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Sloan withdrew her grip from the car. She flew into open air. The Corvette zoomed away as she seized the doll latched to her torso and ripped it off while it clawed and bit. They twisted in air, bounced against the ground, flew up and into the windshield of the Cadillac.

Tinted glass caved beneath her and shattered. Sloan sailed into a nest of screaming girls. Tires screeched as snow and hail mingled with leather and flesh. Sloan span and whirled as needle teeth sank into her shoulder. Something big and dull jabbed deep against her ribs. Her skull cracked against a thing. All sense of direction went poof.

The next thing to register with any clarity was the wretched face of the doll as it spread its shark jaws wide and went for Sloan's eyes. She grasped its scrawny neck and throttled hard while bodies writhed beneath her and the car span out of control. She wrenched the doll from her flesh and hurled it out the shattered windshield. It bounced off the hood and flew into the white.

(Chapter 24)