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  Wind Burn

  by

  Autumn Dawn

  Wind Burn

  Copyright © 2013 by Autumn Dawn

  www.autumndawnbooks.com

  Edited by:

  stonewrightediting.blogspot.com

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  ***

  Wind Burn

  She will make the north wind howl.

  Tech Sergeant Gale Adams’ final flight over the North Pole is supposed to be routine; instead it changes her destiny. Transformed by the Fates, tossed out of her KC-135, Gale is alone in the desolate arctic wilderness. Cursed with the power to destroy all she loves, can she prevent elemental Nitro from extinguishing her home, her family and their future?

  Chapter 1

  “Pilot, crew, we’re going to be over the pole in twenty minutes. Get a good fix on where the sun is; it’s at 11 o’clock, and it’s going to be at five o’clock on our way back. You’ll notice the nav controls will not be reading properly in a few minutes. Don’t worry about it, it’s just magnetic interference.”

  “Copilot copies.”

  “Boom copies.” Gale looked out the window with interest. This was her final flight as an air refueler, or boom operator, with the Alaska Air National Guard. She loved being a boom, but after eight years of service she was through with politics. She was 27, young enough to start a new career as a private pilot, and she was looking forward to joining the family air cargo business. Her dad was so excited he could hardly stand it, and he was driving her mother crazy.

  She smiled and glanced at the altimeter, noting that they were at 29,000 feet. They were flying out of the Eielson Air Force Base and were about halfway through a seven hour flight.

  One of the great things about flying on KC-135 Stratotanker; they could fly straight from base to Hawaii or Guam without having to deal with lines or airport security. With 210 thousand pounds of fuel (a 33,000 gallon gas tank), it wasn't like they had to stop for gas.

  A loud whistle sounded from the back, startling her.

  “Hey, boom! What are you doing back there?” Mickey, the pilot called over the interphone. He probably thought she was messing around. There were a lot of pranksters in her unit; it kept things lively.

  “It's not me, boss. Sounds like it's coming from aft. I'll check it out.” Gale grabbed her helmet bag and oxygen. “Pilot, boom is off intercom with oxygen, heading aft.”

  “Roger, boom.” Mickey went back to discussing the classic car he was restoring with the copilot, George.

  She unplugged her headset from the com and rose from the navigator table to check the cargo compartment, passing the primitive lavatory on the way. Basically an in-flight porta potty, it could make for a bumpy ride when they hit turbulence. She checked the large cargo door on the right, making sure the door was latched properly.

  She did a visual sweep, but saw nothing out of place. Unlike civilian planes, military planes weren’t pretty. There was no aluminum or fiberglass panels covering the gray insulation and orange cargo webbing lined the walls behind the bench seats. In the center of the plywood deck was an empty cargo area with tie down points. The exposed heating duct overhead made the normal rushing noise; no problem there.

  There was no point investigating the boom pod. The only thing down there was the padding where she lay for hours with her chin propped on an outdated chin rest, pulling the ruddervator control stick. If she were making contacts, she would extend the boom to the receiving aircraft's fuel receptacle and transfer fuel. She liked doing the jets better than the heavies; heavies could take 35 minutes or more; if the receiver could stay in contact. Sometimes they had to back off and have another go.

  On the C-17, it felt like doing an eight-pound lat pull with her neck at a weird angle. There was a reason booms had bad backs.

  The whistling noise was louder here. The over wing hatches seemed fine; the door seals were seated properly, but when she investigated the aft hatch, she found it was incorrectly latched. “Bingo,” she whispered. When she peeled the insulation back she saw daylight, proving the seal had been pushed out.

  This wasn't a major problem. Because the aircraft was pressurized, the hatch was sucked firmly in; it wasn't going anywhere. Short of descending to 10,000 feet and decompressing the cabin, it would take superhuman strength to open it, and would snap the hinges and pins as well.

  She plugged her headset into the com port, ready to report, and heard the copilot frantically shouting. “Boom, get up here! I think Mickey’s having a heart attack!”

  “Boom copies!” Gale yanked her headset out of the com, prepared to sprint to the cockpit…and skidded to a halt, dumbfounded. Three women stood in the way. How had they gotten here?

  “Hello, Gale,” a tall Polynesian woman said with a friendly smile. “I’m Destiny, and I’m afraid they’ll have to manage without you.” She rummaged in her Laplander parka and pulled out a white silk bag.

  “Sorry about this. We have to leave a body for your crewmate’s sake,” a stately black woman informed her, pulling a small vial from the pocket of her long down coat. The tassels on her shaggy boots swished as she shifted impatiently. “It’s tricky, but it will make it easier to explain to your superiors. You may call me Providence.”

  “Where did you come from?” There was nowhere to stow away on the plane, no way three women could have entered a pressurized aircraft without alerting the crew. Gale struggled to recover her wits. “This is a military aircraft…” she trailed off as Providence thrust the vial under her nose, paralyzed by the contents. What was this, a hostile takeover? Where the Chinese behind this? They didn’t look Chinese.

  The third woman might have been Spanish with her velvety cocoa skin, if not for the long, curly reddish hair. She was dressed in a beaver coat and tall Russian hat. “Hurry up. I have work to do,” she groused as she dumped the contents of a vial on Gale’s head. Oil rolled down Gale’s scalp with a cold burn, smelling of wintergreen and spruce. “Fortune is with you.”

  Destiny sprinkled Gale with herbs like she was an oversized roast. “Fireweed down, for fiery light,”

  “Because Nitro is a wicked cold monster,” Fortune muttered.

  Destiny frowned at her. “Sh! Gardenia for grace and hospitality, because the wind elementals are a social bunch…”

  “Nosy, in your business all the time,” Fortune said dourly. “And huggers! I never could abide a hugger.”

  “Fortune!” Destiny paused to gather her thoughts. “Ah! Mistletoe, because you’ll need a bit of jolly cheer to deal with your husband.” She frowned at Fortune and snapped, “Not a word!”

  Fortune adopted an angelic expression and smirked, spoiling it.

  Providence snapped a diamond collar around Gale’s neck and slid a ring on her left forefinger. It was so wide it covered the first joint and sparkled with diamonds. “Hang in there, dear. It will be over soon.”

  A deep chill settled over Gale, sinking into her bones. Her breath frosted and she breathed in ice crystals, shu
ddering as the shards dug viciously into her lungs and crawled along her veins in frozen fire, freezing all it touched. As the ice worked its way from her extremities to her organs, the pressure pushed the sharp ice crystals to her core, increasing the agony.

  She couldn’t scream with frozen lungs, but her eyes rolled wildly, begging for help, until the fluid inside froze and she went blind. Alone in the dark with the pain, she shook with terror. Shards frothed in her stomach, pushed up her throat like naked skin raked over crystallized snow, until they burst from her mouth, taking her essence with it.

  Gale crouched naked on the deck, mute with pain. Her old body laid there, eyes open and very dead.

  “Good job, ladies! I knew we could leave a body if we worked at it. Now, off with you, Gale. Remember, the Fates are with you.” Providence made a shooing motion, and Gale was sucked out the gaping seal.

  She would ponder the physics later. At the time, all she could process was the way the wind seized the shards that made up her new body and reshuffled them in a new pattern. It felt like being ripped limb from limb, eyes and tongue and organs becoming a macabre Rubik’s cube in invisible monster hands.

  The pain was hideous, and she fell back on the training they’d drilled into her at Happy Valley, the nickname for the survival training grounds near Spokane, WA. She’d never thought she’d need it for something like this. “My name is Tech Sergeant Gale Adams,” she chanted, along with her social security number and date of birth. She repeated it over and over as the wind tore her apart and made her anew.

  She didn’t lose consciousness during the long fall to the ground. She didn’t splat, either, but drifted to the snowy peak as softly as eiderdown. Stunned at the loss of pain, she crouched in the snow. Gradually she became aware that the snow wasn’t cold, despite the fact she was naked. Gale tried an experimental step and though she wobbled, her feet didn’t sink into the deep drifts. Amazed, she found the energy to take a few more steps and found she was walking on top of the fresh powder. Having grown up in snow country, she wouldn’t have been more surprised if she'd walked on water.

  She squinted at the weak northern sun. She wasn't dead, she was sure of it. She might have been hallucinating, but she was a realist. She'd never had a hallucination that involved all five senses. The snow sparkled with light that should have been blinding, but didn’t hurt her eyes. The snow felt like sugar sand and didn't freeze her bare feet, and if she didn’t know better, she’d swear she was traveling over packed sand dunes. She could even smell the cold, or was that the different gases in the air? She didn't know how that was possible, but instinctively knew it was true.

  She tried tasting the snow but it sat on her tongue without melting like sand, so she spit it out. She looked for a clue about what to do next and spied an ice cave. Instinct drove her to seek shelter, so she went inside to check it out. The sun shone through the ice ceiling, casting blue light over the small interior. She ran a hand over the clear blue ice, marveling at the way it felt like glass. She turned to inspect the other side and jerked as she saw a man frozen within.

  He was tall, nearly a foot taller than her, and she was 5’11”. The body was corpse blue, and as she looked closer, puzzled, it seemed as if he were semi-transparent, as if someone had frozen a glass sculpture. She ran her hand over the runes carved on the glass, wondering why someone would leave a body out here. Was it even real?

  Movement caught the corner of her eye and she spun. A pack of ghostly white wolves slunk into the cave and prowled restlessly, pale eyes watching her intently. Where their fur brushed, frost puffed, making the air sparkle.

  There was nowhere to go. A quick glance revealed no weapons, not even a loose chunk of ice. She shifted her balance as the lead wolf charged and let him ram the wall, smiling when he yelped. While he was down, she stomped on his neck, hoping to do enough damage to slow if not kill him. Instead, her foot crashed through him as he turned to smoke.

  The remaining three wolves growled. She was prey, and they weren’t intimidated. As the downed wolf materialized with murder in his eye, she knew she was doomed. She had the sinking feeling that they might look like phantasms, but their teeth would be sharp and lethal.

  The wolves charged, and she shrieked as teeth sank into her thigh. She struck out, hitting fur, and the wolves backed away. They stared at her expectantly, unnerving her. Wondering if they knew something she didn’t, she grabbed her burning leg and risked a look at her thigh, expecting blood. Instead pink mist rose from the bite, mixing with the blue tinted air. Horrified, she stumbled back, vainly trying to escape the bizarre phenomenon. Her palm slapped the ice…and the ice began to steam.

  The adrenaline spike gave Gale speed as she leapt away and put her back to another wall, torn between watching the wolves and the evaporating ice. In less than a minute the body inside crumpled to icy floor. She glanced hopefully at the wolves, wondering if they’d accept it as a meal and leave her alone.

  The body moved.

  Gale’s eyes widened. Thoughts of zombies played in her head as she inched away. It would be an excellent time for the wolves to attack, but they simply watched. The leader whined, an oddly wistful sound.

  The man drew a deep breath and coughed. Pushing hard against the floor, he struggled to his knees and stared at Gale as if trying to identify her. Stiffly, he made it to his feet and braced an arm on the wall, his gaunt, wasted body barely able to support him.

  The alpha wolf inserted his head under the man’s hand, demanding acknowledgment and welcome. The man smiled and rubbed his ears. “There’s no loyalty like the wolf wind,” he said hoarsely. He studied Gale with sky-blue eyes, a hank of limp white hair that had escaped his long braid screening the view. His deadly pallor was clearing as he absorbed the energy from the air, and he resembled an ice sculpture more by the moment. He was dressed in a long, belted blue tunic with silver embroidery on the collar and sleeves. Smoky gray pants were tucked into knee-high laced boots. The boots were intricately scrolled, with thick soles.

  “Are you always naked, or did my wolves eat your clothing?” The man asked, nodding to her lack of attire. His eyes lingered on her jewelry, which she preferred to the alternative.

  She straightened and clenched her fists. “I was attacked, but not by wolves.” When he simply waited, she continued, “Some women snuck onto my plane and…did something. Transformed me. They called themselves Providence, Destiny and Fortune,” she said grimly. “I’m stranded and I need to get home.”

  He grunted and tossed her his tunic. “Where is home?” He limped toward the mouth of the cave, using a wolf for balance.

  “Fairbanks, Alaska.” She pulled the tunic on and hurried after him.

  “The winds will know it.” He stood at the cave’s mouth and looked around for a long moment. He stood there so long, she began to think of other things than going home. “Why were you stuck in the ice?”

  He studied her. “How long has it been since the last ice age?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. Millions of years?”

  He nodded. “Like the blink of an eye. Your kind frowns on that sort of thing. Humans kept the memory alive until the Fates granted revenge.” He carefully navigated the slope, heading for the windswept plain.

  “What? Wait! Are you saying you had something to do with the Ice Age?” She had serious doubts about following him now. “Were you frozen in the ice because of that?” Horrified, she muttered, “Please tell me I didn’t accidently release a killer.”

  The wind carried the whisper to his ears. “Blood of my wolf and woman.” He looked fondly at the wolf helping him with the steep footing.

  She noticed with a shiver that none of them left tracks. “I’m not your woman, if that’s what you’re implying.” She had to be absolutely clear on that. “I’m leaving.”

  “Go where you wish. I won’t cage the wind.” He didn’t even look at her.

  The burn in her thigh distracted her. She stopped and raised the tunic to look at the damage. I
t was steaming sluggishly. She probed it, wincing, hoping to see red blood. Was it like this because the wolf wind bit her?

  “Let me see.” The man crashed to his knees in front of her, too weak to descend gracefully. “You need to heal this.”

  “It’s not real blood,” she insisted. This was too surreal.

  His glance was sharp. “Real enough to kill you.” He stared at the wound for a moment, his hand tightening as she shifted self-consciously. “I’m too weak to do this. You need to help.” He tugged lightly on her wrist. “Come here and I’ll show you how.”

  Gale wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but her options were limited. She knelt, grimacing at the pain. “Now what?”

  He placed a hand on her cheek and she flinched in surprise. She was protective of her personal space, but she forgot her discomfort as she fell into his eyes. She could feel his mind as he scooped up her consciousness, floating her along like a leaf in the wind. His mind was vast, his intelligence honed over the ages. He was ancient; and she felt like a child in comparison. He directed her attention to her leg, showing her how to fix the torn tissues, to stop the air escaping.

  His knowledge of her body was exhaustive, and she couldn’t miss how utterly, completely different it was from the human form. She didn’t have cells as she understood them, or body fluid. Gasses made up her body, pumped through her vascular system. Healing the alien tissues, she realized exactly what she was. She bled air because she was an air elemental like him. She didn’t feel the cold because she wasn’t human, couldn’t leave tracks because her body was made of air.

  Merged as she was with his mind, she knew he monitored her thoughts and emotions. Under his steady regard, she panicked.

  Apparently, she could still hyperventilate. She came to herself gasping for air.

  He waited patiently until she calmed. Sitting on the snow beside her, their legs touching, he gazed over the valley. She could feel him regulating the air she breathed, doing something that calmed her.