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Kat is shivering, hurt and volatile, at the edge of her world, both solution and solitude about to stop for her, swing open a red door for her, and take her away from here, anywhere that isn't here...

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The truck door clicks and is slowly, quietly, opened. Kat feels cold all of a sudden. Chilled. "Come with us now," the voice is insistent. She's not sure if she's being pulled or tipping herself out into the open. It feels all wrong...

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She turned her back. That's all it took. Had it coming.

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"The minute there's any blood shed in this place they think you're the reason, Kat - you're somehow to blame - so they're going to get you one day. They want to crush you..."

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A solitary voice can be heard through the rustling grass. "Who am I -" it asked, " - who am I if my memories aren't my own..." 

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Kat  wants to find out who the voice belongs to, who he is really and why he singled her out. But she's tired of thinking, remembering.
She just wants to get on with running.

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Kat and the man looked at the lump of steaming metal in the road. With the edge of a snakeskin shoe he tipped it to the side and into the ditch. "Car'll maybe run just fine without it." He gave Kat an oddly shy sideways look. "You willing to chance it, you can come along. Room enough..."

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Mercy-Lynn arrived in this city in the trunk of a car...

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Kat's on the run and on her own, yes; but she's not alone. She has that voice in her head. The voice of an eccentric old man of the road she calls Feral. She despises him, like she despises anyone with power or influence over her.
Feral is also on the run. He too hears voices. 
And one of those voices turns out to be yours...