The gray fog cast a haze over the jagged horizon of warped metal. The wasteland stretched for miles. The battlefield was a maze of jagged corners and rusting scraps. Here and there lay shells from vintage guns, grenade pins, and used matches. Resistance fighters were forced to both love and hate the severe battlefield. They loved it when it gave them offered them a shield against a laser, but they hated it when the realization dawned on them in a bitter epiphany that this was once their home. That was a long time ago; that was before the day was perpetually gray. That was back when grass covered the ground instead of blood.
The inky black sky fell away to a beautiful crescendo of grayscale that signaled the morning hours in the year 2029. It was a windy day and the wind howled as it tore across the austere terrain. John Connor leaned back against the pitted door of a car. He exhaled heavily. The cool wind felt good on his hot face. He relaxed his grip on the trigger of his plasma rifle and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. Morning was a welcome relief; there was less activity. Next to him, Captain Perry brought a walkie-talkie close to his lips.
"Perry report. Estimated two aerial HKs patrolling.. uh, South and South East. Sector 5 and Sector 6 be on your toes. Over," Perry said in a gruff voice.
Crackling static and a voice replied, "Ackerman in Sector 6, we've got the heads up. Over."
Perry flashed a toothy grin as he turned to John, "They held it up through the night. That's good. That area has sustained quite a bit of fire the last few nights. Now we just need Sector 5 to confirm and we're good to go."
Sector 5. That's where it had happened, wasn't it? All those years ago. Or was it just yesterday?
John had been crossing Sector 5 with two of his fighters. Or was it three? No, there were two: a younger boy and one of his Corporals. They were on their way to the junkyard where the mechanic was working on welding extra armor to a car. They were nearly there. John was yards away from the barbed wire that surrounded the junkyard. There was a hole just big enough to clamber through in order to avoid fire. The Corporal made a dive at it and made it through in one graceful motion. John followed through. The rough wire tore a slit in John's uniform as he scrambled under the wire. John turned around to help pull the younger boy through. Maybe if John had been faster going through the hole, the younger boy wouldn't have gotten torn in half by rapid laser fire. John struggled to pull the boy under the wire, but the boy kept screaming and clawing for his severed leg. He thrashed in a pool of his own blood while the coarse wire scratched his face. John was sure he could save the boy if he got him into a tourniquet, and he tried really hard. His efforts were in vain when the boy died in his arms in a pool of hot blood whilst screaming curses at the war machines that had torn him apart…
Perry cleared his throat and brought John Connor back to the present.
"John, we still need confirmation from Sector 5 and it's been two minutes," Perry reminded him.
John Connor reached for his own walkie-talkie and brought it to his mouth, "Connor. Sector 5: report. Over,"
Perry shot a glance at John. His eyes were hard and questioning. John bit his lip before trying again with a more urgent tone.
"Connor here. Sector 5, report on your status. Over,"
Perry shook his head, "Something's happened. You've got to send Swanson's squad to take over. You know we can't afford to lose Sector 5."
"I'll give it one more try," John said, although he knew it wouldn't do any good. He tried once and twice more. His fingers were sweaty over the buttons on the walkie-talkie. It was hard for John to be optimistic when the only reply he got from Sector 5 was deadly silent static that crackled victory for the machines.
EDIT: Thank you, Mat and EvilClone for pointing out my factual error. It's fixed!
