Season of Passage, The (54 page)

had always been vodka. Besides, he hated the taste of whisky. It was like swal owing cleaning fluid. Yet he must have felt dirty inside because he

scrubbed his insides out so wel he wore away the lining of his guts. He did remember the night he woke up at three in the morning in terrible pain

and vomited up a pint of blood. It shouldn't have upset him. He was trying to kil himself after al . But death was one thing. Pain was another. Pain

hurt. He cal ed for an ambulance.

But that had been over a year after Lauren died. Many things had happened before he dug deep enough to reach the delicate veins in his stomach.

First he got fired. It seemed the paper didn't need a space program reporter whose astronaut fiancée was cosmic dust. Oh, they'd asked him for a

few tearful testimonials before they canned him, but since he'd told them to go to hel , it had only speeded his departure. Yeah, Terry, they told him,

if you want to finish that next book, now's a good time.

Ricky, his story of the cockroach, came out four months after Lauren died. It was released as a paperback original. His publisher had planned to

print four hundred thousand copies, in anticipation of leveraging his relationship with Lauren into several nationwide TV appearances. They

shipped less than half that number. The book came out, appeared to sel OK, and then vanished. But not for good. Six months after its release, his

publisher cal ed and said they were doing a modest second printing. Five months after that they did a third printing - twice the size of the second.

The book was now in its fourth printing; it appeared to be gathering steam. He received half a dozen fan letters a week, and his publisher had even

sent him a smal royalty check the previous month, which he had promptly turned over to the hospital where he'd had his stomach sliced open.

Publishers Weekly even saw fit to do a half-page article on him. They spel ed his name wrong and cal ed him 'promising,' but other than that they

didn't step too hard on his work.

So there he was, turning into a minor celebrity, but he didn't give a shit. He stopped writing and he kept drinking. He went through his savings fast,

because he only drank in bars. He hated to be alone. He hated to be with people as wel , unless they liked his special brand of Scotch. He turned

into the foul-mouthed fel ow who sat at the counter in the bar and watched the big TV glued to the ceiling and made deprecating comments about

every prick and bitch on the screen who had the nerve to look happy. Stil , he left the women in the bars alone. It wasn't as if he was afraid he

wouldn't be able to get it up for a strange woman. He just feared he might climb on top of whoever it was and try to convince himself it was Lauren -

a sick thought, but then he was sick. One year after the ships col ided he looked in the mirror and wondered who the guy standing behind the guy

with the beard was.

It was then that Kathy Johnson cal ed.

She didn't exactly sweep into his life like a savior. First,

he had to fly out to California to see her. Second, she was taking enough prescription pil s to make him look like a mineral-water freak. She had

moved out of her parents' house and lost her job and thrown away al her money and ... He knew the routine. He hadn't realized she had been so

attached to Gary. She'd only spent a day with him, as far as he could tel . But he didn't try to convince her Gary was a jerk. He'd always liked Gary,

and besides, he wasn't after Kathy for himself. He didn't even know what he was doing in California. He sure wasn't enjoying the sunshine. Yet when

he heard Kathy's voice on the phone, he wanted to see her. He was of course drunk at the time. Stil , he felt she would be someone he could talk to.

She met him at the airport; she ran her car into a telephone pole on the way home to her apartment. Neither of them was hurt, but when the police

arrived at the scene of the accident, he had to hide the little yel ow and red pil s that had popped out of her bag in the col ision.

They slept together the first night. They kept their clothes on and tried to keep their eyes open. He discovered he wasn't the only one who'd been

having nightmares. They discussed what it would feel like to swal ow a handful of pil s al at once. Then she started crying and shaking, and he fel

asleep and snored. They made a great couple, Kathy and him.

Things improved, though, the next day. They went to the beach and fed the birds. They played vol eybal on the sand against two blond high school

students, Stacy and Barney. They got their asses whipped, but it was fun. Kathy threw away her pil s, and he vowed to cut down on his drinking.

They scored some coke that night to celebrate their new beginning. They woke up the next morning with their clothes off, wondering if they had

cal ed each other by the wrong names during the night. They had an affair. It lasted two weeks. But it was with the memory of Lauren and Gary as

much as with each other. It was not sick, though. It kept them from kil ing themselves, for a while.

Terry stil didn't know why he left Kathy and returned to Houston. He supposed it was because Houston was his home and she didn't want to leave

Los Angeles. He should have stayed. He missed her. He cal ed her every day until he ran out of money to pay the telephone bil s. She missed him,

too, but she began to put her life back together quicker than he. She didn't renew her prescriptions, but he returned to visiting the bar on the corner.

She got a job in a doctor's office from an ad in the paper. He accidental y shorted out his word processor when he spil ed a TV dinner on the

keyboard. It was al right, though. His affair with Kathy had taught him that he could care about someone again. It was perfectly al right when she

cal ed him and told him about her new boyfriend. He cared for her, but he wasn't in love with her. His love was dead.

He continued to have terrible nightmares. They reminded him of Jennifer's. Monsters, Martians - they clawed through his dreams. He could hardly

remember them in the morning, but he remembered enough to know they were mean bastards.

He'd just begun to acquire a taste for Scotch when he vomited up the blood. His surgeon visited him the day after the operation and told him he was

a sick man. The surgeon asked if he wanted to live. Terry told him he had to think about it. He did want another shot of morphine, though. The

surgeon shook his head and told him about spirulina, bee pol en, and aloe vera juice. Spirulina was a blue-green algae that tasted like moldy

fungus. Bee pol en was what the bees got high on. Wrinkled women rubbed aloe vera juice on their bodies. His surgeon wanted Terry to take al

three daily and enjoy them. He cal ed them the three

wonders of nature. He had a remarkably natural point of view for someone who made his living with a knife. He even had an ounce of spirulina

powder with him. Terry spat it out when he tried it. His surgeon wasn't offended. He patted Terry on the back and told him to try it with brewer's yeast

in a glass of carrot juice.

It was while recuperating in the hospital that Terry got the idea for Whisper of Pain. He wondered if Kathy's twin sister Lorraine had inspired the

story. He hadn't seen Lorraine while he was in Los Angeles, but Kathy had talked enough about her. The excitement of the new book did something

for him that even a beautiful California girl had failed to do. This time he did stop drinking. Once out of the hospital, he took spirulina with his

morning yogurt - if he was awake - bee pol en with his evening TV dinner, and aloe vera juice al by itself before he retired for the night. The surgeon

knew a thing or two about nutrition. Terry healed quickly from the surgery. He wrote at least five pages a day, took an hour's walk each evening, and

never looked at a fucking newspaper. He answered al his fan mail that didn't ask about Lauren. He remained hopelessly in debt.

The phone rang beside Terry just as he began to write. It was Tom Brenner, his old partner at the paper. Tom had cal ed him off and on during the

last two years, mainly to see that he was stil alive, and once to ask if he could have Kathy's phone number.

'Terry! How're you doing? How's the book coming?'

'We both need editing, but we're both great. How are you? Kathy stil doesn't want to talk to you.'

'That's not why I cal ed.'

'Hey,' Terry said. 'I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm glad you cal ed. You want to go to the Oilers game this Sunday with me? I've got tickets.'

'No. I hate footbal . You hate footbal . Who gave you the tickets?'

'I won them by cal ing in on the radio in the middle of the night.' · 'Why are you doing shit like that?' Tom asked.

'I don't know. It gives me someone to talk to when it's late.'

Tom paused. His tone changed. 'How are you, buddy?'

Terry forced a chuckle. It stil hurt. He knew it always would. 'I'm great, real y. Don't worry about me. I hardly think about it anymore. I just write, you

know. I think the book's going to have a happy ending.'

'I guess you're wondering why I cal ed.'

'Not real y.'

Tom hesitated. 'You might have to start thinking about her again.'

Terry's heart pounded. 'I don't understand.'

Tom took a breath. 'I was at NASA last night. The boss wanted me to do a bit on Project Nova. You know, the date of their scheduled return is

coming up. I didn't want to do it, but what the hel , we've got to sel papers. Anyway, I was at Mission Control, soaking up a few sad comments to use

in my article when I ran into this guy from Hawaii. It turns out he's an important astronomer. You know they've got al those telescopes in Hawaii up

on some volcano. Wel , I got to talking with him, and I noticed he was busting with excitement. I figured he might know something. 1 invited him out

for a drink. I told him that I was you, and that I had lost my girlfriend when the Hawk smashed into the Nova. I'm not sure why I did that. The lie just

came out. I guess I wanted his sympathy so he'd tel me what he knew. I even shed a tear or two. I hope you don't mind.'

'No,' Terry said softly. 'What did he know?'

'Like I said, he's an astronomer. Two days ago he

discovered an unusual streak on one of his photographic plates. At first it appeared to be an asteroid, but it wasn't in the book. He took more

pictures and discovered that, whatever it was, it was heading straight for the Earth. He* told his partners and they put the observatory's biggest

telescopes on it.'

'How big is the object?' Terry asked.

'They're not sure. But this guy thought it was smal and bright and made of metal. He told me al this because I got him half drunk and he was

thinking I was about to commit suicide because of my poor dead fiancée. He wasn't bul shitting me. He was trying to give me hope.'

'You're sure he was who he said he was?'

'I saw his I.D. and checked him out afterwards. No doubt about that.'

'Are you sure an asteroid's out of the question?' Terry asked.

'Let's just say it picked a smart time to show up for a stupid rock.'

'How long til it gets here?'

'Seven days,' Tom said.

'No radio contact?'

'I wish I could come right out and say it, buddy. But I could be wrong. Al they've got right now is a streak on a photographic plate. Another three

days, though, and they'l know if it's the Nova.'

'But it blew up,' Terry said. 'We saw it. The experts said the ships definitely col ided.'

'No one's an expert, Terry, in anything. We're just going to have to wait and see.' He added, 'I thought I should tel you. I'd want to know.'

'I'm glad you did,' Terry said, lying. He knew one thing for sure already. If a few days from now his hope was crushed, he would go back to drinking.

THIRTY-SIX

A month later Terry pul ed his rental car into the parking lot at Edwards Air Force Base in California and climbed out into a sun that was so bright it

cast red-rimmed shadows. He stared uneasily at the drab three-story complex at the end of the parking lot where Lauren and Gary were

supposedly staying. He stood without moving and let the sweat soak his shirt. Three weeks had passed since the Nova had rendezvoused with

Space Station One, and the world had mourned the mission's disasters, and cheered the two astronauts who had survived to tel the tale. Terry

remembered wel the moment Lauren had emerged from the Nova's airlock and laughed happily at the space station's gaping personnel. It had

been without question the high point of his life.

But that had been weeks ago, and the higher one got, the harder one fel . In al that time she had not spoken to him once. True, a heavy blanket of

security was immediately wrapped around the station. Terry could understand the need for careful quarantine. The restriction on interviews was

unusual, however, and the rule against their speaking to family and friends was absurd. Dean Ramsey said the secrecy was a matter of national

security. Yet Terry felt Lauren should have been able to get a message to him if she had real y wanted to.

A single edited interview had been taped with Lauren and Gary. Their account of what happened after radio contact was lost was incredible. There

had been one Russian survivor - Ivan Zossima. Although emaciated from negligible rations, he had led them far underground to a natural canal fil ed

with water, and then convinced them to explore the canal. Using the hovercraft Hummingbird, Commander Brent and Zossima came to a massive

subterranean lake, with an island at its center. Unfortunately, the Hawk lost communications with Brent and Zossima at that point, and their