TERMINATOR:
THE REESE JOURNALS:
Mission One:
THE DIVERSION
He took the world one on one
Bent on a mission-under the gun
A soldier with a poet's heart
A shadow in the dark
No one was there to see him cry
The years of pain etched in his eyes
So he fought through life alone
Emotion turned to stone
Unsung Hero:
~Exangellion
Shattered cities fall to ruin
As the night squads race the sky
Resistance fighters perched in shadow
I see the fear reflected in their eyes
As they realize-it's the end of the world
End of the World:
~Exangellion
Kyle Reese was hunkered down among the dark shadows in the dank, destroyed, foul-smelling basement of a burnt out, decaying building on 5th street. His combat helmet had gotten split in half during combat and he had lost his video and audio Tac-Com link with Command. He also lost contact with the only surviving member of his squad, Ferro, when a Mark Eight Ariel Hunter-Killer, an HK, with its immense, barrel-shaped, turbo jet housing on either side of it, nearly blasted him into eternity. Kyle had tumbled down the collapsed stairs into this basement to escape. He still wore his Tac-Com headset, held in place by a strip of torn, khaki green cloth, tied like a sweatband. He spoke into the thin wireless mic' suspended an inch from the right side of his mouth. "Ferro. Come in, Ferro." no luck. She was out there alone somewhere. She and Kyle had survived countless excursions together. They had gone out on many missions together with a full squad, Kyle leading them, and had returned, just the two of them, time and again.
Kyle fished out an ancient Polaroid photo from the inside, breast pocket of his worn and ripped resistance jacket. The picture was torn and faded, and held an image, now burned into his brain, of a pretty, young woman.
"So beautiful." Holding the photo in the weak, streaming light of the moon, from the cracked and dirty, basement window, he ran his finger softly over the jaw-line of the woman, memorizing every line, every curve of her face. John Connor had given him the picture about two years ago, sometime in the summer of 2023, when Kyle was 13 years old. He had been in the 132nd under Commander Perry for only two years at the time, and had just become Squad Leader.
K-chtt… The now seasoned, fifteen-year-old, Squad Leader heard something outside the burnt out building he was hiding in. He looked out the splintered, basement window, which was just above ground level, replacing the photo of Sarah Connor into the safety of his inside, jacket pocket. He felt tense: he was almost out of weapons. He had only two pipe bombs, out of a batch of seven he'd made yesterday, and his knife in the sheath strapped to his leg.
He spotted a Terminator: a T-600, in a tattered police uniform, patrolling the dark, rubble-strewn streets, littered with the bones of the dead and dusted with ash from the Judgement Day nuclear fire. With its tattered, rubber skin, the T-600 was easy to spot. It was armed with one of Skynet's newest weapons, a Phased Plasma Rifle. Suddenly, it looked in Kyle's direction, its evil eyes glowing red.
"Oh shit." Kyle slipped down out of the window, plastered to the damp, crumbling basement wall, below the window. His mind was racing. He turned, looking up, and gave a quick glance back out the cracked glass again.
Trrr…Trrr…Trrr…The Terminator opened fire.
The broken basement window exploded, and Kyle was showered with tiny glass shards, as he ducked back down against the wall beneath the window. Think fast, he told himself. He reached for one of the pipe bombs and the lighter in the ammunition pouch of his utility belt. He could hear the T-600 at the window. He lit the fuse on his pipe bomb, then snatched up a chunk of cement that had crumbled off the basement wall. He could see the T-600's plasma rifle poking in through the shattered basement window over his head. He tossed the chunk of concrete in his hand, across the dark basement, against the far wall.
Trrr…Trrr…Trrr…The Terminator opened fire again. It leaned down, and stuck it's metal, upper body, with most of the rubber skin stripped from its head and torso, in through the jagged, basement windowpane, gun blazing. The bright bursts of plasma sent huge chunks of cement erupting from the basement floor and far wall. Timing it just right, when the fuse had nearly burnt out, Kyle, like a piston, shot up and shoved the smoking, pipe bomb in a gap in the Terminator's metal chassis. Kyle dove across the basement and rolled.
Trrr… The Terminator fired off a round of plasma and…
Ka-Boom! The pipe bomb detonated.
Kyle felt the rush of pressure from the explosion all the way across the basement.
The blast blew the Terminator in half, sending metal shrapnel everywhere. Kyle turned and ducked. In a microsecond, he spun back around. The broken torso of the huge Terminator lay motionless on the dark, smoky basement floor between him and the shattered window to freedom. The Terminator's plasma rifle was nowhere to be seen. Kyle stood motionless for a moment, in contemplation. As he was just about to dash for the window, the remaining upper-half of the Terminator leaned up and started crawling fast toward him, dragging itself, its powerful, metal arms clanking down hard on the cold, broken cement floor, its eyes glowing a murderous red.
Moving quickly, Kyle grabbed the big knife in the sheath on his leg.
The Terminator reached for him.
"Come on Motherfucker!" Kyle swung his knife around and down in a wide arc, stabbing the Terminator in the back of its neck, in it's motive cortex: a trick he learned years ago from John Connor. The Terminator went out of control, shooting sparks, having some weird, mechanical seizure.
Kyle raced for the window and was up and out in a microsecond.
In the black heart of the dead city, Ferro slipped silently through the cold night, clutching her M-16 to her slight breasts, staying low and sticking close to the remnants of the downtown buildings. She was several blocks over from where just moments ago her squad had battled the Terminator's and lost. She was intensely vigilant for any sign of Skynet's metal monsters.
"I've got to find Sarge." She whispered aloud the phrase that kept echoing in her mind. She knew Reese was still alive. She and Reese had fought side by side against Terminator's more times than she could count. He was the best of the best soldiers and she knew he was somehow meant to do something great: not buy it here on some secondary mission. The sector of town she was in was utterly abandoned and silent, but for an occasional Terminator or HK on patrol. It was so heavily infested with Skynet's machines that there were no pockets of Resistance or Scavs. A chill caressed her spine with its frigid fingers. She shivered and her arms broke out with goosebumps beneath her battle-worn, Resistance jacket.
"Bravo Two One, this is Fire base Echo Ninner. Reese, come in. Seargent Reese, this is Command." Ferro heard Commander Perry's voice emit from her Tac-Com headset, over the whistle of the icy breeze blowing up under her helmet. "Reese. Ferro. Talk to me." She knew, if she answered, Perry would order her to report back to Command immediately. There was no way she was going to evac without finding Reese first. Ferro thought of one of the main things that Reese would brief any of his squads on. The young squad leader would say there were times in battle when you had to flee, because you couldn't help someone else if you were a deader, but, a good soldier never leaves a man behind.
Kyle returned to the scene of the crime, littered with the bloody, torn-apart bodies of his squad, where those metal motherfuckers cut them down. He had to find Ferro and complete their mission.
Their mission was to destroy a secondary target: a Skynet communications outpost, as a diversionary tactic so that The Resistance could stage a larger attack on a bigger target: one that was more of a threat. Skynet had somehow known they were coming and had wiped out Kyle's entire squad, but for him and Ferro, then he and Ferro had gotten split up. Kyle looked at the digital timer hanging on a chain from the right, breast pocket of his jacket. John Connor and The Resistance were going to attack the primary target at 1100 hours. Kyle had to create the diversion at least ten minutes before, so that Skynet would divert some of their killing machines from the main target. Kyle had about 45 minutes to find Ferro, get to the target, and achieve their mission objective.
He slid down battered alleys and crumbling, deserted neighborhoods, littered with the skeletal, decaying bodies of the dead, the abandoned, rusting remains of cars, and an occasional, burnt-out Ariel HK or HK Tank, or a destroyed Terminator. He approached 9th street, visually scanning the dark night for Arial HKs and searching his destitute surroundings for Terminators. 9th street was more like 9th creek: the sidewalks were overgrown with weeds and a large stream rolled down the broken up road.
Kyle could see the vague outline of someone or something approaching in the dark ruins. He tucked himself into a shadow and waited on high alert.
He heard a distant dog bark, which told him two things: someone from The Resistance was close and a Terminator was nearby too. Dogs, the only domesticated animals to survive Judgment Day, were kept exclusively by The Resistance and were extensively trained, as an early detection system, to bark only in warning of the presence of a Terminator.
"Ferro!" Kyle jumped up from the shadow as he saw her step into the haunting moonlight. With cat-like reflex, the fourteen-year-old, hardened, war veteran whipped up her M-16 and trained its site on his forehead.
Then she relaxed. "Reese."
"Metaaallll…!" Kyle shoved her to the ground, in the slimy water running down 9th street, just as a plasma burst ripped through the air where she'd been standing. Kyle dove and rolled in the dirty water beside her as the sound of plasma bursts ripped apart the night. He reached for the last pipe bomb in his utility belt, knowing he wouldn't have enough time to light it. Ferro splashed up onto one knee, in the flowing, shin-deep water, brandishing her M-16.
Blam…Blam…Blam… The blazing M-16 lit up the darkened, city battleground. The Terminator, a T-700 Endo-Skeleton, flinched back with every hit it took. This bought Kyle time to light his pipe bomb then…
Trrr…Krrsshhhhh… An indirect hit, from the Terminator's plasma rifle, near Ferro, sent her cart-wheeling through the air, her M-16 spinning off into the darkness. Unable to wait for the opportune moment, Kyle threw the pipe bomb at the advancing Endo. To his surprise, it detonated directly in front of the Terminator's metal skull, knocking the massive T-700 to the ground.
Without waiting to see what damage he had done, Kyle scooped up Ferro, who was just coming to, and, supporting the stumbling, young, freedom fighter, he raced off into the enveloping darkness of the lonely, ghostly, shattered city.
John Connor hung up the hand-held, dispatch mic in its cradle on the side of his archaic, short-wave radio. Reese was missing. Fuck! John felt a nervous fear in his heart like he hadn't felt since he was a kid, since his first encounter with a Terminator, thirty years ago, when he was only ten. John's right-hand man, Perry, told him they had lost contact with Reese and his entire squad. When that happened, it usually meant they were all dead. John was pacing, creating a short path in the rocky dirt of their temporary base of operations, which was set up in what remained of a long-ago, burned down 7-11. The charred gas pumps still reeked of smoke and gas. Flanking John, on either side were several Resistance fighters on guard, Tech Specialists, and several Resistance officers, operating Ham radios.
Reese was in Perry's unit because John had put him there to keep him close. John had met Reese, four and a half years ago, while liberating him, among others, from one of Skynet's POW camps, where he was one of a few who were kept alive to load the bodies of the dead into disposal units.
During his briefing on this present battle directive, John had instructed Perry to have Reese take a squad out on the secondary mission. He had felt it was less dangerous than the primary target attack and, also, he was trying to get Reese familiar with that sector of town, for his future mission to the past. John always felt torn when it came to Reese; John wanted to protect him but he was aware that Reese had to be battle-hardened for his mission across time
John realized that although he held a belief that Reese was still alive, he had to act as if he wasn't. If John sent the primary team to attack without the relief of the diversion, he would be sending them into way too much firepower. He had to call off the primary attack.
He stopped pacing and grabbed his mic from his short-wave radio, clicked on the power and adjusted the frequency. "Fire base Echo Ninner, come in. Perry do you read? This is Lieutenant-Colonel Connor, come in. Perry, pick up, this is Connor."
Tucked away in the large, circular mouth of a wet, overgrown storm drain, Kyle took a quick moment to rest and give Ferro a chance to regain her bearings. It was cold and dark and the silence was eerie. Kyle had a florescent, green, chemical glow-stick in his jacket pocket but didn't want to alert any of Skynet's patrolling machines.
Catching his breath, Kyle removed the photo of Sarah Connor from his jacket again. He peered at it in the insipid moonlight refracting into the mouth of the storm drain; he noted the sad expression on her beautiful face, wondering what she was thinking at that exact moment. He replaced the photo inside his jacket pocket.
Checking the frequency on Ferro's headset, Kyle got right in her face, speaking into the fine mic' suspended in front of her mouth. "Fire base Echo Ninner this is Bravo Two One, do you read? Command, come in. This is Reese. Commander Perry: This is Squad Leader Reese, Sergeant, Tac-Com, DN38416. Come in, Perry."
"Only static." Ferro said, listening. "Wait." She listened close. "Here." She pulled off her combat helmet and her Tac-Com headset. She threw the helmet aside, letting her dirty hair fall free, and handed the headset to Kyle. He removed his own headset and put the receiver of Ferro's headset to his ear then twisted the small mic' around to his mouth. "This is Reese. Come in."
Kyle heard the Commander's voice over Ferro's headset. "Reese, this is Perry. Where have you been?"
"My Tac-Com system was damaged."
"What happened?"
"We were ambushed, Sir." said Kyle. "Skynet knew we were coming. Except for Ferro and me, my entire squad is dead."
"Yeah." Perry's voice was laced with anger. "Skynet somehow intercepted intel' about the diversion. But we don't think they know it was a diversion. We think they believe it was a solitary attack. We don't believe they know about the primary target."
"Look Cammander." Reese barked into the small mic'. "We can still create that diversion. It'll still take away some of Skynet's resources from the main target."
"All right, listen to me Reese." Perry sounded deadly serious. " Abort mission. Recon evac. You two get your asses back here to Command Central, on the double."
"Negative." Kyle spoke into the mic' with intense passion. "We are near the target. Ferro and I are ready to complete the mission."
"No!" Perry was stern. "Negative soldier. Get your ass in here, now. Direct orders from John Connor, the man himself. He says he wants you alive; says he's got a special mission for you later on down the road. He doesn't want you to get your scrawny ass dead. Got it soldier? Now get your ass in here."
"I can't hear you Sir." Kyle twisted the frequency knob on Ferro's headset back and forth, on and off the station that Perry was on. He knew this would cause intermittent static on Perry's end.
"I think we're losing…Krrsshhh…connection…Krrsshhh…You're breaking up…Krrsshhh…" Kyle made sure he was on the proper frequency for this last statement. "We'll be right in sir." He flipped off Ferro's headset. He suspected Perry would wonder if he had faked interference. But that's okay, Kyle thought, he won't know for sure. Kyle felt a little insecure about disobeying John Connor's order. Though, Connor.s order was that Kyle get himself back into Command and not get killed. If Kyle could complete the mission and get back to Command, alive, he wouldn't be disobeying Connor's order.
Kyle looked into Ferro's eyes. They used hand signals to communicate during battle, but normally all either one had to do was look at the other to know what he or she was thinking. A fleeting smirk skirted across Ferro's lips then disappeared, leaving her looking deadly serious. Like the good soldier she was, she was ready.
Together Kyle and Ferro, sticking to the shadows, with no backup and no weapons, raced through the shattered ruins, headed for their target, to complete their mission.
As they moved through the oppressive, dark wreckage of the fallen paradise, Kyle wondered what John Connor had meant when he told Perry that he had Kyle in mind for a special mission, sometime in the future. Connor had also told Kyle the same thing, a couple of years ago, a short time after he gave Kyle the photo of Sarah Connor. He could hear the sound of John's rough voice echoing through his memory: "I've got a special mission in mind for you soldier, but not right now.
Kyle would still get an exhilarating feeling in the pit of his stomach when he though about how, of all the troops in The Resistance, John had taken to him, treating him in a fatherly manner, as if Kyle was his son.
Kyle felt that this future mission had something to do with Sarah Connor. It seemed curious how John, the few times he'd met Kyle, had told him little stories about his mother, Sarah, and had shown Kyle places she used to live back in Pre-war, before Judgment Day. It was as if he wanted Kyle to develop feelings for her. It must be working, he thought. The photo John had given him of Sarah Connor had become his good luck charm. And, though he'd never met her, he was beginning to have strong feelings for the woman represented in the photo, (not the typical hero worship that others in The Resistance felt for her) even though she'd been dead for many years.
She had gotten killed, thirteen years after Judgment Day, the same year Kyle was born, while leading a squad out on a supplies convoy from Mexico. She was one of a very few people who had fought against Skynet's murderous machines during, both, Pre-war and Post-Judgment Day.
Under cover of darkness, Kyle and Ferro maneuvered their way along the car-choked, broken terrain of Pico Boulevard, nearing their target. Kyle's pulse was pounding and he could tell that Ferro was amped up, stressed out, and ready to go too.
They approached the target, a Skynet outpost set up in a reasonably intact building that, Kyle had been briefed, used to be a dance club back in Pre-war, called Tech Noir. A cold chill ran up Kyle's spine. He spotted a dead Resistance fighter, lying at the broken curb, clutching an AK-47 in his stiff hands. The AK-47 was not firepower enough to take down the outpost, but it was better than nothing. It contained only about fifteen rounds of ammo in its magazine.
Out of nowhere, an Ariel HK banked across the sky on a fast trajectory. Its pivoting searchlights flashed light across the ground beneath Kyle and Ferro. Its turret swung around and laser fire split the silence of night, ripping up the concrete at their feet.
"Let's move!" With the AK-47 in one hand, Kyle grabbed the sleeve of Ferro's jacket with his free hand and sprinted through the obstacle course of mangled cars, pulling her along. "Come on!" He could tell she was tapped into her inner reserve of strength just to keep pace with him. Laser blasts erupted all around them, pinging and ricocheting off long-dead automobiles and tearing up the filthy sidewalks and street, sending up concrete shrapnel and dirt.
"Aaahhh..! Kyle heard Ferro cry out and saw her body pitch forward, past him, and hit the ground.
"Ferro!" Kyle dropped down and scooped her up in one arm, holding the AK-47 in the other. He dragged her behind a rusting hulk of a truck. "Are you hurt? Are you injured."
She looked over her shoulder, "Just a flesh wound, I think."
Kyle could see the bloody burn across the back of her jacket where the laser had grazed her, She was right; it was just a flesh wound. Kyle felt a slight release of pressure in his chest. The HK must have lost track of them momentarily because it was moving off a little, preparing to bank around for a wider view.
"We've got to move, now." Kyle jumped up. "Let's go."
With its infrared, the HK would track them in a moment. Ferro struggled to her feet and followed her squad leader, sticking close to his back. As they skittered through the dark battlefield, at the corner of Pico and Robertson, Kyle informed Ferro, with a series of hand signals that they would circle the block, attempt to lose the HK, and return to the target. As they rounded the corner of a semi-collapsed building, seeming to have evaded the HK for the moment, they came face to face with two T-700 Endo's, both armed and standing about twenty yards in front of them.
One of the T-700's raised its Plasma Rifle, locked on target, and fired. Kyle had no time to react; he knew he was dead. The blow knocked him off his feet. But it wasn't a round from the Terminator's Plasma rifle; it was something much softer. And it didn't hit him from the front: it hit him from behind. It was Ferro. She had dove on him and knocked him to the ground, saving his life once again. They had saved each other's lives countless times over the last couple of years.
Both Terminators opened fire now.
Plasma bursts exploded all around the two, young, Resistance fighters, sending up chips of flying debris and nuclear ash, and lighting up the dark in flashes, causing a smoke and strobe effect. Kyle and Ferro scrambled up and retreated into the dark devastation, with the two T-700's hot on their asses.
The commotion must have alerted the nearby HK. Kyle caught sight of it, as it rose up, in the night sky, approaching from the left, its powerful searchlight seeking them out.
They ran down an, overgrown alley, dodging weeds and crumpled, trash cans. A third T-700, this one unarmed, stepped out of the dark, cutting them off. Kyle fired several shots from the AK-47 into its cruel face; its metal skull jerked back with each round. Then its heavy arm swung on its piston, swatting Kyle away, like a rag doll. Ferro ran to where he lay, stunned. Blood flowed from a jagged laceration on the side of the biceps and triceps of his right arm. Kyle could see a steel, support girder, sticking out of a concrete wall beside him, coated with blood. It had ripped into his jacket sleeve and shredded his upper arm.
The HK was still in the sky, hovering, no doubt, ready to assist the Terminator, should it need any assistance.
"Get up Reese!" Ferro helped him up. "Come on Sarge!"
Kyle, still clutching the AK-47, fired a few rounds at the advancing T-700. It flinched back then lunged at Kyle. The powerful, metal hands of the homicidal machine were still clutching Kyle's throat as they both hit the ground.
In a microsecond, Ferro retrieved the AK-47 that had flown from her squad leader's hands. She stuck the tip of the gun barrel between the forth and fifth metal vertebrae at the back of the Terminator's neck, the chink in its armor, and squeezed the trigger before it had time to crush Kyle's throat. Just like Kyle did with his knife to the T-600 in that basement, she damaged this one's motive cortex. With Ferro's help, Kyle got on his feet, as the Terminator spasm and twitched.
Just then, plasma fire lit up the dark, detonating near them. The other two T-700's had caught up to them.
Kyle and Ferro took off into the black, longtime-dead metropolis, haunted by the ghosts of the tens of thousands who perished there. While fleeing, Kyle retrieved the AK-47 from Ferro and pulled the strap over his head and one arm, letting the weapon hang against his back. The HK, gliding in the dark sky, started in pursuit, as did the two Terminators. While the HK searched an Ariel grid pattern, the Terminator's, with Kyle and Ferro still locked on target, were moving fast and closing in.
As they raced down Robertson, heading back to Pico, Kyle mentally disconnected the excruciating pain from his ripped open arm, using a method John Connor had taught all Resistance. He said: "Pain can be controlled, you just disconnect it." It was still there, but in a vague, distant sort of way. Kyle hoped he wouldn't lose enough blood to get dizzy or even pass out before they could escape the advancing Terminators. The front of his jacket and all down his right sleeve and pant leg was soaked with his blood. It was cold and sticky. At least his arm was still working.
Kyle shot a glance at the, digital timer, bouncing on a chain from his jacket pocket, as they fled through the shadows of night. They had less than 23 minutes to reach their target and achieve mission objective, and they were still without any weapon of large enough caliber to destroy their target.
Breathing the permeating stench of death, Kyle and Ferro struggled through the cold, dead city, less than thirty yards from the corner of Pico. A couple of Kyle's footfalls clanged with a hollow echo as he ran over the filthy, ashen street. He instantly knew what this meant and his strategic mind formulated a plan in a microsecond.
"This way!" Kyle grabbed the back of Ferro's torn and bloody jacket, yanking her back. "Come on!" He bent down and wiped away a small patch in the dirt and stuck his finger down into a hole, made for a prying tool, in the top of a huge manhole cover. It took all his strength to get the lip of it up enough to get his other hand under it. Ferro, never one to disobey her squad leader, jumped into action, helping him. Together, with tremendous effort, despite Kyle's torn arm, they slid the massive, circular manhole cover off to the side. No sooner was it moved than a plasma burst ignited a nearby Camaro with a small tree growing up through the middle of it.
"Go!" Kyle barked in Ferro's face. She dropped out of sight, down into the sewer tunnel. Kyle could see the two T-700's, striding quickly toward him. Perfect, he thought. He disappeared into the hole as a plasma burst ripped apart the space he just evacuated.
Back at the toasted 7-11, their temporary base of ops, John Connor was still pacing. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his gut. Perry had re-established communication with Reese and had ordered him back to Command, but he hadn't shown up yet.
John was getting a headache from the reek of gas. He could hear the faraway sounds of a small skirmish going on in a different sector of the city, but he wasn't worried about that. He was worried about Reese. It wasn't like him to disobey an order, especially a direct order, through Perry, from John himself.
"Where would I be if I were him?" John said to himself.
Like Father, like Son. It popped into his brain out of nowhere. John knew exactly where he would be right now if he were in Reese's boots. He would complete his initial mission and create the diversion then he would do everything he could to get back to Command, alive, as ordered. John knew Reese was on his way to the secondary site to complete his mission objective before returning to Command. John knew this because he knew himself; he had obviously inherited that defiant trait from his father. Like father, like Son.
John jumped on his short-wave; "Fire Base Echo Ninner, this is Connor. Come in. Perry. Connor. Respond."
A brief moment of static then…
"Connor, This is Perry. I'm here."
"Perry." John was stern. "I want the primary team back in place. I want you to hit the primary target as initially planned."
"Repeat." Perry sounded confused. "Say again."
"I said I want the primary target hit at 1100 hours. Got it?"
"Got it Sir."
"And I want an extraction team in a chopper, in the air, to the secondary target site. Copy?"
"Got it; extraction team to secondary site. Consider it done."
"Good job Perry. Connor, out."
It was pitch black down there, beneath the street. Kyle could smell the icy, rancid water pooling around the middle of his thighs. He immediately took off running. He was relieved the tunnel wasn't flooded or they would be dead for sure. As he splashed blindly down the black tunnel, directly behind Ferro, the water slowing his strides, he removed the glow-stick from his jacket, bent it until the inner capsule snapped, and shook it. The soft green, florescent light immediately lit up the tunnel to a distance of about two yards in front and behind them. They were in an 8-foot square, crumbling, concrete sewer tunnel, with several thick pipes running overhead, along one side of the ceiling. The light from the glow-stick made shadows bob and weave on the tunnel walls as they ran.
"Wait!" Kyle's voice echoed. With his good arm, he grabbed the back of Ferro's jacket, pulling her to a stop at an intersecting tunnel that he knew ran under Pico and their target. "Hold on." In the soft, green glow, he saw the sweat running down her pretty but dirty face, and the frightened look and underlying sadness in her eyes. He had seen that expression a million times before. He squatted, turning his body and cooked an ear, listening. His heart was pounding.
He heard the Terminator's splash down, first one, then the other.
"Wait." He whispered to Ferro, who was wound up and ready to strike out at his command. "Waaait." He used hand signals as he spoke. He waited until, from the sound of their splashing, echoing steps, the Terminators were close enough to see the florescent light of his glow-stick.
"Let's go!" They took off, splashing up the intersecting tunnel, with Kyle in the lead this time. Up ahead, there would soon be another intersecting tunnel and, just before that, there would be another overhead manhole, this one leading out to Pico, near their target. Kyle kept the glow-stick out in front of him, his eyes turned up to the slimy ceiling. He ran as fast as he could in the frigid, foul water, with Ferro close to his back.
He was vaguely aware of the two T-700's behind them. It sounded as if the Terminator's were quite a ways back, but still coming. Everything is going right as planned, he thought.
Kyle was getting nervous, thinking he might have missed the manhole. Then he spotted a metal ladder attached to the right side of the tunnel wall and the manhole, directly overhead. He checked the timer dangling from his jacket pocket; they had 14 minutes to reach mission objective.
Kyle grabbed the AK-47 off his back and stuck the butt of it to the thinnest of the overhead pipes, the one he knew was a gas line. He cocked back his arms and…
Kraaanngg…! The sound echoed loud and his wounded arm rang with severe pain. Just disconnect it. The pipe dented and cracked on the first try. There was a slight hissing sound of gas escaping the pipe. He did it again, this time with all his might. Krronnggg…Hssssssssss…! Kyle threw the AK-47 back over his shoulder.
"Climb!" He ordered, and Ferro obeyed. "It's going to take both of us." He climbed up behind her. Standing at the top of the metal ladder, Ferro a step above Kyle, both pressed their upper bodies to the huge, circular, manhole cover and pushed. "Come on!" It was so heavy it barely budged. The gas was filling the tunnel
Kyle could hear the Terminator's splashing getting louder behind the hiss of the gas. His heart started racing. Electrical currents of pain zigzagged through his injured arm. Disconnect.
. "Puuuusshhh…!" They shoved harder; they didn't have the best leverage and the manhole cover was heavy as hell, still, it started to move. They coughed and choked, both, digging into their reserve strength, and got it over enough to squeeze through.
Ferro was up and out and Kyle was almost out when one of the Terminators got hold of one of his combat boots.
"Mother-fucker!" Kyle tried to kick his foot loose. Ferro threw her arms around him and pulled, trying to help free him. Out in the fresh air now, Kyle could breathe again; he sucked air into his burning lungs, while the Terminator tried pulling him down to a gassy death. Struggling against the Terminator's crushing grip, he reached in his pocket for his lighter, the one he used for his pipe bombs; it wasn't there. His heart skipped a few beats.
"Come on Sarge." Ferro struggled to help her squad leader. Kyle reached in his other pocket and… BINGO.
Wasting not a moment, Kyle spun the ignition wheel on the lighter: nothing.
"Fuck!" He tried it again, to no avail.
The Terminator was winning; it was dragging Kyle's leg farther into the manhole.
He tried again: Chtt. This time a small flame sparked to life His shoved the lighter, in his hand, down into the open manhole beside his own leg.
WHOOOOM! Flames exploded up from the manhole. The Terminator released its grip on Kyle's foot. He and Ferro both fell backwards onto the putrid, ash-coated street. Kyle's pant leg was on fire; he could feel it burning his leg. Just disconnect it, he thought. He and Ferro beat out the flames with their hands. They watched, mesmerized, as the T-700 rose up out of the manhole, completely engulfed in flames, and stopped about three quarters of the way out, frozen, like some obscene, burning statue. Kyle knew from experience that the wiring beneath the metal chassis, that comprised the Terminator's chest, had melted. He had heard rumors among Resistance members that Skynet was developing a new series of Terminator, the 800 series. It was supposed to be virtually unstoppable and resistant to fire. This new Terminator was rumored to be the newest in the Infiltrator line and was supposed to have skin, not rubber skin like the T-600's, real skin harvested from humans then grown and replicated for the cyborgs.
"Reese!" Ferro screamed, her eyes wide.
Kyle whipped his head around and up in the direction she was looking.
There were three of them this time, cutting through the air, banking toward them, their bright searchlights glaring.
"Move!" Kyle and Ferro were up and moving in a moment.
The HK's were upon them in the next moment, their turbine jets downblast blowing up nuclear ash from the shattered street. .
Kyle and Ferro instinctively split up as the HK's discharged laser fire at them. A good soldier knew when you had multiple enemies attacking you split up to lesson the firepower to each troop and double the chance of escape. Kyle cut left toward the building that housed their target; Ferro went right. One of the Massive HK's banked off to follow Ferro while the other two proceeded after Kyle.
Kyle ran, his heart pounding, sweating, with laser fire exploding all around him. Trrr…Trrr…Trrr…!
Then it happened. Ka-BOOM!
Kyle's could feel his body being picked up and thrown by the concussion from the blast. With absolutely no bodily control, he felt himself hit the street hard. Through his blurry vision, he could see that his uniform was covered in blood. His entire body was racked with unbelievable pain. Just disconnect it, he thought, just disconnect.
Then he felt himself starting to slip. This is it, he thought, I'm going to buy it right here, lying in a bloody heap in the middle of the street, right in front of our target, without having achieved mission objective. Connor was going to be upset. Not only did Kyle fail to accomplish the mission but it also looked as if he wasn't going to make it back alive, as Connor had ordered.
"I failed." Were Kyle's last words before he faded into gray then gradually drifted down into darkness.
"We fucked up." Ferro couldn't believe it. They had disobeyed Command, and failed to achieve their mission objective. Now Reese was dead.
Ferro was lying beneath two moldering corpses, hyperventilating. The fetid scent of decay was so thick she could taste it in her mouth. Her body was racked with pain and her heart was filled with grief. Just control it. Disconnect. But she was having a hard time controlling it and she couldn't disconnect. When the blast that killed Reese went off, she dove for cover behind the ruin of an HK Tank, and pulled the Deaders over her as cover from the HK's. She was sure it had worked since one of them had hovered over and shined its bright searchlights directly on the bodies she was hiding beneath then flew slowly away.
She could see, from beneath her dead friends, that the HKs were flying over Reese's limp body. In the HKs' powerful searchlights, she could see Reese's bloody corpse. He's dead for sure, she thought as she watched the HKs kill their searchlights and soar off into the distant horizon.
Climbing out from beneath her morbid cover, Ferro realized she had to complete the mission on her own. But first she had to make sure Reese was dead. She was 99% sure, but as long as she reserved even 1% doubt, she wouldn't leave until she checked his vitals.
"Just disconnect," she told herself, but she couldn't do it.
"Reese. Oh my God. Reese, wake up." He heard his name being spoken from a galaxy far…far…away. The voice seemed hazy, but familiar. "Come on Sarge, get on your feet."
Kyle could feel himself trying to stand up and someone helping him. Everything was fuzzy and vague, and seemed to be moving in slow motion. His head was pounding and he was dizzy and sick to his stomach. He hurt in many different regions especially his torn, blood-caked arm. Just disconnect it, he told himself.
"I can't believe you're alive." The voice, which he now recognized, seemed to be getting closer. "Sarge, are you okay?"
"I'm okay."
"You were knocked unconscious. I thought you were dead. I can't believe-"
"Forget about it Ferro. I…I'm okay." He heard himself say, wondering why he was saying it.
"I can't believe you're alive."
"Well, I am." He felt the cobwebs clearing out a little. "We've got to complete the mission."
He wiped his own blood from the plastic front of the digital timer hanging from his jacket pocket. They had less than 3 minutes to achieve mission objective. They were right in front of their target but still did not have firepower enough to destroy it.
"Reese!" Ferro's eyes were wide and she was pointing.
Kyle looked and saw them coming fast. They must've detected his and Ferro's movement because they were coming in for the kill. Kyle's tactical mind kicked into gear, and a plan, however unlikely to succeed, formulated. He grabbed the AK-47 from off his back and turned to Ferro. "Get out of here. now."
The three HKs were erasing their distance at a frightening speed.
"I want to help." Her eyes begged.
The HKs were close.
"Go!" Kyle yelled.
She hesitated.
"Run!" He screamed. "Ruuunnn…!"
She obeyed her squad leader and took off.
Kyle turned to face the HK's.
John Connor had taught him a good way to dust those metal mother-fuckers. It was a long shot but if he could hit the two-inch space where the HKs turbo jet housing connected to the body of the Ariel death machine, it would drop an engine, which would cause it to come down. The trick was to get it to come down in the right spot.
Laser fire was bursting dangerously close to Kyle. Still, he stood his ground. The AK-47 only had three rounds left. If Kyle was careful that was all he'd need.
Kyle stood in a defiant stance, in front of the target, holding his AK-47 at his hip, like a gunslinger from the old west, back in early Pre-war. He was prepared for a shoot out but his opponent had him a little outgunned: one man with an AK-47 that had only three rounds against 3 killing machines with laser fire that would vaporize a human instantly upon a direct hit.
As the lead HK got close, Kyle took aim and squeezed one off.
Ping. It bounced off the metal body: close, but no cigar. Kyle had to duck laser blasts but stood right back up and fired again. He missed again. He felt extreme stress in his neck, shoulders, and back. If he didn't get this last shot it was all over. He fired.
BOOM! The enormous, turbine engine fell from the sky, leaving the HK a little lopsided. It came down, careening into the target.
Kyle took three, giant leaps and dove for cover behind a crumbled, deactivated T-600, lying in the grimy street.
Ba-BOOOOOM! The Terminator communications outpost in the old Tech-Noir building was leveled.
Kyle looked at the bloody timer on his jacket. They had reached mission objective with only 4 seconds to spare. Un-fucking-believable.
"Yeah!" He heard Ferro, who came running out of the dark and threw her arms around him. "You did it."
"We did it." Kyle spotted the other two HKs that had been blown off balance by the explosion. They had recovered and were swinging back around toward Kyle and Ferro. Kyle became aware of a loud thumping behind him, but couldn't shift his gaze from the approaching HKs.
Ka-BLAM! Kyle was stunned to see one of them blow up in mid-air, and fall to the ground in a burning heat. Now, he shifted his gaze. It was Commander Perry's chopper coming around a tall, corroded building. It was a relic from the early 20th century painted camouflage. Its thumping blades were louder now and Kyle's hair started blowing around his head from the powerful wind they generated. There was a Resistance fighter sitting just inside the wide opening on the side of the chopper clutching a Bazooka, peering into its cross hairs.
Ka-BAM! The second HK blew up and fell from the sky. Kyle barely got out of the way in time.
The chopper set down and members of the extraction team jumped out immediately. They herded Kyle and Ferro into the chopper, and got the chopper in the air in less than two minutes. It was a good thing because with all this activity, the place was sure to be crawling with Terminators any moment.
Kyle spotted the stoic look on Perry's face the moment he got in the chopper. Perry was sitting up front, in the co-pilot seat; the pilot was to his left. In the back, the thumping blades were deafening through the open side of the chopper. The extraction team medics began attending to Kyle and Ferro. A woman was wiping the sticky blood from Kyle's lacerated arm and another woman was looking at the bleeding burn across Ferro's back.
Perry pulled off his Tac-Com headset and stuck it out to Kyle. "Here Reese, Connor want's to talk to you."
Kyle brushed the medic aside, His heart sank. This is it, he thought. Connor is going to ream me out but good; he's going to chew me up and shit me out. Kyle took the headset from Perry, putting the small mic to his mouth but leaving the ear piece out a bit so Ferro could hear too.
"Connor. This is Reese. I'm here."
"Reese." Connor's voice crackled over the headset, barely audible over the chopper blades. "You okay?"
"Affirmative, I'm fine." Here it comes, Kyle thought.
"Okay soldier listen up. If you ever disobey command and pull another hair brain stunt like that again, your ass is mine. You got it?"
"Got it Sir."
"Now listen, I just got a report back from the primary target. It seems Skynet has pulled over 50% of its defenses from the primary site and sent them to the secondary site. Things are turning out better than planned. The primary, strike, scheduled to take place in two minutes is a guaranteed success thanks to you and Ferro and your diversion."
"That's great. Thank you Sir." Kyle looked at Ferro who was smiling ear to ear, beneath the dirt caked on her face.
"Good job soldier."
"Thank you Sir."
"This is Connor. Out."
The chopper banked left and headed back for Command.
AN: So, my husband and I (my husband is Exangellion, he wrote the songs that I quoted) are huge Terminator fans. Specifically of Kyle Reese. My husband revised this story for me and made sure that all of the things that happen in this story can be true to the source material.
Also, for those of you who don't know, Kyle Reese was orignally intended to be nineteen years old when he went back in time to save Sarah. So I wanted to tell a story of some of his time campaigning for the resistance.
Also, if you didn't know, Ferro was Kyle's like, best fried. In one of the flashback/nightmares Kyle has in the first Terminator, the woman who gets obliterated by the HK-Tank is Ferro. According to the original script.