by Tia Fanning
Oriana and the Three Werebears
By Tia Fanning
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
http://www.resplendencepublishing.com
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
P.O. Box 992
Edgewater, Florida, 32132
Oriana and the Three Werebears
Copyright © 2009, Tia Fanning
Edited by Jessica Berry
Cover art by Celia Kyle
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-033-0
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic release: May, 2009
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
Additional Tia Fanning Titles, Now Available at www.resplendencepublishing.com
Rules of Darkness (Book One in the Rules Series)
Ticket Me More
Taken With the Enemy
Rules of Fire (Book Two in the Rules Series)
Red Ribbons and Blue Balls (Red Garters, Snow and Mistletoe Anthology)
Coming Soon:
Examine Me More July 2009
Rules of Separation (Book Three in the Rules Series) Fall 2009
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
About the Author
For Leigh. This is really your story...
Thank you for believing in me and my writing, and for trusting me to bring your vision to life.
Prologue
Oriana Ricci pounded her fist upon the small plane’s instrument control panel.
Once, twice, three times. Nothing changed.
...bam, bam, bam...
“Please, God. No.”
Despite her desperate pleas to the good Lord, all her flight indicators continued to die. Gauge needles plummeted, electronic screens blanked out, and lights flickered and dimmed. It was as if some invisible force flipped the switches and turned the damn plane off.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!”
First the radio, and now this.
Despite the loss of power to the control panel, she was still in the air—thankfully. But who knew for how long?
She needed to land. Now.
The terrain of the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge spread out beneath her, and she was smack dab in the middle of its vast wilderness. Thanking God, the universe, and her late father’s foresight for purchasing an amphibious aircraft that could land on both land and water, she glanced out the window, hoping, wishing, and praying for a safe place to put down.
If she could land, she could check the plane and try to figure out why her controls gave out. Though she was no aircraft mechanic, her father had been a wealth of knowledge in her youth. He’d imparted some basic maintenance and repair when he had taught her how to fly the damn plane.
“God, I hate Alaska. I hate this fucking island!”
She hated the cold. She hated the rain. And there seemed to be a never-ending cycle of both in the Kodiak Archipelago. Who could appreciate the beauty of the place when one was miserably cold and wet all the time?
“I should have left.”
Though it was the middle of summer, it was averaging, what? Between 55 and 60 degrees Fahrenheit? To think, she could be somewhere hot right now: Florida, Arizona—or even back in California. But no, even though her dad had been dead and gone for over a year, she couldn’t bring herself to move away or sell her father’s plane.
It was all she had left to remember her father by. The plane and his business—which specialized in transporting passengers and delivering supplies to the few remote towns and villages located on Kodiak Island, as well as the other near-by surrounding islands located in the borough.
Suddenly, the engine began to sputter and the plane pitched.
“Shit! This can’t be happening.”
She had to find a place to land. Right now.
“Don’t stall, don’t stall, don’t stall...” she chanted. She just needed an open field. Or a bay inlet. Even a lake. Any lake. “Please, God.”
Her prayers were answered moments later.
Lake!
In her panic, she dove down toward the body of water—too fast. Struggling for control of the aircraft as the engine kicked in and out, she managed to get the nose up and the wings somewhat level just as the small plane touched down. She bounced along the water’s surface like a skipping stone.
It seemed an eternity passed before the hopping motion finally smoothed into a glide.
Shocked to still be in one piece, she coasted toward the shore, relief steadily sinking in the closer to she got to dry ground. Unfortunately, the engine choked and faltered, then followed by a loud pop, ceased all together. The plane slowed to a stop, falling just short of its goal.
Damn.
Well, at least disaster was adverted. She was alive.
However, as she sat back in her seat and released the breath she’d been holding, she scanned the endless landscape, wondering how long she would stay that way.
Chapter One
Three long days had passed.
The morning sun hid behind a wall of mist and clouds. Though it was drizzling again and her muscles fiercely ached, Oriana kept walking, desperately searching the brush for wild berries—or anything edible.
She had tried over and over again to fix the damn plane, but she couldn’t find anything wrong with it. No transportation, no radio, no cell phone signal... no food. She had eaten the last morsels of her protein bar the night before.
Oriana wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to ward off the chill and soothe her protesting stomach, which was clenching painfully with hunger. She was damp, she was cold, and she was tired. Afraid of missing an opportunity for rescue, she hadn’t really slept since making her emergency landing.
How had she ended up like this, starving and wandering aimlessly, lost and alone in the middle of a wildlife refuge? Had she become so jaded, so arrogant, that she had failed to be prepared for the worst?
She should have known better. When Oriana was young, her father had always preached about being prepared, drumming it into her like she was some damn Boy Scout and he was her troop leader. She should’ve heeded the lessons. Had she done so, she wouldn’t be stumbling around the forest like some pitiful woodland creature foraging for food when there was none to be found.
Her father used to always tell her to take a week’s worth of food and water with her whenever she had to venture away from civilization, and to pack equipment that would come in handy in the event she found herself without food or shelter—like matches, a fishing poll, a sleeping bag, and a tent.
But she hadn’t listened. After her father died and she inherited his one-man business, she removed the extra emergency supplies her father always stowed out of the small aircraft so she’d have more room for cargo. The only thing she bothered to keep on board was her first-aid kit and flare gun.
A lot of good that flare gun was when there was no one around to see it.
If only I had been making a food delivery when the plane gave out. Instead, she had been returning home from dropping off a group of hikers at one
of the remote wilderness lodges.
With every long day that had passed, and with every step her weary body took, her hopes for rescue diminished. Though it galled her independent spirit and instinct for self-preservation, she had to contend with the reality of the situation...
She might very well die out here.
* * * *
Jack McMathan punched in the proper key code followed by the enter button, sending the weekly security report off to their government clients. Satisfied, he leaned back in his cushy leather chair. It was only noon, and the rest of the day was his.
Watch TV or work out?
His brother, Jordan—the technical programming brain behind their small security intelligence firm—marched into the office, muttering beneath his breath.
Jack prepared himself for what he knew was coming… another tirade about Jon, their youngest sibling.
“I asked Jon to retrieve some vegetables from the garden at 0800 this morning,” Jordan said, flinging his hand out in emphasis. “I watched him leave at 0815. At 0900, when he hadn’t returned, I went out to the garden. Lo and behold, Jon was gone. I ended up having to get the vegetables for the beef stew myself. It’s now 1200 and he’s still not back.”
Jack hid his smile. It was hard to take his brother seriously when he was sporting such a pretty apron.
“The garden is a stone’s throw away from the bunker,” Jordan continued. “While I do often question Jon’s intellect, I never believed it possible for him to get lost twenty feet from the damn door.”
“Perhaps he took a walk.”
“Perhaps to look for the keys he lost?” Jordan offered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Jack rubbed his temples at the reminder. Thanks to their youngest brother, they couldn’t get into the helicopter—at least not without breaking a window or a door handle. The fuel cap was also locked.
When Jon had fessed up to misplacing the keys, Jack hadn’t been too concerned, thinking they would turn up. But that had been a week ago, and while they had recently stocked up on food and supplies, they would need to go back to civilization sooner or later.
The joys of living in the middle of a wildlife refuge.
“Tell me,” Jordan said, “Does being the youngest in a family automatically entitle the child to be unreliable, reckless, and held accountable for nothing?”
“I don’t know,” Jack replied evenly. “As the middle child, are you overly sensitive? Do you often feel neglected and unloved?”
Jordan’s face grew angry. “As the eldest, do you always feel the need to be a complete asshole?”
“Talking about me?” Jon strolled into the office, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Jack was just defending your sorry ass again.”
“Whoa!” Jon held up his hands in surrender. “No need to be hostile. The vegetables are in the kitchen.”
“What good are they to me now, you dumb fuck? The stew is already done and lunch is on the table. I’m so tired of your irresponsibility. You can’t even take care of a simple task without running off like a little cub chasing a bumblebee.”
“Thank you for the reprimand, mother bear.” He turned to Jack. “Don’t I do my job? I’m the one who breaks into the systems. Without me, his monitoring programs would be fucking worthless.”
“You’re a two-bit hacker,” Jordan interjected. “I could do your job. Jack just gives you that task so you feel like you’re a part—”
“You son of a—” Jon let out an ear piercing roar.
To Jack’s surprise, Jordan let out his own roar, accepting the challenge.
So much for the middle child being the peacemaker.
Before his eyes, his brothers’ nails elongated as did their faces, their noses becoming snouts. Fur spouted and the sound of tearing cloth filled the office as their bodies began contorting, gaining the towering bulk and muscle mass known to Kodiak bears.
“Enough!” Jack bellowed, hitting the desk with his fist. “Both of you! You know how I feel about shifting in the bunker.”
Fur, fangs and claws instantly retreated in favor of ordinary human features.
“I think we all need to go down to the stream and cool off,” Jack growled.
Jon gave a side glance. “But I don’t want—”
“I wasn’t asking.” Jack rose to his feet, locking his computer terminal.
Jordan groaned. “But lunch is already on the table and will get cold—”
“That is why we have a microwave.” Jack said as he headed toward the doorway.
When his brothers didn’t follow, he looked over his shoulder in silent query.
Jon shrugged. “Who’s going to stay behind and watch the bunker?”
“Yeah, remember?” Jordan pointed his thumb at Jon. “Dipshit here lost the keys. We can’t lock up.”
“We have no spares for the front entry?”
Jordan gave the youngest brother a scathing look. “No, he lost those as well. As I was telling you earlier, he’s reckless, irresponsible—”
Jack held up his hand. “I think we’ll be okay.”
They both stared at him like he’d sprouted two heads.
“Who are you and where is my anal retentive brother?” Jon asked.
Jordan laughed. “Good question. I’m curious to know as well.”
Jack allowed himself to smile. “We’ll hike to the river in human form, shift when we get there. On the way, we’ll enjoy the peace of the Kodiak landscape and discuss the animosity that’s going on between you two—then we’ll resolve it. Go get dressed so we can leave.”
* * * *
Oriana thought she heard the echoing bang of a heavy metal door closing in the distance. She held her breath and willed her ears to perk up. Voices, though far away, floated through the mist.
Wait? Is it just my imagination, a delusion brought on by fatigue and hunger? Or could there really be people out here?
Not willing to leave it to chance, she sprinted toward the faint sounds, her body surging with renewed energy. The voices—if real—could belong to backpackers or hunters, and if that was the case, she needed to hurry. They’d be on the move and she needed to catch up to them before they got too far ahead of her to track.
She ignored her body’s fatigue and forced herself on, running against a chilly breeze that hindered her momentum and quickly sapped what little strength she had. But the further she traveled, the worse things got. The very ground began to work against her, inclining beneath her feet while tree roots and the other flora snagged her legs and tangled around her ankles, tripping her up.
The combination of obstacles made it seem as if she was running through molasses.
Oriana leaned forward and urged her protesting legs to navigate the upslope, but it was of no use. She collapsed on her hands and knees, gasping for air.
“Wait! Help!” she cried, but it came out as a raspy croak, her voice stolen by overexertion.
Tears burned her eyes as the bleakness of the situation ate at her, but she couldn’t give up. She had to keep going. She was a fighter.
She began clambering up the slope once more, her fingers clawing at the slick ground to pull her weight up while her toes dug into the damp soil so she wouldn’t backslide. Only a little further to the crest.
Endless minutes passed before she finally reached the top.
She scuttled across and the peered down the other side of the hill. Then, she blinked hard to be sure she hadn’t totally lost her mind.
Below was a clearing. While the fully blooming garden was of interest to her griping stomach, it was what sat at the opposite end of the glade had her heart blossoming with hope. Hidden underneath a canopy of camouflage was a helicopter.
Oriana slowly crawled to her feet, her elation making the painful effort unworthy of notice. But on the first step of her descent, her foot slipped. Momentarily airborne, her ass slammed onto the ground and down she went, sliding toward her salvation.
* * * *
“Do you h
ear that?” Jordan asked, freezing in place.
Jack neatly laid his clothes on a boulder. “What?”
“I think I hear screaming.”
There was a giant splash and water rained upon them.
They both glared at the river.
Jon thrashed around, oblivious to the frowns they sent his way. “Fuck, it’s cold!” He then shifted, his body contorting and enlarging as fur sprouted.
“It was probably just a screeching bird,” Jack murmured.
* * * *
Shrieking like a kid stuck on some sadistic theme park ride, the world passed in painful smears of green and brown. Suddenly she hit a level point then tumbled sideways.
She was airborne again, freefalling.
Oriana grunted with the jarring impact, the hard landing literally stealing the breath from her lungs.
Stunned, she laid there, unmoving.
Though it was slow in coming, her mind finally registered, took inventory of her body, and reported. Her lungs kicked in and she gasped, but had trouble inhaling. Darkness clouded her vision.
She realized she was laying face first in the dirt.
Turning her head, she sputtered, trying to remove the grass, leaves and soil from her mouth.
Fuck. Did I really just fall down a hill?
Rising onto her elbows, she blinked a couple of times to clear the debris out of her eyes before she fully opened them. First thing she saw was a doormat with bold black print. Wipe Your Paws Please. Her gaze moved up from the doormat to the concrete bordered alcove, where she could see a metal door a couple of feet inside the thick cement entranceway.
Fighting off a wave of dizziness, Oriana climbed to her knees and crawled over to the heavy steel door, placing her hand on it. It was thick, old, and had letters stenciled on the surface.
“Property of the US Government.”
It was a bomb shelter. Or a nuclear bunker. Maybe the entrance to some secret missile silo. Maybe the whole site is some abandoned remnant of World War II, or even the Cold War era.
