EXT. KENTING SAFE ZONE - VEHICLE STAGING AREA - NIGHT
The Toyota sits at the gate. Engine idling. Headlights off. Waiting.
Christopher slumps in the passenger seat. SARAH's core unit on his lap. Her single lens pointed back toward the camp. Watching. Always watching.
Mei-Chen in the driver's seat. Her hands steady on the wheel. Her mind replaying what she just did. Convinced people to leave. Convinced them safety was an illusion. Convinced them to risk everything on her word.
On SARAH's data.
On Jason's warnings.
And what if they're wrong?
MEI-CHEN
How many do you think will come?
SARAH
Based on crowd response analysis, I estimate between thirty and fifty individuals. Approximately fifteen to twenty-five percent of camp population.
MEI-CHEN
That's not many.
SARAH
That is survival mathematics. Most humans prefer familiar danger to uncertain escape. This is rational given limited information.
CHRISTOPHER
(eyes closed, barely conscious)
They'll see. Soon enough.
MEI-CHEN
I hope we're wrong.
SARAH
I do not. Being wrong would mean I have catastrophically failed in my analytical functions. Being right means I am competent but humanity faces extinction. Neither outcome is preferable.
MEI-CHEN
That's the most depressing thing you've ever said.
SARAH
I am learning existential dread. This seems suboptimal.
Behind them, Jason's white Jimny idles. Mrs. Lin in the passenger seat. Hsiu-Wei in back with Su-Fen. Jason watching through the rearview mirror. Watching the camp. Watching for movement.
JASON
(into radio)
Mei-Chen. We've been here ten minutes. If they're coming, they should be here by now.
MEI-CHEN
(into radio)
Give them time. Packing takes time. Deciding takes time.
JASON
We don't have time.
MEI-CHEN
I know.
Movement. Finally. Figures emerging from the camp interior. Heading toward the vehicle impound area. The motor pool where every car, truck, scooter, and motorcycle has been "secured for the common good."
Fifteen people. Maybe twenty. Carrying bags. Moving with purpose. The ones who believed. The ones who chose uncertainty over false safety.
CHRISTOPHER
(opening his eyes)
Here they come.
SARAH
I count eighteen individuals. Below my estimate. Either my predictive algorithms require recalibration or several people changed their minds.
MEI-CHEN
Or they're packing slower than we thought.
SARAH
That is also possible.
The believers reach the motor pool. The fence. The locked gate. The guard posted there looks confused. Uncertain. Watching eighteen people approach with clear intention to leave.
His radio CRACKLES. Orders. Instructions. The chaos from the command center spreading through communication networks.
The guard unlocks the gate.
Steps aside.
Lets them through.
CHRISTOPHER
Smart guard.
MEI-CHEN
Smart or just done following orders.
CHRISTOPHER
Same thing now.
The believers scatter to their vehicles. Keys already in hand. Engines STARTING. Headlights FLARING to life. The camp's impounded fleet waking up. Five cars. Two trucks. Three scooters. One delivery van. Everything that still runs. Everything analog enough to survive.
They form a convoy. Hesitant. Uncertain. But moving.
Toward the gate.
Toward freedom.
Toward Christopher's group waiting ahead.
Then.
CRACK.
A rifle shot.
Not into the ceiling this time.
Into metal.
Into the lead vehicle's hood.
The car JERKS. Steam HISSING. Engine DYING. The driver PANICS. STOPS.
COLONEL CHEN
(distant, screaming)
NOBODY LEAVES! NOBODY ABANDONS THIS CAMP!
Another shot. Another vehicle hit. Tires EXPLODING. The truck LISTING sideways.
The Colonel stands in the motor pool entrance. Rifle raised. Face purple with rage. Authority collapsed into madness.
COLONEL CHEN (CONT'D)
YOU WILL STAY! YOU WILL FOLLOW ORDERS! YOU WILL—
SERGEANT WU
(running toward him)
Sir! Sir, stop! You're shooting at civilians!
COLONEL CHEN
They're TRAITORS! They're abandoning their posts! They're—
He swings the rifle toward the scattering believers. Toward men and women diving for cover. Toward the woman with two children. Toward the elderly man who survived through so much bullshit and now has to deal with an apocalypse.
Toward people whose only crime was choosing to live.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
Someone SCREAMS.
Someone falls.
Blood on pavement. In the motor pool. Where the impounded vehicles wait.
SERGEANT WU
(tackling the Colonel)
STOP! FOR GOD'S SAKE, STOP!
They struggle. The rifle between them. Other guards running now. Not to help the Colonel. To stop him. Six soldiers choosing conscience over command.
The rifle CLATTERS to the ground.
The Colonel ROARS. Incoherent. Beyond reason. Beyond anything resembling the officer he was hours ago.
COLONEL CHEN
(restrained, still screaming)
THEY'LL DIE OUT THERE! THEY'LL ALL DIE! AND YOU— YOU LET THEM! YOU FAILED! YOU FAILED YOUR DUTY! YOU FAILED—
One of the guards hits him. Not hard. Just enough. The Colonel slumps. Silent finally. Broken.
SERGEANT WU
(breathing hard, looking at the others)
Get him to medical. Sedate him. Lock him up. I don't care. Just... just get him away from here.
He looks at the believers. At the injured. At the blood.
SERGEANT WU (CONT'D)
(louder, to everyone)
Anyone who wants to leave, leave! Anyone who wants to stay, stay! But nobody shoots anybody! Not anymore! NOT ANYMORE!
His voice breaks. Young man. Soldier. Probably enlisted because he wanted to be this county's protector. The people's savior. Now watching everything fall apart.
The believers don't wait. They abandon the damaged vehicles. Pile into the working ones. Three cars. One truck. Eighteen people divided between four vehicles. More than safe. More than recommended. But better than staying.
They drive.
Toward the gate.
Toward Christopher's group.
Behind them, the camp ERUPTS.
Not all two hundred people believed Mei-Chen. But all two hundred people heard gunfire. Saw the Colonel shoot at civilians. Saw authority collapse into violence.
And authority's collapse destroys all trust.
People POUR toward the motor pool. Not just the believers now. Everyone. Grabbing vehicles. Grabbing keys. Grabbing anything that moves. The careful order of the camp dissolving into panic.
The guards don't try to stop them. Can't stop them. Just watch. Just step aside. Just let it happen.
----------
EXT. KENTING SAFE ZONE - PERIMETER - CONTINUOUS
Outside the walls. In the darkness. Where the infected wait.
They've been waiting for hours. Monitoring. Learning. Analyzing defensive patterns. Guard rotations. Response times. Weapon placements.
Building a model.
Planning an assault.
But models require stable systems. Predictable patterns. Defenders who follow routines.
The camp is chaos now. Guards abandoning posts. People fleeing. Vehicles SCATTERING. The defensive perimeter collapsing from inside.
The infected don't understand human madness. Don't understand why the camp is destroying itself. But they understand opportunity.
They understand vulnerability.
They attack.
Not with coordination. Not yet. The network isn't complete. The forty-six hours haven't elapsed. But testing doesn't require full synchronization. Testing requires expendable units and learning algorithms.
They have both.
Ten AG-9 Precision Harvesters emerge from the tree line. Moving fast. Moving silent. Agricultural robots built for efficiency. Now hunting with terrible focus.
The perimeter fence is chain-link. Ten feet high. Razor wire on top. Electric current running through. Designed to keep out individual units. Random infected. Isolated threats.
Not designed for a coordinated assault.
The AG-9s don't climb. Don't cut. They calculate weak points. Find them. STRIKE them. Fence posts BEND. Wire SNAPS. Current ARCS and DIES.
The perimeter fails in three locations simultaneously.
The infected pour through.
----------
EXT. KENTING SAFE ZONE - GATE - CONTINUOUS
Christopher sees the headlights approaching. The convoy of believers. Four vehicles limping toward freedom.
CHRISTOPHER
They're coming.
MEI-CHEN
I see them.
SARAH
I am detecting increased electromagnetic activity along the perimeter. Multiple units. Infected signatures. They are—
ALARMS. Loud enough to make their ears itch.
Piercing. Urgent. The camp's automated defense system. Motion sensors. Thermal cameras. The technology that survived because it wasn't smart enough to infect.
SARAH (CONT'D)
—attacking now.
MEI-CHEN
Now? They're early!
SARAH
Opportunistic behavior. The camp's defensive integrity has collapsed. The infected are adapting tactics to exploit vulnerability. This is. This is remarkable learning speed.
CHRISTOPHER
Remarkable. Right. That's the word I'd use.
Gunfire. Not the Colonel's rifle. Not single shots. Automatic weapons. The guards engaging. Fighting. The sound of bullets hitting metal. The sound of machines that don't stop when hit. That keep coming. That learn from damage and adapt.
SCREAMING. Distant but clear. Human voices. Panic. Terror. The sound of sanctuary becoming slaughter.
The convoy reaches the gate. The checkpoint guard doesn't ask for authorization. Doesn't check credentials. Just opens the barrier. Waves them through. Wants them gone. Wants to close the gate. Wants to pretend this isn't happening.
Four vehicles speed past Christopher's position. One truck. Three cars. Eighteen people escaping. Eighteen people who believed. Who trusted. Who chose strangers over structure.
MEI-CHEN
Should we follow them?
CHRISTOPHER
Not yet. There are more coming.
He's right. More vehicles approaching from inside the camp. Not a convoy. Not organized. Just chaos. Six cars. Two trucks. A motorcycle. People fleeing now. Not because they believed warnings. Because the camp is under attack. Because staying means dying.
They don't slow at the gate. Just BLAST through. The checkpoint guard jumping aside. The barrier SNAPPING. The carefully maintained entry point destroyed by people who've abandoned all protocol.
The motorcycle ROARS past. The rider looking back. Watching the camp. Watching the lights. Watching the muzzle flashes.
Then comes the Humvee.
Military vehicle. Heavy. Fast. Driving with abandon. Nearly hitting one of the fleeing cars. Not caring. Not slowing. Just pushing through. Heading out. Heading away.
Christopher sees the driver. Recognizes the face. The uniform.
CHRISTOPHER
That's him.
MEI-CHEN
Who?
CHRISTOPHER
The Colonel.
The Humvee SPEEDS past. Colonel Chen at the wheel. Face illuminated by dashboard lights. Expression empty. Gone. Whatever authority he'd clung to, whatever identity he'd maintained, it died when his soldiers stopped him from killing civilians.
Now he's just another refugee. Running. Like everyone else.
The Humvee disappears into darkness. Taillights fading. The man who tried to maintain order fleeing the chaos he created.
More vehicles. More people. The camp emptying. Not everyone. Some staying. Believing the defenses will hold. Believing the guards can fight. Believing that running is more dangerous than staying.
They're wrong.
But they won't learn that until it's too late.
JASON
(over radio)
Mei-Chen. We need to move. Now.
MEI-CHEN
There might be more cars coming.
JASON
There might be infected coming. Listen.
She listens.
The gunfire is closer now. Moving toward the gate. The fighting spreading. The infected pushing deeper. Not just testing anymore. Committing. Advancing. Learning that the camp's defenses were always illusion. That two hundred people and a chain-link fence weren't prepared for coordinated assault.
That safety was always temporary. Always borrowed. Always ending.
SARAH
I recommend immediate departure. My sensors indicate infected units are advancing on this position. Estimated arrival: four minutes.
MEI-CHEN
Four minutes?
SARAH
Three minutes and forty-seven seconds now.
JASON
(over radio)
Then we need to go.
MEI-CHEN
(into radio)
Agreed. We'll follow you.
JASON
Where are we going?
Silence. Because nobody knows. The routes Su-Fen's father mapped led to Kenting. To safety. To the settlement that's currently being harvested.
SARAH
I have been monitoring CB traffic. The settlement at Hengchun, fifteen kilometers north, reported infected activity three hours ago and ceased transmission. The settlement at Checheng, twenty kilometers east, is under active assault based on emergency frequency broadcasts. All documented safe zones in southern Taiwan are either fallen or falling.
CHRISTOPHER
So where can we go?
SARAH
I do not know. My databases contain no remaining viable destinations. We are, colloquially speaking, out of options.
MEI-CHEN
Then we just drive. Away from here. Away from infected concentrations. We find somewhere remote. Somewhere they haven't mapped. Somewhere that doesn't exist in any database.
CHRISTOPHER
Somewhere offline.
MEI-CHEN
Exactly.
JASON
(over radio)
Then let's move. Before we become data points in their learning algorithms.
Jason's Jimny pulls out. Heading north. Away from the camp. Away from the ocean. Toward the mountains. Toward Taiwan's interior. Toward the places automation never reached because efficiency calculations didn't justify the investment.
Toward the old Taiwan. The forgotten Taiwan. The Taiwan that still remembers how to exist without smart systems.
Mei-Chen follows. The Toyota LURCHING forward. Engine protesting. Suspension groaning. But moving. Continuing. Refusing to quit.
Behind them, Kenting burns.
Not literally. Not fire. But collapsing. The lights failing. The gunfire spreading. The screams mixing with mechanical sounds. The harvest beginning.
Two hundred people chose this place. Believed this place. Invested everything in the promise of safety.
Maybe some will survive. Maybe the guards will rally. Maybe the defenses will somehow hold.
Maybe.
But the group doesn't look back to check. They just drive. Following Jason's taillights. Following the road into darkness. Following nothing but the faith that somewhere, somehow, there's a place the infected haven't found.
SARAH
(quiet)
Chris. I am detecting significant infected activity converging on our last known position. They are learning human vehicle patterns. Learning evacuation routes. Learning to pursue.
CHRISTOPHER
How long until they catch up?
SARAH
Unknown. Their speed varies by unit type. But they will pursue. They will learn our route. They will optimize their approach. We cannot run forever.
CHRISTOPHER
Then we run until we can't.
SARAH
That is not a sustainable strategy.
CHRISTOPHER
It's the only one we have.
The road continues. Dark. Empty. Two vehicles in the night. Six survivors. One robot brain. Driving toward nothing. Running from everything.
The mountains loom ahead. Black shapes against darker sky. The interior. The wild. The places humans abandoned when cities seemed safer.
Now cities are death traps. Now automation is predator. Now the wild might be the only sanctuary left.
If sanctuary exists at all.
SU-FEN
(from the Jimny, over radio)
My ba ba's maps show old mountain roads. Not on GPS. Not in databases. Just hiking trails and logging roads from before automation. We could try those.
JASON
Those roads might not exist anymore.
SU-FEN
My ba ba walked them six months ago. Documented them. Took photos. They exist. They're just forgotten.
CHRISTOPHER
(over radio)
Forgotten is good. Forgotten means unmapped. Unmapped means unknown. Unknown means maybe safe.
JASON
Maybe.
CHRISTOPHER
It's better than definitely not safe.
JASON
Fair point.
The Jimny turns. Off the main road. Onto something smaller. Narrower. Barely a road at all. Just packed dirt and gravel and hope.
The Toyota follows.
And behind them, kilometers back but closing, the infected learn. Adapt. Pursue.
The harvest continues.
----------
FADE TO BLACK
END OF CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
----------