I blinked at the large cracks snaking across the glass, twisting away from a small hole on the right side. Beyond it, the Diamond Dogs appeared bent and distorted. And red. The whole snowscape had turned red, the bright, sticky kind I tasted at the back of my throat.

Something scraped there, from my burning lungs and across my tongue and out my open mouth that wouldn't shut. A scream, so loud inside the confines of this jeep. Outside, too. Because the Diamond Dogs were ...