Disclaimer: I don't own Terminator.
Chapter Nine
Escape From the Station
Reese and Sarah quickly realized that their only escape route would be through the offices on their level. The fire had become serious, with the roof beginning to collapse in on itself. The smoke was thick, and they were forced to crouch down to avoid inhaling it. The biggest downside of doing so was that they were moving slower, and Sarah in particular was struggling. The smoke also made their eyes stream as well as blocking their vision, and Kyle could tell that Sarah, unused to these situations and untrained for them, wasn't going to be able to properly defend herself, should they come across the terminator.
Despite that, the two soldiered on determinedly, and Sarah kept a tight hold of her handgun. As they scrambled past another body, Kyle reached out and snatched the automatic off the body, Sarah flinching slightly as she watched him do so.
It felt disrespectful, but his actions were rewarded. He checked the gun as they continued through the offices, using the desks as cover, and discovered that it was completely full. The officer had clearly been killed before he could get the opportunity to fire on the attacker.
While Sarah felt guilty over essentially robbing bodies, Kyle had no qualms taking what he needed from the corpses. He'd been raised never to leave resources behind unless absolutely necessary and now more than ever, he needed all the weapons he could get his hands on. They passed several more bodies as they fled, and snatched the guns from each of them. Despite her discomfort, Sarah also collected guns, and by the time that they reached the second floor, they had six automatics, three handguns and four shotguns between them, all with varying amounts of ammo in them.
They eventually came to a filing room, and found Vukovich leaning against one of the cabinets. He was pale and breathing shallowly, but not dead yet. He weakly turned his head to look at them as they entered, and struggled to sit up. Sarah hurried to his side, her expression stricken. She knew the situation was hopeless for the detective, but she tried to put pressure on his wound anyway.
"Sarah, we gotta go," Reese told her seriously, grim-faced. "It's too late for him." He hated to abandon the man, along with everyone else in the station, to their fates, but there was nothing he could do to help them. He could save Sarah, however, and keep their deaths from being in vain.
"He's right," Vukovich gasped. He patted Sarah on the arm. "'s not your fault," he told her gently, recognizing the guilt in her sea-coloured eyes. "Just don' let it be in vain, okay? Live, raise your son, and create the resistance like Reese says you will. If anyone can do it, you can. You're a survivor. I believe in you." He looked at Kyle, fumbling to hand over his handgun and automatic, along with the keys to his car. "Keep her alive," he instructed the younger man. "Do whatever you gotta do, just keep her safe."
"I will," Reese vowed, tugging Sarah away even as he spoke. She cast an anguished look back at Vukovich as they fled, and the tears that escaped her eyes weren't the result of smoke.
"I'm sorry," she whispered back at him as they ran. "I'm so sorry."
With that, she returned her attention to the flight. As much as it pained her, she had to leave her grief and guilt for later. Her dying would ruin everything, and mean that the deaths of everyone who had been killed by the terminator since its arrival would be for nothing. She had to live, no matter what.
They scrambled down the back stairwell, coming to an emergency door, already open. They quickly dashed out, Sarah gasping in relief at the cool night air that contrasted sharply with the dizzying heat of the police station.
"C'mon," Reese urged her, not daring to stop even for a second until they had gotten sufficiently far enough away from the terminator. He scanned the car park hastily, pressing the button on the keys. The headlights flashed on a blue Volkswagen Rabbit, and they made a beeline for it. Kyle paused long enough to toss several of his guns into the back seat and see Sarah safely in the passenger seat where she pressed herself down and out of sight of the window, before climbing into the driver's seat and slamming the accelerator down to the floor.
He had kept one of the automatics, and as they drove away, the terminator exited the station. It raised its gun and fired after them, and Kyle returned fire, leaving Sarah to grab the wheel in a mimicry of their earlier car chase. The young sergeant grunted softly as a bullet sliced through his arm, but he could tell straight away that it wasn't serious. He ducked back inside the car and took over driving again.
Sarah glanced at Kyle dully as they fled, then turned away, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive movement. He kept the speed up until they were deep into the empty back roads, and the drive was spent in silence, as Kyle made and discarded plans, and Sarah tried to hold herself together after her adrenaline finally crashed. The only break in the quiet was when Sarah occasionally gave directions on request.
Eventually, Kyle decided they were far enough from the police station that it was safe for them to stop and get some rest for the night. Not that they had much choice, as the gas tank was almost completely empty.
"Gas is nearly gone," he reported to Sarah, making her jolt out of her brooding and shift to look at him. "We'll have to pull in and find a place to camp. The terminator saw the car, so it'll be looking for it. We need to ditch it."
"Okay," Sarah sighed, running her fingers through her dark hair before quickly pulling it into a fresh plait while her protector guided the car into the brush to hide it.
They climbed out and began emptying the car of anything useful, especially the guns.
"Here," Sarah showed Reese a navy duffel bag that she had found in the boot of the car. It had a spare pair of clothes in it that he might be able to wear, but she made a mental note to stop in at a store and buy them some fresh clothing using the money Vukovich had left in his glove compartment. Their current attire, which was stained with dirt from the fire, wasn't exactly inconspicuous, and a night sleeping outdoors would only make them worse.
"Put the guns in it," Sarah instructed the soldier. "If someone sees us carting around a dozen automatics, we'll be arrested straight away."
Kyle frowned slightly. "Yeah, people don't carry guns now, do they?" he asked thoughtfully. "It's hard to believe. Why do they even exist when you don't need them?"
Sarah gave him a surprised look. Why did he think people didn't use guns at all at the moment? Of course people had guns. How else would they defend themselves? Sarah herself was firmly in the pro-guns camp, as her father had been. Kyle's question puzzled her.
She was a clever young woman though, and quickly figured out the miscommunication. When somebody died, their flaws automatically disappeared in the memories of their loved ones. That was what had probably happened in Kyle's time. The survivors of the nuclear war who remembered the world before Judgement Day wouldn't have wanted to remember the worse aspects of the current society. Kyle had probably only heard the good things about her time, and that he considered it almost utopic. When compared to his world, it probably was. But it wasn't perfect, and Sarah knew that perfectly well. Still, this was hardly the time to shatter his rose-tinted glasses about the 80s.
"Just in case," she said vaguely. Later on, she would have to sit down with the time traveller and give him a serious lesson on the current world so he understood the basics of how the world worked nowadays, but that would have to wait.
Kyle shrugged, accepting her answer, and shoved the guns into the bag. They also took a flashlight and a first-aid kit, as well as a long coat, before he handed her the bag and began shoving the car off the shoulder and over the embankment.
"Let's go," he urged his charge, taking the bag and handing her the coat. Sarah gave him a dry look and rolled her eyes, handing it back to him.
"I've got my hoodie," she informed him. "You, on the other hand, have a cotton t-shirt with short sleeves. Put the damn coat on so you don't freeze."
She sounded so like her son that Kyle yanked it on without thinking. "You're a lot like him, you know," he told her as they began trudging through the woods in search of a place to spend the night.
"Like," Sarah hesitated. "Like my son, you mean?"
"Yeah," Kyle confirmed.
Sarah looked down, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. She didn't reply, and Kyle indulged her clear desire for silence, staying quiet while they trudged down the slope.
Eventually they found a bridge, and ducked under it. The floor was wet, but Kyle was used to that sort of thing so it didn't bother the veteran soldier, and Sarah was too tired to care either.
They hunkered down beside each other, backs against the wall. Sarah shivered slightly as the events of the day continued to play out over and over again in her mind. Reese felt her shiver and misinterpreted it.
"Cold?" he asked her softly.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and shrugged. "A little, I guess," she admitted, the most weakness she would allow herself.
Silently, Kyle wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders and pulled her to his side. She was tense, but after a moment she rested her head against his shoulder and huddled against him, drawing warmth from his proximity. This close to him, she could feel how malnourished he was. His bones jutted out sharply, but despite that she felt comfortable with him. Safe.
For the first time since the whole mess had begun, she felt she could relax slightly, even though she was under a bridge and still nervous that the terminator would suddenly show up again. She realized, with some surprise, that at some point in the past few hours, she had started to trust Reese.
"Reese," she muttered. "You got a first name, or is it just Sergeant Reese?"
"Kyle," he replied, a faint trace of surprise in his voice.
"Kyle, what's it like when you go through time?" she asked.
He was silent for a minute. "White light," he answered finally. "Pain. Like being ripped inside out... slowly. Like being born, maybe."
Sarah suddenly scowled and drew her hand out from under his jacket. Her fingers were damp. "You're wet," she stated disapprovingly. Her eyes widened in worry as she registered the dark colour of the liquid on her fingers. "Shit, that's blood! You're hurt!"
Kyle glanced at his arm, twisting it to see the wound. "It's fine," he pronounced after a second. "I caught one, back there."
"Caught one?" Sarah repeated, half-incredulous and half-furious at his lack of concern for himself. "You mean you got shot?" Reese shrugged.
"It's not bad," he tried to reassure her. "Went right through the meat."
Sarah glowered at him. "Are all people from time so laissez-faire about gunshots?" she demanded furiously. She huffed and grabbed the first-aid kit. "I guess that you won't go to a doctor," she sighed disapprovingly. Her frown deepened when Kyle nodded.
"Too dangerous," he stated.
"C'mon then, show it to me," she replied grumpily. "I'll see if I can fix it up."
Kyle opened his mouth to insist that it wasn't necessary, falling quiet at her sharp look, identical to her son's.
"You realize you won't be able to protect me if you bleed to death or get an infection, right?" she snipped. Her argument earned Kyle's compliance, and he stuck his arm out for her to begin tending to. It frightened her a bit, the obvious devotion he had to protecting her. She understood, theoretically, that it was important. But it was still disconcerting to have someone she didn't know so clearly dedicated to her.
"Tell me about my son," she ordered him as she cleaned the wound as best she could with some alcohol wipes. Thankfully, it didn't seemed that Kyle was right and it wasn't too deep.
"What do you want me to tell you?" he asked.
"What does he look like?" she questioned him.
Kyle looked at the ceiling above them as he considered his reply. "He's about my height," he informed her. He winced in pain and met her eyes for a second, his own widening slightly in shock before he continued.
"He has your eyes," he revealed, a note of something Sarah couldn't identify in his voice.
She glanced at his face for a second and then went back to work wrapping his wound with gauze. "What's he like? His personality, I mean."
"You can trust him," Reese said thoughtfully, thinking of the always calm and seemingly-omniscient man he was honoured to call a friend. "He's got that type of strength, the one that makes people believe and trust the person. We'd all die for John Connor."
Sarah finally sat back on her heels, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She gave Kyle a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I don't suppose you'd know who the father is? So I don't tell him to get lost when I meet him."
Kyle shrugged. "John didn't really talk about him," he answered. "I just know that he died before you set up the resistance, but I don't know if that happened before of after the bombs. He-"
Sarah held up a hand to silence him, her expression grim once again. "Don't," she ordered. "I don't wanna know."
Kyle inclined his head in acceptance and she returned to her previous position, huddled against his side. He looked at his injury, then nodded approvingly at her. "Good field dressing," he complimented her.
She gave a smile that failed to reach her eyes. "Yeah, my dad taught me field triage when I was a kid," she explained. "He was an army medic. Served in 'Nam. This was the first time I actually used the training, though."
