Her hands reached across the car seat, its ripped leather telling stories with crumbs and lost money. Only the shadows from the broken windshield were more splintered. 

Her hands fumbled for something inside. Anything of value may help her barter for the next meal, the next potion of remedy. Anything to kill the hunger, the pain of another day on this stretch of Missouri highway. 

She had left Saint Louis behind, its warlords controlling all of the area from what used to be Washington University down to the Arch and the river below. Her father had told her of a hotel anime conference there where he met David Carradine. Years later she wondered who David Carradine was, and what was Anime?. But it had been important to her father. He said the old man had given half a effort at the panel, not really answering questions. But later that evening at the hotel bar, he sat alone. Smoking alone. The man her father said had been a legend of Kung Fu.
She didn’t know what he was talking about, but she liked the sound of her fathers voice. 

He said as he approached Carradine he noticed the actor watching him from a side eye, and he was pretty intimidating. But once they got past the small talk the actor slid the chair out beside him.
“Buy me a whiskey,” he said. Her fathers eyes still lit up years later when he told her this story. It was one of the happiest visions she had of her father.
She tasted whiskey once. And hated it completely. She spent the nights staring at the starry skies. Thinking about what David Carradine must have looked like. Wondering why people would gather to discuss this Anime thing. And how anyone could stomach whiskey. 

Her father did mention Carradines most famous role. A monk called Caine. Who walked the earth. She couldn’t help but smile at the similarities to her current journey. Exiled and alone, looking for faith and food in the wilderness of old America. 

Exiled and Alone. Hungry. With memories of her Father. And stories of the times she never knew.