SOMETHING ELSE
Chapter Ten: Don't Leave Me This Way.
Los Angeles: Wednesday, October 3rd 2007.
"So... What happened back there?" John asked, guiding the Jeep home through the evening traffic.
Cameron looked at him. "Andy offered me coffee."
"And?"
"And, I turned him down."
"Uh-huh."
"He didn't have any sugar."
"That was the deal breaker?"
"No. I didn't want to have sex with him."
"Right. He might have just been offering you coffee."
"But you said–"
"Yeah, well... I meant it like, when you're on a date, asking someone inside for a coffee, it's like saying: please stay the night."
"Oh. And 'stay the night' means having sex?"
"Usually. But I guess it doesn't have to. You have to play these things by ear."
"But it's safe to assume that it would involve sex?"
"If you'd been wearing that dress from earlier, there wouldn't have been any assuming."
Cameron turned to face out the window, allowing herself a small, self-satisfied smirk.
"Tell me more about what happened before the coffee offer... And I don't mean what you had to eat," John said.
Cameron gave him a careful summary of the evening's events, including the details of Andy Goode's Turk.
"So it's cobbled together from video-games machines? I'd have thought that the program is the important part though."
"I played it and won; the chess program is not as effective as Andy thought."
"Maybe he'll abandon his ideas of world domination through chess?" John scoffed.
"Maybe. But we should still destroy the apparatus. He told me that it's unreliable: it has different moods."
"Really? Who'd have thought that: a moody machine, huh?"
Cameron stared intently at John. "Are you implying something?"
"Me, implying? No way!" John paused to look at her before continuing, "I'm flat out saying it: you are a moody machine!"
It came out a little harsher than he intended, and had an immediate effect on Cameron. She pouted slightly, then brought the conversation back on course.
"We should consider terminating Andy Goode."
John gripped the wheel a bit tighter. "Maybe you should have stayed for that coffee."
There was an uncomfortable silence in the Jeep. At the next red light, John looked over at Cameron. She seemed to be studying her right hand carefully.
"Problem?" he asked.
She glanced his way, flashing a reassuring smile. "Not at all. I'm scanning Andy Goode's fingerprints."
John raised his eyebrows. "Wow! How'd you do that?"
"I shook hands with him when I left. He was sweating a lot; the sweat has dried sufficiently now for me to discern his prints."
"That's a really neat trick," John noted.
"Thank you."
"So what does it tell you?"
"That Andy Goode was a member of Derek Reese's squad in 2027. But his name there was Billy Wisher."
The light turned to green; John released the foot brake and the Jeep eased forward. "Is he one of the guys sent back – who got killed?"
"No – to both; they were Sayles, Sumner and Timms."
"So he stayed in the future. What does it mean? About him creating Skynet?"
"I don't know. What do you think it means?"
John deliberated some more, before offering up a theory. "I think he told Derek something in the future. Maybe the list of Cyberdyne employees, certainly that he was one of them. Derek definitely knew something you didn't, and he was just a soldier in the future, right? How would he know stuff you didn't – that Future-Me didn't?"
"Because he kept it to himself."
"Exactly. And why would he do that?"
"I don't know."
"We'd better find out whose side he's on. And soon."
"Do you think he's working for Skynet?"
"No, not at all! But if he's not working with us either, what else is there? Is there a third side in this war?"
Cameron paused before answering. "Not at the moment."
"Hmm. Maybe we shouldn't go heavy on Derek; see if we can encourage him to offer up his secret."
"Yes, it would be better if he was working with us."
"I've been thinking. If Andy Goode created Skynet, he must be one hell of a coder. That level of expertise could come in handy after J-Day: re-programming terminators, maybe even hacking Skynet itself. We've gotta get him on our team."
"What about the Turk?"
"Destroy it or adapt it into our own weapon? Tough choice. One way might strangle Skynet at birth, the other could give us something to fight with if someone else makes it."
"You must make that choice soon," Cameron said quietly.
"Yeah... Just promise me you won't kill Andy Goode in the meantime."
Cameron was silent for a time, but they had to stop at another red. John looked unflinchingly at her. "Cameron?" he prompted.
She smiled reassuringly. "Promise."
A few minutes later, John swung the Jeep neatly into their usual parking space. As they entered their home, Cameron disappeared into her room. Derek was sitting on the couch with his feet up on the low table.
"Nice night prowling?" asked John, taking a seat alongside him.
"Been in all night, watching the tube," replied Derek.
"Right. The truck's hood is red hot and you got fresh mud and grass on your boots from hiding in the bushes round at Andy Goode's."
Derek raised one eyebrow, as a way of challenging John to take the matter further.
"We're meant to be working as a team on this: Cameron goes in to gather intel, we discuss it, then work out what to do next. I don't recall the part of the plan that has you peeking in the windows, seeing what she's up to."
"Right, that's your job," Derek said.
"What does that mean?"
"You wanna make sure she's not bangin' ol' Andy, cos she's yours and yours alone, right?" Derek said archly.
John sighed pointedly. "She's right about your mind being in the gutter."
"You don't think people will think that way, after Skynet has taken from them everything that matters, and sent machines like her after what's left? Huh?"
"That's your future Reese, the one you came from. Ours can be different."
"Some things never change, John. Face it, you can't keep her around for ever."
"Understand this: I've spent nearly a year... a whole freaking year, pushing her away, treating her like crap, giving her every excuse to leave. And you know what? She never did, she's still here. Everyone else gave up on me at some time, even my mom. But not her. She'll never leave me."
Derek shook his head. "That's still gonna be a problem, in the future."
"Not for me."
"For her."
"She can handle it."
"Can you handle what they'll do to her?"
Cameron reappeared from her room, heading for the kitchenette. "John?" she said.
"Yeah?" he said, distractedly.
"Would you like some coffee?"
"What?" he spluttered, turning to look at her.
Cameron held up the coffee pot. "I'll make some."
"Right. No, no thanks." He yawned, then got up and stretched. "I'm gonna hit the sack."
Before too long, Cameron joined him in his room.
"What were you two talking about?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Oh, you know, Resistance fighter stuff. Just two guys shooting the breeze."
"Did you hit the target?"
Later, Cameron gazed at John as he slept. She could tell that he was dreaming, and wondered what about. Sometimes he would tell her; at other times he kept his nocturnal interludes to himself.
That night he was peacefully but sadly reliving one of the last days of Sarah Connor's eventful life, that had taken place in an obscure south-western hospital.
"Bringing me here: not a good move," Sarah said.
John took her hand. "I'm sorry. I never thought they'd chain you up like this."
"Not that. You've made yourself visible: you're on the grid again. That thing is still out there. It'll find you. It'll kill you. It's what–"
"What they do... Yeah, I know. Listen, Ellison's got me a new ID – it's as real as it gets, and he let me encrypt the files so nobody can trace me from them; I can disappear again."
"But not now. You're here. They can find you, here."
"No, Ellison said they wouldn't release details until..."
"Until what? I'm dead?"
"Yeah."
"Then it'll become history; it'll be a matter of public record. They can send another one back to this point. There'll be two of them looking for you." Sarah shook her head. "John, how can you be so stupid, forgetting everything I taught you?"
"I guess because nothing matters without you, Mom."
"Don't you think like that, John Connor! Ever! You're the one that matters... The only one! Remember that..." her already weak voice trailed off into a whisper.
John passed his mother a glass of water, which she slurped with difficulty through a straw. It pained him to see her in such a fragile condition.
"Remember June 8th, 1997?" she asked. He shook his head. Dates held little or no significance for him. "It was the day you came for me, and the day I gave you up for adoption," she said.
"What?" John saw tears escaping from her eyes. "What? You never said..."
"No, I couldn't: I was ashamed I signed you away; I thought it was for the best, but then I changed my mind. I decided there and then that I would find you, or die trying."
"You almost did – you said I was stupid then, too."
Sarah smiled. "You're not stupid; far from it."
"Why'd you tell me this, now?"
"Death-bed confession? Maybe. Maybe you need to know that everyone has feet of clay, no-one is invincible; we all have moments of weakness. It's how you deal with it that matters."
"You've always been my rock, a diamond really: flawless."
Sarah chuckled wheezily. "Far from it; I'm more of a lump of coal. And now I'm burnt out."
John found that he had no answer to that.
Tuesday, October 9th 2007.
John woke up with Cameron beside him on the bed, as had become their custom.
"Morning! Did you sleep well?" he asked.
"That's the ninth day in a row you've asked me that question. And you know I don't sleep."
"Some jokes never get old."
"Really? That's not what you tell the late night TV show presenters, even though they can't hear you." John's propensity to rail at the television baffled her. If he wanted to have a serious dialogue with a machine, he had her; perhaps he liked having one that didn't answer back?
"It's so good that I have you to remind me of all my failings. You don't have to stay with me, you know. You could always go somewhere else: Alaska, maybe."
"I can't go anywhere else, you know that."
"Right, your programming."
"No. You hold on to me so tightly at night, I fear I might have to break your arms to get away."
"Oh." John released her, turned onto his back and folded his arms behind his head.
"'Oh' indeed." Cameron got off the bed and looked down on him. "You need a vacation."
John groaned. "Not if it's like the last one." He recalled the week that they'd spent in the desert back in early summer: she'd forced him to exist on whatever he could catch. Having had survival training from his mother, all he'd got out of the exercise was a sun tan, which had pretty much faded now.
"No, I was thinking of something more relaxing," Cameron said.
"You mean actually getting away from it all?"
"Yes."
"Like Disneyland?"
Cameron frowned. "If you wish."
"Hmm." Thinking back on their visit to the pier at Santa Monica, John's enthusiasm waned.
"What?" Cameron asked.
"You'll just stand around watching people and I'll feel like a fraud."
"Why?"
"'Cause in order to blend in, we gotta act like a couple; I know we can do it, but it's fake. I want something real."
Sitting out in the parcel depot's parking lot, they spent their lunch-break eating sandwiches away from everyone else, as they so often did. The Jeep's liftgate was open, providing them both with a seat for their snack. Cameron resumed the earlier conversation.
"You didn't seem to mind Charley Dixon thinking that I'm your girlfriend," she said.
"True, but if I'd contradicted you, he'd have wondered if we were hiding something. Remember that my mom hid stuff from him; she basically lied to him."
"So you lied to him about us."
"No. Yes..." John sighed. "Look, whatever. I know we've gotta be consistent: we tell everyone the same story, act the same way outside. As long as we know what's going on inside, that's all that matters, right?"
"I know what's going on inside," Cameron stated.
"Right..."
Cameron watched John tuck heartily in to his second sandwich. He seemed to appreciate her food, if nothing else. "If we are going to continue posing as a couple, shouldn't we have pictures of us together?"
"You mean like on our cells?" John said, whilst masticating loudly.
"Yes. And in the apartment. Perhaps you should have one in your wallet. I've seen plenty of men showing other people their family pictures."
"Isn't that just kids?" John wiped his hands and face with the paper towel that Cameron had thoughtfully placed in his brown paper lunch bag.
"No, they can be wives. Girlfriends too."
"Okay, come here," John beckoned her nearer. He got his cell out and selected the camera from the menu. He put his free arm around Cameron's waist and pulled her tight. "Okay, say cheese!"
He released her, then looked at the snap on the cell's screen. He sighed heavily.
"What?" Cameron asked.
He handed her the cell so that she could see the picture. He was smiling happily, but she looked like she was posing for a passport photo. He pointed this out to her, which made her pout slightly.
"You've gotta relax, look happy. Look like you're in love. You know, hug me, grin like an idiot."
"Is that what you were doing in this?" she said, pointing to the snap.
"Yeah, and a damn fine job I made of it, don't you think?"
"Yes, you look like an idiot."
John snatched the cell back off her. "You're the one supposed to be the expert infiltrator."
He stood up and taking her hand, walked forward a few paces. Still holding her hand, he encouraged her to settle in up close.
"Now, relax, hold me and think nice thoughts."
"You want me to define pi to 5 million places?" she said, adopting a sidelong position.
"Um, well if that's what turns you on..." John released her hand, drifted his across the small of her back, then lower down to her butt. Cameron jerked her head, staring at him. "Get in character," he advised.
"Oh," she said, snuggling back in.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, then leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, just as the shutter clicked.
John looked at the screen again and smiled. "Well, that's better," he said.
"Send it to my cell," Cameron said. When her cell beeped confirming the photo's arrival, she smiled at John. "Yes, it looks perfect. But we should have some more; one won't be enough."
"Yeah, we should do some more at home, change our shirts. And maybe go outside somewhere, like the park, but at the weekend. Can't have all the snaps in the same place at the same time."
"No. Perhaps we should have thought of this earlier. We have had many chances."
"Yeah, well... Perhaps you should have thought of this sooner, Ms Perfect."
"I'm not perfect, I make mistakes."
John shrugged, then looked back at the screen. He smiled again at the picture.
Thursday, October 11th 2007.
John slogged through a seemingly endless series of repetitions, urged on and watched over by his tireless cyborg partner. Having missed his gym session the previous night, due to taking a turn observing Andy Goode, Cameron had insisted that he catch up straight after work, despite his protestations of tiredness. Thus when he arrived home it was later, and he was grumpier, than usual.
He swung the front door open, only to find their apartment suspiciously empty. John booted up the laptop while Cameron searched for any signs of Derek Reese. Having checked everywhere else, she came out of her room. John looked up.
She shook her head. "Everything of his is gone."
"Figures. Right, I've got a hit," he replied.
Cameron walked over and stood alongside John. He pointed to the screen, which displayed a map of the Van Nuys district. A red dot blinked on and off.
"He's at the safe house," Cameron said.
John sighed, then reached for his cell phone. He dialed Derek Reese's number.
The Resistance veteran answered on the third ring. "Yeah?"
"Derek? How you doing?"
"Fine."
"You flying solo?"
"If you mean tailing Andy, no; I just need to spend some time alone, give you guys a wide berth."
John ignored the caustic comment. "Where you at?"
"The safe house. I'm partial to the carpet in the office," Derek said.
Despite himself, John grinned. "Okay, but tomorrow we meet and decide what to do next. Don't do anything before."
"Sure, you're the boss, John."
"Yeah," John said, but Derek had already hung up.
Friday, October 12th 2007.
It was the end of what had seemed to John to be a very long week. They'd all taken turns watching Andy Goode at some point and Cameron had even met him once for lunch in a park near his work. From this they had additionally learned that he was still working alone and that his machine's erratic problem solving was not restricted to chess-playing.
Cameron had succeeded in booking the following two weeks off work for her and John. Judicious use of her flirtatious charm and a certain amount of leaning over the supervisor's desk with plenty of cleavage on display probably helped get over the lack of notice.
The prospect of a fortnight away from the drudgery should have invigorated John, but knowing that it was unlikely to involve anything as simple as lying on a beach sipping cold beers meant that he had nothing to look forward to. He dropped his backpack on his bed, then went back to where Cameron stood operating the laptop. As per the night before, Derek's location was still the old warehouse in Van Nuys.
"Let's go."
"Now? It's late; aren't you tired and hungry?"
"That can wait, this can't," John said, looking determined. Cameron accepted that immediate action was required, but she thought that it could be handled by her alone. John disagreed. "I've got to be there; it's personal," he said.
"That's what Derek said about Andy Goode," she pointed out.
"Yeah, well... It really is personal for me."
"In what way?"
"I can't say. It's..."
"Personal?"
"Yes."
Cameron considered that. "Partners share information; does that mean we aren't partners anymore?"
John shook his head. "No, not at all. Some things just aren't for sharing. Didn't Future-Me hold stuff back from you?"
"I am beginning to discover that to be the case."
"I'm sure you haven't told me everything either."
"About what?"
"I dunno, but you have been vague about stuff; I'm sure you've straight-up lied at times." Cameron bristled slightly; John caught her change of mood. "So you have? Well, shouldn't be surprised..." He slumped slightly and turned back to the laptop.
"Only when necessary," she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He looked at her. "And that's something you decide, huh?" Cameron nodded. John closed the lid of the laptop. He took a deep breath, then it let out deliberately noisily. "Time's wasting," he said, heading for the front door.
Cameron followed, as always. As she climbed into the Jeep, she confessed that she had lied about Andy Goode being out of sugar.
"Why?"
"I'm still experimenting with humor; you seemed to appreciate it earlier."
"Yeah, well, context is important."
They drove in silence the rest of the way to the safe house. Pulling up outside, it was clear that the old Ford was not parked in the immediate vicinity. Cameron exited the passenger side of the Jeep and approached the entrance. The door was locked, but she soon had it open with the spare key. Pushing it open quietly, she switched to night vision to see through the gloom. A quick sweep with all vision settings informed her that the warehouse was bereft of human life. John followed her in, on receiving her all-clear signal. When she clicked the lights on, he too could see that not only was Derek not there, but neither was Cameron's old truck.
"The bug?"
"Here," she called from the office. She was standing by the rickety desk, holding up a small object, much like she had the diamond which John had so casually gifted her the previous weekend.
"How'd he find it?" he said, taking it from her.
"A scanner, most likely," Cameron said.
John swore under his breath. Cameron ignored it; she'd heard the older John curse longer and louder.
"What the hell do we do now?" John said, raising both his hands and eyes to the ceiling.
Unsure if he was seeking guidance from a divinity above, as some humans were wont, asking her opinion or merely talking to himself, Cameron held her tongue. It was the wrong choice.
John whirled around, pointing at her. "You're no freaking help!"
She tried to mollify him. "I can keep a watch on Andy Goode, if you like. If Derek goes there, I will find him."
"Yeah, and take it in turns to shoot Andy!"
"You told me not to kill him, therefore I won't, unless he becomes a threat to you."
John looked at her. "Yeah, well. What you define as a threat ain't exactly what I do, right?"
Cameron decided not to perpetuate the argument. "We should go home." She walked past him, heading for the exit. When he failed to move, she paused and said, "I'll wait for you outside."
John made no show of hearing her. Looking around the warehouse, he noted that Derek's sleeping bag was missing. He didn't bother checking, but assumed that some of their food supplies and carefully-hidden ordnance would be absent too. He lashed out at an old, small, wooden orange crate. Satisfyingly, it disintegrated on impact with his boot.
After she had locked the safe house door, Cameron joined him in the Jeep for another silent journey. Once home, he plodded wearily up the two flights of stairs. He could have justifiably taken the elevator, but obstinacy prevented him from taking the easy option. He stood in the center of the room, ostensibly looking out the window but in reality brooding, while Cameron completed her usual security sweep.
"John?"
He ignored her, but she was having none of it. She put a tentative hand on his arm. He turned his head sharply, his face clearly showing the bitterness he felt.
"It is late. You are hungry, tired and upset, a combination that does not help you sleep."
"Really? Thanks, mom."
"Don't call me that."
"What?"
"You heard." Cameron walked off, heading straight for her room. She closed the door behind herself, quietly.
"What?" John was unsure of the significance of what had just transpired. She'd objected to being insulted, But like, so what? He thought about just flopping down on his bed, however decided that a quick shower would take just enough of an edge off his anger and ease his muscles sufficiently that he would soon be asleep.
He tossed his dirty clothes in the corner of the bathroom, deliberately missing the wicker basket Cameron had bought and placed there to avoid such untidiness. He stepped into the shower without waiting for the temperature to equalize, knowing that it wouldn't take more than thirty seconds or so to become comfortable.
As he washed and scrubbed and soaked his grime and aches away, so his mind cleared of troubles. He toweled himself dry, then his hair as much as he could. After running a comb through it, he brushed his teeth. He checked his reflection in the mirror. Yeah, definitely better combed back, he thought. She's right about that. He looked for his shorts and tee-shirt, but they weren't where Cameron normally left them. Of course not, she's pissed at me. He noticed the clothes he'd thrown off, so picked them up and placed them properly in the basket. He wrapped the towel around his waist and went into his bedroom, digging his nightwear out from under the pillows. Having dressed, he stood outside her closed door, and knocked gently.
"Cameron?" There was no reply. "Cameron, I know you can hear me. I just wanna say sorry, okay? I'm sorry."
He waited a moment or two, but there was still no answer from within the room.
"Look, I can understand you're upset: I act like a jerk so often, but that's gonna change. Will you come out? I wanna say something, but not through the door, okay? It's real important."
Still nothing came from the other side. Man, can she hold a grudge, he thought, smiling to himself as he grasped the door handle.
"Coming in, okay? Let's talk..."
John was stunned into silence, on finding that Cameron's room was as empty as the rest of the apartment.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then went over to the laptop. It didn't take long to activate the tracking program. The bug he'd left in the Jeep was still working, and told him in which direction Cameron was heading. He opened up another window to locate Derek Reese by his cell phone. Eventually the two windows converged into the same area of the map: Andy Goode's house. A double confirmation was provided by a check on Cameron's cell: it was inactive, which suggested that she didn't want him to know where she was.
Disappointed and feeling betrayed by both members of his team, John didn't waste time. Having swiftly come to the conclusion that it was time for him to leave, he quickly redressed and packed a bag full of essentials, including the contents of his bedroom safe.
He speed-dialed Cameron's number on his cell, but as anticipated got no answer, so he left a message. He then switched it off, rendering himself untraceable. The last thing John did was to shut down the laptop, then he left the apartment. He had lived in it for a much longer time than any other place in his entire life, but he didn't look back.
He got on the first bus headed north, changing when it reached its terminus, as he did with the next one, and the next, all the while maintaining the same direction. Speed didn't matter, just that he was anonymous and getting away from Los Angeles.
Northern California: Saturday, October 13th 2007.
Eventually morning arrived, which found him waiting in a small town for another connection. When the nearest diner opened for business, he used the pay phone to call Charley Dixon.
"Johnny? Hey, you know what time this is?" he grumbled sleepily.
"Yeah, sorry man. Look, I hadda split. Just wanted you to know, I'm okay."
Charley blinked himself awake. "You in trouble?"
"No, nothing like that. I just need to get away; things aren't working out so well," John said.
"With Cameron? You guys split up?"
Michelle Dixon was wide awake by now too. "They've split up?" Charley nodded. "That's a damn shame," she said.
"Look, it's complicated, but no big deal; these things happen," John was saying. "Thought you oughtta know, is all. I'm fine, and I'll see you when I see you."
He ended on a cheerful note, but Charley knew him well enough to know that he was putting on a front, even down a phone line.
"Listen John, don't be a stranger, you hear? Don't leave it another eight years, okay? You've always got a room with us."
Michelle nodded in agreement.
"Okay, thanks. I'm sorry I woke you guys up."
"Not a problem, son. Where you headed?"
"I'm thinking Canada."
"Hmm, interesting."
"Yeah. Gotta go."
"Okay, take care, and good luck, Johnny!"
"And you, man!"
The line went dead. Charley put the phone back on the hook.
"That's a damn shame," Michelle repeated herself.
Charley drew her closer. "Yeah," he agreed.
Los Angeles, outside Andy Goode's residence.
As dawn heralded another Fall day, Cameron spoke, breaking the silence that had hung like an impenetrable curtain between them for many hours.
"I know who Andy Goode is."
Derek tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry. After a sip of water from a bottle, he cleared his throat, then started again. "Yeah, of course you do. We were all there in the house."
"The house?"
"Yeah: chained to the floor; the basement, creepy piano music."
"Piano music? Chopin?" Cameron asked.
"Chopin? How the hell would I know?"
"I don't know either. It was just a suggestion."
Derek turned to the cyborg, incredulous. "How can you not know? You were there!"
"Was I? I don't remember."
"I thought you remembered everything," Derek said.
"Our memories are scrubbed before reprogramming."
"So you don't know anything from before?"
"Some things came back to me when I repaired myself after defeating the Triple-Eight that was sent back to kill John in 1999. It left me confused for some time."
"Right."
"One day it might all come back."
"Right." Derek didn't want to be around on that day; he'd seen what happened when terminators reverted.
"That house you said we were all in?"
"Yeah?"
"Is that how you made me so quickly?"
"What do you mean?"
"The first day you were brought in to John's new headquarters, you drew a gun on me right away. Nobody's made me that fast."
"What about Connor?"
"John took a while; I won't tell you exactly how, as it might embarrass him," she said with a slight smirk.
"Not the kid: the General."
"Oh. Yes, well, he was different."
"And?"
"He made me very quickly, but he had more experience than anyone else."
"Right. But I made you because of the house."
"You'd seen me before."
"Yeah, you could say that."
"I tortured you."
"Now you remember?"
"No, just an educated guess. It's what terminators do to gather information."
"It's sick, is what it is."
"It's nothing compared to what humans have been doing to each other for centuries."
"And that makes it all right?"
"No," Cameron acknowledged.
"You, or whichever one of you was in charge, left us alive, and the means to escape."
"That's unusual."
"Yeah. My thoughts exactly: 'That's unusual.'"
"Really?" She looked at Reese carefully.
"Nope; I didn't get beyond 'Why?' Then I got on with life; it's all we had."
"I understand," Cameron said.
"Do you? Truly?" Derek accused.
"Yes. You put the past behind you and moved on; it's what we do as well."
"Right..." Derek didn't like to think that he behaved in any way like a machine.
"Billy," Cameron said.
"What?" Derek thought he had missed a vital part of the conversation, but Cameron had merely guided it back on course.
"Andy Goode. In the future, you called him Billy Wisher. He was in your squad before I took you to see John."
"Yeah, Billy. How'd you know?"
"His fingerprints."
"Oh, right."
"We have to deal with him."
"You mean kill him."
"I promised John I wouldn't."
"Right."
"A promise is a promise."
Derek looked intently at Cameron, contemplating the recent hours he had spent in the close confines of the truck cab with her, far longer than he had expected he could take. She seemed to genuinely mean what she said, but then, that's what they did: lie convincingly. Either way, he couldn't tell. He shrugged and sighed at the same time. "Okay," he said.
"We should destroy the Turk though."
"Yeah, at least."
"We can start once Andy has left his house today. I suggest using thermite to ensure that all of the essential parts are completely destroyed. I can make it look as though an electrical problem is the cause: he has a lot of components that are being over-loaded."
"Okay."
"Have you any thermite with you?"
"Always; never know when it might come in handy."
"Perfect." Cameron turned away from Reese, back to Andy's house. "There he is, heading off to work."
Derek checked his watch. "It's still early."
"We should follow him, just to make sure, then return."
Derek agreed, starting up the Ford and carefully tailing Andy Goode to Cell Division. He was met at the store by the driver of a delivery van. The two then unloaded and started to unpack what appeared to be new point-of-sale display modules.
Satisfied that he wouldn't be going home anytime soon, Derek and Cameron went back to his house. After checking that it was otherwise empty, they quickly set to work. They managed to disappear discreetly before the quiet neighborhood had fully awoken on this typical Saturday October morning. Once the fire trucks and police cars had descended upon the road with their sirens blaring, its peace and tranquility was gone, just like Andy Goode's Turk.
They met up again at the safe house, having taken different routes. As Derek emptied his backpack, Cameron switched her cell phone back on. It beeped.
"I've got a message. From John."
"Probably wondering where his coffee and cornflakes are..."
She gave Derek a withering look before putting the cell to her ear to listen to John's voice.
"I wanted to say sorry for what I said, but you'd gone. I guess it was dumb of me to expect anything from you. You're probably killing the poor schmuck right now, but really that's a no-brainer, right? You're petulant and rash, like a child, but seeing as you copy your behavior, I guess you got that off of me, huh? There's nothing I can do about that now, so you and Batman there can go save the world or whatever. I'll just wait for the bombs to drop if you're not successful. Just don't come looking for me. Believe me, you'll never find me."
John's words sank in. "Don't come looking... never find me." It was likely to be true: if he stayed off the grid, she'd never detect him. He'd learned too many lessons from being discovered before to get caught ever again. She'd failed her mission, but more than that, she felt bereft.
Cameron snapped her cell shut, then turned to Reese. "I've lost him!"
Derek stared open-mouthed at her outburst. Gathering himself together, he asked her what was in the message. She turned the cell's speakerphone on and replayed the recording.
"This is all your fault," she said when it had finished.
"Mine? That's freaking rich!" he replied.
"You clearly are trying to kill Andy Goode, against John's wishes."
"For... Listen and listen good, you goddamn metal bitch! You know he's a threat, and we both know how you deal with threats. And 'John's wishes?' This isn't John Connor – he's just a punk kid."
"He is John Connor, he always has been; just not the John we knew. It's not for him to change to accommodate us, we have to adapt our perspective. Eventually he will grow into that man, but he doesn't have to be him yet."
"Nice speech, but it doesn't change the facts: he left because of something you did. Or didn't do. All that cozy domestic bullshit, you had him believing there was something going on, right? And you likely blew him off, so now he's off god knows where... Ach! You mess with his head, no wonder he's gone off the reservation."
Cameron bristled slightly, but defended herself. "John does these things."
"Foolish, risky things?"
"Yes."
Derek contemplated for a minute or so, before reluctantly agreeing. "Yeah, he does."
"I've gotta find him," Cameron said.
"You think you can?"
"I can try."
"Well, good luck," Derek said.
"Thank you. I might need your help."
"Okay," he said slowly.
"We should go see Charley Dixon."
"Who's he?"
"Someone special to John. He says he's like a father to him."
"Hmm."
Derek pulled up where Cameron indicated outside the Dixon residence in Sherman Oaks. Charley was out front, tending the lawn. He looked up warily as Cameron approached.
"Good morning Mister Dixon," she said.
"Morning," he replied.
"Have you seen John?"
"No."
"Has he been in touch?"
He looked past her to the black truck, noting Derek Reese at the wheel. "Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He seemed upset. I can see why," Charley said, motioning to the man in the old Ford.
Cameron glanced back, then addressed Charley again. "It's not what you think; he's a friend, helping me find John."
"Hmm. Maybe John doesn't want to be found."
"I know he doesn't; that doesn't mean he shouldn't be."
Charley sighed. "Sometimes you gotta let 'em go."
"I can't, Mister Dixon: I need him."
"So how'd you end up in this mess?"
"It's complicated."
Charley smiled ruefully. "That's what John said." He looked carefully at the young woman in front of him. "You two have something."
"Yes, we're partners."
"Well... Guess that's the modern way of saying it. I mean something special."
"We are unique."
"He's in love with you."
"Yes."
"And you?"
"I love him too," Cameron said.
"But you don't talk about it? What's that all about?"
"That's where it gets complicated."
"You've gotta find a way to uncomplicate it."
"I've gotta find him first."
Charley nodded. "He said he was headed for Canada."
Cameron frowned. "Anywhere specific?"
Charley shook his head. "Like his mother, he keeps things close to the vest."
Cameron agreed, then thanked Charley and headed back to the truck, where Derek noted her mood.
"I take it he didn't have good news?"
"No. John told him he was going to Canada."
"Yeah? I thought he'd head south, Mexico way."
"He can blend in better in Canada."
"He speaks the language like a native; darken his hair and get some sun, he wouldn't stand out too much south of the border either," Derek said.
"You think he's bluffing by leaving a trail that points north?"
"Or a double-bluff: he must know we'll assume he'd go south. Either way, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack." He put the truck in gear and moved off. "Two haystacks," he corrected himself.
Cameron squared her jaw, but Derek could see that she couldn't completely remove that air of despondency that hung over her like a shroud.
Monday, October 15th 2007.
Cameron had spent two days going over any camera footage that she could retrieve from the city's law enforcement divisions, but she'd found nothing; John did indeed know enough to keep away from technological witnesses. Facial recognition software was no help when someone could obscure themselves with the simple addition of a ball cap and hoody top. He'd used cash, thus leaving no paper trail for her to follow. She'd been dissuaded by Derek from just heading north showing John's picture at every bus and train station.
"It's not a good idea to have his face plastered from here to the Arctic Circle: likely get him on the radar, and you know what that could mean."
"Okay." She did indeed know what that could mean. "What do you propose?"
"What do you guys normally do?"
"Power down until required."
"Right. Why not do something positive?"
"Such as?"
"Continue the search for Skynet. It can't just be Andy Goode; he told me there were ten, fifteen of those programmers."
Cameron contemplated for a minute or so, then went into her room. She returned brandishing a piece of paper. "I did come across this," she said, handing him a print out of an online news report.
"What does it mean?"
"A fire at Oakland docks has forced the diversion of a shipment of coltan to the Port of Los Angeles. The fire is suspected to be arson. It could be the work of a Skynet operative."
"Okay. So, what? We check it out?"
"Yes."
"Okay. When?"
"The ship docks at 5AM tomorrow."
Derek checked his watch. "Enough time for some sleep. Wake me at 03:00."
Tuesday, October 16th 2007.
Having witnessed the offloading of the cargo, the unlikely partners followed the truck upon which it was placed from the docks to a warehouse in the northern outskirts of L.A. They parked up round the back and, standing on a dumpster, observed the goings-on inside.
The leader of the group wore a military uniform with the name 'Carter' printed on a chest tag. After he had assigned his men their tasks he dismissed them. Once alone, he lifted the last few crates of coltan onto the truck himself.
Derek exhaled softly. "It's a Triple-Eight. You recognize him?"
Cameron checked her database thoroughly. "No."
"He's short. I thought all you guys were big."
"I'm not big."
"Yeah, but you're a gir–"
"Yes?"
"Never mind."
"Please finish."
"I was gonna say: you're a girl terminator. Thing."
"Terminatrix?"
"Yeah, whatever." After a pause, Derek continued, "I can see why John is so easily fooled by you."
"Thank you."
"Whatever."
Carter finished loading the truck, then headed off in the direction his men had gone.
"That's a hell of a lot of coltan," Derek said.
"Enough to make approximately five hundred thirty endoskeletons."
"That's five hundred thirty too many."
"You wish to destroy it?"
"Uh, yeah..."
They agreed to wait and assess the situation further, rather than try to tackle the terminator head on, but impatience soon got the better of Derek. "What would John do now?" he asked.
"Future-John or present-John?"
"Either. Both. Whatever."
"Something risky. Or foolish."
"Like jumping in the back of that truck and seeing where it took him?"
"Yes, something like that," Cameron agreed.
Derek sighed. "Okay, let's do it."
He pushed his backpack through the window, then cranked it open a bit more and dropped down on to the warehouse floor, with Cameron following right behind him. They crept over to the truck, then jumped into the back. Cameron tugged Derek toward the front on hearing voices approaching. Peeking round the crates, she could see that there were two of them; like Carter, they were wearing military fatigues, though their hairstyles indicated that they were not current members of the armed forces. It was apparent that they were grouching about their boss. They parted by agreeing that they would see each other at the destination. One of them jumped in the back, while the other secured the tailgate behind him.
After the truck had been underway for half an hour, Derek signaled for Cameron to go one way around the crates, while he confronted the phoney soldier from the other side.
As Cameron poked her head round the corner, the man saw her.
"Hey girlie, how the hell'd you get in here?"
"I lost my dog. Have you seen him? He's called Toto."
"What the–?" Extremely confused, the man froze when he felt the barrel of a gun placed against his head.
"Nice and easy," Derek said from behind him. "Hands in the air."
Cameron moved forward and relieved the man of his firearm. "Where are we headed?" she asked.
"Dunno."
Derek jabbed his gun hard into the man's neck. "Wrong answer."
"He'll kill me if I tell."
"What, your boss?"
"Yeah, Carter."
"Hmm, well, she'll kill you if you don't," Derek said.
"So I'm dead either way? I don't see anything in it for me," the man shrewdly pointed out.
"You're right," Cameron said. "We'll let you live, if you give us what we want."
"She has ways of making you talk, without killing you. You may end up wishing you were dead, but you'll still be alive," Derek offered, continuing his 'bad cop' routine.
"'Milton.' Is that your name?" Cameron asked, pointing to the name tag on his chest.
He shook his head. "Mike."
"I'm Emily; he's Frank. Can you tell us where we're going? Please?" She smiled warmly.
Mike continued looking between Cameron and Derek, unsure with which one his future prospects looked best. Eventually he went with what appeared to be the sympathetic choice: the pretty girl with welcoming eyes, the 'good cop' out of his two interrogators.
"It's an old abandoned air-force base, north of Palmdale, out in the desert."
"Palmdale?" Cameron asked.
"Yeah, way north of it, beyond Lancaster, but you go past it on Route 14," Mike clarified.
"Right."
"That mean something to you?" Derek asked.
"No," Cameron lied; this wasn't the time for discussions about her past. She returned to her questioning. "What part of the base?"
"A decommissioned arms depot, I was told, but I've not been inside yet. I was just hired for this job, with the promise of some more work if I didn't foul up."
"Yeah well, I don't see much coming your way from this guy. I'd find another employer, or better yet, a completely different line of work," Derek advised.
Mike nodded his head in agreement.
Eventually the long, hot, bumpy journey came to an end inside a dark hanger. Derek grabbed the man's arm.
"Don't do anything stupid," he snarled.
Again Mike nodded in acknowledgment, but blinked furiously to remove the sweat that was now dripping into his eyes. The trio waited for something to happen, expecting someone to open the truck's rear door. Cameron cocked her head momentarily and frowned. Two shots rang out, causing all three to crouch low on the truck's floor.
"What's up?" Derek whispered.
Cameron crept up to the door, cranking it up until the lock halted its progress. She appeared to be listening intently, then pushed further until the lock snapped. She caught it in her other hand, while continuing to push up until the door was fully open.
"Carter has terminated the contracts of his other employees, but he did thank them for their service."
"What?" said Mike, confused.
"What is it with you guys and all this 'thanking' crap?" Derek asked.
"Politeness costs nothing," Cameron said. "Manners maketh man," she added.
"Right," sneered Derek.
Mike stirred between them. "What the hell?"
Derek smiled at him. "I'm like that too, sometimes." As he turned his gaze to Cameron, the smile vanished. "Get the bag," he ordered.
She was about to say something, but instead complied with his wishes, walking to the front of the crates. Their prisoner saw an opportunity to escape, and took it. He elbowed Derek in the face, then bolted for the door. He was out of the truck before either Derek or Cameron could react. They followed him, but ducked to one side, staying out of sight while Mike approached his erstwhile boss. Carter was standing rigidly facing the warehouse door, the unmoving bodies of his other couple of cohorts lying off to one side.
On seeing them, Mike rushed toward Carter. "Hey man! I want out and I want my money, now!" he yelled. Carter stood as immobile as a statue, apparently ignoring his employee. "Hey, hey! I'm talking to you," the man shouted angrily.
As he got within reach, Carter suddenly turned around and grabbed his henchman by the throat, lifting him clear off the ground. Despite the distance, Derek clearly heard a sickening snap before the man's struggling ceased permanently. Carter tossed his corpse to one side, where it landed on top of those of his former colleagues, then walked over to a control panel at the front of the warehouse.
"Jeez, snapped his neck," Derek whispered bitterly.
"It is an effective method," Cameron replied, equally quietly.
Derek shot her a look. "We've gotta take him out. What's he doing?"
Before Cameron could reply, a siren went off and the doors to the bunker began to slide noisily together. Carter moved away from the controls and took up a central position in front of the vast concrete blast-proof doors. Cameron observed him carefully for some minutes, before voicing her conclusion.
"He has gone in to stand-by mode. His mission is complete, so he's powered down until he is threatened again, or he is summoned."
"By Skynet?"
"Yes. Going by these blast doors, that will be after Judgment Day. This will be a stockpile: coltan is rare in 2027."
"Yeah, and I'd like it to stay that way. We oughtta get rid of him and all of that stuff. And I don't wanna be stuck in here with two goddamn terminators until Judgment Day."
"What do you propose?"
"You fight him, I'll drive the truck out."
"I may not be able to defeat him."
"Okay then, just hold him up long enough for me to get the truck out."
"I don't see anything in it for me."
"Huh! You want me to fight him?"
"The thought had crossed my mind."
"Funny. Got a better plan?"
"I'll sneak past him and open the door, while you get in the truck. I'll stick one of the C4 charges in his pocket, then throw him as far as possible. That should disable him and give us both the chance to get away," Cameron said.
Derek acknowledged that her plan was sound and passed her one of the blocks of C4, complete with timer. "Set it for five seconds," he advised.
She nodded, accepted the bomb, then crept out of cover towards the compact terminator. As she got close behind him, she zeroed in on the bunker doors' control panel. There was a slot for a key, but it was empty. Tip-toeing round Carter, she saw a key hanging from a chain around his neck. Quick analysis made it a distinct probability that it was the necessary key. Initiating the timer on the C4, she grasped the chain whilst also pulling Carter's jacket slightly open; she dropped the bomb inside then grabbed him with her other hand and flung Carter as far away as she could. The C4 charge ignited as he crashed into a pile of metal oil drums, its power amplified by the chemicals contained therein, blowing him apart. Cameron ran up to check on his condition, followed by a wary Derek Reese.
Carter's face had been blown half off, and his torso sliced in two. The lower half lay uselessly on the floor, but the upper half raised itself up on its hands and dragged itself towards Cameron. As she got close Carter snatched at her leg, but she deftly evaded his hand, landing a heavy stomp on his neck. His metal head crashed on to the concrete floor with a resounding ring. To Derek's surprise, Cameron landed blow after blow on Carter's skull with her boot. Looking at her, he could see what appeared to be genuine anger on her face. Just as he had been startled by her despair on discovering that John had left her, so this apparent act of vengeance cut him to the quick. The destruction of a Triple-Eight always brought him satisfaction, but a cyborg apparently feeling the same way seemed wrong to him. But then John always said she was different: to him that was good; Derek wasn't so sure. What he was sure of though, was that he was glad she was on his side.
"Cameron?" he said.
She turned to him. "Yes?" she snapped.
"I think we're done." He looked down at the crushed skull.
Cameron followed his eye line. "Oh."
"We should burn it," Derek said, withdrawing a can of thermite from his backpack.
"Yes." Cameron gathered all the disparate pieces of Carter together in one pile then stood back as Derek first sprinkled the white powder, then dropped a lit flare on them.
They both stepped back as the metal went up in flames, giving off an intense heat. Derek noted that Cameron's expression had returned to one of indifference, her default face. When the fire had burnt itself out, she picked up Derek's backpack and twirled the bunker door key on its chain.
"Let's get out of here."
"Yeah," Derek concurred.
He got in the truck and started it up, while Cameron opened the blast doors. When the space was wide enough, he drove through it, with much crashing of the gears. Once through, Cameron set the doors to close, taking the key with her. She tossed a couple of the C4 charges into the piles of chemicals and crates for good measure. As the doors clanged shut behind her, she heard the muffled explosions.
She walked up to the driver's side of the truck cab. "I'll drive this, you take that Humvee," she ordered, pointing to it. Reese looked taken aback. "The clutch and gearbox won't last long enough to get this to the coast if you drive," she clarified.
"Okay," Derek said, stepping out. "We gonna dump it in the ocean?"
"With this amount, it's the easiest option."
"Good call."
As she swung behind the wheel, Cameron saw a sign on the wall of the bunker and pointed to it. "Depot Thirty-Seven. This is where I'll be built. Or was. Me and many others."
Derek stopped in his tracks. "But not now?"
"No, not now."
"That's one for the Resistance then," Derek said, smiling grimly.
"Yes, one for the Resistance."
Later, after Cameron had sent the truck and its cargo of coltan hurtling into the Pacific, she joined Derek in the Humvee for the long drive south. He raised a point that hadn't come to him immediately, but was now troubling him.
"How come you remember Depot Thirty-Seven? You said you were scrubbed."
"I was, but some things return occasionally, with the right stimulus."
"Right," Derek said warily.
Many hours passed before they pulled into the industrial area where the old F-150 sat waiting. They left the Humvee a burning wreck, then headed for the Van Nuys safe house.
"He'll be back," Derek said eventually.
Cameron turned her head. "How can you be sure?"
"He's John Connor. He's not gonna sit on his ass up in the middle of goddamn nowhere while there's work to be done."
NEXT: Chapter Eleven – A Wish For Something More.
In which John gets his geography wrong and Cameron strikes a bargain with a tow-truck driver, then leaves everyone waiting.