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he asks.
    “None of your business,” I reply. “What are you doing with a ten pound metal stick in the middle of nowhere?”
    “This ain’t nowhere,” he says. “This was a rest stop.”
    “Was. Now what do you want?”
    “I want a ride.”
    “No can do. I don’t drive strangers.”
    “I didn’t ask you if you were going to give me one,” he says, flashing a dangerous expression. “I said I wanted a ride.”
    The reality of his words sinks in.
    Ah. I get it.
    “Get out of here,” I order, taking out my gun. I’ve never actually shot anything before so I try to make it look like I know what I’m doing. “Or I’ll shoot you…” I pause. “Right between the eyes.”
    He raises his hands up.
    “Easy,” he says, backing up. “I was just asking. I’m going, I’m going…”
            “Good. Go a little faster. Your tattoos are making me dizzy.”
    Feeling triumphant, I allow myself a smug smile. It’s only then that I remember my dad telling me in the fourth grade that pride always goes before fall. Seriously. Why is that always so true?
    Somebody grabs my arms from behind and twists the gun out of my grip. It happens so fast that I have no time to stop it. One minute I’m standing with an idiotic smile on my face. The next my cheek is shoved up against the pavement and my hands are shoved into the small of my back.
    Somebody’s got a knee crammed on top of my spine.
    “Get…off…” I grunt weakly.
    My adrenaline is spiking at record rates, causing my heart rate to skyrocket and my emotions to freak out. All I can think about is gangster boy’s bloody crowbar.
    “Nice and easy, little girl,” he says, leaning down to peek at my face. “You keep quiet and I might be a nice guy and let you live.”
    I bite back a stinging retort.
    “Keep her there, Ray,” gangster boy says to the guy keeping my down. I can’t see his face but he’s got the same tattoos on his hands that his friend does.
    “Yeah, there’s gas in the trunk!” gangster boy hoots. “She’s got food and water, too. Damn. She’s even got a radio.” He kicks my foot. “What’d you do? Raid a grocery store?”
    “I like to stay prepared,” I spit, “so I don’t have to steal other people’s stuff.”
                Gangster boy laughs.
                “Let’s get out of here.”
                The weight on my back vanishes. Gangster boy lifts my up by the collar of my jacket. “You’re kind of pretty for a little thing,” he sneers. He reeks of cigarettes.  “Maybe I will take you along.”
                “I’d rather chew glass than share a car with you,” I manage to choke out.
    Sarcasm has always been my best weapon, for some reason. Unfortunately it doesn’t really swing any physical power. Gangster boy’s friend, Ray, comes into view. A pale guy with similar gangster garb. He looks unmoved by my predicament.
    “We’ll see about that,” gangster boy says, twirling his crowbar around with one hand. “What do you think?”
    Seeing the crowbar makes me lose it. I bring my combat boots up and kick him as hard as I can in his groin. While he doesn’t let go of my jacket, he does swear in pain and loosen his grip. I claw my fingernails across his face and bite his hand as hard as I can.
    He spits out a string of profanities and drops me. I scramble to my feet and sprint away, heading for the front seat. Ray is right behind me. For a pale skinny guy he’s sure fast.
    Maybe he’s a vampire.
    I dive for the driver’s seat and grab the keys to the Mustang. Ray drags me out by the belt loop of my jeans. I literally shove the keys into my shirt, hoping they stay hidden in my camisole. Gangster boy grabs me by the neck and starts cursing in my face.
    Apparently he plans to kill me and he just doesn’t know how to articulate it any other way.
    He slams my entire body against the cement pillar that’s holding up the awning over the gas station. I gasp,