The rain started falling all at once, warm and heavy, as if the sky wanted to wash the desert clean.

£My old pickup truck* was bumping along a dirt road, somewhere between Amarillo and nowhere. The windshield wipers rattled like a wounded animal, the radio crackled with Springsteen.

I hadn't slept in two days. Just driven. Driven to forget what I'd left behind.

I pulled up near an old truck stop. The sodium lamps cast an orange glow on the wet asphalt.

I got out of the truck, I just wanted to take a leak and buy a coffee. And that's when I heard the noise. A light thud against the metal behind the bed.

I walked around the pickup truck, my hand on the knife at my waistband.

A kid. No more than thirteen. Soaked, starving, with wild eyes. They clutched an empty backpack. They looked like a stray cat ready to bite.

"What are you doing here?"

They didn't answer. They just stared at me, trembling.

"Get out of here before I drag you out myself."

Thy gritted their teeth. I want to come with you.

I sighed, exasperated.

"I'm riding *alone. So no.”

They stepped back, their eyes shining.

"Then kill me. I don't want to stay here anymore."

That cut me off completely.

They had that tone I knew all too well. The kind of voice that's already lost everything.

I stared at them for a long moment. The wind picked up, stirring up dust and rain.

Then I sighed.

"Get in."

They hesitated, then climbed into the cabin, soaked to the bone. I gave them my jacket.

"Shut up and go to sleep."

I didn’t said anything else and start driving.