by Ramona Finn
But I can’t think of that now.
Between the four of us, we gather the Rogues and get them to start moving away from the Norm. I don’t know if my virus has worked or if the AI is still alive. I don’t know if the vision she sent to me is real. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.
But I know we need to go home before the drones and scabs have a chance to wake up. I hope they never will, but I refuse to stand around and wait for it.
We walk as a group out into the desert, walking over and kicking at the dormant carcasses of drones and scabs at our feet. Our dead lie there, too, but I don’t want to think of that right now, either. Instead I focus on those who have survived. Some are injured and we need to get them patched up. The living must be our focus, not the dead.
