Season of Passage, The

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. Al 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 stil on the ground, stil 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 cal ed, 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 stil 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 real y thoughts, not her own at least. She recognized that

peculiar fact even though she was having trouble recognizing much else. The shuttle was al 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 tel her what the

hel 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.

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 fil ed 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, final y, that Gary

slowly began to turn toward her.

At last Lauren's vision cleared.

Grinning at her from inside his helmet was a skul . Not an old skul , something that had lain abandoned in a sandy desert for a century or two, but a

fresh skul , 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 hol ow 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 intel igence. The naked jawbone moved. Again the voice spoke inside her mind, and now there was no question about its origin.

The skul 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 wel , 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 skul chuckled obscenely. It was then that Lauren

final y recognized its purpose, and rape was the smal est 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 al part of the plan, she realized, part of the curse. She began to weep.

The thing stood up. The skul 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. Stil caught in the web of her nightmare, she shoved at the smal hand that held her arm. Jennifer, her

younger sister, fel 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 cal ed someone, Lauren,' she said. 'Whose name did you cal ?'

Lauren hugged her thirteen-year-old sister again, tighter this time, and buried her face in Jennifer's bril iant 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 smel s. Jennifer's gaze was far away and

troubled.

'Whose name did you cal ?' Jennifer repeated.

Lauren forced a laugh and squeezed Jennifer's shoulders. 'You just startled me, is al . 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 cal ed 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, ful 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, al 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 stil 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 fal en 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 fal en asleep. She knew her nightmare had had something to do with Mars. She

cal ed 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 tel 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 sarcastical y.

Lauren was thoughtful. 'But I do seem to remember seeing him kiss you. Accidental y 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.'