Running. More running. Even more running. I swear, if I ever get out of this, I'm never jogging again.
Mason was getting worse. I didn't want to say it, but I was losing hope. Every time we stopped, I expected to turn around and find a shiny metal nightmare right behind us.
But then, just when things were looking peak terrible, we found something weird. A tiny town, hidden in the countryside. And it wasn't empty. Resistance fighters. People who had been off the grid, fighting the bots from the shadows.
Turns out, most of the world had already bailed. Africa was the last safe zone, the one place the bots hadn't reached. Yet.
Mason didn't like the idea of running. "We can't just bugger off," he said "We've got to put a stop to this."
I wanted to agree. I really did. But here's the thing: we were two very tired, very injured teenagers up against an army of murder machines.
We had no plan. No backup. No way to win.
So yeah, we agreed to leave. Because Mason needed to stop bleeding all over the place, and I needed to not get turned into some cautionary tale.