I grab a can of food & get into the punks’ car & drive to the house where I left the girl.  I go in the house & she’s still in the chair.  She’s asleep & it smells like she’s been pissing herself for the past days, which I guess is no surprise.  I cut the tape & I have to shake her awake to give her the food.  She’s a lot calmer than when I put her in the chair, I guess I’m calmer too.
When she’s halfway through the can I say, “I just wanted to ask you a few questions.  Where do you get your fuel?”
    “They make it.”
    “What do you mean they make it?”
    “In a still in the moving truck,” her mouth is full when she’s talking.
    “Just alcohol?”
    “I guess so.  We drink it.”
    “Do you just live on the road or do you have some place you go back to?”
    “We usually stay in a place about a week & move on.”
    “Have you seen the militia anywhere lately?”
    “We ran in with about thirty of them six months ago, in Evanston I think.”
    “So am I supposed to be yours now?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You killed Jimmy & now you’re giving me food.”  Her voice sounds a little sad & nostalgic, like if she was talking about a missing pet or something.
    “Oh….” She looks sad.  Maybe she thought I was going to be her savior or something.
    “I’m sorry.” I turn my back on her & I’m planning on hitting the stores for alcohol for the new car.  I hear her behind me & then she jumps on my back knocking me to the floor.
    She’s pulling my hair with her left hand & she has a pocketknife she’s put to my throat in her right hand.  I grab her right wrist before she manages to cut me & I elbow her & she drops the knife & rolls off of me.  I stand up still holding on to her wrist. She looks like a wild animal.  She tries to bite my hand & I let her go.  I’m thinking about if I should try to take her in to take care of or if I should just shoot her in the head, but she runs out of the house before I get a chance to try to do either.

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