Season of Passage, The (3 page)

hole. You have to be careful. We had a lid pop open on us once. Hel - I'm being gross. I should shut up.'

'I'm a doctor,' Lauren said. 'I'm hard to gross out.'

Daniel stepped to his bike. A canvas bag stuffed with papers straddled the handlebars. 'I got a copy of that Houston paper for you,' he said, pul ing

it out of the bag and handing it to her.

"That's great,' Lauren said. She pointed to the row of three Coke cans sitting atop a boulder approximately two hundred yards away. The light had

begun to fail, and even under perfect conditions, Daniel would have had to be an excel ent shot to hit them. But Lauren wouldn't be surprised if he

could. He had a cool confidence about him. She could see why Jennifer liked him. 'Were you target shooting?' she asked.

'I was just showing off,' he replied, swinging the stock of the rifle into the soft of his shoulder.

'Jenny tel s me you col ect weapons,' Lauren said.

Daniel eyed along the rifle's barrel. The rifle wasn't equipped with a telescopic sight. 'It's in my blood, being a savage Indian and al .'

'You're not savage,' Jennifer said.

Daniel winked at her, and Lauren caught a spark in his eyes which made her smile to herself. The guy liked Jennifer, which should have been no

surprise, except Jennifer had few friends at school. Those she did have, she had known for many years. Jennifer was affectionate and warm, and

most of the time happy, but unusual y guarded for a thirteen-year-old.

'What do you have in your col ection?' Lauren asked.

'A Civil War cannon,' Daniel said, dropping to one knee, 'a dozen Chinese knives, an old Spanish sword, and a boomerang. I'l have to show you

how to use it some time, Jenny. But my real prize is a crossbow my brother found.

Yeah, he just found it, in the mountains in Switzerland. Shoots as straight as this rifle here.' Daniel paused. 'Plug your ears.'

Lauren and Jennifer did so. Daniel pul ed the trigger. The bang was loud, even with their ears covered. A spark flashed on the boulder where the

cans sat. Daniel had missed. He took a deep breath, held it, and then fired again. The can on the right exploded. The fizzling foam flowed over the

stone. Jennifer cheered briefly, then quickly replaced her fingers to her ears. Daniel fired once more, demolishing the can in the middle.

'Incredible,' Lauren said, impressed. In the deepening twilight, she could hardly see the remaining can, and she had better than twenty-twenty vision.

Jennifer patted Daniel on the back. 'My warrior.'

Daniel was nonchalant. He offered Jennifer his rifle. 'Would you like to give it a shot?'

Jennifer backed up, startled. She shook her head. 'I don't think so.'

Daniel turned to Lauren. 'Want to put the last can out of its misery?'

'Yeah.' Lauren took the gun, feeling an odd pleasure in its weight. This was how wars got started, she knew, with a fascination with powerful toys.

She crouched down and tried to steady her aim, using her knee for support. Then Jennifer touched her side. 'What is it?' she asked, not pleased at

the interruption.

'Don't use that,' Jennifer said.

'Huh?' Lauren squinted. For a moment, she had lost sight of the can.

'Don't fire the gun,' Jennifer said.

Slightly annoyed, Lauren asked, 'Why not?'

I see you brought the fire.

'What did you say?' Lauren asked Daniel.

'I didn't say anything,' he said.

'I thought you said to fire ... see that I fire. Hmmm. Somebody said something.'

'I didn't say anything,' Daniel repeated.

Lauren turned her attention to Jennifer, who was standing perfectly stil , watching her. 'What's your problem?' Lauren asked.

Jennifer was long in answering. 'You shouldn't use that.'

'Why not?' Lauren asked. 'Since when did you become a pacifist for the sake of Coke cans?'

Jennifer cocked her head to the side, as if she were listening with her whole body. Then suddenly she raised an eyebrow. 'Terry's almost here,' she

said.

'Are you sure?' Lauren asked. She paused. 'I don't hear a thing.'

'Listen,' Jennifer said.

Lauren did so, and stil didn't hear anything. Daniel had eyes like an eagle and Jennifer ears like a bat. Their kids would be superhuman. Daniel

final y knelt and pressed his ear to the ground.

'A car is coming,' he said. 'Is it your boyfriend?'

Lauren quickly returned the rifle to Daniel. 'My fiancé,' she said absently. 'He's a reporter.' She looked at Jennifer, who was staring at the sky. For

no reason, Lauren felt a sudden chil .

'I know him,' Daniel said. 'Terry Hayes. He and my brother are friends. Mr Hayes used to come here a lot on vacation years ago. I probably met him

before you two did.'

Jennifer slowly shook herself, seemingly returning to Earth, and smiled faintly. 'We're like one big family,' she said. 'We al know each other.'

Lauren final y heard Terry's car for herself. 'Oh, Christ,' she said. 'My hair's a mess. I have to put my clothes on.' She jogged toward the cabin. At the

porch steps she turned

and cal ed. 'Hide that gun, Daniel. Terry hates the sight of guns.'

'Real y?' he said. 'Al right, sure.' Daniel dashed to the trees to stash the rifle.

'They remind him of wars,' Jennifer said thoughtful y.

'I wouldn't be surprised if they did,' Lauren muttered, skipping up the steps.

I see you brought the fire.

Why did I think that? Lauren asked herself. She didn't know. She didn't care. She hurried inside. God, she was going to Mars in a couple of weeks.

TWO

Two miles from his cabin, Terry Hayes pul ed his car onto the shoulder of the road and turned off the engine. The car was running fine, and he didn't

need to take a piss. He had no reason to stop. In fact, he had plenty of reason to keep going. He had been looking forward to seeing Lauren since

he had awoken that morning in Houston. But here he was, taking a break from his busy schedule to have an anxiety attack.

Instead of a drink.

Terry knew there was nothing more pathetic than a frustrated novelist who had become a reporter to pay the bil s, unless the reporter just happened

to be an alcoholic. He was that man al right, but he wasn't feeling too sorry for himself, just a little. First off, he hadn't had a drink in two years, so he

real y qualified as an ex-alcoholic, if you didn't listen to what the experts said about people like him always being in a perpetual state of recovery.

Second, he might be unable to support himself with his books, but at least three had been published, one back in the days when he had had trouble

untying his shoes at night, the other two after he met Lauren.

The first novel had been about four people who were actual y only two people: an old couple who traveled back in time to when they were

teenagers, to prevent themselves from meeting. The couple had not had a happy life together, and blamed each other. A paperback house in New

York gave him a ten grand advance on the book after rejecting a half-dozen of his earlier attempts - and printed thirty-five thousand copies. The

publisher brought it out without any fanfare, which automatical y gave the book the shelf life of the average magazine. Terry saw the novel in the

stores for a month, and stopped drinking for the entire time. But then it disappeared, and he never did see any royalties.

His second book went pretty much the same way as his first, even though it was better written. He had Lauren with him at the time of its publication,

and when it came out, they went to every bookstore and supermarket and drugstore in Houston to gloat over it. Not that they found it everywhere

they visited. It was a mystery novel, about a disturbed woman who committed suicide. But through an elaborate preset scheme, she managed to

implicate al her friends in her supposed murder, in the end sending them to jail for a crime that had never happened.

At least the second book got reviewed in a few papers. They cal ed him 'promising.' Lauren loved that word. She had the reviews framed, and

made into Christmas cards, and printed up as wal paper. It was supposed to be a joke, and Terry laughed, for he had just finished another book,

and it was hot, even if the publisher who bought it only thought it was worth fifteen grand. It was about a cockroach named Ricky, who lived in a TV

set. He was in love with the teenage girl in his house. Ricky was due out in six months, about the time Lauren was supposed to wake from her long

trip out. Lauren was on his case to use the publicity surrounding her expedition to promote his story. He thought it would be the act of a shameless

fel ow, but he

was considering it. He didn't want the book dying like the previous two had.

Lauren loved the character Ricky. She said Terry and the cockroach were soulmates, and it was true. In the book, Ricky spent half his time trying to

kick a white sugar habit that gave him hal ucinations. Since kicking booze, Terry had turned into something of a sunflower-seed addict. The seeds

didn't make him see anything, though. But if he ate a bag of seeds before he went to sleep at night, he had tons of dreams.

Usual y they were about getting drunk.

He had met Lauren while on an assignment for his paper. He was supposed to interview the astronauts who were in training for the Mars mission.

But he had not wanted the assignment. He knew nothing about science and had no desire to learn. His editor explained that their readers weren't

interested in science, either. The paper wanted a human-interest story: what the astronauts did for recreation; what they thought about premarital

sex and abortion; if any of them had ever been arrested for indecent exposure - that sort of thing. Terry told his editor he stil didn't want the story. He

felt it would be an unbearable compromise to his literary ethics. Plus there was a bar he was itching to visit at lunch time, and his meeting with his

editor was taking place at eleven-thirty. But then his editor showed him a picture of Lauren Wagner, and said she was one of the astronauts. Terry

thought maybe science deserved a closer look.

At NASA's training center, he spoke to a receptionist who was expecting him. Unfortunately, she said, al the crew were busy in simulators, with the

exception of the doctor, who was working out in the gym. He was disappointed. Never in his wildest imagination did it occur to him that NASA

would entrust the health of the most expensive human undertaking in history to a woman doctor. Terry wasn't a sexist by any means. He simply

believed that most men in power were. But he had told his editor he would come back with a story. He fol owed the receptionist's directions to the

gym.

Of course, when he got there, he found the young woman in the photograph. Dr Lauren Wagner was running on a treadmil , with two wires attached

to her chest under her blue T-shirt. Her shiny dark brown hair bounced as she ran, and it was not the only thing that bounced. He had heard bras

were unnecessary in space, and he supposed if she was going to go there someday, she'd better get ready. He introduced himself as an important

reporter and asked if he could interview her. She smiled pleasantly, and said, in a few minutes. He saw no reason why he should leave. He sat

down and watched her run, for a good twenty minutes. Occasional y she apologized for not talking. She explained that it would interfere with her

breathing, and give false measurements on her cardiovascular fitness. So she bounced along. Terry accepted it as al in a day's work. He had

already decided he was going to marry her.

Eventual y Lauren finished and asked him to wait a few minutes longer while she took a shower. He was feeling bold. He told her his tape recorder

was waterproof. She laughed as she walked away. He cal ed after her that he had plenty of time. Then he sat down and began to worry. He knew if

he was going to marry her, he was going to have to ask her out.

The next half-hour made him think his watch battery had leaked acid into the gears. But when she final y did reappear, he wished he'd had longer to

psych himself up. She wore a white tennis-court skirt and a red top. Her hair was damp. The clothes he could handle, but the wet hair was too much,

particularly because it was so dark to begin with. Black hair on a pale-skinned Caucasian was something that he didn't normal y see in nature. It

was little things like that in a woman that got him. He stood up and almost fel over. She giggled and apologized for the tenth time for keeping him

waiting. He shrugged. He was cool. He told her he had plenty of time. Again.

She explained she was not very good at interviews. He said he wasn't, either. She laughed, and he realized he had told a joke. Together they sat on

a pile of gymnastic mats. He pul ed out his recorder and pointed the mike in her direction. It was a sad testament to the emptiness of his life that he

had to fight to keep his hands from trembling. She fol owed his movements with the sweetest brown eyes he had ever seen. Now it was her eyes he

was in love with. Her hair had begun to dry. It was only dark brown, he told himself.

He began to start the interview, but he couldn't think of a single question to ask an astronaut who was going to Mars. He just blurted out the first

thing that came to mind.

'What's your phone number?' he asked.

Lauren smiled and reached over and turned off his recorder. 'I'l write it down,' she said.

But that's why I've stopped here, Terry thought, a couple of miles shy of the cabin. She can always write it down again for another guy. On Mars she

could give it to an alien for al 1 would know.

Yet Terry trusted Lauren. She was completely loyal. He just didn't trust the reasons why she was loyal to him. There didn't seem to be any. Oh, he