Part 3: The Johnson Family
He sews Savannah's monkey back together while Sarah fixes dinner. He gave her a choice between the two chores; he is trying to be as careful with her as he can while he earns her trust again. Deferring, as he said he would. He hears the skillet sizzle and hears her flipping pancakes. She still looks tired and weak.
Savannah bounces in, picks up the monkey, does not seem to notice there is anything different about him. She's smiling, relaxed, full of energy. He is not sure whether that's from seeing him again herself, or from the effect he's had on Sarah, who has been her caretaker all these days. Sarah still seems wary to him. Still fragile, still sad. But from Savannah's point of view, he made her eat. He made her sleep. This is progress.
"We're having pancakes," Savannah says. She's been bounding back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, Sarah and himself, taking it all in. "Aunt Sarah let me stir."
"That's great, Savannah. Can we...can we talk for a second?"
"Sure!"
He winces a little at her innocent joy. They will crush this joy, now or very soon. They will tell her what is to come and start training her for it. He knows this is necessary. He knows that her survival, that their survival collectively, depends on this. But at this moment, she is innocent joy and it breaks his heart to have to stomp that out of her.
He puts her new passport in the her tiny hands, lets her look at it. "Do you know what that is, Savannah?"
"It has my picture," she says. "And my name. Savannah...oh. That's different. They have the rest of it wrong, Uncle James."
"Can you read it for me?"
"J---jo-hen-nee-son..."
"Johnson," he says.
"Oh! Like the boy! The one who..." Her face darkens. "Aunt Sarah."
"Yes. She is using this name now, because of her son. And we're going to use it too, Savannah."
"Why?"
"Because we are going on a trip together. And when you go on a trip with other people, it's easier if you use the same name."
She accepts this explanation. "Okay. When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow," he says.
But Sarah comes in, puts plates down in front of them, shakes her head. "Tonight. We eat, then we leave."
"Now?" he protests.
"There was a tracker. We leave as soon as we can pack up the car."
"But..."
"I've slept already," she says. "I'll drive first."
"Sarah..."
"No. You want to protect her. That's sweet. You want to keep her innocent. But she has to know."
She turns to the little girl, says what she says with more gentleness than he thought she would. "Savannah. You know about the machines."
The little girl smiles through a mouthful of pancake. "John Henry! He's my friend."
"He was built to be your friend. He was built to be your friend because the other ones aren't, Savannah. The other machines----and there are other ones, there are other ones now and there will be more later---they aren't. They'll hurt you."
She frowns. "But John Henry..."
"John Henry is gone, Savannah. I don't know where he went or what he's doing. But he and...your mom...they left you with Uncle James and me so we could protect you, from the other ones. The bad ones. The ones who want to hurt you."
"But I didn't do anything wrong!"
"I know you didn't."
"So why do they want to hurt me?"
"They want to hurt everyone. It's what they were built to do, Savannah. What they are made for."
The girl clutches the monkey, tears leaking out of her eyes. "I'm scared. I don't like what we're talking about."
"Hey." Sarah takes that tiny little face in her hands, brushes the tears away with surprisingly maternal instinct. "Hey, Savannah. We're in this together, okay? You and me and him, we're in this together. And we'll stop them. I swore to John, to my son, that we would, and we will. We'll stop them. We'll teach you how to stop them. Do you understand me?"
"I think so."
"We'll leave tonight. There is a safe house we can go to while we plan our next move," she says to him. "There is infrastructure here. They've sent people back. You'll be surprised at how much is here already."
"Go play, Savannah," he says.
She crams one more bite of pancake into her mouth, then bolts from the table, monkey in hand. Sarah turns to him, eyes serious.
"Zeira Corp?" she asks.
"Burned to the ground. Seems the plane crash set off an electrical fire, sent the whole place up in flames..."
Her mouth quirks up a little. "Really? An electrical fire?"
"No, not really."
"You're learning."
"As I've been telling you."
"And the AI? Or what's left of it?"
"I got the cyborg out before the investigators came. Buried it."
"Not good enough. We'll have to go back."
"And there is a person we'll have to keep an eye on," he says.
"Oh?"
"Mr. Murch. He was in IT, worked closely on the John Henry project. Hasn't been seen since..."
"Crap."
"Yeah. You'll need to lay low for awhile. I mean, you're dead...there was a body and everything this time...but still..."
"And Savannah?"
"I have her, good and legal. Weaver, she...she'd been planning, I guess..."
She nods to the passports. "So why the name change?"
"Skynet," he says. "From what you've told me, it's best to stay off their radar. If they send someone back for her..."
"They already have."
"Well, there you go. We'd best stay off the radar."
"It's going to be hard for you to disappear completely."
"You did it once."
"I was nineteen. No ties, no...no family...it'll be harder for you."
"Maybe I know some tricks."
"Maybe you do. I'm going to ask you, one more time. Do you know...really know, really understand...what you're getting yourself into?"
"Did you?"
"I learned. My life depended on it."
"Mine does too. Maybe not this second, tomorrow, next month...but eventually. Eventually all our lives will. Isn't that what you've been telling me?"
She exhales. "You wash dishes. I'll start packing up. You're in it now, James Ellison. God help us all if I've made the wrong decision, but you're in it now. For better or worse."
It strikes him, as he's washing up, how like a marriage vow that sounds. And how, to someone like her, it would be just as unbreakable as a holy sacrament would be to someone like him.