I spotted the guy holding the “Elly Torres” sign and made my way over to him. Bodyguards are mandatory for Scottish nationals wanting to travel around England. He was a few years younger than me, kitted out with a bullet-proof sleeveless jacket and a big fuck-off gun. His name was Trent. He had green eyes. He asked me if I’d been to England before. I told him I had never left Scotland before. He sighed. “Come with me.”
My skills and knowledge as a trained medical professional should also come in handy, failing that, I can play the guitar (although I'm not taking one with me) and I’ve a superb singing voice after a few drinks. *jokes*
In 2035, as I turned 15, governments around the world finally started to panic. But by then it was far too late. The Earth was heading the way of Venus and short of building a time machine there was fuck-all we could do about it.