Free Season of Passage, The by Christopher Pike

laughing - only pointing.
    'What's the matter, Jim?' Lauren asked.
    'I was writing a letter to an old friend,' he said final y. He set down the picture. 'I'm glad you came, though. I'l get dressed in a few minutes.'
    Lauren stood, kissed him on the forehead, and stepped to the door. 'I'l come get you when the president arrives, if you want to stay in your room til
    then.'
    'That won't be necessary. I'l be down. My letter won't take long. I know what I want to say now.'
    'I'l see ya.' She opened the door and left.
    'Yes,' Jim said, alone again. For a moment he thought of going after her, and asking her to stay longer, if only for a few minutes. But he didn't wish to
    bother her. The chil that had struck him continued to linger. Try as he might, he could not find a source for it. He picked up the blank paper on his
    desk. There was one name he wished he could put on it. But if fate struck him down in the coming months, then Lauren would almost surely perish
    alongside him.
    Jim took his pen and wrote:
    To whom it may concern,
    I, James Ranoth, hereby decree that in the event of my death, Jennifer Wagner, sister of Lauren Wagner, become the sole heir of al my
    possessions.
    James Ranoth 8-15-2004 Jim put aside the paper and pul ed out the silver ring. He held it under the light of the lamp, marveling once more at its
    wonderful shine. He remembered the first time he had put it on, how he had anticipated something strange and exciting happening. Of course, he
    had felt no different. One of these days he was going to grow up, he thought. He was a scientist. The ring was an enigma, to be sure, but it was not
    magic. Why did he keep looking for such things?
    Yet it had that peculiar glow to it even when the light was faint...
    Jim put the ring up to his eye and peered through the center of it at the picture of the crew that Terry had taken. But he saw nothing unusual, only the
    confident smiles of his friends and partners. He laughed at his own foolishness. Here he was, one of the world's most renowned scientists, and he
    was performing a child's experiment...
    Except that the moment Jim took the ring away from his eye, the source of his disquieting chil crystal ized in his mind. It appeared to emerge out of
    a gap in consciousness he wasn't even sure he had. It appeared amidst his other thoughts with a rough texture that felt oddly alien. Yet it carried a
    weight that told him it shouldn't be ignored. One thing for sure - the thought had entered his head the moment Lauren had entered the room; he just
    hadn't noticed right away. It was as if she had brought it with her.
    None of you are coming home.
    Jim slammed the photograph face down on his desk and quickly put the ring back in his pocket. He scowled at his own sil iness. He took the wil
    and folded it and placed it inside an envelope. Then he turned off the lamp and rested his head in his arms. His mind was confused and his heart
    was heavy, al for no reason. He loved Lauren, he loved them al . They were friends of his, bright and capable of meeting any chal enge. They would
    go to Mars, he thought, and they would return, and everything would be fine.
    Yet Jim was unable to convince himself. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that they were doomed.
    SEVEN
    Major Gary Wheeler was reading his fan mail and giggling. Lauren eyed him with both distaste and affection. They were in the isolation complex's
    living room. Gary sat with his bare right foot rocking over the arm of his chair. He had been reading the same letter for ten minutes, and Lauren was
    wondering what the big deal was. They'd each received thousands of letters a week. She read only a fraction of them, but Gary went through every
    one careful y. Kids made up the bulk of her admirers, and Gary got them, too, along with lots of women. There were some risqué females out there
    in good old America. They often enclosed nude photos of themselves. Gary had a col ection taped to his bedroom wal . To give him credit,