“Sometimes you’re too helpful, Emma,” Ben snapped. “It makes you seem… I don’t know, bossy. A know-it-all.”

I got in the truck. “She doesn’t need to lock up the gun; he could overdose on oxy any day! Naloxone could save his life!”

“You don’t think she knows that?” Ben exclaimed. “She already gets all that suspicion from other people. Is he really in pain? Has he tried physical therapy? What about some ibuprofen? Does he ice it? She doesn’t need it from us too.”

“Well, I am a doctor,” I said.

“I know. That’s why these people need you. What they don’t need is your judgment.”

“Why did you tell her I’m a doctor?” I angrily snapped my seat belt into place as Gabe slid in next to me.

“Don’t worry. You’re not the only doctor I’ve worked with.”

My mouth dropped open, but before I could answer, something smashed against the hood.

“Hey, you!”

It was a woman. Wild red hair. Pointy chin. Face pinched and desperate. She smashed her fists against the hood again, eyes glittering.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ben shouted, rolling the window down.

“You have them!” The woman dug both hands into her hair and ripped. Hair came out of her skull, trailing from her hands like seaweed.

Ben, Gabe, and I gaped at her in disbelief.

“I guess that’s the neighbor,” Gabe murmured.

“I know you!” She pointed a clawed hand at Ben. “I saw you with that other guy last time. I need ’em!” She took a knife from the waistband of her pants. It was huge, gleaming with menace in the pale sun.

“Knife!” Gabe shouted, scrambling to lock his door.

“Shit!” I exclaimed. “She’s coming around!” I smacked Ben on the arm. “Lock your door!”

Ben locked his door and pressed the button to roll up his window, but it was too slow. The crazy lady thrust her hand inside. I screamed as she slashed wildly back and forth, looking for meat to cleave. She shrieked as the window closed on her arm. Ben punched her hand. Once. Twice.

The knife clattered to the floor mat, and she yanked her arm out, howling in rage and pain.

Ben floored the truck in reverse down the dirt road, gravel pinging against the undercarriage. He did a quick one-eighty, and we accelerated away.

“That,” Gabe said, his voice shaking, “is exactly why I got out of this business.”

I was breathing heavily. A solitary drop of blood rolled down Ben’s forehead to his chin.

“You’re bleeding!” I exclaimed.

Ben wiped at his head. “I’m fine. The knife nicked me.”

“What the hell are we doing?” Gabe moaned, bending forward. He rubbed his forehead hard with his fingertips. “We can’t do this, it’s too dangerous!”