I grit my teeth.
Impact.
We clip the van.
The sound rips apocalyptic. Metal shearing. Glass shattering. The impact throws me against the door. The airbag detonates, a hot white punch to the face.
The truck spins.
The world turns into a blur of white snow, black trees, and violence.
We hit the embankment, rolling three times.
Gravity loses its meaning. I slam into the roof, the door, the console. The seatbelt cuts into my shoulder like a wire.
Then, sudden, crushing stillness.
The truck comes to rest on its side, wedged in a cluster of pine trees.
Steam hisses from the radiator. The engine ticks as it dies.
I hang in the harness, blood rushing to my head. My vision swims. A high-pitched ringing screams in my ears.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. Pain flares in my shoulder, a white-hot lance.
“Iris.”
Silence.
“Iris.”
“I’m—I’m okay.”
Her strained voice comes from below me.
She lies crumpled against the passenger door, still in the footwell. That position saved her life.
“Can you move?”
“Yes.”
“Get out. Now.”
I fumble for the buckle. My fingers feel numb, clumsy. I find the release and drop, landing hard on the passenger door frame, avoiding her.
I kick the windshield. Spiderwebbed, held together by the laminate. It gives on the third strike.
I scramble out into the snow. The cold cuts through my gear, shocking my system back online.
I reach back in.
“Give me your hand.”
She reaches up. A cut bleeds on her palm, but her grip holds strong.
I pull her out. She stumbles into the snow, shivering violently. She looks at the wreck, at the steam rising into the night.
“Are you hit?”
