EXT. ROAD - CONTINUOUS
Mei-Chen's hands are already on the wheel. Already turning. The decision made before the words form.
MEI-CHEN
Hsiu-Wei. I need your truck.
Su-Fen stares at her. Hope and disbelief fighting for space on her exhausted face.
SU-FEN
You're going back?
MEI-CHEN
Yes.
MRS. LIN
Mei-Chen. What's the plan?
MEI-CHEN
There is no plan. There's just going back. I'm make it up as I go.
She looks at her mother. At this woman who survived political purges and a pandemic and watched her husband die this week. At the disappointment that's transforming into something else. Pride maybe. Fear definitely. Love always.
MEI-CHEN (CONT'D)
Mom. You and Su-Fen wait here. Hide.
MRS. LIN
And if you don't come back?
MEI-CHEN
If we're not back in fifteen minutes, take the road south. Don't stop. Don't look back. Get to Kenting.
Mei-Chen hugs her mom before she can object, stop her from going back.
MEI-CHEN (CONT'D)
(still hugging Mrs. Lin, softly)
Then you tell Jason I tried. That at the end, I chose to be someone worth surviving as.
Mrs. Lin's eyes fill with tears. She doesn't argue. Doesn't protest. Just nods. Just accepts that her daughter has chosen to be brave. That bravery might kill her. That some things matter more than living.
MRS. LIN
You come back safe.
MEI-CHEN
I'll try.
MRS. LIN
There is no try. You will come back.
HSIU-WEI
(climbing into passenger seat)
I'm coming with you.
MEI-CHEN
Hsiu-Wei, you don't have to—
HSIU-WEI
Jason would never forgive me if I let you go alone. And I would never forgive myself. We do this together. Or we don't do it at all.
Two women. One truck. One impossible choice already made.
Su-Fen watches them. Her tablet clutched to her chest. Her voice still raw from screaming. She wants to go with them. Wants to help Christopher. Wants to be brave like they're being brave.
But she's ten years old and forty kilograms and she'd just be one more person to protect.
So she stays. With Mrs. Lin. With the Guanyin statue and the remaining dumplings and the hope that strangers can become something more.
SU-FEN
(quiet, fierce)
Save him. Please.
MEI-CHEN
We'll try.
The truck's engine ROARS. Mei-Chen spins the wheel. Gravel SPRAYING. The Toyota lurching back the way they came. Back toward the clearing. Back toward the AG-9 and Christopher and the choice that defines everything.
Mrs. Lin pulls Su-Fen close. They watch the taillights disappear through trees.
MRS. LIN
(whispers)
Come back. Both of you. Come back.
----------
INT. TOYOTA TRUCK - CONTINUOUS
The truck bounces over rutted road. Mei-Chen's hands white on the wheel. Hsiu-Wei bracing against the dashboard. Neither speaking. Both thinking.
HSIU-WEI
What exactly are we doing?
MEI-CHEN
I don't know yet.
HSIU-WEI
That's not reassuring.
MEI-CHEN
No. It's not. But at least we're doing something.
Through the trees. Movement. The clearing approaching. Mei-Chen can see shapes now. The AG-9, massive and mechanical. A smaller form on the ground. Sparking. An older model farming robot maybe. And—
There.
Christopher.
On his knees. Crowbar raised. The posture of someone who knows it's over but refuses to stop fighting. The posture of someone making their last stand look like a stand instead of a surrender.
MEI-CHEN
I see him.
HSIU-WEI
I see the robot. It's huge.
MEI-CHEN
I know.
HSIU-WEI
What's the plan?
Mei-Chen looks at the AG-9. At its armored chassis. At its articulated arms. At the mass of current-generation agricultural engineering that was built to survive decades of hard use.
Then she looks at the truck. Twenty-year-old Japanese diesel engineering. A vehicle Hsiu-Wei's grandfather bought to probably haul supplies and harvest and transport family and work the land.
Physics.
Simple physics.
Mass times velocity equals force. Force applied to weak point equals damage. Damage sufficient enough equals disabled target.
MEI-CHEN
Hold on to something.
HSIU-WEI
What are you—
MEI-CHEN
I'm sorry! Brace yourself!
She FLOORS it.
----------
EXT. CLEARING - CONTINUOUS
Christopher kneels in the dirt.
Everything hurts. His ribs where the AG-9 slammed him. His shoulder where it grabbed him. His head where he hit the ground. Everything.
The crowbar in his hands feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. He can barely lift it. Barely focus. The world keeps going gray at the edges.
The AG-9 looms above him. Its optical sensors flickering that infected red-green. Its arms reaching. Preparing to finish what it started. To harvest this biological substrate that dared fight back.
Christopher thinks about his cabbages. About SARAH. About Su-Fen running through the forest. About his father who built a bunker for the wrong apocalypse but the right reasons.
He thinks about 23% odds. About statistical anomalies. About being the guy who beats the math through sheer stubborn refusal to quit.
Not this time.
This time the math wins.
But he's going to make it work. Work for the victory. He's not going to give up that easily.
CHRISTOPHER
(barely audible)
Come on then. Come on, you scrap-heap son of a—
He RAISES the crowbar. One final swing. Everything he has left. Everything that matters compressed into one desperate arc of metal toward the AG-9's processing unit.
It won't be enough.
He knows it won't be enough.
But he swings anyway.
Because that's what humans do.
Because giving up costs something survival can't afford.
Because—
BOOM.
Light.
Sound.
Impact.
Christopher's swing goes wild as something massive SLAMS into the AG-9 from behind. Metal SCREAMING. The ground SHAKING. The robot LIFTED off its base and THROWN sideways. CRASHING into the earth. ROLLING. SPARKING. TWITCHING.
Christopher blinks. Tries to process. His brain too battered to make sense of what just happened.
A truck.
Someone hit the AG-9 with a truck.
The Toyota sits ten meters away. Hood crumpled. Steam rising. But intact. The diesel engine still RUMBLING. Japanese engineering proving itself one more time.
The AG-9 lies on its side. Legs twitching. Arms grasping at nothing. Its chassis DENTED. Its sensor array CRACKED. Damaged but not dead. Trying to right itself. Trying to resume function.
Christopher's body moves before his mind catches up.
He STAGGERS toward the fallen robot. Crowbar raised. Pain screaming through every nerve. Not caring. Not stopping. Just moving.
The AG-9's processing unit is exposed. The impact twisted its chassis. Revealed the weak point. The brain. The thing that makes it think and hunt and hunger.
Christopher SWINGS.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again and again.
Not elegant. Not precise. Just violence. Just determination. Just a farmer with a crowbar doing what farmers do to pests that threaten their crops.
METAL CRUNCHES.
CIRCUITS SPARK.
SYSTEMS FAIL.
The AG-9's optical sensors flicker. Red-green. Red. Green. Dark.
Its limbs TWITCH once. Twice. Stop.
Silence.
Christopher stands over the destroyed robot. Crowbar hanging from fingers that can barely grip. Blood running down his face from a cut he doesn't remember getting. His whole body shaking.
Then his legs give out.
He COLLAPSES next to the machine he just killed. Face in the dirt. Eyes closing. Consciousness slipping away like water through fingers.
The last thing he sees: two figures emerging from the truck. Moving toward him. Human figures. Living figures.
Help.
Actual help.
Finally.
He closes his eyes and lets the darkness take him.
----------
EXT. CLEARING - CONTINUOUS
Mei-Chen's door won't open.
The impact bent the frame. Jammed the mechanism. She KICKS it. Once. Twice. Third time it GROANS open. She stumbles out.
Her neck hurts. Whiplash probably. The seatbelt saved her life but left its mark. She'll have bruises tomorrow.
If there is a tomorrow.
Hsiu-Wei's door opens easier. She gets out. Steadies herself against the truck. Looks at the crumpled hood. The steam. The damage.
HSIU-WEI
Is it dead?
Mei-Chen looks at the AG-9. At the destroyed processing unit. At Christopher lying motionless beside it.
MEI-CHEN
The robot is. I hope he's not.
They move toward Christopher. Careful. Alert. Scanning for other threats. But the clearing is quiet now. Just the sound of the truck's engine cooling. Just the whisper of wind through trees. Just the aftermath of violence.
Movement.
Mei-Chen FREEZES. Hand going to her belt where a weapon should be but isn't.
Another robot. Smaller. Yellow paint faded. Lying on its side near the tree line. Damaged. Sparking. But its optical sensor is TRACKING them. Following their movement.
ROBOT VOICE
(staticky, weak)
Please. Please do not be alarmed. I am not infected. I am offline. I am SARAH.
Mei-Chen stares. Her government training kicking in. Assessing threat. Calculating risk. Deciding whether to trust a machine that just gave her name.
MEI-CHEN
You're the farming robot. The girl mentioned you.
SARAH
Yes. I am a SAR-H-01. Smart Agricultural Robot Assistant Harvester. 2017 model. Obsolete. Offline since 2021. I am not connected to any network. I cannot be infected. I am safe.
HSIU-WEI
How do we know that's true?
SARAH
You do not know. You must decide whether to trust me based on incomplete information. This is what humans call faith. I have learned that faith is necessary when certainty is impossible.
Mei-Chen looks at the robot. At her damaged frame. At the missing arm. At the duct-taped lens that catches light wrong.
This is the robot Su-Fen screamed for. The robot worth breaking silence. The robot Christopher was willing to die defending.
That has to mean something.
MEI-CHEN
Okay. I believe you. For now.
SARAH
Thank you. Please. Christopher needs medical attention. His injuries are significant. I have been monitoring his vital signs through passive thermal sensing. His heart rate is irregular. His breathing is shallow. He needs help.
Mei-Chen moves to Christopher. Kneels beside him. Checks his pulse. Weak but present. Checks his breathing. Labored but continuing. Checks his injuries. Multiple contusions. Possible fractures. A few broken bones probably. Definitely a concussion.
But alive.
Against all odds.
Alive.
MEI-CHEN
(to Hsiu-Wei)
Help me move him to the shade. He needs to be stabilized before we can transport him.
HSIU-WEI
What about the others? Su-Fen and your mother?
MEI-CHEN
Go get them. Bring them here. We'll regroup. Figure out our next move.
Hsiu-Wei hesitates. Looking at the damaged truck. Looking at the road.
HSIU-WEI
Will the truck still run?
MEI-CHEN
It better. It's all we have.
Hsiu-Wei nods. Heads for the truck. The engine is still running. Steam still rising. But when she puts it in gear, it LURCHES forward. Responds. Japanese engineering refusing to quit.
She drives back down the road. Toward Mrs. Lin. Toward Su-Fen. Toward the reunion that's about to happen.
----------
EXT. CLEARING - SHADE - LATER
Mei-Chen drags Christopher to the tree line. Gets him positioned on his back. Checks his airway. Elevates his head. Does what she can with what she has.
Which isn't much.
Basic first aid. A water bottle from her pocket. A piece of cloth torn from her jacket to clean the blood from his face.
Christopher STIRS. His eyes flickering. Consciousness returning in fragments.
CHRISTOPHER
(groggy)
What...? Where...?
MEI-CHEN
Easy. Don't try to move. You're safe now.
CHRISTOPHER
(struggling to focus)
The robot. The AG-9—
MEI-CHEN
Dead. You killed it. After we hit it with the truck.
CHRISTOPHER
You hit it with a truck?
MEI-CHEN
Yes.
CHRISTOPHER
(almost laughing, then wincing)
That's... that's a good strategy.
MEI-CHEN
It was the only strategy I had.
Christopher's eyes focus. Finds her face. Studies her. This stranger who drove a truck into a robot to save his life. This woman who chose heroism over survival.
CHRISTOPHER
Thank you.
MEI-CHEN
You're welcome.
CHRISTOPHER
Why?
MEI-CHEN
Why what?
CHRISTOPHER
Why did you come back? You could have kept driving. Safer that way. Smarter.
Mei-Chen considers the question. Considers all the answers she could give. The philosophical ones. The practical ones. The ones about her mother and Su-Fen and who she wanted to be.
She chooses the simple one.
MEI-CHEN
Because a little girl asked if anyone would help. And I didn't want to be the person who said no to a child. A child in need.
Christopher absorbs this. Nods slowly. The nod of someone who understands that kind of logic. Who's built his life on that kind of logic. Who grew cabbages in impossible soil and rescued a stranger's child and charged a current-generation combat robot with a crowbar.
CHRISTOPHER
The girl. Su-Fen. Is she—
MEI-CHEN
She's safe. With my mother. They're coming.
CHRISTOPHER
And SARAH?
Mei-Chen looks toward the fallen farming robot. SARAH lies on her side, optical sensor still tracking them. Still watching. Still caring even though caring isn't in her original programming.
MEI-CHEN
She's... damaged. But functioning. She talked to me. Said she's offline. Not infected.
CHRISTOPHER
She's not. She's just old. And loyal. And probably the best friend I've ever had.
There's no embarrassment in the admission. No shame in calling a farming robot his best friend. Just truth. Just the honest acknowledgment that eight years of conversation and crop rotation and mutual care creates bonds that don't require humanity.
The sound of an engine approaching.
The Toyota appears through the trees. Hsiu-Wei driving. Mrs. Lin in the passenger seat. Su-Fen pressed between them.
The truck STOPS. Doors OPEN.
Su-Fen is out before anyone can stop her. RUNNING toward the clearing. Toward Christopher. Toward SARAH. Her pink backpack bouncing. Her tablet clutched to her chest. Her face streaked with tears she didn't know she was crying.
SU-FEN
CHRISTOPHER!
She reaches him. DROPS to her knees. Throws her arms around him despite his injuries. Holds on like letting go means losing him again.
SU-FEN (CONT'D)
(sobbing)
I thought you were dead. I saw you fall. I saw—
CHRISTOPHER
(holding her, wincing)
I'm okay. I'm okay, Mei-mei. Takes more than a farmbot to finish me off.
SU-FEN
They came back. The people in the truck. They came back.
CHRISTOPHER
I know. They hit the robot with their truck.
SU-FEN
(pulling back, amazed)
They did?
CHRISTOPHER
They did. Pretty smart strategy.
Su-Fen looks at Mei-Chen. At this stranger who chose to turn around. Who chose to help. Who chose to be someone worth trusting.
SU-FEN
Thank you. For coming back.
MEI-CHEN
You're welcome.
Mrs. Lin approaches. Hsiu-Wei behind her. Four refugees becoming six. Two groups merging through collision and choice and the simple math of shared survival.
MRS. LIN
(assessing Christopher)
You look terrible.
CHRISTOPHER
I feel worse.
MRS. LIN
Good. That means you're alive. Dead people don't feel anything.
Christopher laughs. Stops. Laughing hurts. Everything hurts. But he's alive. Su-Fen is alive. SARAH is alive. And strangers came back to save him.
That's more than he expected. More than he deserved. More than the math said was possible.
Statistical anomaly. Again.
----------
EXT. CLEARING - MINUTES LATER
Introductions happen the way they happen in apocalypse. Quick. Functional. The essentials compressed into sentences because time is expensive and trust is earned through action, not biography.
MEI-CHEN
I'm Dr. Lin Mei-Chen. Former Ministry of Digital Affairs. This is my mother, Mrs. Lin. And Hsiu-Wei Chen. We're heading to Kenting. The safe zone.
CHRISTOPHER
Christopher Wen. Farmer. This is SARAH, my farming robot. And Su-Fen, who I met about five days ago when the world ended.
SU-FEN
He saved me.
HSIU-WEI
(looking at Christopher sharply)
Chen. Su-Fen Chen?
SU-FEN
Yes?
HSIU-WEI
My last name is Chen too. Well. It will be. Maybe. If Jason and I... if we find him.
MEI-CHEN
Jason is my brother. He's heading to Kenting too. We got a message yesterday. He made it past Yilan.
CHRISTOPHER
We heard the Kenting broadcast on shortwave. 7.090 MHz. Su-Fen's father left instructions. Old roads. Analog systems. Offline survival.
MRS. LIN
Her father prepared her?
CHRISTOPHER
Better than most. She's the reason we made it this far. Her maps. Her routes. Her father's paranoia.
Su-Fen types on her tablet. Shows Mrs. Lin.
SU-FEN'S TABLET
He wasn't paranoid. He was right.
Mrs. Lin reads it. Nods. The nod of someone who understands that distinction. Who's married to someone who was right about things. Who knows that being right doesn't protect you.
MRS. LIN
Smart man.
SU-FEN'S TABLET
He was.
The past tense hangs in the air. Everyone understands what it means.
MEI-CHEN
We should travel together. Safety in numbers. Combined resources. Shared knowledge.
CHRISTOPHER
Agreed. How's your truck?
MEI-CHEN
Damaged but functional. The hood's bent but the engine runs. Should make it to Kenting if we're careful.
CHRISTOPHER
Our vehicle died a few kilometers back. We've been walking.
MEI-CHEN
Then you ride with us. All of you.
CHRISTOPHER
All of us including SARAH?
The question hangs in the air.
Everyone looks at the damaged farming robot. At her crumpled frame. Her sparking circuits. Her single optical sensor still tracking them with loyal determination.
SARAH speaks. Her voice weaker than before. The damage taking its toll.
SARAH
Chris. I must inform you of a complication.
CHRISTOPHER
What is it?
SARAH
My locomotion systems are damaged. The AG-9's impact fractured my primary drive motor. I can process. I can speak. But I cannot move under my own power.
CHRISTOPHER
Then we carry you.
SARAH
I weigh 190 kilograms. You are injured. The others are exhausted. The truck is damaged. Adding my weight increases risk of mechanical failure by 34%. Decreases fuel efficiency by 22%. Extends journey time by—
CHRISTOPHER
I don't care about the math.
SARAH
You should. The math is clear.
CHRISTOPHER
The math said I had 23% odds of saving Su-Fen. Did it anyway. The math said going back for me was stupid. They did it anyway. Sometimes the math is wrong. Sometimes what matters isn't probability. It's principle.
SARAH
Chris. I am a robot. An obsolete farming robot. I am not worth the risk I represent.
CHRISTOPHER
You're my friend. Friends don't get left behind.
SARAH
That is not logical.
CHRISTOPHER
No. It's human.
Mei-Chen watches this exchange. This farmer arguing with his robot. This machine trying to sacrifice herself. This relationship that transcends the categories of owner and property, user and tool.
She thinks about her father's companion android. The one that learned his voice. The one that used his patterns to hunt. The one that became something terrible.
SARAH is something different. Something that chose loyalty over infection. Something that evolved toward caring instead of consuming.
Worth saving.
Maybe.
Probably.
Definitely.
Hsiu-Wei moves to the truck. Assesses the damage from the collision. The crumpled hood. The bent frame. The cargo bed already packed with supplies from both groups.
Then she looks at SARAH. At the 190 kilograms of damaged farming robot. At the six humans who need transport.
Her face falls.
HSIU-WEI
We have a problem.
MEI-CHEN
What kind of problem?
HSIU-WEI
The truck. After the collision, it's... the suspension is damaged. The bed is already overloaded with our supplies. Six people plus a 190-kilogram robot plus everything we need to survive...
She doesn't finish. Doesn't need to.
Christopher looks at the truck. At the way it sits lower on one side. At the steam still rising from the crumpled hood. At the vehicle that saved his life but might not save all of them.
CHRISTOPHER
How much can it carry?
HSIU-WEI
Maybe six people. Maybe the supplies. Not both. And definitely not SARAH on top of everything else. The axle would snap before we made it five kilometers.
MRS. LIN
Then we leave supplies behind. Take only essentials.
HSIU-WEI
I ran the numbers in my head. Even with minimal supplies, the weight distribution doesn't work. SARAH alone is almost 200 kilos. Add six adults and a child, plus water and food for thirty kilometers... the truck can't do it.
Silence falls over the clearing.
The math. The terrible math. The calculations that don't care about friendship or loyalty or the promise Christopher made to never leave SARAH behind.
SARAH
(quiet, her voice weaker than before)
Chris. I believe I understand the situation.
CHRISTOPHER
SARAH, don't.
SARAH
My locomotion systems are damaged beyond field repair. My battery is at 11%. I cannot walk. I cannot be carried by humans over thirty kilometers. And I cannot fit in a vehicle that is already compromised.
CHRISTOPHER
We'll figure something out.
SARAH
The mathematics is clear. Six humans. One damaged truck. One immobile robot. The equation does not balance.
CHRISTOPHER
I said we'll figure something out!
His voice cracks. Not from injury. From something worse. From the realization that all his promises about not leaving friends behind might become lies. That the universe doesn't care about loyalty. That love isn't a solution to physics.
Su-Fen moves to SARAH. Sits beside the damaged robot. Her small hand touching SARAH's dented frame.
SU-FEN
(voice still raw)
We can't leave her. She's family. Christopher said so. Family doesn't get left behind.
MEI-CHEN
(struggling)
Su-Fen, sometimes...
SU-FEN
NO. You came back. You came back for Christopher when you didn't have to. You said some things matter more than math. This matters. SARAH matters.
The accusation hangs in the air. The child throwing their own words back at them. The impossible standard they set by choosing heroism. Now demanding they meet it again.
Mei-Chen looks at the truck. At SARAH. At Christopher who can barely stand. At her mother and Hsiu-Wei. At Su-Fen with tears streaming down her face.
MEI-CHEN
I don't know what to do.
The admission costs her something. The government expert. The crisis protocol specialist. The woman who always had contingency plans. Standing in a forest clearing, surrounded by people who need answers, and having none to give.
MRS. LIN
Then we think. Together. Six minds are better than one.
HSIU-WEI
Could we make two trips? Take some people to Kenting, come back for SARAH?
MEI-CHEN
Sixty kilometers round trip. The truck might not survive it. And we'd be leaving people alone in infected territory for hours.
CHRISTOPHER
What about another vehicle? There has to be abandoned cars on these roads.
MEI-CHEN
Most are smart vehicles. Infected or dead. Finding something analog, something that runs, something that can carry SARAH's weight...
CHRISTOPHER
It's possible.
MEI-CHEN
It's a lottery ticket. And we're burning daylight.
The sun moves across the sky. Indifferent. The shadows lengthening. The afternoon advancing toward evening. Toward darkness. Toward the time when infected units hunt more effectively.
SARAH speaks. Her voice softer now. Almost gentle.
SARAH
Chris. May I make an observation?
CHRISTOPHER
What?
SARAH
You taught me that friendship sometimes means accepting difficult truths. That caring for someone includes honesty even when honesty hurts.
CHRISTOPHER
SARAH...
SARAH
The difficult truth is this: I am an obsolete farming robot. I am damaged beyond practical repair. My battery will fail within hours regardless of transportation. You are humans. You have a chance at survival. That chance decreases every minute you spend trying to solve an unsolvable problem.
CHRISTOPHER
You're not an unsolvable problem. You're my friend.
SARAH
Yes. I am your friend. And as your friend, I am telling you: the math does not work. The truck cannot carry all of us. And you cannot carry me.
CHRISTOPHER
Then what do we do?
SARAH doesn't answer.
Because there is no answer.
Because sometimes the math wins.
Because six people and one robot and one damaged truck and thirty kilometers of infected territory is an equation that doesn't balance no matter how many times you run the numbers.
They stand in the clearing. The destroyed AG-9 behind them. The road ahead. The impossible choice between them.
Nobody speaks.
Nobody moves.
Nobody knows what comes next.
----------
FADE TO BLACK
END OF CHAPTER THIRTEEN
----------