"But that's how it happened. You can't quarrel with reality, Danny."
Danny shook his head. "I don't think so."
"Unknown, right?" John said to the Terminator.
"Unknown."
"Great. Another mystery. Listen, Tarissa .. Danny... You and your people are welcome. Thanks for trusting us. Please come with us to the estancia"
Tarissa nodded. "Thank you."
John wondered how Sarah would respond to the Dysons. For years she'd lived with her hatred of Miles Dyson. Often she'd said that she wished they'd killed him back in 1994, before they left the U.S. They'd even argued about it, about what would have happened if they'd tried, whether the T-1000 would have been watching out for them to make that very move. Here they were, now, confronted by the human aspect of his life, the fact that he'd left behind a family.
An hour later, the Dysons and their people had packed up, and a whole convoy returned to the casco. Sarah and Gabriela came to meet them. John could imagine the tears when they met Tarissa Dyson. So be it. They were all in this together. Apart from the T-800, they were all human.
There would be many more tears ahead.
THE COMING OF THE MACHINES
Soon, their problems really began. The machines had searched out humans to the ends of the Earth. They found Buenos Aires and the other great South American cities untouched by Judgment Day's nuclear fires, but riddled with bullet holes, ruined by the warlords. Skynet's Hunter-Killer machines—the aerial and ground H-Ks—poured from the gray sky, and from the mountains and jungles of the north. They swept into the cities, accompanied by the first combat endoskeletons, like walking images of Death, or beings from a horror movie. They killed as many humans as possible, driving the others into extermination camps, to deal with them more efficiently.
When the war machines first came, the human Resistance struck back, including fragments of the once-proud U.S. military that had survived Judgment Day. They targeted Skynet's forces with the only weapons that were truly effective: tactical nuclear warheads. But no matter what was thrown at them, the machines returned. They never relented, never lost patience, were never beaten.
The Earth was damned already. Now it became a worse circle of Hell.
BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA
2012
The craters from tactical nuclear explosions stomped asymmetrically through the city and the countryside all round, like a giant's drunken footprints. Ruined buildings rose from a desert of broken concrete. Nothing green showed itself in the perpetual winter. Here and there, the twisted metal skeletons of old skyscrapers towered above lesser ruins. Some vehicles had been pushed together by the Resistance, and piled up into roadblocks. Bonfires made of rubber tires burnt in the street. Occasionally, a rat foraged for food, or a dull gray bird flew from one crumbling window ledge to another.
Humans and machines exchanged fire beneath the sunless sky. The sinister electronic noise of the phased-plasma mechanisms answered the noisy clatter of the Resistance guerrillas' assault rifles. Explosions boomed through the streets, leaving billows of dark, rising smoke. All round was the smell of gunpowder and harsher chemicals. Skynet's H-Ks swept through the city's streets. Occasionally, they stabbed at their human enemies with needles of shocking blue light from their phased-plasma laser cannons.
"We've got to withdraw, John," Sarah said through gritted teeth. "There's too many of them." Even as she approached her fifties, Sarah was as tough as any of them. Her hair was now a steel gray, when once it had been honey brown, but her body was still lithe and muscular.
John needed no encouragement. "Withdraw!" he shouted, in Spanish, then repeated it in English. "Fall back! Fall back!" The order echoed through the guerrillas' lines. They ran half-crouched, with zigzagging movements, seeking the next position of cover.
Dozens of the flying H-Ks circled like huge, flesh-eating dragonflies, looking out for prey. The super-intense light beams from their laser cannons incinerated whatever they hit, taking only a second to burn up a human body like a match head. Following in their wake was a column of ground H-K's, Skynet's huge, tank-like juggernauts. These were almost unstoppable as they crawled slowly on their caterpillar treads through the maze of streets. Keeping pace with them were dozens of smaller killers, the nimble Centurion gun-pods, mounted on four legs, and Skynet's most adaptable ground weapons of all: the metal endoskeletons.
The humanoid endoskeletons seemed like the real enemy, the easiest to hate and curse, but that was an illusion. They were no more and no less alive than the rest of Skynet's weapons. Always alert, they marched forward, scanning for life with their visible light and infrared sensors. Sometimes one or two peeled off from the main force and disappeared into a building or an alleyway, hunting for anyone who be might be hiding there.
As John ran, a killer heat beam scored the ground just ahead, then another to his right. There was shouting and confusion all round. One handful of human guerrillas found themselves too close to the enemy, seriously exposed as they sought cover. They took firing positions, and aimed at the machines.
"We've got to get back," John said to his immediate group, the dozen or so people around him. "I'm following. Go on—move!" The T-800 stuck close to his side, always loyal and effective.
Suddenly, two heat beams struck home, taking out Paco Salceda and a U.S. ex-serviceman, Jerry Lanza— just like that.
There was nothing John could do for them. He just felt empty. He pushed down the pain of losing his friend, Paco, and concentrated on other things. He'd grieve later, let it out when he got back to their base, with Sarah and the others. As he ran, his boots pounding on the broken street, his breathing getting ragged, he fired his own laser rifle, shooting from the hip. He cupped his left hand under the barrel to balance its weight as he fired. The rifle was booty from the machines and more effective than the small arms possessed by the Resistance, but it had never been designed for humans. It was too heavy for him to operate in the manner of the endoskeletons, which waved these huge weapons around like toys.
Reaching a T-intersection, John and his group broke off to the right. Others had headed left or taken cover in the buildings immediately ahead.
Fifty yards along the street, he headed for a five-foot pile of broken concrete, collapsing behind it and getting his breath back. The T-800 joined him, brandishing its own laser rifle. Then Juanita Salceda scurried beside him. She had become a tall, intense woman who fought the machines as fiercely as anyone. She'd just seen her brother die. John shook his head to acknowledge the death. Yes, they'd talk about it later. He'd try to comfort her. For now, he just said, "Are you all right?"
Juanita nodded as they leaned their backs into the concrete pile. Her face looked ashen. They were in a good position here, with the street's angle blocking the ground machines' sensors. At their back was a ten-story wall from an old building, which cut off the aerial H-Ks' lines of sight, at least from most angles. Others found positions of temporary cover, using every wall, doorway, broken pipe, hump in the road, metal roadblock, or rusting shell of a car that presented itself, but avoiding the fields of mines they'd laid as a greeting for the machines.
Juanita fitted her M-249 automatic weapon with a new belt of ammunition, then wriggled around to rest it on top of the concrete. She could lug the M-249 about with the macho cockiness of a big man. "I'm okay," she said.
"Good," John said. "We've got to buy some time."
"I know. Every bit counts."
It was quiet just now; there was a lull in the fighting. John peered over the top of his makeshift rampart, aiming his laser rifle. Now he had more cause for concern. Sarah had found cover, but it wasn't adequate—just the rusted-out hulk of a car, rotting in the street. That wouldn't stop the burst from a laser cannon.
"Mom!" he yelled. "Get back here. Quickly!"
Then the first endoskeleton rounded the corner, and the humans fired from three sides with everything they had. Their M-16s and Kalashnikov AK-47s had little effect, even against the
endoskeletons, let alone the larger machines. Juanita's M-249 could throw up a wall of metal against the endoskeletons, but it hardly bothered them. Light anti-tank weapons and RPG tubes were more useful, but still limited in effectiveness.
As the first ground H-K entered the "T" of the intersection, someone fired down from the roof of a low-rise building, striking the juggernaut with a rocket-propelled grenade. It pierced the first layer of the H-K's armor, showering sparks and metal fragments as it exploded. The H-K stopped for a moment, then resumed its ] progress. One of its bulbous turrets swiveled and aimed in the direction of the attack, then fired a series of heat beams at the building. An aerial H-K launched an antipersonnel missile at the same target.
It struck with a cataclysmic explosion, blowing the building apart, and momentarily deafening John, as the street seemed to shake. He ducked for cover as a wave of debris washed over them. No more fire came from the buildings as Skynet's invaders muscled their way through the rain of grenades and other projectiles coming from the street. As the endoskeletons walked, their skull-like heads moved slowly from side to side, scanning for targets.
With his back pressed into the pile of concrete, John waited for a few seconds, then hefted his laser rifle once more, balancing it on top of the concrete. The T-800 look aim a second before him, quickly but carefully, and tired at the nearest endoskeleton, hitting it squarely in its skull-like head, drilling a hole beneath its glowing red "eyes."
Immediately, the enemy units traced the source of his beam and returned vengeful fire from several angles— the endoskeletons, the cannons of the land H-Ks, and Centurions. One of the flying H-Ks joined in. John got his head down as heat beams passed over him, then swung up the laser rifle just long enough to take aim at the endoskeleton that the T-800 had already hit. The shot had damaged it. Its metal jaw sagged with a crooked expression, but even a direct hit had not been enough to top it. John squeezed the trigger as long as dared, and the endoskeleton's head imploded from the terrible heat. It fell forward, but more answering fire came John's way.
Juanita lifted her weapon and cut loose with it, though John doubted she'd do much damage. When he looked again, the endoskeleton he'd hit lay on its back upon the ground, disabled by the loss of its controlling nanochip. Yet it was still moving, doing pathetic swimming strokes in the air like a dying cockroach. The T-800 finished it off with another series of well-directed shots.
That was only one enemy taken out.
In a break in the laser fire, Sarah made a dash closer to them, ducking behind another car hulk.
Come on, Mom, John thought.
The exchange continued, lasers against bullets and grenades. Another grenade struck home and actually took out a ground H-K. It veered off the broken road, smashing through the walls of buildings, out of control, then exploded satisfyingly. There were, however, many others, and they were getting close.
"They're going to overrun us," Juanita said hoarsely, as she fired at a group of endoskeletons and centurions. Other guerrillas retreated, finding new positions as they went. The trouble was, they lacked the firepower to keep the machines at bay. They just kept advancing.
"We'll have to move," Juanita said.
"Correct," the T-800 said.
"We've got to get Mom out of there," he said. "Juanita, you go ahead." An aerial H-K started gliding toward them, keeping about thirty feet in the air, sizing them up as an available target. John pointed to it. "Run when I say!"
As he watched the metal monster approach, time seemed to slow down. Everything was happening at once, all around him.
Too many of the humans were pinned down by laser fire, Sarah among them. She was armed with an RPG tube, as well as an AK-47 rifle, but she was protected only by the flimsy, rusted vehicle she'd sheltered behind—that, and a sharp dip in the road. So long as she kept her head down, the ground-based heat beams were going over her, but there was no way she could fire, much less move from her position. The heat beams had caught her in a deadly, glowing lattice work. John stood to run for her, but the T-800 caught his arm in its steel grip.
"Too late, John," it said.
Sarah must have known that her time was up, that there was no escape left for her this time, for she suddenly moved to a kneeling position and fired a grenade around the car she'd been sheltering behind. As if it mattered, the back blast identified her even more clearly.
Sarah's grenade struck an endoskeleton full in the chest, penetrating its open-work metal structure, then exploded, blasting the machine apart.
But the answering fire was terrible. The aerial H-K that had been headed for John, Juanita, and the T-800 suddenly turned, and it struck back. It pierced Sarah with its heat beam, stabbing straight down at her, then climbed almost vertically.
"Mom!" John said, getting to his feet to see what had happened. "Nooooooo!"
The H-K started back for another run.
He couldn't believe it. Surely she'd survived. She couldn't die, not now, not when she had so many years ahead, not after all they had been through together. They'd been fighting Skynet together for so long... how could it suddenly end? He felt so heavy—the weight of his armor, ammunition, the weapons... and now this shock and grief... finally taking a toll.
Amongst it all, Juanita was there, dragging him back—Juanita and the T-800. He struggled with them. He had to get to Sarah's body. He couldn't just leave her behind, not like some animal carcass caught in a trap by Skynet.
"No, John," the T-800 said. "It had to happen this way. You have to live."
"Run," Juanita said. "They're going to kill us."
"No." He was frozen on the spot. His mom had been too young—what? Forty-eight?—it wasn't yet time for her to die. It should have been him. She'd been such a leader, done so much for them all. There must still be something he could do, check whether she was really dead—but she had to be. Her body was a smoking ruin. There were some things no one could survive, not even his mom, tough though she was—had always been. Not even Sarah.
Juanita slapped him. Hard. "You've got to move, soldier," she said. "Move it. Now." She shook him by the shoulders. "Now, John!"
It was like a dream. The stabbing lights were everywhere. In another moment...
"All right," he said. "We'll run for it."
Juanita went ahead of him, holding her weapon in both hands, diagonally across her chest. As he followed, John went crabwise, firing off pulses of laser light, trying to face his enemies at all times and to keep the ruined walls at his back, trying to suppress his feelings, all of them, just for the moment, just until they could get out of here. If, indeed, they could.
The T-800 fought fearlessly, not bothering to dodge the heat beams, though even it was vulnerable to them.
The ground machines poured into the street, like an army of giant insects, pursuing the human guerrillas in every direction.
Amongst the ruined buildings, the scattered car hulks and debris, the guerrillas had burnt tires to try to confuse the machines' infrared sensors. They'd also dug ditches in
the road, and built roadblocks by piling trucks and cars, shored up, where possible, by buttresses of concrete and stone. They'd laid out their minefields. But the H-Ks went over or through almost any obstacle they encountered, crushing steel, stone, wood, or bones under their treads.
"We'll make it," John said, but he wondered how long he could keep running.
The aerial H-K skimmed down the street, launching a heat-seeking missile. It passed just over the top of them as they dodged past one of the fires. John rolled away as fast as he could, using his elbows and hugging his weapon to his chest. The missile smashed into the fire and exploded thunderously.
He was deafened again; his ears hummed and buzzed. He watched the leading land H-K smash— silently, as it seemed—into one of the biggest roadblocks: a tangle of trucks, trailers and armored military vehicles, built up around a wrecked army tank. The crawling juggernaut struck the fifty-ton tank full-on, pushing it back. An ancient Humvee wen
t flying through the air, dislodged from the tangle of metal. It turned cartwheels, end over end, where it landed in the street, careering into a pile of rusted-out cars.
Then there was another huge explosion. They'd mined the roadblock. The ground H-K lifted off its treads for a moment, breaking its back. It stopped there in the street, blocking the other big H-Ks, though the smaller killers simply went around it, like a stream of water round a stone.
More aerial H-Ks buzzed down from the sky, menacingly. Someone managed to fire a rocket-propelled grenade. It missed a swooping aerial H-K and exploded in mid-air, too far away to do the machine any damage. A Centurion gun-pod sized up the situation immediately and stabbed straight back with its laser cannon. A second later, it turned the laser cannon on the T-800, striking it squarely in the chest. That was too much, even for the Terminator. The powerful beam melted through its metal chassis.
Like Sarah, it was gone.
John saw one of the endoskeletons advancing with what seemed like a mad grin across its face, firing at will with two big laser rifles, one in each hand. Somewhere behind, Juanita had taken a position. She'd survived, then! Not everyone was dead...She fired back at the machine, but it walked easily through the metal storm.
A heat beam grazed John's face, searing him beyond pain. He screamed and almost dropped his precious weapon, but he was still alive. He hadn't taken a direct hit.
He was scarcely conscious, the world a dream all round him. Another battle. More scars. More terrible losses, the most terrible he'd yet endured. In one day, in a few short minutes, he'd lost Paco, and the T-800...
Mom! Sarah!
The nightmare continued. It was never over. Suddenly, it had grown worse than he could have imagined. With Juanita, he fought his way out of there. They ran like hunted animals. There was no choice but to keep fighting, to the bitter end, without surrender. The only alternative was extermination.
T2 - 01 - The New John Connor Chronicles - Dark Futures Page 20