Snow Runner

As he rolled through the gate and the engine finally died, the silence rushed back in, louder than the wind. Jensen leaned his head against the frozen wheel and listened to the ice melt. In ten hours, the storm would pass. And there would be another contract.

The wind doesn’t howl out here. It screams . Snow Runner

Twelve klicks. In summer, that was a coffee break. Now, it was a war. He checked the fuel gauge—a quarter tank. Enough. It had to be.