The red van slid, skidding across the snow and ice covered road and into the mountainside. Clumps of snow fell and thudded on the hood and ceiling of the van, denting the red vehicle. Emile swore, rolled down his window, and leaned out of it, trying to observe the damage. Shrugging, he sat back down, put the van in reverse, and laid on the gas. The wheels turned and whirred, but the car didn't budge. "Jorge. We're stuck. Again." Emile called back to the larger Spartan, who was wedged in the very back of the van, among everyone's luggage. That was the only place he could fit. ~##~ "Sure. Sorry."