Read Elements of the Undead: Fire (Book One) for Free Online

long week, and I just want to get home. I really hope you have a good time in town.”
    Martha’s smile collapsed. “I just…”
    “I know,” Kevin said. “You just wanted to talk. Not today, though.”
    He turned his back on her, leaving her hanging mid-sentence, and stood to retrieve his carry-on from the luggage bin above. Starting in Shanghai the day before—or was it tomorrow? He always got confused—he had been on the move for twenty-two hours. This was the final leg of his trip. All that remained was an hour’s drive home. He was so close he could taste it.
    Ten rows forward, in what passed for Business Class in modern American air travel, the flight attendant disarmed the door. It popped open with a whoosh , and instantly the cool and humid ten-thousand-foot pressurized air he had been breathing since Seattle was replaced with the dry air of southern Idaho.
    People began filing off of the airplane slowly at first, then picking up speed as they realized their brief period of captivity was finally over. As Kevin entered the jetway, he felt a deep sense of calm wash over his body. He had been on the road for the past two weeks negotiating a deal between his employer and a Shanghai component supplier. He was sick and tired of the road; he only wanted to be home with a beer in his hand and his feet propped up on the railing while he watched the sun set over the western mountains.
    The line stopped moving. Passengers collided with each other, slow to react to the sudden stoppage. A chorus of groans echoed up the jet way. Kevin craned his head to see what was going on at the exit, but it was no use. There were too many people.
    “Come on,” he muttered. “Move your asses…” In his mind’s eye, he could see his motorcycle waiting for him in the extended-stay parking lot. Another twenty minutes and he’d be roaring west to his cabin in the Boise foothills.
    Someone screamed. A gun went off, the sound roaring through the confined space of the jetway like summer thunder. Kevin’s insides turned to ice. He ducked down instinctively, trying to make himself a smaller target. A moment later, the flow of traffic reversed, and he found himself riding a panicked wave of humanity back toward the airplane.

Nine
     
     
High above Western Kansas
     
    Captain Mike Pringle scratched his chin as he scanned the instrument cluster of the Boeing 757-200 that was hurtling west at four hundred and twenty knots. Everything checked out, as expected, and his thoughts drifted back to the previous evening.
    Stuck in Washington because of severe thunderstorms, he had made the best of a bad situation, spending the night with an exotic Air France hostess named Barbara, who was also grounded by the weather. The sex had been phenomenal, lasting until dawn when he finally collapsed from sheer exhaustion. He had managed to squeeze in a few blissful hours of sleep, barely enough to meet the legal limit.
    At forty-four, Mike was doing exactly what he wanted with his life. After a relatively successful career with the Air Force and two tours supporting the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, he had opted for early retirement rather than chase the next set of bars on his shoulder. Life in the military meant long hours and low pay with the constant threat of people shooting at him. That was fine for the young guys, but he had bigger plans.
    Since joining United Airlines three years earlier, he had methodically climbed the seniority ladder, to the point where he now spent most of his days high above the flyover states. The next step was to get on the international roster. He figured that was a year, maybe two, away. He didn’t mind. Being a pilot had its perks, especially the steady supply of fresh new women.
    He glanced at his copilot, Marty Sellers, and grinned. At fifty-one, the father of five, and a devout Mormon, Marty was the anti-Mike. Strangely enough, the men got along well, and they made a determined effort to work together whenever