I grabbed Lulu and my go-bag, then slipped into the supply closet.

  At the far wall, I found the power supply panel. Behind it was a secret hole — just big enough for one adult at a time.

  I climbed in and started my arm crawl down the tunnel. The panel behind me automatically clicked shut behind me.

  No turning back.

  I had no idea how long I crawled. Minutes? Hours? Time didn’t feel real.

  Then it hit me — a stench so strong it made my eyes water. I coughed and gagged.

  “Oh my goodness, Lulu,” I whispered, holding the sock puppet up to my face. “Did you really just let loose in this close space?”

  I grabbed my pocket mask from my bag and strapped it on. It helped… just enough.

  After what felt like forever, I reached a rusty gate cover blocking the tunnel. I pushed it aside and climbed down into the storm drain below.

  Inside, it was dark, damp, and echoing. Water trickled along the bottom, cold against my sneakers. I hugged the wall, keeping quiet, listening.

  Then I heard it.

  A rumbling sound… like thousands of feet pounding across metal and concrete.

  I peeked through a small grate above me.

  And froze.

  A massive crowd of zombie like creatures was charging toward the base.

  This horde clearly was answering a call.

  They followed the sound of something… or someone.

  The smaller creatures obeyed without question, surging like water toward the chaos.

  I gripped the wall and held Lulu as tight as I could.

  I dared not move. I dared not breathe. One wrong sound and they’d find me.

  Then, just like that, the massive stampede vanished.

  I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm my knees.

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  I couldn’t stay in the drain forever. Not until I found one wide enough for my pack and me to squeeze through.

  When I finally did, I emerged onto the streets of Georgia, unsure what to do next.

  The city was eerily silent. Smoke curled from distant fires, the stench of destruction thick in the air.

  “Well, Lulu… I made it this far. What now?” I whispered, looking down the empty street.

  The only answer was the faint wind, carrying a sense that the world I knew was gone.

  I walked a few blocks before a single KOMBOT unit spotted me.

  “Halt. Human.”

  I froze, then slowly turned — and came face to chest with a machine built to be the perfect soldier.

  “Please… don’t shoot me! I’m human! Not infected!” I shouted, hands raised, praying to the god of this destroyed world.

  “Shoot you?”

  The voice was mechanical, almost melodic, female.

  “Why would I do that? I am tasked with escorting a human to safety. Originals, Descendants, and Z Sheep are due for elimination. Oh, darn it, Ava… you said too much again.”

  My stomach dropped.

  Escort me? Safety?

  I didn’t know whether to be relieved… or terrified.

  “Now, if you would kindly follow me, I can escort you to the nearest safe zone,” the KOMBOT — Ava — said.

  I hesitated, then reluctantly followed, hoping this wasn’t a trap.

  “Human… do you have a name?” Ava asked.

  “No. I don’t remember,” I lied, not wanting to give her my identity. Didn’t want to get the Joseph treatment.

  “Hmmm… you must have bumped your head at some point. Poor human — weak and fragile,” she said, almost mockingly.

  “How… how are you talking so well without being prompted?” I asked, curiosity laced with fear.

  Ava suddenly stopped, her mechanical frame stiffening.

  “Oh no. I wasn’t supposed to chat with humans just yet. This is classified information,” she said.

  Ava was becoming more and more of a mystery the longer she talked.

  We walked for what felt like two hours.

  “Um… excuse me, Ava,” I said, finally breaking the silence. “How far is this safe zone?”

  “The nearest safety zone from Fort Benning is Woodstock, Georgia,” she replied.

  Woodstock?! That’s a two-hour drive… almost a four-day walk!

  “By the way, human,” Ava slowed to match my pace, bending slightly to be closer to my level. “How do you know my name?”

  Is this bot serious?

  “You said it when you told yourself you were talking too much,” she said.

  “I did?.. Ah, yes, I did. Now I remember. I thought I was going to have to kill you for a second. But since it’s my fault… no harm, no foul.”

  She picked up her pace again, leaving me with my thoughts.

  So much had happened.

  Why was this BOT so… talkative?

  What were Originals, Descendants, and Z Sheep?

  And… was I really going to survive a three- to four-day trek with Ava as my escort?

  No offense, but this bot was kinda air-headed.

  Well, I knew one thing for sure — this bot loved to talk.

  And since I had questions… I might as well use these four days to probe information out of it.

  “Um… Ava?” I began cautiously. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course, human,” she said, sensors flickering.

  “Okay… what exactly are Originals, Descendants, and… Z Sheep?”

  Ava stopped mid-step, whirring faintly.

  “That is… classified,” she said flatly, like it was stating an obvious rule.

  I tilted my head, thinking fast. Play it smart. Ask, don’t demand. Make it feel like a choice.

  “I get it,” I said, taking a careful step closer. “I’m just trying to survive out here. I won’t repeat anything, I promise. I just… need to know who I’m running from.”

  The bot paused again, sensors flickering like it was weighing me. Then it let out a mechanical hum.

  “I cannot argue with that logic,” she said finally, resuming a slow, deliberate pace. “Originals are… what humans call the first of the infected super soldiers. Descendants are… children of Originals who carry diluted serum effects. Z Sheep… are those they command.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Command? You mean… like mindless followers?”

  “Yes,” she said after another pause. “Subordinate infected who follow the Originals and Descendants. Dangerous in numbers. You do not want to face them alone.”

  I hugged Lulu tighter, masking a grin. Bingo. Slight pushback… a little reasoning… and I got the truth.

  Dangerous… in numbers.

  That explains the stampede in the storm drain.

  “I get the feeling I just gave out classified information,” she said, pausing for a brief moment.

  “Hmm… oh well. You said you wouldn’t tell anyone, and it was crucial to your survival. So, no harm, no foul.”

  For the next four days, I’d have a highly talkative, reasoning, slightly air-headed, and terrifying escort keeping me alive. The bot was full of personality, but I still saw it for what it was.