Ice Man

by Samantha Winston

  The prickle of disquiet grew, but Steele kept his expression bland. “Why don’t you put the new amount in my contract, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “It’s always a pleasure working with a professional.” Bide shook Steele’s hand, a smirk on his face.

  Steele just nodded curtly and left the small office. He managed not to wipe his hand on his pants until he reached his room. There, he sat and mulled over everything he’d learned.

  * * * * *

  Kell woke at dawn. The sky had just taken on a pink tinge, and the air had that clear, rock crystal look to it that he loved. After leaving the tent to write his name in the snow, he found a clean drift and rolled in it, the icy snow burning his skin, and then he washed up a bit with a cloth he’d taken from the tent. He used a green twig to clean his teeth, and at that moment, facing nothing but endless pine forest and snow, he could believe he was still back in his time.

  Naked, he stood in the snow until his feet began to ache with the cold. Only then did he turn around and slowly lift his gaze to the tent. As always, a shock ran through him at the wrongness of it. Nothing natural emanated from the tent--nothing looked natural or part of nature. Only one thing good about that tent: Allie. He slipped inside and stared at her as she lay peacefully sleeping. Too peacefully. He grinned.

  “Eeek!” Allie gasped as some sadist put snow on her neck as she slept. “That is not a way to wake…” her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. “I take it back. Wake me up like this any day.”

  Kell looked down at her. She stared up at him, her eyes full of admiration. His cock, stiff and engorged, ached with desire, and he stroked it, letting her see his need for her. As he stroked himself, he could see her pupils getting darker, and her eyes, usually a limpid, light brown, grew cloudy. She swallowed hard, a flush appearing on her cheeks.

  Slowly, he knelt next to Allie and nuzzled her neck, licking the melting snow off her skin. Her hair brushed his cheeks and her scent, light and flowery, tickled his nose. He slid his hand down into the sleeping bag and cupped her breast, his thumb finding her nipple and rubbing it gently.

  Nipples had been made to be sucked. He pushed the sleeping bag down to her waist and lowered his mouth to her hard nipple. He loved when she writhed and moaned, and her nipple hardened even more as he licked it.

  Growling softly, he raked his hands down her sides, pushing the sleeping bag off her. “I want you,” he said hoarsely, taking his mouth from her breast long enough to stare intently into her eyes.

  Her breathing had gotten harsh and her eyes had turned the color of that food he loved above all others…chocolate. No, there was something he loved even more: the taste of Allie. He pushed her knees apart and she gave a little cry.

  His cock jumped at her soft cry, and a drop of his seed pearled on the tip. His balls tightened almost painfully. “Not yet,” he snarled at his quivering shaft. The idea of slipping it into her tight sheath, and then thrusting to the hilt sent another stab of desire through him, but he was made of sterner stuff than that. Pushing her knees apart, he admired her coral treasure gleaming in its setting of short, auburn curls. Pale pink outer lips begged to be stroked, and he did stroke them, first with his finger and then with his tongue.

  Salty, musky juice made his cock stiffen even further, and when his tongue found her slit and dove into it, he nearly lost control of his raging hard-on. Allie raised her hips, pressing herself closer. He flicked his tongue against her clit and then chuckled as she uttered a long, drawn-out gasp.

  His chuckle turned into a groan as the scent and taste of her arousal seemed to penetrate his veins and heat his entire body with a single craving--to shoot his seed as hard as he could into the depths of her body. Raising himself onto his forearms, he arched his back and placed the tip of his cock just in the entrance of her passage…and he stayed perfectly still. She tried to lift her hips to impale herself on him, but he took her shoulders in his hands and pressed down. “Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice rough with desire.

  He could sense her need, rising and cresting like a wave. When she threw her head back and uttered a ragged cry, he thrust down, putting all his weight into it, feeling her body open and welcome him at the same time as her hunger reached its peak and burst. Her cunt milked his cock, the hard ring of muscle in the entrance pulsing in time to her heartbeat. He plunged to the root of his cock and then held himself still to enjoy the contractions shaking her. Shivers of sheer delight ran down his spine, and then he could hold off no longer. His hips thrust of their own accord, his cock slipping in and out of her wetness, churning into her until all he saw were stars and his breath came in short gasps.

  Heat slammed through him, rising from his loins to the top of his skull. Then he had the impression his heart had stopped as a spring seemed to uncoil inside him. His cock jerked as stream after stream of seed shot from it, and he collapsed onto Allie, holding her as the eruption shook him. He cried out then, the sound ripped from his throat, and afterwards the silence was like the silence after a storm. The tent echoed with it.

  “Allie,” he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and fell asleep again, her mouth soft, her face peaceful.

  He was tempted to sleep too, but instead, he eased out of the sleeping sack so as not to wake Allie, and slid into his clothes. As he pulled on his boots, he marveled for the hundredth time at how clothes had changed. Heavy, hand-stitched skins had given way to light silken garments that weighed hardly anything and kept his skin warm and dry.

  He picked up his gun, then shook his head and set it down. They had enough food, he didn’t need to hunt. Outside, the dogs had woken and they stood and shook the snow off their backs. They wagged their tails, happy to see him, and he set them free, watching as they rushed around sniffing, playing, and mock-fighting.

  Whistling, he slapped his thigh and the dogs followed him as he headed through the trees. He walked for an hour, keeping an eye on the dogs, but they didn’t stray far. No breeze stirred the trees, and he stood still, feeling the warmth of spring starting to creep into the air. Spring. He tilted his head back, baring his throat. In a few weeks he should be celebrating the spring solstice. This year he would celebrate with Allie.

  He paused, looking down at the valley behind him. Was he attaching too much importance to things from the past? Did anyone still celebrate the solstices? Allie had mentioned one god. What had happened to the others? Had they fought, and only the strongest survived? What did it even matter?

  Too many questions jumbled in his head, and he had no answers. Time would tell him what he had to know and time… A noise startled him and he whirled around. It sounded like a pickup truck, only louder. It got louder and prickles of fear ran up his spine. The dogs didn’t seem concerned, so it must be something they had heard before. He looked around, but the sound grew even louder and came from…above?

  Heart thudding, he looked upwards. In the distance he saw something like a huge wasp. It approached, and he realized that it must be huge enough to carry humans. Fear iced his blood, but he’d never been paralyzed by fear. He’d faced enemies, and this was simply a machine, a pickup truck that flew. He forced his legs to move, to carry him towards the tent and Allie, and towards the flying wasp machine that approached the valley with what seemed like sinister intent.

  Allie heard the helicopter as she finished packing. Kell and the dogs had gone for a walk; she’d seen their tracks in the fresh snow. She’d made a thermos of coffee and some sandwiches. Kell had become obsessed with coffee, chocolate and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He had a sweet tooth, and had adored everything he’d tried so far. And she adored Kell.

  She sighed as she put the sleeping bags away. Warm taffy described how her body felt. Kell knew how to push her buttons, that was for sure. She was dejected at the thought. She couldn’t tie him down. She had to let him go--women always tied down men; if she really loved him, she’d set him free.

  Packing t
he camp stove away, she wondered if she confused men with wild animals. But her father had left her mother when she was just a child, and her mother’s boyfriends had all complained her mother had smothered them, leaving her one after the other. Allie had sworn she’d never stifle anyone. And she never had.

  She stared at a spot on the floor and frowned. Actually, she’d never gotten close enough to anyone to stifle anyone. She’d never fallen in love with a man. The realization stunned her for a second. Love. She’d gotten so good at keeping it at arm’s length. Her heart had a wall around it ten feet thick and made of ice. A shiver ran through her. If the wall melted, her heart would be exposed, raw, easy to break.

  She shook her head sharply. No, best not to fall in love, especially not with someone as freedom-loving as Kell. He would not take to being smothered by anyone. Anyway, he’d grow tired of her soon enough, she supposed. The idea depressed her, so she turned back to the packing. The sound of the helicopter drove all those thoughts away.

  The helicopter really worried her. Hurriedly, she took the backpacks out of the tent, unhooked the stove, and started to take the tent down. The chopper circled and to her horror, started to descend. Oh God, they’d found her. Thank goodness Kell had gone. If only he’d stay hidden. She hesitated, then stowed the tent onto the sled. Act natural, she said to herself. If she ran and hid in the trees, he’d be suspicious. Smiling brightly, she waved towards the helicopter.

  * * * * *

  Steele held the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the trees. After talking to Captain Bide and convincing him to level with him, he was confident he’d find the couple in a matter of days, if not hours. He’d plotted another chart, this one heading northeast, towards the coast. There he’d found a few likely places. This village was first on his list. He motioned to the helicopter pilot to circle over a ridge and approach from the south. If the couple had been here, he’d find out soon enough.

  He glanced again out the window, and that’s when Lady Luck smiled at him. A twinkle in the distance caught his eye. Through the binoculars, the twinkle became the sparkle of light on a Mylar tent. Adjusting the image, he saw a dog sled parked next to the tent.

  As he watched, someone ducked out the door of the tent and started to take it down. The person looked towards him, and he saw it was a woman. A small, compact woman with dark red hair. From this distance he couldn’t see her features, but he grinned in satisfaction.

  “Bingo,” he murmured. He’d found them. But the woman didn’t act panic-stricken. Instead she waved in a friendly fashion.

  Had he been wrong? Sudden doubt assailed him. He scanned the area, looking for the man. Nothing. He was too far away to see any tracks.

  Could she be a villager out on a camping trip? Where were her dogs? How many red-haired women were in the area? He must have found the people he sought.

  He motioned to the pilot. “Set down as close as you can to that ridge.”

  The pilot nodded. “No problem. There’s a flat field nearby.”

  Steele kept an eye on the woman as the helicopter descended. She didn’t seem worried. She loaded the sled, packing everything away with practiced ease. His doubts continued to grow, but it would only take a few minutes to verify her identity.

  Snow flew in a cloud as the helicopter landed. Steele put the binoculars down and had almost unclipped his seatbelt when an ominous cracking sounded.

  “Shit!” The pilot slammed the lever forward, seeking to regain altitude. But the field had turned out to be a small pond covered with snow, and the helicopter’s weight broke the ice, plunging it sideways.

  For Steele, it seemed everything went in slow motion. The rotor blade hit the ground and shattered. Ice and water sprayed in a brown and white geyser, and sparks and smoke suddenly erupted from the engine. His seatbelt bit into his flesh, his head snapped backwards, and something hit him hard on the side.

  No pain, no fear…only the impression of being a rat shaken by a terrier, and then darkness.

  Kell slipped through the trees, keeping out of sight of the flying machine. It approached the tent, then started to land just behind the ridge. But something went wrong. Instead of settling on solid ground, the machine landed on a pond hidden by the snow. The machine tilted, then something hit the ground with unspeakable force and snow and dirt flew everywhere. Then came fire and smoke, and the machine seemed to disintegrate before his eyes, and he caught sight of a man strapped to a chair.

  Forgetting his terror, he bounded down the slope. The dogs ran beside him, but the loud noise of the machine crashing had frightened them. They ran close to him, their ears laid back.

  In front of the machine he hesitated, but only for an instant. He kicked at the metal and glass bits, and reached in. The man had tied himself to the chair and he didn’t know how to pull the strap off. Choking, he drew back, then noticed that the man wore a knife strapped to his leg. He took the knife and cut the straps, dragging the man to safety.

  Another man lay in the debris, but Kell couldn’t get to him in time. As he watched, helpless to do anything, the flying machine slid under the ice and disappeared into the black waters. The ice beneath his feet cracked ominously and he backed away, still holding the survivor in his arms. He glanced at him. This man still lived, but a huge gash bled freely on the side of his head. He surely had more injuries, but right now he had to get him to the village. He opened his jacket and tore a strip off his shirt, using it to staunch the man’s wound.

  Kell tied the strip tightly around the man’s head. Then he whistled for the dogs, and, slinging the man over his shoulder, started back towards the tent. Allie would not be happy going back to the village--but for some reason, his heart felt light.

  Chapter Eight

  Allie and Kell managed to get the unconscious man on the dog sled. Kell harnessed the dogs while Allie explained what a helicopter was, and how it worked, but his blood still felt like ice water in his veins, and he couldn’t stop thinking of the smoke and the noise, and the sight of the machine vanishing beneath the ice, carrying its macabre load with it. That had been worse than any nightmare, worse than the elders’ stories of dragons.

  “Please, Allie, say no more about it.” He faced her, his shoulders tense. Then he nodded towards the front of the sled. “The dogs can’t pull you and the man both, and you can not keep up with me. Set up the tent and the stove, and wait until I come back for you.”

  She nodded, her face white, and took the tent off the sled. “You don’t speak their language.”

  “They will see that he is hurt.” Kell didn’t want to leave her, but the trail led uphill back to the village and the dogs would be too tired. “I will be back as soon as I can. I will leave him with the old woman who rented us a room. She will know what to do.”

  Allie nodded. “Remember, tell them it was a helicopter.” She held up two fingers, “and there were two men. They will want to get the other man.”

  “I will remember.” He leaned over and caught her arm. Pulling her close he kissed her hard on the mouth. Longing shot through him, sharp as a knife. Her lips trembled, and he nuzzled her neck. “I must go.”

  “Hurry back.”

  Kell called to the dogs and they set off, leaning into their harnesses. The snow was deep and the path rose sharply. Once past the ridge it should be easier. He plodded behind the sled, going as fast as he could, keeping hold of the sled but careful not to slow the dogs.

  After an hour he stopped and wiped his face. Stomping his feet and blowing on his hands to warm himself up, he glanced at the man in the sled. The makeshift bandage was soaked and blood trickled down his cheek. His color looked bad, and he still breathed in shallow gasps. Not good signs. Kell frowned, and then his gaze fell upon the brazier. Allie had taken the tent and forgotten the brazier. Cursing, he looked behind him. If he turned back, the man might die. If he went on, Allie could freeze.

  At that moment the man uttered a low groan. “By Belenos!” He had to get to the village. Then he would take t
he snow mobile and rush back to Allie as fast as he could. She would not be happy about going back to the village, but she would be too cold, he figured, to argue. He only hoped she had the sense to get in the tent and stay there until he got back. Did she have her medicine bag with her? He was sure she did, and inside her bag were the tiny magic sticks called matches. Allie would most likely be just fine.

  Calmer now, he called to the dogs, encouraging them with his voice. His legs ached and his lungs burned, but he’d run further distances than this. If only the snow wasn’t so deep.

  By the time the village came into sight, he was drenched with sweat. The modern clothes kept him almost too hot. He drove the dogs straight to the woman’s house and pounded on her door. When she opened it, she let out a startled cry.

  Kell pointed to the man in the sled. “Heller popper.” He held up two fingers and pointed again to the man. He had no idea if she understood, but he had to go get Allie. He lifted the man off the sled and looked at the old woman.