Chapter 9
September 2020
Shawn carefully slid another fresh round of 7.62mm into the magazine. He stood in the armory, loading his last magazine, his mind running through strategies for the upcoming ambush. He was surrounded by the boxes of ammo he had retrieved almost four weeks ago. Hung along the walls were rifles, shotguns, pistols, and a few sub-machine guns fitted for repair. Years of accumulated weapons hung in this room, yet the cell seemingly always lacked ammunition to deploy them. It was actually modest compared to other cells across the state.
Shawn always enjoyed standing in this room. Since he was twelve, when Regina and Miller first taught him guns, he had always found himself spending time in the armory. He would sit at a bench and tear down weapons for hours. He would modify, repair, and clean any kind of gun he could get his hands on. In a world without control, he could control whether or not a weapon fired.
He had spent all morning there. He cleaned his weapons down to the last spring. Today there could be no malfunctions. His team had already been through to gather ammunition and load up. He didn't say a word to either of them. In the armory he was silent; his focus was entirely drawn to the weapons. It was his way of not thinking about the briefing or the mission they were about to undertake.
He slid the final round in the magazine and slipped it into his combat vest. All together he was carrying eight magazines for his SGL, four for the Ruger, and for this mission he carried an H&K UMP .45 sub-machine gun with five magazines. He and his team were loaded for a long engagement with Skynet.
He slung his SGL across his chest and walked out of the armory at a brisk pace. He made his way down the tunnel and turned right into another small room. The room was adorned with a large map of San Antonio and the surrounding counties. Circles and markings decorated the map, signifying hot spots, Terminator patrol routes, and Skynet's various staging areas. There sat his team: Travers, Miller, Lopez, and Bones.
Miller was not the young Airman Shawn remembered from childhood. He was significantly older, his hair still cut in accordance with military regulation, now peppered with age. While most Resistance fighters allowed beard growth, Miller continued a strict shaving regimen. He still wore his Army issued uniform, the stitches and patches scattered throughout reflecting years of wear and repair. His issued weapon, a Colt M4, was laid across his lap. He sat straight, his body leaner with years of combat and rationing. His lean and long face bore the wears of age, his high cheek bones protruded more.
He was the unit's senior medical officer. Generally, given his experience, he was confined to the camp these days to accept incoming casualties. However, today, he wanted to be in the thick of it. Shawn wouldn't refuse him; in fact, he welcomed his old mentor's accompaniment.
Travers sat next to Miller, both embodying a stoic stillness that seemed inherently military.
Lopez was a short and skinny guerilla. Only nineteen, he was fresh into the group, a survivor of the Floresville Massacre. That was his first mission, his small frame and quick legs the only thing that carried him to safety. He wore a bandana across his forehead, the eagle of the Mexican flag emblazoned in the middle, while his hair grew wild. While most fighters wore combat clothing, boots, and heavy gear; Lopez wore shorts, no shirt, a light tactical vest, and an old worn pair of converse. He wanted to be light on his feet, figuring if he was going to get shot, Kevlar wouldn't help against a 30mm round. He carried an AK like Shawn, with an H&K USP .45 holstered behind his back.
Sitting next to Lopez, talking up a storm in Spanish, was his twin brother Bones. He was identical to Lopez in every way. Both dressed alike, equipped alike and more importantly; both fought alike.
Shawn chose Travers and Miller because of their experience and reliability. Lopez and Bones begged him to go because they wanted more field experience.
"Alright, cut the chatter, listen up!" Shawn said sternly as he walked into the room. The talking ceased immediately and his team's eyes focused on him. He stood in front of them. Reaching into his vest pocket he retrieved a pack of cigarettes, pulled one and lit up.
"Since when did you start smoking, Sarge?" asked Lopez. "Since when did you get in the habit of interrupting briefings?" snapped Shawn, looking down at the young soldier as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.
Lopez looked to his brother with a confused look. Shawn had indeed grown short with his comrades, everyone knew something wasn't right. Travers shook his head. Shawn constantly wore a blank expression and the air around him was consistently tense. Travers had noticed Shawn spending more time in the armory or topside by himself, brooding all day. He had let a bushy beard begin to grow, masking the strong chin he inherited from his father.
"If there are no more stupid questions, we'll get down to business" he said returning his gaze to the team as a whole.
"Today Connor's men and supplies will be dropping in and it is our job to provide them with a distraction so Skynet doesn't shoot them down before they get a chance to drop. We will be driving into the city and staging the ambush here," he said as he pointed to the map of the city on the wall behind him. His finger rested on the city's northwest, just above a circle. "Where we will keep Skynet occupied until the Captain gives us the signal that he and Connor's boys have made it back to camp."
Shawn's team had been informed on the drop from Command, if only to a certain extent. They probably inferred that something big was coming, though Shawn and his father were playing it close to the chest. It wasn't necessary to inform the unit just yet.
"Right next to a staging area?" asked Miller.
"Seven miles away, it's not the hottest area, but hot enough to keep Skynet concerned" replied Shawn.
"What kind of contact can we expect?" asked Bones, his eyes squinted to focus on the location.
"Mostly 600's, maybe a 700 or two, but if we make enough noise we might draw an HK" said Shawn, taking another drag from his cigarette.
"I hope we aren't aiming for that, Sergeant" said Miller. "No, we're not. If one does show up and our cover doesn't hold, we'll bug out. If that happens, we leap frog, two on two, and engage until given the order to RTB."
"Sounds thin, Jeffe'" said Lopez. "Maybe, but we don't have a choice" said Shawn.
Members of the team each exchanged doubtful looks. Shawn sighed as he exhaled another cloud of smoke. Dropping the cigarette to the floor he ground his boot on it.
"Listen, I chose this spot because it has good cover with minimal open ground. Any tactical retreat we run will be through cover. At most we have to keep the walkers engaged for an hour" Shawn said.
"An hour is long time to go muzzle to muzzle with Terminators" said Travers, directing his steely eyes to Shawn.
Shawn looked at Travers, "If you don't want in, then by all means, leave. Either way, I don't give a shit" he said gravely.
Travers did not break the stare down, his scarred face stood resolute with his Sergeant's. "And let you have all the fun?" he said coolly. Shawn nodded where he usually would have smirked. He turned his attention back to the team.
"Lopez, you and Bones will be hopping from line to line, keeping the Terminators uncoordinated. Travers, you and I will set up a firing line, keeping a steady stream of fire on them. Miller, you will be with us, unless the twins are wounded. If we have to run and gun, Lopez and Bones will be the first to leap while the rest of us provide covering fire, and vice versa until we are clear. Travers, you are on explosives and machine gun. Remember, burst fire, and don't lean on the trigger. If you melt the barrel we are fucked. Only deploy the pipe bombs once we have worn them down with the guns and I've given the order, understood?"
Travers nodded, patting the bag of pipe bombs strapped to his leg. They used up valuable resources, but with the supply drop, it wouldn't be a total loss. The machine gun was the only one the unit had; an M249 heavy machine gun they had retrieved from an old Army armory. For months it sat in the cell's armory in disrepair. Shawn stayed up late the night before getting it operational, replacing trigger springs, adjusting the cyclic rate, cleaning it top to bottom. With the abundant supply of 7.62mm they acquired on the ammo run, it would finally be used. However between the AK's in use in the cell and now the machine gun, they quickly ran dry.
Regardless, Shawn felt better having an operational heavy machine gun as opposed to just rifles and shotguns.
"Once we have them in the area, do not open fire until I do, any questions" asked Shawn as he looked at the faces of his men.
Nothing was said.
"Good, let's go get it done. We have two hours until we need to be engaging Skynet. Let's get to the hangar" he finished.
He stood while his team stood up and filed out of the room. He followed behind them, walking out of the room and down the tunnel into the hangar. They walked through the opening into the expanse, walking towards an old beat up station wagon. The hangar was alive with activity. Every member of the cell was gathered, all checking their gear and weapons. Everyone was to take part in the day's mission of receiving Connor's men and supplies. Indistinct chatter bathed the hangar in clatter.
The car's hood was up as Shawn walked up from behind it. Travers stopped to place the 249 in the trunk space while Miller ran a last check of his field aide supplies and the twins ran through their ammo.
Shawn walked around the driver's side to the hood. The wagon had no windows save for the windshield, the paint was more or less gone, and the body was beat to hell. Typical though Shawn. He saw Roscoe leaning over the bumper into the engine, grumbling to himself as his hands delved deep into the vehicle's recesses. Shawn casually kicked the fender, causing Roscoe to jump. The old mechanic shot his head up and snapped in Shawn's direction.
"Now what the fuck?" he exclaimed, the socket wrench in his hand trembling with the startle.
"Get over it," Shawn began dismissively. "Is this rust-bucket going to get us there and back, Roscoe?"
"It damn well better, it only took me two weeks to get it running!" he grumbled, his eyes flaring, magnified through his glasses.
"If it breaks down, I'm breaking your distillery" quipped Shawn as he placed his SGL and UMP on the dashboard. Roscoe slammed the hood shut and growled "I dare you, you little shit"
Shawn let out a short chuckle as he climbed into the car. Roscoe coddled that distillery night and day. His moonshine was as strong as any, more suited to degreasing engines than consumption.
Shawn closed his driver's side door, his team filling in. He placed a baseball cap backwards on his head and turned the keys that were in the ignition. The old wagon struggled to turn over, the engine turning with a screech and the exhaust backfiring. Shawn fed gasoline into the engine, pulsing the accelerator until the car finally began to idle.
Frank Madison jogged towards the car, he himself loaded up for a day in the field, ready to undertake his own mission. He ran up and leaned on the driver's side window.
"Everything ready?" he asked.
Shawn turned his head as he set another cigarette into his lips. "So far, you?" he replied
"Connor's boys and material just took off from Juarez, the clock's running" he said while looking at his wrist watch. "Make sure you're on time, we can't have any fuck ups today" he added.
"I've got it. We will take care of Skynet. You just baby sit Connor's golden boys" Shawn said, doing nothing to hide his contempt.
Frank knew it was futile to talk to his son right now. Shawn's head was wrapped around his mission and his nerves were on edge with the anticipation of combat. It was best to leave the conversation with something simple.
Frank patted the edge of the window opening, nodding at his son and his soldiers. "Go easy, be smart and don't get dead, clear? Get your asses back here as soon as I give the signal" he said, addressing them all but looking directly at Shawn. He laid a reassuring hand on his son's shoulders.
"…Yeah…" said Shawn as he put the wagon in gear. Frank stepped away from the window and Shawn slowly accelerated, steering the car towards the exit tunnel. Frank stood and watched his son drive away. He knew Shawn had done this countless times, he was well experienced and damn good with ambushes. He should have felt nothing but confidence. However, a strong worry surged in his gut. For the first time in years he was concerned for his son's safety. He held his hand up, waving to the wagon, hoping this wouldn't be the last time he saw his son alive.
"Godspeed and give `em hell" he whispered to himself.
As soon as Shawn cleared the camo covering over the tunnel entrance he slammed his foot to the gas pedal. The old wagon roared to life, the exhaust backfiring, and they sped forward as fast as possible down the winding country roads into the city. The mood inside the vehicle was tense, all members feeling the unique anxiety that precedes combat. All senses were alert and eyes darted in every direction. Miller rode shotgun, his rifle held at the ready. Lopez and Bones rode in the back, weapons at the ready and Travers sat in the back with the 249 pointing out the rear window.
The country slowly gave way to the city. Hollowed out shopping centers, abandoned and rusty cars, along with felled street lights and telephone poles replaced trees and fields. Shawn quickly sped the wagon onto the riskiest part of their journey: the highway. Dodging blackened shells of old cars, he could still see the skeletal remains of their occupants. Going into the city always made Shawn uneasy, knowing that at any second an HK could come sweeping down on them. The exposure of the highway made his sense of urgency peak.
The ride was an excruciating hour and a half of silence until Shawn spoke. Looking at his wrist watch as he steered the vehicle he yelled over the wind and engine "Five minutes out!" His watch read 1357, they would be cutting it close.
Shawn veered the wagon to the right, tires screeching as he flew down an exit ramp. He swerved into the parking lot of a once popular mall. Normally they would avoid making that much noise, but today the objective was to grab Skynet's attention. He swiveled the car into an old dock meant for loading the various retail commodities of the past. Shutting off the engine, the five men quickly exited the wagon, gathering up their weapons. Shawn led the way, his SGL's stock firm against his shoulder.
Like most of the buildings in the city, the glass doors had been blown out by the blast wave of Skynet's nuclear warhead seventeen years ago. They all ducked through and entered the decaying shopping mall. Pacing through in the relative darkness, the muzzles of their weapons flew around in all directions. They turned right into the main downstairs portion of the mall. The floors on either side of them had collapsed, the twisted mass of concrete rubble and steel creating a natural choke point. The stores remained slightly visible, small openings remained above the collapsed floors, with a cramped amount of room to move between them. The direction they faced was relatively clear of obstruction, save for a few piles of rubble and remnants of shopping gondolas.
Shawn signaled for the team to halt. They all dropped to a knee and Shawn turned to face them. Whispering he said "This is it, the rubble creates a fatal funnel," motioning his hands down towards the opposite end of the long expanse. "We draw them in from down there and hammer them" he finished.
Looking up Shawn added "The roof will cover us from HK's so long as we stay out of the skylights."
His team nodded as they too assessed their position. Travers noted the building was in the shape of a cross; they were in the north end, the plan being to draw the machines in from the south. "What about our flanks, east and west?" he asked
"Both stores on those sides have collapsed, the machines would have to dig and force their way in to hit us from those directions" said Shawn reassuringly.
Picking up on Travers' point, Miller asked critically "And if they do?"
Frustrated Shawn hung his head for a moment. Picking it back he said sternly "Then we'll deal with it."
Each man knew this was going to be a long engagement and Skynet prided itself on doing the unexpected.
"What about our six?" inquired Lopez. Shawn replied quickly "Travers and I will blow the main entrance we came through. That's Skynet's dinner bell. There is still a service exit that we will use to bug out. Other than that, all we can do is check it."
He continued "Lopez, Bones, you two set up on the right nearest the southern entrance. I need you guys moving, clear room on the right and left sides to run and gun. Fire and relocate, keep them guessing" said Shawn looking at the two Mexican guerillas. They nodded in unison. "Travers, Miller, you two and I will post up facing the southern entrance, as long as we keep up the fire, we will slow their advance." They nodded as well. Looking at the twins Shawn said seriously "Remember guys, accurate shots only. Aim for what will disable and disorient them; don't waste rounds on center mass, clear?"
"Got it, Sarge" replied Bones. "Alright, get to your positions, set up what you have to, and switch on your radios. Let's move" said Shawn as he stood up, placing his radio in his ear, his team following suit.
The team immediately fanned out, moving to their respective locations. The mall would have been dead silent were it not for the sound of concrete being moved and repositioned. Travers and Miller helped Shawn construct cover for their firing line, placing concrete as a barrier high enough for them to kneel behind. The makeshift wall was solid, with corresponding piles of concrete and steel tracing their rear in intervals to provide a safe retreat. Over the radio Lopez and Bones checked in "We're all set down here, Sarge, cover and room to move, getting into position."
"Copy, stand by. We're in position," replied Shawn in a hushed voice, noting Travers setting the 249 up and Miller taking a knee behind the wall. "Time to get their attention." With that Shawn and Travers ran back to the entrance door they walked through. Travers tossed a pipe bomb to Shawn and they quickly set two along the main load-bearing areas of the entrance, duct taping them to the wall. Pulling his butane lighter from his pocket, Shawn lit the first fuse and scrambled quickly to light the second.
He and Travers took off in a dead run back down the entrance hallway. They reached their positions a microsecond before a deafening explosion rocked the structure. The sound of falling concrete and steel followed. Looking back, Shawn could see a dense cloud of dust and smoke barreling out of the entrance way.
To give Skynet a little extra incentive, Shawn placed two fingers in his mouth and breathed hard, a shrill whistle blowing forth. It quickly echoed down the cracked walls of the old mall.
A whistle and explosions were distinctly human sounds. They would quickly be picked up by the acute acoustic sensors on a Terminator or Aerostat. All that was left to do was wait. Shawn checked his watch. Pressing his finger to the button on the side, the small screen lit up green: 1425. Damn close.
Shawn knelt down, pointing the muzzle of his SGL down the pathway. He exhaled quietly in an attempt to calm his rapidly beating heart. He had conducted ambushes like this time and time again, but dealing with the anticipation of a firefight never got any easier. It was still a nerve-shattering experience, even after years of contact with Skynet. He knew Terminators would show, but what they did after that…well, all he could do was adapt.
Silence once again engulfed the aging building. Shawn checked his watch once again; 1431.
"Come on, you motherfuckers, come and get us" he whispered to himself, flexing his hand on the grip of the SGL.
Over the sound of his own breathing, Lopez's voice quietly came through in Shawn's ear. "I've got movement, south door…" Shawn's heart raced even faster. "Confirm, T-600. I repeat, T-600 coming through."
"Hold your fire," said Shawn. "We will engage first, once you can hit its neck and ammo pack, engage. Copy?"
"Copy" whispered Lopez.
Shawn quietly pulled the charging handle on his SGL back, bringing a round from the magazine out and pointed at the chamber. He slowly allowed the spring to push the bolt forward, placing the round in the chamber. He could hear the faint sound of his comrades following suit.
The towering Terminator slowly came into view, its red eyes blazing through the darkness. It walked methodically, the eyes showing that its head was casually scanning the area. Shawn fought to control his breathing, keeping his breaths slow and steady. He slowly placed his finger on the trigger, waiting for the Terminator to close the distance. He aimed down sights, placing the front sight aperture on the torso of the hulking machine.
The T-600 finally lumbered into range, showing that it was sparsely covered in tattered clothing and its trademark rubber skin was in shambles with more than half its metallic skull visible.
Here we go… thought Shawn.
Shawn squeezed the trigger and the SGL roared to life with a burst of fire from its muzzle. The rounds impacted where they were meant to and the T-600's torso flexed backwards. Immediately Travers and Miller opened up. Rounds from Miller's M4 and Travers' 249 slammed into the machine's joint connections and torso.
The machine staggered back, its steady approach abruptly ended. It brought its mini-gun to bear and it screamed to life. The hail of bullets smashed into the concrete covering its attackers. Shawn dropped his head down and screamed into the radio "Lopez, take the shot!"
Lopez took aim and squeezed off a burst. The rounds slammed into the T-600's motor-cortex in the back of its neck, utterly destroying it. Instantly the machine's mini-gun shot upwards, sailing 30mm rounds into the ceiling. Shawn popped back up, recommencing his assault on the machine's torso now that its targeting system was disabled. The machine staggered as if it was walking on gelatin, being fired on from two directions, its mini-gun relentlessly spraying rounds in all directions.
Shawn kneeled behind his cover as he dropped an empty magazine. "Reloading!" he bellowed as he pulled a fresh mag from his vest and slammed it home. Resuming his position, he opened fire on the machine. "Travers, now, blow the son of a bitch!" he yelled over the radio.
Travers set the 249 down and retrieved a pipe bomb from the pack on his leg. "Covering fire!" Shawn yelled over the radio. The team opened up as Travers lit the fuse and sprung forward. He ran to the nearest pile of rubble and lobbed the pipe bomb in the Terminator's direction.
He dropped down quickly as the explosive was set off. In a loud boom and a cloud of smoke the T-600 disappeared and the gun fire ceased. Travers poked his head up as the smoke cleared to see the Terminator scattered across the ground and piles of rubble in pieces. An arm and leg were hopelessly mangled while its torso and head remained largely intact though peppered with shrapnel.
"We've got two more coming through!" said Bones over the radio. Hearing this Travers sprinted to the dismembered machine. He swung his M4 forward from behind his back and pressed the muzzle against the machine's skull. With a quick pull of the trigger he sent a round tunneling into the Terminator's CPU. Its red eyes dimmed and quickly went dark.
Travers picked up the T-600's mini-gun and ammo pack. Hefting it atop his shoulders he immediately ran back to his machine gun position, taking up his place behind the 249.
"Lopez, Bones, relocate now!" ordered Shawn, keeping his sights downrange.
1457 blazed Shawn's watch as the figures of two menacing T-600's emerged from the southern entrance.
Frank Madison knelt silently in the cover of the tree line. The afternoon sun was unforgiving, drenching his brow in sweat. The silence was deafening as his anxiety rose. 1458 told his watch as his eyes peered to the sky. Ahead of him was a clear and level field; the designated DZ for his incoming supplies and guests. He and his men hugged the tree line, waiting for the drop to go down before emerging.
I can only imagine what Shawn is going through he thought to himself as he shiftedwith impatience.
Then the silence was steadily broken with the distant hum of aerial props. Looking to his rear and up through the trees, Frank could make out the distant but unmistakable figure of a C-130 Hercules coming toward them. So far, no sign of any HK's causing Frank to sigh in relief that Shawn was successful in drawing Skynet's gaze. An intense sense of worry consumed him as he realized that right now his son was probably in a desperate firefight.
Dear God, keep my boy safe He prayed silently.
The C-130 rapidly approached and descended. Just as it popped out ahead of the tree line Frank could see boxes dropping and parachutes deploying followed by the almost minute figures of four people.
1500, right on time noted Frank as he looked to his watch.
The figures in the sky opened their parachutes and slowly dropped towards the DZ. The C-130 banked hard and flew back in the direction it came.
Looking up to the disappearing bird he said to himself Godspeed and Adios, flyboys wishing the pilots a safe trip back to Juarez.
Frank motioned for his team to move forward. He crouched low and scuttled his way out from the tree line and into the field. His men quickly formed a perimeter as the numerous boxes hit the earth. Frank dropped to a knee once again and brought his Ruger SR556 to bear, scanning the area. He knew full well that moments like these were when Skynet preferred to attack, if it was going to attack at all.
He stood back up and turned as he heard the sound of the four figures landing on the ground. The one nearest him was a young man about Shawn's height but much leaner. Like his compatriots he wore black BDU's with an M4 slung across his chest. The young soldier quickly worked to retrieve his parachute as did his comrades. Very quickly the squad of soldiers formed up around the young man. There was a rather large black man with a close-trimmed beard, a lighter-skinned black man with a bald head covered in tribal tattoos, and an older Asian woman dwarfed by her companions.
The biggest man was the first to approach Frank and extend his hand. "Lieutenant Barnes, 1st Tech-Com" he said while grasping Frank's hand in a crushing grip. "Captain Frank Madison…only San Antonio" replied Frank awkwardly.
Barnes nodded and turned to his companions. Beginning by pointing to the tattooed man he said "This is Sergeant Perry, Private First Class Kyle Reese, and our tech Dr. Cho."
All three nodded save for Kyle Reese who casually waved. Frank looked on him and knew he couldn't have even been Shawn's age. Frank acknowledged each of them and looked again to Barnes. "Lieutenant, I'd love to sit and jaw-jack, but we need to move" he said eyeing the sky.
Barnes nodded in agreement and Frank instantly set his team to the task of gathering the boxes of supplies. All in all ten massive shipping crates littered the field. Each crate took four men to move from the field into the tree line where the trucks waited. Though guests they were, Barnes and his squad wasted no time in lending a hand.
After twenty tense minutes the cargo and personnel were in the trucks and moving out with all haste.
Barnes and his squad rode with Frank in his old blue Chevy. Rocking along in the seat next to Frank, Barnes asked "Who's providing the distraction in town?" "My son, Shawn, he's probably ass-deep in Terminators by now" replied Frank tensely as his eyes remained locked to the road visible through the slit in the steel windshield.
"What's our ETA?" Barnes asked.
Looking at his watch, Frank replied "Another ten minutes or so."
"Call your boy back, we'll be fine" said Barnes calmly.
The deafening sound of gunfire traveled throughout the immediate area surrounding the mall.
Inside Shawn Madison was covering Miller and Travers as they retreated to the second stage of cover. The remains of four T-600's scattered the fatal funnel they had created. Mechanical arms and legs lay mangled in the craters created by pipe bombs.
On the flanks Lopez and his brother Bones continuously peppered the incoming machine with rifle fire, carefully to take close aim at the machine's vulnerabilities.
Travers and Miller made it to their cover as Shawn's final magazine for his SGL ran dry. "Travers, Miller, covering fire!" bellowed Shawn as he dropped the empty mag and slipping it back into his vest before swinging his UMP .45 sub-machine gun forward.
Travers and Miller opened up on their latest target; a blackened T-700 that was quickly gaining ground on the fighters. Shawn sprinted for the concealment of the concrete rubble, caseless rounds from T-700's G11 rifle whizzing past him. Images from his nightmare from weeks past flooded his mind.
He dropped down behind the cover and brought the machine gun to bear, squeezing of bursts of .45ACP at their quarry. The rounds of his machine gun, Travers' and Millers M4 bounced off the machine's exoskeleton. The T-700 had updated alloys, making it that much more impervious to bullets than its predecessors.
"Lopez, come in, sit rep!" Shawn shouted into the radio while shell casings flew from his UMP's breech.
"Moving now, engaging target, ammo low!" Lopez screamed back amid the gunfire.
Shawn could see the forms of the young fighters moving deftly and quickly through the rubble to another position. "Hold!" Shawn bellowed to Miller and Travers. Their fire ceased as the two brothers scaled the rubble and ran across the clearing and into the opposite mountain of concrete like lightning. Seeing they were clear Shawn ordered "Fire!" and the melee resumed.
They could retreat no further; they had been pushed back to their brink.
Amidst the racket of gunfire, Shawn heard a voice pierce his ear from the radio. "Hyde, this is Jekyll, RTB now."
Frank did not need to tell his son twice. "Copy!" he boomed into the radio.
"Pull back, now, pull back!" shouted the embattled leader.
He could see Lopez and Bones begin to run down the backside of the rubble towards them when a lumbering crash joined the clamor. Shawn's head snapped to his left, where the sound had originated and what he saw chilled him to the bone.
The figures of two T-700's came crashing through the wall of collapsed concrete and steel, their red eyes flashing through the smoke. "Miller, shift fire left, contact nine o'clock!" screamed Shawn as he swung his UMP to the new threat.
Miller ran to Shawn's side, taking cover next to him, and engaged the new Terminators. Their combined fire did little to slow the machines advance.
"Travers, cover Lopez and Bones!" ordered Shawn as he dumped an empty mag and slammed a fresh one into the sub machine gun.
The report of Travers' M4 was heard in response as Shawn withdrew behind the concrete to avoid the T-700's incoming rounds.
"Fuck, I'm hit!" was heard over the radios followed by a blood-curdling scream. Shawn knew one of the brother's had been shot. "It's Ricardo, he's down, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" screamed Bones over the radio as he fired madly at the lone T-700 in the funnel.
"Travers, pipe bomb!" Shawn screamed as he turned towards his compatriot. Travers retrieved the final pipe bomb from his satchel and tossed it to his Sergeant. "All of you get the fuck out of here and to the car, I'll cover you and grab Lopez, go now!" yelled Shawn, pushing Miller back towards the exit.
All of them ran for the exit, Shawn stepping back casually as he maintained a steady stream of fire to cover his comrades. He looked to see that they were out of the service door and clear of fire. He ran to the right side of rubble to find Lopez lying on the ground, his abdomen split open. Shawn ignored the sight of the boy's guts visible through his wound and knelt down beside him, lighting the fuse on the pipe bomb.
By now the three Terminators converged and were steady plodding towards Shawn and his wounded soldier, firing their G11's steadily and methodically.
They registered the sight of the pipe bomb sailing through the air and landing at their feet. All three machines looked down as the explosive landed, the fuse burning into the casing.
The explosion sent concrete and tile flooring flying through the air along with the blackened steel battle chassis of the pursuing Terminators.
Shawn could hear their bodies impact the ground as he grabbed Lopez by the shirt and lifted him up on his shoulders. He ran towards the exit as quickly as his legs would allow. He knew he had precious few seconds before the Terminators were back on their feet and shooting.
His breath rapidly grew ragged as the weight of the wounded soldier on his back bore down on him. Shawn could feel the warm blooding soaking his shoulders and flowing down his collar and back.
He pressed forward, reaching the service door and kicking it open. He summoned all of his strength and sprinted down the dark hallway that lead to the outside world. His heart pulsed in his ears as each moment brought the fear of the machines biting at his heels.
His outstretched foot slammed into the door, flinging it open and bathing him in sunlight. To his left was the station wagon. Miller and Bones were inside while Travers held the mini-gun he absconded from the felled T-600 towards the sky.
"Shawn, hurry!" yelled Miller, frantically motioning for him to run faster.
Shawn reached the car and carefully slid Lopez's limp body into the backseat with Miller.
"HK!" screamed Travers. Shawn's head pivoted in a flash and sure enough the massive form of a Hunter-Killer appeared over the top of the mall.
Travers opened up with the mini-gun. Even when fired by one of them, the buzz-saw report of that chain gun sent chills down Shawn's spine.
The depleted uranium rounds smashed into the HK's hull, causing it to rapidly veer off course. Travers used all of his might to keep the mini-gun on target, hammering the HK with round after round. Smoke began to rise from the machine's fuselage and finally the stream of fire from the mini-gun shredded one of the massive turbo-fans holding the HK aloft. With a deafening explosion the HK careened down into the mall, erupting in a towering ball of flame.
Shawn scurried into the driver's seat, starting the old station wagon up. "Travers, get your ass in here, now!" he screamed. Travers dropped the empty mini-gun and bolted into the back window of the wagon.
Shawn's foot slammed on the accelerator, sending the old car's tires squealing and smoking until the vehicle shot forward. Shawn sped from the parking lot onto the surface roads, turning right and left over and over, barreling down road after road.
He stole a quick look into the backseat where Miller was hurriedly working to stabilize their wounded comrade. Lopez was barely conscious, visible through occasional grimaces and groans of pain. The backseat along with Miller's forearms were saturated with blood.
"How's he doing, Miller?" he asked while yanking the steering wheel to the left.
"He'll be ok as long as we get him back to camp" replied Miller without taking his eyes of the task at hand.
"Don't let my brother die, man, not like this, man…" said Bones, choking on his own words.
"He's not going to die, Bones, I'm not going to let him die, do you hear me?" implored Shawn, trying to keep his friend calm.
Bones pounded his fists into the dashboard, screaming as tears began to run down his cheeks.
Shawn pushed the old wagon to its limits, zipping down the roads he knew would lead to the safety of the country side. His mind went to the prospect of meeting Connor's "help."
If Lopez dies in this car, I'm going to kill those motherfuckers myself he told himself.
Back at Camp Thermopylae Frank waited anxiously in the hangar for his son's return. The only transmission he received after ordering their return was a terse and loud "Copy!" He sat atop the hood of his truck, facing the tunnel entrance that they would no doubt come screaming down. Each moment brought his anxiety to new heights.
Lieutenant Barnes walked up to Frank. "Anything?" he asked. "Nothing yet, should be any minute now" replied Frank, breaking his gaze on the tunnel for only a second to look at Barnes.
Barnes leaned against the truck on his arms, deftly changing the subject to ease Frank's nerves. "All the supplies are sorted and stored. We brought you guys enough rifles, machine guns, ammo and explosives to keep Skynet busy for the next decade. Plus, we brought along a few extra toys that might help us."
"That's good to hear Lieutenant, God knows we needed the ammo and explosives" said Frank with a grateful smile. Barnes nodded with a sly smirk. Frank could easily tell that the prospect of tangling with Skynet was something Barnes not only accepted, but more so, enjoyed.
"Whenever you're ready I'll give you and your son a full briefing from Connor" he said he stood straight.
Quickly getting Frank's attention, his face growing long instantly, the sound of screeching tires echoed through the tunnel. He jumped off the truck and his fists clenched with anxiety.
The old station wagon flew out of the tunnel and slid into the hangar with a screeching stop. Shawn flew out of the driver's side door, covered in the crimson stain of blood, and pulled open the rear door. "Prep the ER, we need a stretcher NOW!" he boomed.
"What happened?" asked Frank as he came running to his son's side, Barnes quickly in tow. His mood went instantly from elation to dread.
"Lopez got hit, he'll live but Miller needs to get him to the operating table" he said to his father as he helped Miller carry Lopez out from the backseat.
Two soldiers ran up to the car carrying a stretcher. Carefully Shawn and Miller laid Lopez down. The stretcher-bearers and Miller shot across the hangar towards the infirmary leaving Shawn standing there with his father and the newcomer.
Bones slid out of the car, dropped his rifle to the ground and tiredly walked after Miller and his wounded brother. Travers opened the back door of the wagon and hung his feet off the edge, exhaling deeply; relieved he was out of danger.
Shawn wiped his bloody hands on his pants, his eyes staring through the newcomer before him.
Barnes extended his hand, introducing himself "Lieutenant Barnes, 1st Tech-Com."
Shawn looked at Barnes' hand and held up his own covered in the blood of his friend. His anger quickly boiled over. "Have a nice fucking flight?" he asked vilely.
"Shawn!" exclaimed Frank through clenched teeth.
Barnes held up his extended hand, "It's ok Captain, I understand" he said calmly, his stare-down with Shawn unbroken. "I'm sorry about your friend, Sergeant" he said compassionately.
"Are you? I'll have you know he volunteered for this mission. You and your little fucking friends damn well better be worth the price he paid to get your asses here in one piece" replied Shawn, stepping towards Barnes, his eyes blazing with rage.
Barnes did not back down and did not say a word. He kept his eyes locked on Shawn's. Frank felt completely helpless, feeling the situation was slowly slipping out of his control.
"If you'll excuse me, I have to go wash this shit off." He said holding his hands up in front of Barnes. He shot one last look at his disbelieving father and walked away, breaking his stride only to collect his weapons before leaving the hangar.
"I apologize, Lieutenant. My son is going through some…some heavy shit right now" said Frank. Barnes turned his head to Frank and waved it off. "Don't worry about it, Captain. It's nothing I haven't seen before" he said reassuringly.
Frank nodded and clapped Barnes on the shoulder. He was going to like this man, he knew it already. He walked over to where Travers sat and asked "What the hell happened?"
"The usual" replied Travers, clearing all of his weapons stowed in the back space of the wagon next to him. "Nailed four walkers though, scrap metal" he said calmly.
Frank ran a hand through his long goatee and nodded his head. "Good job," he began as he exhaled. "Now get some chow and some rack time. That's an order." Travers stood up and slowly brought a salute up to his brow before walking away towards the mess hall.
"I think some time in the rack is in order for all of us. Tomorrow we get down to business" added Barnes. Frank looked back to his newfound comrade.
"I couldn't agree more, Lieutenant" he said.
