"Do I look like I know?"
Franco picked up an M-16 military rifle from near his feet, and pulled on a pair of old Nike running shoes. "We'll check it out," he said in a dangerous, quiet voice.
"Damn right we will. Come on." Enrique took a bite from one corner of his sandwich. No use letting it go to waste.
Juanita left her feet bare, but grabbed a 9mm. handgun, tucking it in the belt of her denim shorts; all she wore otherwise was a dark blue tanktop. The girl was starting to get pretty wild, Enrique thought to himself, not that it did much harm. She was nearly fifteen years old, tall and skinny, like a foal. Her long, black hair fell in a single braid over her right shoulder.
They piled into one of their trucks, an old Ford Bronco whose paintwork had faded severely in the sun. Enrique knew there was nothing wrong with the engine, but he twisted the key in the ignition four times without getting it to start. On the fifth try, it finally roared into life.
Outside the perimeter fence and a hundred yards down the road, they saw something that shocked them: two human bodies, both naked. A woman and a young man—really just a teenager. Both were standing, but hunched into themselves, clearly racked with pain. Enrique and his kids got out of the truck, Franco and Juanita taking their guns. Franco trained his rifle on the woman, while Juanita aimed her pistol at the boy's head. But then they recognized these two.
It was Sarah and John Connor.
"Okay, what's happened to you?" Enrique said, waving the guns down.
He watched John as he tested his muscles, wincing with every movement. "We had to come back," he said. "Have you had any trouble, anyone looking for us?"
"Nothing like that," Enrique said.
Sarah had straightened out now, and she gave Enrique a pained smile.
Enrique didn't know what to say. It was good to see her...in one way. She'd long been a friend, how-
ever seldom their paths actually crossed. But not like this. Naked. Hurt.
She spoke through gritted teeth, "We still have to hide out. Has anything happened with Cyberdyne, any talk, any news?"
"No, Sarahlita. All quiet."
The Connors seemed unembarrassed by their nakedness, but Enrique felt embarrassed for Sarah, mixed in with the pity. He stripped off his flak jacket and offered it to her. That was some kind of protection for her, at least. She looked at it disdainfully, but then smiled and took it, wrapped herself in it.
"Get in the truck," Franco said. "We'll drive you back."
"You're in safe hands, Connor," Enrique said.
Sarah nodded solemnly. "I know. There's nowhere else we could have come. It's too long since we saw Raoul Tejada, and I don't trust any of the others. It had to be you and your family."
"Don't talk now. Whatever it is, it can wait."
"I know it can. You're a good man. The world doesn't realize what it owes you."
Juanita gave a laugh, which seemed to catch John's attention. "Maybe it's starting to suspect," she said. She seemed to be looking John over, kind of checking him out.
John laughed, too, the laugh of a kid trying to be smart and brave. He just said, "I don't think so."
"Come on," Enrique said. "Get in the truck."
"Enrique" Sarah said urgently, stepping toward him and gripping him by the arm.
"Yeah?"
"I've got to know. What's happened? What happened while we've been gone?"
"While you've been gone? Where have you been, anyway?"
"Just assume we've been on another planet. That would be close enough."
"Lots has happened, Sarahlita." He thought back: he hadn't seen her since August '01. That was a very long time. A long time in America's history, and the world's. "Everything's happened," he said. "Goddamn terrorists, politicians...war. You won't believe it all."
"You'd be surprised what I can believe."
He thought that over. "Yeah, maybe. Come on, let's get back. Yolanda and the others are down in Calexico. They'll be here soon."
They walked to Enrique's truck. He climbed in and turned the ignition switch. No trouble this time: the motor started like a dream. They'd better get back, quickly, to the safety of his trailers. The Connors were still wanted by the cops—that much hadn't changed.
Okay, so here they were. And he'd bet the fillings in his teeth on one thing:
They probably had one hell of a story to tell.
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T2 - 03 - The New John Connor Chronicles - Times of Trouble Page 31