listened closely for a minute, scanning the beach in both directions and finding no one. What decided her in the end was the thought of not seeing any green or open water for two whole years. She had to embrace nature while she could, and if someone did snap her picture, at least she would look like she was having fun. She had her shorts and shirt off in five seconds, and was in water over her head in another ten. It was not merely cold, it was liquid ice, and she loved it. Wash Lake was a half mile across, and she swam strongly toward the center. Had it not been for her bare bottom, she would have tried to swim to the far shore.

  But her run must have taken more out of her than she realized. Close to the middle of the lake, she found herself working hard and decided to roll over on her back and take it easy. She drifted along for some time, paddling just enough to stay afloat. Out of the corners of her eyes, the trees looked ten times more distant than they really were, as they always did from surface level. The sky began to darken as the sun slipped behind a forested ridge, and the water temperature finally made itself felt on her muscles. After all the money NASA had invested in her training, it would be a bummer if she drowned. Yet it was with regret that she rolled on to her belly and began to swim toward the shore. She knew even then that she would remember this swim while she was walking across the sands of Mars.

  Out of the water, Lauren plopped down on a boulder beside the stream and slipped back into her clothes. The evening air held the day's warmth - she didn't mind the damp material clinging to her skin. She had left the paper in the sand. She picked it up and flipped to Terry's article.

  WAR OF THE WORLDS

  by Terry Hayes, Reporter

  Houston. On October 28, 2002, almost two years ago, two Russian spacecraft touched down on Mars, in the mountainous region known as Tharsis. The expedition was headed by Dmitri Maximov. For ten days his men explored the area, beaming to Earth incredible footage of the alien landscape. But then, on November 6, all contact with them was lost. Two days later, communication was also lost with Carl Bensk, the sole cosmonaut aboard the mother ship, in orbit around Mars. Since that time, neither the men on the planet, nor Carl Bensk, have been heard from. They are presumed dead.