Cold. Utterly unlike any cold Pete had ever before experienced.
It was cold beyond chilling, cold beyond freezing, almost cold beyond numbing. It was the kind of cold that, paradoxically, burns. Too much of it and too intense to freeze the extremities first, it hit the whole body at once, and fur garments seemed no more effective than would sheerest silk.
The speedometer needle did a crazy jig as the sled bounced and jumped over the icy terrain. Give or take ten, the needle hovered at the 90 miles per hour mark. Pete was strapped up in a sitting position, and with every jolt the thick leather belt cut cruelly into his frozen body. He knew he’d be black and blue by the time they reached Little America.
If they reached Little America —
If There was no time for talking, no strength for ta
