This is my first publication. Just an idea on how Judgement day would appear to other survivors and how certain aspects of the war came about. For instance, why would machines place humans in death camps? Killing them outright would be just as effective, so somehow their resources had to be strained to the point where it would make sense. based solely on the movies.

Disclaimer;

I do not own the terminator verse. This story is written pure for enterainment purposes and no money whatsoever is being made on it. Also be aware that a naked chicken can't be plucked... :-)

Days of judgement

Jacob was sitting behind his desk in the office of the law firm where he worked. It was an expensive office, on the top level of a 29 story high building. Its windows filtered most of the suns rays out, and a thick luscious carpet covered the floor. The carpet would be great on bare feet. Jacob felt the carpet was a bit of a waste, as nobody would ever be barefooted in the office. Nonetheless, he liked it. Despite of the reactive glass his desk did not face the window but rather an expensive antique book cabinet filled with thick leather bound law books. He liked the look of those leather bound books and they would not distract him, as would the view outside. His desk was neatly ordered with a red-letter tray for his high priority work and a blue tray for the every day run o' the millwork.

At six foot four Jacob was a tall muscular man. In his college days he used to be a member of the wrestling team. Not much of the muscle he had developed in those days had turned to fat. When he started at the firm he had taken up karate to keep his mind and body focused, he had never stopped his habit of meditating in the morning. His hair was receding but still his natural colour. He'd had his eyes lasered to correct a slight eye problem so he didn't need glasses anymore. His sharp chiselled features, gave him a rather classical face.

Right now, he was working on a high profile case in which a well-known actor was accused of having murdered his ex-wife. It was a tough case, every bit of evidence pointed to the guy. Well maybe the way out was to see if the cops had slipped somewhere along the line, feeling that the evidence was so strong that they had cut some corners. It did not matter to Jacob whether his client was guilty or not, just that he paid.

As he was looking at his laptop, he reminisced about his own estranged wife who lived in LA in the luxury apartment they used to live in together. He had moved to a house owned by the company on the other side of the hills closer to the office. He was not the killer type but he remembered the bitter divorce, the emotions had run sky high and he could sympathise a bit with his client. However, that sympathy only went so far. The guy had brutally murdered his wife with a wood chopper. The leather gloves he had been wearing had been soaked with blood. Jacob shuddered and wondered if he was going to let his client get of the hook. No Jacob was not a violent man this client was incomprehensible to him.

Suddenly a bright flash that the costly reactive glass could not entirely filter out drew his attention. Now he stared out of the window. His mouth fell open as he saw a sight he had never expected to see. A Mushroom cloud was forming above the hills in the direction of LA. As he realized what that meant a silly rhyme out of his youth flashed through his head "Duck and Cover" Jacob wasted no time in wondering if it would be futile instead he dove under his desk.

Not a moment to soon as Jacob curled up into a tight ball the blast wave hit the window and that very expensive window facing blew into a million glistering pieces scattering all over his office. A very dry heat filled his room everything in view of the now empty windows darkened, blistered and smouldered in the heat. Fortunately, nothing got to a flashpoint. The sound which accompanied the shock wave was incredible, a mixture of a tremendous roar and an incredibly loud explosion, it shook Jacob to the centre of his bones. After the sound died down everything was deadly quiet. The lights flickered once and died down as the power was cut somewhere along the line. Slowly Jacob got up and walked to the door. The sound of his shoes crunching the broken glass was at first incredible loud to his ears. As he pushed the door open, he heard the sound of people sobbing and crying. As he walked down the hall other, people stumbled out of their offices.

Jacob moved through the now darkened hallways of the building. Everybody was headed to the elevators but Jacob realized that they wouldn't work due to the power outage. Instead he went for the emergency stairways. Opening the door to the stairwell he started making his way down. As he started descending the stairs he noticed smoke coming from beneath the doors, obviously something had caught fire and the fire was spreading. Now the battery powered fire alarms went of. The blaring sound of the alarms got people thinking straight again and more people went to the stairways. As the fire escape opened on the 18th floor Jacob saw a flickering red light in the back accentuating the shadowy shapes of several people stumbling into the stairwell. In the background he could hear the crackling of the fire and the sharp whoosh of fire extinguishers as people tried to fight the flames. By the time Jacob reached the first floor he was a part of a mass of people stumbling into the dark and now windowless front lobby. There was no evidence of the touch of the heatwave here as the lower levels where protected by the shadow of several hills that lay in the direction of LA.

But what had happened was obvious the shockwave had passed through here and most of the windows where destroyed. Trees that where higher up the hill side where ablaze, the sky was already being darkened by dark storm clouds that seemed to be growing in size. As he looked on, lightning started to flash in the distance and thunder rumbled ominously. What was worse was that he could see several pillars of cloud rising to the skies marking other nuclear strikes. Jacob thought it must be an all-out nuclear war, which was disturbing the iron curtain had come down, and tension between the nuclear powers in the world had eased up. What on earth had happened?

Jacob pushed his way through the mass out into the open air. He looked for his car, but as he tried to open it with his electronic key it wouldn't. The EMP from the blast had reached here and destroyed the electronics. He wasn't going to get anywhere with his luxurious Jag. Swearing he thought about what to do next. His house was on the other side of the hills. Judging by the smoke coming from that direction it was a no brainer that it would be on fire. So he had to start thinking what to do next. This place was right on the edge of the city. There where some other offices close by but they where in the same shape as his office, which was largely on fire.

He thought about what would happen next, he realized that soon there would be fallout falling and that the survivors would need to get under shelter. Picking up a stone he smashed the window of his car. Some people looked at him in shock he smiled apologetically and said "what? It's my own car." He had a bottle with water in his car which he took, a packet of energy bars still contained two of them. He also took a first aid bag, rather than a hard cover case this kit was more an army pouch which could be slung over the shoulder. He stuffed his supplies in the kit bag and started to work on getting his car trunk from the inside. With a little effort he managed to get into his car trunk where he had a couple of sturdy walking boots which he kept there in case his car brook down. He didn't want to get any dirt on his Gucci shoes. It started to rain, and realizing this would be radioactive he staid in his car for the moment.

Sitting in his car he thought about his first move. He knew there was a small abandoned barn a few miles up the road. This rain should stop pretty soon and before the main fallout started to fall he should get there. Maybe he could hole up there for a day or so and wait until the fallout had fallen, he didn't know if it would do any good of course. He figured it would be better than standing in the open while the fallout fell. What would he do after the initial day, where could he go? He remembered a friend of his who was a bit of a survivalist and had a ranch some miles further up into the hills. It would mean a trek of several days on foot. He would need to pick up some stores in some of the small towns on the way. If he could get to his friends place he could then start on planning from there.

As soon as the rain stopped he set out for the barn, he decided that a quick jog would be the best pace. As he quickly jogged ahead, he passed several people who had kept on walking in the rain. He realized that those people would probably be the first to succumb to radiation sickness. Decease would soon strike the few survivors and places with large concentrations of people wouldn't be the most healthy place to be in. That thought made him think of getting to his friends farm all the faster. After a quarter of an hour's jog he reached the barn. He was just in time; ash started drifting down from the sky which was still boiling with dark clouds and lightning flashes as he twisted the door open.

It was a rather large two storey affair which had belonged to an old farm which had stood a little further away. The farm had been burned down during a storm a few years ago and as the farmer and his wife had perished in the flames it had not been rebuild. The barn was empty save for some old farming equipment and decaying hay which lay on the floor. Something furry scurried away as he shuffled some hay into a pile under a overhanging second storey floor. The wind which had picked up and blew fiercely around the barn whistling and singing as it passed through cracks in walls. He covered the hay with an old tarmac and started looking for some wood to light a small fire in an oil drum, at least he would be warm and dry tonight. As the wind howled outside he settled in for the night.

Charlie was enjoying his day off, relaxing in his basement. He was studying the item on his workbench with a look of utter concentration. He was making a new lure for the weekend trip. This one was going to be worth a million bucks, he knew it for sure. Scattered about him on the bench and on a chair next to him where all kinds of pliers, reels of line, bits of metal, bits and pieces of coloured wires and of course his pride and joy the St. Croix Legend Elite fishing rod with Spinfisher SSg reel. This time his mates wouldn't laugh at him and he would catch the biggest fish that was as sure as judgement day.

Charlies name was actually Carloz but when he gotten to school his friends couldn't pronounce it and turned it to Charlie. He was a small man not five foot ten of Mexican descent. Not a very athletic man he was still very slim. He was a talented mechanic with a knack for making almost anything run like new with minimal tools. At 32 he was very happy with his life a loving wife, two kids and a band of loyal friends. They had a nice house in a new suburb, it wasn't big but it was theirs.

He could hear his wife and youngest son playing up stairs, laughing and running around. His eldest son was at school and would be back in an hour or so. Maybe he should take him along. He was nine and he would love to go fishing with his dad. Still Charlie's friends probably would not like that very much. Steve was the only one who had kids as well. Charlie determined that it might be a good idea to go on a trip with just Steve and the kids next time. However, not this time he could already taste the beer and smell that roasted fish.

Charlie thought he heard screams coming from above and he started to move towards the door. Suddenly the screams where abruptly cut of, the earth shook as if an earthquake had hit. Then a tremendous roaring and rumbling came from above and suddenly all the lights went out. Dust came from the ceiling and he started coughing. He tried to open the door but it was jammed, blocked solid from the outside. No matter what he tried he couldn't get the door open. From above came a strange crackling sound and gradually the cellar started to get warm. Stumbling in the darkness, he found his way back to his workbench. Fumbling in the drawers of his tool cabinet, he found his flashlight and thanked god that he had remembered to change the batteries only last week, the remaining batteries in the new package still in the drawer. He turned it on and sighed with relieve. Having a light was a heaven sent in this darkness. With an afterthought he put the reserve batteries in his pockets, not wanting to risk having to look for them in the dark.

Flicking his light over the now dark and brooding tomblike cellar he could see the dust starting to settle down. Occasionally something crashing down from above would set of a new shower of dust causing Charlie to wheeze and cough. He had to admit it was getting stuffy in the cellar. When a new crash from above set of a new dust shower he noticed that the dust shifted sideways in stead of just falling straight down. He now noticed a faint draft, despite the stuffiness of the air. As he held his free hand to the ceiling he noticed that it was warm to the touch. He then realized that the house above him must be on fire. He hoped that his wife and youngest sun had gotten out but somehow he doubted that. Whatever had happened had happened fast and suddenly, and he remembered the way their screams had been cut short.

Fighting back his tears he now desperately began to look for a way out of the cellar. It was then that he noticed the old coal chute doors. As fast as he could he made his way over the debris of a lifetime which stood in his way. Boxes with his old college stuff, the furniture he and Janet bought for their first home. He disregarded everything to get to the doors. But as he got close to the doors he saw that smoke was swirling around the cracks in the wood, getting sucked out into the open air beyond. Also he noted a red-light coming through those cracks. Whatever was happening upstairs was big enough to cause the fire to spread out over the coal cellars doors. Moving backwards away from the coal chute door he tripped over an uneven bit in the floor. Flailing wildly with his arms he went down with a curse smashing old mementos as he went down. He sat on the floor cursing a little more before he started wondering what he had tripped over.

A thought kept nagging at him, wasn't there an old water main or something down here? Retrieving his flashlight which fortunately hadn't been broken he looked at the floor where he had tripped. Now he could see that is was a bit of mismatched concrete that also stuck out a bit. He remembered there had been a leakage in the cellar a few years ago. They had a devil of a time repairing it with a pump that had been used to pump out the rain water. It had been raining heavily for days and that was when the cellar had started to fill with water. The plumber they had called had explained to them that the house had been build over an old existing sewage pipe and that pipe had been filled with overflow water from the water drains and the pressure had finally cracked the old sewer. Normally the water would be really low and the problem shouldn't happen again. He did tell them to keep a close eye on his repairs if there was an exceptionally heavy rainfall. Now the concrete that had been used to repair the leak had been cracked again. A steady draft of air was flowing through it.

Stumbling in the half dark he went to his work bench and retrieved some tools and just as an afterthought some extra batteries for his flashlight. Using a sledgehammer he quickly started breaking the cement over the repaired crack. Swinging the sledgehammer like a maniac he broke through the cement in short order. As he did so more fresh air was drawn through the crack feeding the flames above and causing the doors of the coal chute to burst into flame. Charlie kept hammering away at the edge of the crack, now lit by the flickering light of the burning doors as well. As more combustibles in the cellar started to burn he squeezed into the crack as soon as it was wide enough. The air was rushing pass him as he desperately squeezed through. Finally he fell a few feet down into the sludge of the old sewer.

He found that the sewer was high enough for him to stand in albeit bending over a bit. Luckily he had managed to hold onto his flashlight and quickly flicked over the walls. The sewer was old, having been disused for some time and a new sewage system had been in place since the new houses where built. Water flowed swiftly downstream cascading over small barriers where bricks had fallen from the old walls and ceilings that partially blocked the stream. The flow of air seemed to be coming from upstream so he slowly made his way in that direction. The sewer seemed to go on and on and on.

It became obvious to him that some big disaster was happening. Every now and again the earth trembled and rivulets of dust, debris and bricks fell from the ceiling. He was becoming increasingly worried that the tunnel would completely collapse. After what seemed like hours of stumbling in the dimly lit tunnel he noticed it was beginning to get smaller. As he continued on he soon had to start crawling instead of walking on his hands and feet. Because he was now on all four he had to stick his flashlight in his belt. The movement of the light making his passage seem even eerier than before. After a short while he decided to turn of the light. The odd light show from the light disturbing him more than anything else. He also thought it would be good to save the batteries, despite having an extra set in his pockets. Before he did so he paused and played the flashlight over the tunnel walls. He could see no change in the tunnel in the gloom. So he turned it off and started to crawl once again.

The going was now even slower in the pitch darkness of the tunnel, carefully feeling with his hands before putting any weight on them. He wasn't willing to risk any major wounds to his hands just yet. As it was he often stubbed his fingers on stones and rubble in the dark. Just as he was beginning to wonder if he wouldn't be able to get out this way and would have to make his painful way downstream he noticed a reddish light up ahead. He had no idea how much time had passed but he reckoned it must be night time. So the light must be coming from a fire. In the end it did become a tight squeeze but he did get out. He thought he had crawled for miles in reality he now saw that it had been considerably less than two. He found himself in an old open flood drain when he came out. The bricks where covered with hot muddy ash where the vegetation witch had overgrown the drain had been burned away. As he slowly got up, his joints creaking from the abuse of crawling for such a long time. He noticed that the night sky was lit by a fiery red light. Every where he looked he saw flames rising to the night sky where no stars where to be seen. The heavens where completely covered by dark clouds of billowing smoke. Every now and again some structure that had somehow remained upright collapsed sending a storm of fiery sparks into the blackness of the sky. The city had been totally obliterated, any hope he had for the survival of his family, even his oldest boy at school now left him. Weeping bitterly he fell to the ground.

He didn't know how long he stayed there crying for his lost family. But after a while he wearily got to his feet and turned his back on the smoking ruins of the city. He made his way through the dark by the hellish illumination provided by the burning buildings and vegetation. At times he had to navigate pass the burning remains of car wrecks as he gradually left the suburbs behind him for a more rural area. As he trudged along he became aware that the air was becoming full of ash falling from the dark night sky.

Just then he came on the ruins of a bridge. On top of the bridge where several burnt out car wrecks which had been moved as if by a giant hand to one side of the bridge. In some places they had broken through the balustrade and some still hung on bits of twisted metal to the side of the bridge others had toppled over. Underneath the bridge a small stream ran through a shallow depression. A pickup truck lay on its side partially blocking the stream. The water had quenched the fire in the wreckage so it was relatively intact.

Charlie first checked the cabin, the driver hadn't survived; in fact the cabin was such a mess that he started throwing up and didn't stop till his stomach contents where completely gone. After he had recovered from the shock he checked the back of the pickup. It had been converted into a caravan. The left side had been a sleeping and sitting area and was now partially underwater. The doors and covers of the cabinets on the right hung loose, and the contents lay in the water and on top of the sides of the bed, its matrass and covers and the cabinets that where still above water. Rummaging In the remains of the van he discovered a pack of bottled water, a camping stove and some canned food. Piling them on top op a chest which had broken loose and was now wedged between the bed cabinets.

Among the remnants of a cupboard which had probably contained memorabilia judging by the dolls and other touristy things he found an old fashioned World War two vintage Webley revolver which apparently had been lovingly cared for in a special case. Judging by the ammunition which was in the case it still worked as well. Stuffing the gun in his pocket with the spare ammunition he looked around. He judged that he had everything still usable for him from the wreckage. Placing the smaller items of his finds on a blanket he rolled it into a huey using a belt from a ladies bag to tie the ends together. The larger items like the small stove he places in a carry all, he then crawled out of the wreckage. After a moments deliberation he decided to make his camp under the bridge for now, it would keep him dry for the moment and he didn't expect flash floods just yet.

With some dry, washed up wood which lay in a jumble beneath the bridge he started a small fire using his lighter. Sipping some water from one of the water bottles he looked out in the direction of the city. Judging by the lack of helicopters, even from news networks this was really big. Fires still crackled in the distance and a strong wind was blowing to the city sucking in oxygen to feed the fires. He hadn't seen anybody else as if whatever had happened had been far too quick for anybody to react to. He had thought at first that it had been an earthquake but while the earth had shook it didn't feel like a quake. And the fires didn't have the same feeling, for one thing everything had been scorched even walls but mainly on one side. That suggested that the source of the fire had been from one central point radiating out. As he sat here by his fire he began to doze off, finally succumbing to the bone weariness that permeated through his whole body he fell asleep.

George had come into to the factory that morning feeling it would be a terrible day. He was right even though the day had started out fine. One of the secretaries had baked an apple pie and everybody had dropped by for a piece of it. It had been fun and despite his feeling of apprehension, George had relaxed and had started hitting on the secretary, a cute redhead. Apparently, she liked him as much as he liked her, judging by her playful answers to his innuendos. As soon as he had returned to his desk in his office cubicle, however things had gone from bad to worse. It started with all kinds of computer trouble. All the computers went dead and then restarted themselves. The PC's kept acting up after that, they did not respond to commands etc. Of course the guys on the helpdesk where just as clueless as the rest, complaining that they where having the exact same problems and then blaming some virus for all the troubles. Then some dimwit had spilled coffee over his shirt and now he was staring at a hardcopy memo about equipment that really shouldn't have been ordered. As he glossed over the memo he at first felt very glum, now he was starting to get irate. Two whole shiploads of CPU's, modems and other computer supplies for which they had no use whatsoever and no clue to who had ordered them. OK Cars where automated further and further but this was ridicules. Then there was a shipment of Kevlar armour plating, what where they supposed to do with that? And, strangest of all, after he had been checking the order books he found that someone had ordered weapons grade steel. He wasn't a chemist so he didn't notice the orders for chemicals which had nothing to do with the production of cars.

His boss had also sent him an angry memo asking who had halted the work on the restructuring of the new assembly line for the new models. George hadn't been aware of that. As far as he could tell, work had continued. He distinctly remembered seeing flashes of welders coming through the screens, which they had put up to shield the workers from the noise. But apparently someone had sent the construction company an email stating that their services weren't required anymore. Of course, the foreman had complained but the email with the complaint had never reached him. He decided to first check out where those stores had gone and who had ordered them; they could restart the halted work when he chose to. Use of the wrongs materials in the cars however, could cause a major recall. That could potentially cost millions of dollars in revenue and administration. Then there where the lawsuits that could be filled against them costing even more.

However, before he had even put on his jacket, Paul one of the shop stewards barged into his office. "Boss" he said "you'd better come and check this out. That damned virus got into the manufacturing line as well. We got all kinds of shit which we can't make head of tale of coming from the line!" George looked at him and groaned. "Do you mean that the production line alpha is producing stuff for gamma again?" Asked George wearily, last week some of the production lines had started producing parts that another production line should produce. Once again, those clever dicks of the IT department hadn't been able to pinpoint the problem; it had sorted itself out in the end so George had been satisfied. "No Boss, It's like somebody reprogrammed the lines to produce something completely different." The shop steward said.

As they stepped out into the factory hall George shuddered, on the one hand this factory was a marvel on the other hand it could be very eerie. Automated trucks moved parts between the lines and huge animated steel arms took the parts from the trucks and placed them on different assembly lines where they where being assembled into cars. The human staff was reduced to maintenance, control and administrative functions. Strictly speaking, even that wasn't necessary but it would have been too much of a hassle to lay everybody off. At first glance, everything seemed to be fine, but then he noticed that the parts did seem to be odd. He took a closer look at some plating that came of one of the assembly lines. It wasn't a shape he recognized; no matter how hard he tried he couldn't place it in his mind on any model car that the factory produced. It also appeared to be thicker and heavier than usual despite being smaller than other parts produced here. As he turned, he nearly got knocked over by one of the trucks, he and Paul managed to jump out of the way just in time. Cursing he wondered how that was possible. The trucks where supposed to have detectors that would prevent just that from happening.

As they proceeded along the line he noted that it really wasn't just random objects that where being made. Gradually he realized that it was some kind of tracked vehicle that was being made. The plating he had seen previously protected the main body of a vehicle that reminded him a bit of Johnny Five, the robot that always wanted input. In the distance he could see, that four of the machines where already heading to the final assembly area on their own treads. Moreover, a fifth one was just rolling of the line. As he walked along he suddenly remembered that Johnny Five was originally a military robot, now the strange orders for the Kevlar, weapons grade steel and other materials swam into focus in his head. He realized someone had ordered those materials and reprogrammed his entire factory to produce some sort of automated weapons. As he realized this, he turned and started running to the control booth. "Terrorists" he said to Paul. "Goddamned terrorist have seized the factory and are going to use it to attack the United States."

Paul thought his boss had gone mad because of this outcry but still followed him. George turned to him and said, "We have to shut the plant down now! Start shutting it down while I call the police someone has reprogrammed our factory!" They headed towards one of the control booths which where placed around the factory from where they could operate the machines. Before they reached the booth however they heard a rattling sound heading towards them. In horrid fascination, they stopped to look as from between the machines at the end of the assembly line a Johnny Five appeared. Shocked they realized it had two Gatling guns fixed to a sort of arm stumps. Baleful red receptors where alight in a small rotund head giving it a dangerous and evil, and worse, cunning look. The machine spotted them and stopped in its tracks. Its twin guns swivelled into firing position. Just as it was about to fire something closer to it attracted its attention. A mechanic who had been trying to fix one of the assembly lines walked out between two machines. As he did so, the Gatling guns opened fire and tore him to bits. Startled out of their shock George and Paul started to run.

Running between the machines they saw one of the transporters coming toward them. As it sensed them it increased its speed, trying to drive them down. "Shit" George thought. "Every machine in here must be controlled by the terrorists." At that moment another transport came at them forcing George and Paul to run close to one of the machine arms. Just as George figured they where safe the huge metal arm swung into motion grabbing Paul by an arm. An automated welding arm swiftly moved out and before George could act the arc of the welder was turned onto the screaming technicians face. At that moment, one of the Johnny Fives came around a corner. Sensing there was nothing he could do for Paul anymore he dove beneath the assembly line just as the twin Gatling guns opened fire. As he scrambled beneath the machine, a welding arm lit up mere centimetres from his arm just missing him with a deadly swipe. All the time the conveyer belt above him continued to move. A wild blast from the Gatling gun sent a ricochet underneath the belt grazing his left calf.

In the background, George could hear the sound of his co-workers being slaughtered by the machines. The continuous sound of the Gatling guns mingled with the horrified screams creating a cacophony of sound. George scrambled on trying to keep one eye on the equipment, which either tried to grab him, spear him or burn him and the other eye on the Johnny Five. The machines where having a hard time following him. Several times machine equipment obviously swept under the conveyer belt in a random search effort. The Johnny Five in the meantime had started shooting at other targets. From underneath the machinery George saw a group of workers running into the row between the machines. A transport blocked their line of escape and a Johnny Five moved in for the kill. As he saw their bodies fall he noticed one of them was the redhead he'd been hitting on this morning. Her bright red hair covered with even darker red blood.

Thinking he might find refuge in the part of the factory that had been under reconstruction he slipped under the conveyer belt towards the cordoned off hall. After a desperate, few minutes of scrambling beneath dormant machines he slowly crawled toward a few crates. Easing himself up behind them he hoped nothing could see him. Carefully he peeked through a hole in the curtains that separated the restructured assembly line from the old one. Shocked he realized it was operational. As he watched a completed Johnny Five rolled away from the assembly line towards what appeared to be several modified transports. Instead of the normal small indoor wheels, someone had fixed several large tractor wheels to it. It also appeared to have a larger loading bay. He saw that a number of the robots he now called Johnny Fives where standing on the back of the transport. Cold fear gripped George as he realized how many there where and that they where apparently going to be sent out.

George lay still as the Johnny Five rolled by it was obvious it couldn't really sense him where he lay. The Johnny five and the transport moved away from the aisle and George quickly scampered to the next conveyer belt. None of the machinery reacted to him so he figured he hadn't drawn any attention. Slowly he crept to the end of the conveyer belt keeping as quiet as possible whenever he came close to an implement or moveable machinery. The path he had chosen brought him to the outer doors of the hall. Like most of the senior staff he parked his car close to the hall and he had his car keys with him. He saw some bodies lying still between machines and half finished cars. Taking his time, he spotted a Johnny Five standing in an alcove nearby the door. He hadn't noticed it at first because it was standing perfectly still. He saw that rather than looking inside the factory its attention was focused on the outside. But still it guarded his only route for escape. Desperately George looked around him, close by lay a heavy wrench. He looked at the machine. If he could hit it from the rear beneath its neck, maybe he could disable it and make his escape. Actually, the fact that his car was parked so close by came in extra handy he could also use the keys to create a diversion.

Taking care not to make a sound he picked up the wrench. Cautiously he slid from underneath the machines. Quickly he moved into the cover of a half finished car. Scanning around he felt sure he hadn't been noticed yet. He balanced the wrench on his shoulder with one hand and slid his other hand into his pocket where his key was. He pressed the open button and as the alarm lights went on, the Johnny five moved out of the alcove to inspect the car. Taking hold of the wrench with both hands he leaped at the machine and prayed the distraction was enough. In two bounds, he was at the machine. Swinging the wrench with all his might, anger and fear he hit the machine beneath its head just as it was turning to him. Its eyes glowed red with maliciousness as it saw him. For an instant, the guns moved like an involuntary twitch but the lights in its eyes faded and the head tilted to the side. He had damaged some vital connection. Dropping the wrench, he ran like a maniac to his car and practically tore the door open and jumped in. Quickly he started the engine just as another Johnny Five came out of the building. Gunning the engine to its maximum speed he tore away leaving a trail of smoking rubber as bullets sped after him. Bullets shattered his rear window but he wasn't hit as he went barrelling down the road. At the guard booth at the exit another Johnny Five turned out onto the road but couldn't brings it guns into position before Georges car hit it a glancing blow deflecting it away from him and completely throwing its aim of. The blow also nearly sent his car into a spin but as he had been expecting the collision he managed to control his car, and with hardly any loss of speed he broke through the boom across the road.

He was a proud believer. Mohammed was his prophet and Allah his God. The American infidels must pay for their support of the Zionists occupiers and their own corruptness. These thoughts raced through the head of young man as he surfed the net. Although he was very much a believer you wouldn't be able to see this. He wore faded jeans and a stained shirt like many other students. At parties he would drink alcohol; though not enough to get drunk less he slipped. But enough to show that he was fully a westerner.

His feeling of excitement grew. He had downloaded the newsletter as usual from the site. And as usual he had uploaded it to his PDA where a not so usual program was now rendering the pictures of the tapestries into text. Precise details of actions he and his cell where to perform where given. He had an assignment! Carefully he read the orders, according to the plans he was to coordinate an attack with the other members of his group. He was to hit the police stations, National Guard and Military sites and post offices. Virtually everything to cripple the Americans, except power stations and petrol stations he noticed, a strange omission. He calculated that he could increase the chaos by adding those to his list. He wondered if he should notify his leaders but decided against it. The original list could still be handled without really straining his resources and this he felt, was the kind of operational decisions he could make.

Long ago Ibrahim had decided against suicide attacks for his operatives could then take out multiple targets. Of course if the American Zionist agents should threaten capture his men where ordered to martyr themselves. He took out a city map whilst he considered the wisdom of taking out the power plants. The chaos would be complete if the power went out, the largest and newest power plant supplied energy to a set of new automated factories. Yes taking that out would be a huge blow to the economy of America. A large police station was located nearby so taking that out would be extremely important. Instead of using a car bomb he decided on an open attack on the station, it would be dangerous but most of his explosives would be used on other targets. He had less than a week to organize it but it should not be a problem. His men where well trained and most of the targets had been extensively studied by them. Quickly he posted a message on a message board, it looked very innocent but those who knew would read the summons in it and come to a prearranged meeting place.

A week later Ibrahim was looking at his watch, he was outside the police station that was close to the new power plant. It was close to the appointed hour. Just as he was going to step from behind the crates, which hid him and his fellow attackers, a patrol car cruised by quickly he stepped back into the shade. Had they seen him? Indecision gripped him, should he attack now or wait a few more minutes to be sure he had not been seen. Just as he decided they had avoided detection, he heard a low voice behind him say, "Freeze suckers! Drop your weapons now!" At that same moment several other heavily armed policemen came into view. Ibrahim looked at his fellow warriors, he nodded at them and as one they turned around and started shooting. However the Zionists had the drop on them and all his followers where shot before they could get of a round. Ibrahim managed to hit an officer but as he was wearing a bullet proof vest it didn't kill him but just stunned him. And then Ibrahims weapon jammed, a cop jumped up to him and pushed him to the ground. Before he could get to his grenade pouch the unbeliever had seized his arms and cuffed him.

Quickly he was searched and all his weapons where taken away from him. Then he was roughly pulled upright. He looked at the bodies of his comrades judging by the stillness of their bodies and the positions they where in he knew that they where in paradise. More cops had arrived and began processing the scene. Crying and cursing at his failure he was dragged to the nearby police station. But as they crossed the street an explosion could be heard and a ball of flames rose to the clear blue sky. Looking at the ball of flames he realized that the nearby powerplant had been hit. He screamed in joy "Allah U Akbar! Allah U Akbar! Allah U Urgh…" His cry of victory was cut short as one of the cops hit him with a baton in his stomach. He doubled over with pain and shock but he smiled nonetheless as he was manhandled into the station.