Season of Passage, The (58 page)

crying. He said when he got out he was going to visit me. I can't tel you how awful it was. Final y a man in uniform came in. He'd heard me crying. It

was only then I was able to get up and get out. I drove home and cal ed you.'

'Did you tel the soldier who helped you out there was something different about Gary?' Terry asked.

'No. I just wanted to get away. The man thought we'd had an argument. What's happened to Gary? What's going on?'

'Did the soldier say when their quarantine was ending?'

'No. I didn't ask. Have you seen Lauren?'

He didn't want to talk about it. 'Yes. Do you remember anything else different about Gary?'

'Isn't that enough?' she cried. 'I told you, his eyes were total y weird. He'd look at me and I'd feel like I was being cut open with knives. Talk to me,

Terry! Was Lauren like that?'

'Yes.' Terry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wal . He felt as if the top of his brain went into the plaster and got stuck in another

dimension where there were no rules about how ugly things could get. No one would believe them. He himself had thought Herb was insane, even

after his own peculiar encounter with Lauren.

'Are you stil there?' Kathy asked.

'Yeah.' He had a splitting headache.

'What's going on? What's wrong with them?'

Terry opened his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He could remember how revolting the air had tasted in Lauren's company. Like a deadly strip of

road where the cars and trucks ran over humans and animals alike, and left them to rot beneath a hot sweaty sun. A strip of road that led back

home to Mars.

'I don't know,' he mumbled.

'Terry! Help me!'

Help you? I don't have the time. I have to save the human race. The Martians have arrived. I have to talk to the president.

But Lauren and Gary had already talked to the president. Either the man hadn't noticed anything odd, or else they had spooked him so badly he

was afraid to come out of the White House. The man hadn't been seen in public lately.

'Listen to me,' Terry said final y. 'Go to your parents' tonight. Stay inside. Lock the doors and windows. Stay near others. If Gary shows up, have your

Dad send him away. Do not talk to Gary under any circumstances. Do you understand?'

'No. What's going on? You said Lauren's like Gary?'

'I think she's worse.'

'Terry!'

'I don't know what's going on! They went to Mars and caught a disease. That's what it is. Now I've got to talk to some people and tel them Gary and

Lauren are sick. I've got to go. Do what I said. I'l cal you as soon as I find out something. I'l cal you tomorrow. For now, just don't be alone. OK?'

It was not OK with Kathy, but he had nothing else to tel her. She final y let him go. He slumped to the floor and buried his head in his hands.

You see, Terry, there are things on Mars that can take the life out of a man or woman and put in something else. They're evil.

He knew whatever they had caught, a shot of antibiotics was not going to cure it.

Terry picked up the phone and cal ed information. Fortunately the number of Edwards Air Force Base was listed. He had the base on the line a

minute later. He identified himself and asked to speak to Lauren.

'What's your name?' the man asked. He sounded young and strict.

'I told you, Terry Hayes.'

'How to you know Dr Wagner is here?'

'I'm her fiancé. I was out there a few days ago. Dean Ramsey personal y set up a visit with Dr Wagner for me. Cal him if you like.'

The man considered. 'Hold on a minute.'

He was on hold for five minutes. What he was going to say to Lauren? Hey, I heard you caught that Martian virus that was going around. It's the pits,

isn't it? Have you kil ed anybody yet? Terry was relieved when the man returned and said she was unavailable.

'She's sleeping right now,' he said. 'She left word she wasn't to be disturbed.'

'She's sleeping in the middle of the day?' Terry asked.

'That's what I hear. Are you a reporter?'

'I was a reporter when Dr Wagner left for Mars. I'm not a reporter now.'

'You understand that no one is to know Dr Wagner is staying at Edwards?'

'Yeah. Don't worry, I know when to keep my mouth shut. Have you seen Dr Wagner yourself?'

'No. Why?'

'Just wondering,' Terry said. 'Do you know when their quarantine ends?'

'That's classified information. Do you want me to tel her that you cal ed?'

'Yeah. Oh, when I was at Edwards I met an elderly major. I can't remember his name, but he had a terrible sunburn. Do you know who I'm talking

about?'

'Yes. That would be Major Thompson.'

'Could I speak to him, please?'

'I'm afraid not. He's in the hospital.'

'Is he al right? What's wrong with him?'

The man hesitated. 'How wel do you know the major?'

'Like I said, I just met him. We had a nice talk. I was just wondering if it was serious.'

'Major Thompson had a heart attack last night. It is serious. The doctors don't think he's going to make it.'

'Oh,' Terry said, for lack of something better. 'Give him my best.'

They exchanged goodbyes. Terry got up and locked al the doors and windows in his apartment. Then he sat at his desk in front of his word

processor and asked himself a difficult question.

What next?

He could not 'tel some people' that Lauren and Gary were sick. At the space station they had undoubtedly been subjected to every physical test

known to man. Whatever Mars had put inside them, a laboratory didn't reveal it. He had no facts. He had only subjective reactions from people of

questionable character. He was a writer of books about cockroaches and clones, and, therefore, immediately suspect - never mind his wel -known

drunkenness. Kathy was young and impressionable, and had been involved with Gary. Even reporters for the Enquirer probably wouldn't buy Herb's

story, not if they met him for a drink and got kicked under the table by one of his twitching legs.

But what the hel was wrong with Lauren and Gary? Aliens, monsters, devils - they were just words. They didn't say anything. And he would have to

have something to say if he hoped to seek out the help of others.

Terry turned on his word processor and began a file cal ed unusual characteristics. He began to list the strange things he and Herb had noticed

about Lauren, along with Kathy's impressions of Gary.

1. Appearance: Pale. Exceptional y long hair and nails. Deep red lips and tongue. Foul odor. Powerful hypnotic eyes. Constant smiles.

2. Manner: Cold, mocking.

3. Remarks: A little pinch and then, sweet. Jim was a fool. You are mine now. Thick laughter.

4. Overal impressions: They inspire terror and nightmares, but appear in pain themselves. Their presence

brings streams of perverted thoughts, and difficulty in breathing. They can move quickly. There is something very cold about them.

Terry studied his list. He had a fine description of a monster. He worried that he wasn't getting anywhere. He also felt as if he was leaving a crucial

point off his list. He tried as best he could to remember what Lauren had said or done that tied her strange behavior together. For some reason he

kept thinking of Jennifer. Yet Lauren hadn't commented on her sister.

Terry got up and paced his apartment. The day was getting on. It would be dark soon. He popped a few capsules of bee pol en in his mouth and

chewed them, trying to relax. He was back at his word processor a minute later, starting a second list. He had no trouble constructing it. He'd made

it up two years ago, for an article he'd written about the missing Russians - why they hadn't come back.

1. Mechanical failure.

2. Natural calamity.

3. Alien infection.

4. Alien monsters.

5. Insanity.

The first two theories Terry discarded for obvious reasons. The other three ... he saw a new relationship among them. A serious enough infection

could have driven the Russians insane. It could have made them act like monsters, and kil one another. He was surprised none of his readers had

written into the paper and pointed that out to him. They were always writing him nasty letters. It was no wonder he had gotten fired.

So the reasons relate. So what happened to Lauren and Gary on Mars? Why did Lauren talk about devils in her letter? That's al that matters. Did

something there clone them and send back pre-programmed copies to Earth? No? Too farfetched? Wel , what if something on Mars ate them, and

after it finished digesting them, it looked like them? It's possible, anything's possible. It happens al the time in the movies.

Terry thought about the bottle of Scotch in his desk drawer. For a moment he seriously considered taking it out and draining it and letting the

government worry about the problem six months from now when half the world was dead. He had never been hero material. He just had to look at

himself in the mirror to know that.

He didn't even need the mirror.

He could feel the tears on his face.

Good God, he was talking about Lauren. She was his girl. She was his life, or she had been his life. He wanted her back. A hard pain broke in his

chest. His tears thickened. He couldn't just sit here and dissect her as if she were an alien specimen that had no feelings. She had to stil have

feelings. She had Lauren's memories. How could anything remember without feeling something?

He had too many memories of his own. He felt too much. His mind began to play tricks with him. His thoughts kept leaping from the horror of the

situation to the days before the mission when the three of them had been together. He had a persistent memory of their last Hal oween together,

when they had gone out trick-or-treating in the neighborhood. Only it was clouded. He remembered Jennifer's costume, and his own. Jennifer had

dressed up as a fairy, complete with transparent wings and magic wand. He had been the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He had constructed

the hump out of smal sofa pil ows and masking tape. But he could not figure out what Lauren had been, only that she had worn a long black wig and

dress. He remembered how they had prowled the blocks with their pil owcases, col ecting goodies. It had been a warm night for late October. A

sweet smel of drying leaves fil ed the air. There had been jack-o'-lanterns everywhere, their candlelit grins glowing on dark house ledges. Those

candles that had been snuffed out by earlier tricksters were always relit by Jennifer, who carried with her a lighter as wel as a pil owcase. Lauren,

devilishly wicked in her black clothes, had said Jennifer was a master at bringing the fire ...

I see you brought the...

There was something here he was missing.

Was it a clue?

Enough! He had to concentrate on Mars!

But what if she was serious when she said Mars could put a devil in a person? What if she's possessed? It would be like Hal oween al over again,

except in a much more serious way. Where am I going to get a priest for an exorcism? I couldn't even get a priest to come to Jenny's funeral.

Terry wiped away his tears. He was freaking out. He couldn't think straight. Again and again, his mind kept returning to Jennifer, to the funeral. What

had happened back then that related to right now? Daniel had said that Jennifer blamed herself for what was happening to Lauren on Mars.

Stephen Floyd had them read prayers. Then Terry had asked Stephen to open the coffin and take off Jennifer's...

Terry got what had been bothering him. At least a part of it.

Lauren wore a silver ring. A ring identical to the one Professor Ranoth had given Jennifer. Al right, that was a

coincidence, but what did it mean? Professor Ranoth could have had two of the same ring, and given one to Lauren after they left for Mars. But why

would he do that? The rings didn't make great gifts. Neither had been anything to look at.

Yet there were a couple of odd things about the rings. Jennifer had said her ring enabled her to write her story. Lauren had acted as if her ring

weighed down her arm.

He shook himself. None of this had anything to do with Mars.

Hold on a second. What about Jenny's story? There were rings in her story. There were monsters in it, too.

The story was in a cardboard box. Where had he put it? Terry got up and searched his apartment. Ah - it was at the back of his closet. He did not

know why he wanted it, he just did.

He started reading sitting on the floor.

He did not get up until he was finished.

In the Garden, on the edge of the vast ocean, and the borders of the tal mountains, lived the people of Sastra, the first and greatest of human

beings. Because they were from the beginning, they were untarnished, beautiful and wise, of fair form and kind desire. Their King was Rankar,

mightiest of the Sastra, and their Queen, Chaneen, loveliest of the offspring of the gods...

It was dark when he finished the tale. It had not solved any of his problems. It had just made them worse.

When he had first read Jennifer's story, the day of her funeral, he had marveled that a fourteen-year-old girl had written it. Besides the solid quality

of the writing, the tale had impressed him as a fascinating metaphor for a number

of Biblical concepts. First off there had been Rankar's sacrifice, which paral eled Christ's sacrifice on the cross. Simply by giving up his life, and

showing that death was not something to be feared, Rankar had ruined Kratine's curse. Then there was Kratine himself, and Chaneen's Garden.

Each bore a striking resemblance to the chapter in Genesis when Satan entered the Garden of Eden. Indeed, Jennifer described Kratine as a