The heavy steel door of the MRAP groaned in absolute protest as Ren shoved it open.
A thick sheet of ice had frozen over the hinges during the three-hour storm. It shattered instantly under his grip, sending jagged, glittering fragments raining down onto the cracked asphalt. Ren stepped out of the dry, stale air of the armored cabin and back into the biting reality of the wasteland.
The sleet had stopped, leaving behind a frozen, silent graveyard. The overcast sky was a flat, dead slate of grey, offering no warmth. A fresh, two-inch layer of hard-packed ice covered every rusted vehicle, every shattered windshield, and every inch of the highway. The wind had died down to a low, creeping draft, but the ambient temperature had plummeted well below freezing.
