My additions, comments, or corrections are in braces:
The arctic winds blew fiercely against a slow moving figure, threatening to beat him down into the frozen terrain. But the wind’s opponent refused to give up, struggling to put one foot in front of the other.
A whisper emerged from his cold blue lips{,} “Must… go… on.”
The wind grew stronger, determined to defeat its bold challenger. The man’s steps became fewer and smaller, until he stopped altogether, collapsing into the stirred up snow.
He closed his eyes, defeated. Yet the wind was not satisfied. It continued to mock him, tormenting him without mercy.
***
Two months earlier, Michael was driving the {“the”? Why not “a”?} snowcat in the middle of an arctic storm. The steady hum of the engines accompanied him as he anxiously tried to see through the heavy snow fall. He had to reach Base or else—
He slammed on the brakes, unable to believe his eyes.
Was he seeing what he thought he was seeing? A beautiful blonde woman wearing a linen dress stood immobile along the side of the barely seen path.
He leaped out the vehicle and rushed toward her, but a gust of wind blinded him with snow. When his vision cleared, she was gone. Michael shook his head. He must have been hallucinating.
***
Shouldering a duffel bag, Michael strolled down the hallway to his guest quarters on Base.
“Hey{,} Michael,” Colbert called, catching up with him.
“Hey{,}” replied Michael.
“Stevens says it'll take about a week before the storm dies down enough to return to Camp.”
“Okay.”
{}
They continued walking, together, in silence.
“Col, are there any settlers nearby?”
“I don’t think so. Not this far north. Why?”
“Just wondered.”
“Did you see someone?”
“I thought so, but… it must have been my imagination.”
They took another left, and Michael stopped two doors down.
“Well{,} I’ll catch up with you later, Mike.”
“Yeah.”
Michael went straight to the bunk bed and set the duffel bag on the lower bunk. {So, we're going from in a hallway to placing stuff on a bed? That's kind of weird.} He took a seat himself, staring at the blank wall in front of him. Then he unzipped his bag and pulled out a book, opening it to somewhere near the middle.
He tried to concentrate on the words, but all he could think about was that woman. He kept trying to focus, even to the point of reading a page out loud. But {“But” isn't necessary, but it's OK. More of a style thing.} it was useless. He couldn’t {contractions generally aren't the way to go in formal writing} get her out of his mind.
Michael shut the book in resignation, {the comma doesn't really need to be there} and put it away, sighing. How could he explain it? It seemed so real. He saw her. Was she a vision? A dream? A hallucination? A figment of his imagination? {The “A figment of his imagination?” part is kind of unnecessary, unless his hallucination is supposed to really be from drugs. Unless you're on drugs, hallucinating is your imagination.}
“Just the wind playing tricks on me,” Michael concluded. “Just the wind.”
***
But a week later, he was returning to Camp when he saw her again. In an instant{maybe a “,” here} he was out of the snowcat {you capitalized “snowcat” earlier}.
{}
“Who are you?” he called out.
She smiled at him.
Michael took a few steps toward her. She was still there. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She was real. She had to be.
He ventured even closer, until he was less than two feet away. Her skin was warm and pink; oblivious to the harsh surrounding climate. He saw melted snow where her bare feet had walked, and even now, it was melting where she stood.
Fascinated Michael slowly reached out to touch her, but she pulled away, out of his reach.
Her smile briefly left her face, but then returned. She turned around and slowly walked away from him, her golden hair blowing gently around her. Then she seemed to fade into nothingness.
Michael stared after her, hoping she would reappear, but there was nothing but the wind and snow surrounding him. He was alone.
***
Back at Camp, Michael retrieved his laptop, calling up a search engine. He typed in key words like “body heat” and “temperature regulation.” He browsed through different sites, trying to figure out how it could be possible.
How could this woman survive in temperatures below freezing without winter clothing? How come{, or strike the next comma} when he saw her, her skin wasn’t purplish blue,{this comma could probably be struck out} with goose bumps up her arms? Why weren’t {Michael's thinking this, so the contraction is OK.} there any clumps of ice on her face and hands? How was she keeping herself warm?
These questions kept nagging at him, plaguing him. For a moment, he thought it might just be another illusion, but no. She was real.
***
Weeks passed before Michael made his second round trip to Base. He expected to see the woman again, about midway {through} the trip, and he was determined not to let her leave until he had some answers. And sure enough, Michael saw her again, waiting for him.
“I’m Michael,” he said, as he climbed out of the snowcat. “I’m a scientist working at a camp nearby. How about you? What’s your name?”
She didn’t answer, only smiled at him.
“Where do you live? Do you live nearby?”
Still no answer.
Michael approached her with his arm outstretched. He slowly removed his glove, and came within inches of touching her. But she pulled back, worry showing on her face.
“It’s all right,” he tried to assure her. “I won’t hurt you.”
{}
He reached out again, and this time, she let him touch her.
Immediately a surge of warmth shot through out his body. In shock, he let go, and the sensation ceased. He’d never felt this way before{,} and it was almost… intoxicating.
He tried to touch her again, but the woman pulled back in fear. She ran away from him, disappearing into the twilight.
“I’m sorry!” Michael shouted{,} {b}ut it was too late.
***
That night in his quarters at Base, Michael turned off the light, and climbed into his bunk. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep within minutes.
The first thing he saw was her, standing against a background of white. Then as if a scene was spontaneously constructing itself, a meadow appeared around them. {With the first sentence, you make me think that it's just her and a white background. Apparently this isn't quite true, because you then use “around them.” This is kind of confusing, at first. You might want to tweak that.}
Michael stared at her radiant face as she came towards him.
Raja.
The name slipped into his mind. It fit so perfectly.
Raja.
She took his hand, and Michael felt that same sensation. Then she took his other hand.
Michael slowly lifted his hands up her arms to her shoulders, resting them on her neck. He leaned into her; his lips pressed against hers and they kissed.
Then suddenly Michael was yanked from the dream world, the meadow and Raja being pulled away in a tunnel-like vision.
{}
“No!” He reached out for her. “No! Raja! Raja! Raja!”
{}
And then he returned to reality, bumping his head on the bunk above him.
“Hey man, are you all right?” his roommate asked from above him.
“Yeah… yeah.”
“Who’s Raja?”
“No—nobody. Nobody. Just a bad dream, that’s all.”
{}
Michael’s rapid heart beat and shallow breathing gradually returned to normal.
He was determined to find her. He had to find her. He had to find Raja. {this could probably be incorporated into either the above or below paragraphs. Maybe the paragraph above and below can become one.}
Michael waited until he was certain his roommate had fallen asleep again, before he got dressed{.} {Maybe you could add some description of him walking to the garage.} {P}utting on his winter wear{,} {h}e entered the garage area, and started up one of the snowcats, driving it out into the tundra.
He spent hours searching for her, hoping that she would appear to him. But she was nowhere to be found. His fuel was getting low, and he struggled to keep his eyes open{add “.”; strike , but} Soon he fell asleep.
When he awoke, he felt chilled to the bone. The fuel tank was empty. Snow completely covered the dashboard, and the wind howled around him. He was stuck in the middle of a blizzard.
Yet he couldn’t stay in here. He’d be buried beneath the snow, and this snowcat would become his unmarked tomb. {Contractions. It should be clear if you're describing what would happen if he stayed there or if you're describing what Michael is thinking would happen if he stayed there.} Michael climbed out and started walking, pushing on as the wind barreled against him…
{Overall, I really liked it. The things I did comment on are there for the sake of being picky. I really like it! Now I'll go do the same to part two.}
Motive, according to & through Triple G, determines value.
Gender:
Points: 890
Reviews: 74