PROVENCE, FRANCE
SEPTEMBER 24, 2011
.
.
.
He moved in his sleep – a slight shifting of his body closing a small gap that had opened between them. Cameron knew he was acting by unconscious impulse rather than deliberate choice. That realization did not, however, diminish the serene pleasure she experienced as their bodies touched, as his bare skin warmed hers. Knowing that she was so precious to him that he would reach out for her even from the recesses of a deep slumber renewed her sense of personal contentment. It reinforced for her the value she had in his life.
Cameron never required any additional verification of the significance he had in her existence. Lying in bed with him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand on his bare chest feeling the beat of his heart did not confirm her love for John Connor. It reflected it.
The Château was not air-conditioned but their bedroom had two large windows. Both had been thrown open to admit the soft breezes of the Provencal night. It was so comfortable that as he slept John had pushed aside the thin sheet covering them. Cameron closed her eyes in response to his change of position, not to sleep, she still did not sleep, but to concentrate her attention on the purely tactile sensations a physical union of two bodies could produce. She was also allowing herself to savor the moment, to place it forever in her memory when the flashing lights and the low insistent beep of the alarm banished all other thoughts.
In one continuous movement she rolled away from him and onto her feet. John's response was almost as quick. Another person might require a moment to shake off the lingering effects of interrupted sleep. He did not. On the darkened battlefields of another time, he had honed an extraordinary ability to pass instantly from slumber to full awareness. As Cameron tossed him a pair of black coveralls from the closet, he pressed the response button on the glowing cube beside their bed.
"What is it John Henry?"
"Movement on the access road. Two vehicles, multiple occupants, traveling at high speed toward the front gate." John Henry's carefully modulated voice succinctly conveyed all the required information.
"Activate all countermeasures," John replied. "We will get the girls and be right down."
"Understood."
John jerked up the zipper of his coveralls while Cameron, already dressed in a similar fashion, started for the door. They left the room darkened moving confidently from memory and instinct. "I'll get Marissa and Allison" Cameron called in a low voice. "You carry Savannah."
Cameron's touch was so gentle that Allison didn't even stir as she was swept up into her mother's arms. Marissa jerked awake with a start but when she realized who was holding her she silently wrapped her arms firmly around Cameron's neck.
"Come on, Flame top." John whispered as he gathered up Savannah. "We have to go visit John Henry." Despite her youth Savannah implicitly understood the need for unyielding cooperation. She held tight as John dashed down the stairs a step behind Cameron. Their urgent footsteps echoed through the darkened house.
Ever efficient, John Henry had already set up the cots by the time they reached the Lair. He was intently studying a pair of lighted monitors as they entered." There were ten of them John. They're all heavily armed."
"Were ten?"
John Henry turned with a wistful, almost guilty, look on his face. "One of them touched the metal on the gate. His participation has ended."
At another moment John might have found John Henry's deadpanned delivery amusing. Unfortunately there was not time to appreciate his friend's dark humor now. There were still nine intruders trying to break into the estate. Hurriedly John clipped the small communication unit to his pocket and placed the earpiece/microphone into position. Cameron had taken an extra moment to settle each of the girls into one of the improvised beds. Both Marissa and Savannah watched with excited eyes wide open as she also attached a communication unit and picked up one of the waiting assault rifles. She was handing a similar weapon John when the faint sound of a distant rumble was followed by a slight vibration in the stone floor.
"They have blown open the front gate," John said with a sense of cold certainty. "They will be coming this way now."
"How do you wish to proceed John?" John Henry's tone reflected a complete confidence in John's decision.
"Seal the door after we are gone." He turned to Cameron who was also waiting with an air of implacable terminator patience. "Cameron, they will be expecting us to meet them head on. You go out the back entrance and swing around to the west. I'll go through the side window and circle east. We will catch them between us."
Cameron nodded,- a quick emotionless expression of agreement before she trotted from the secure room. John took one last look at the girls before barely whispering the words. "Everything will be all right." The sound of the steel door clanging shut behind him sounded oddly reassuring.
As she moved through the dark grounds of the estate Cameron adjusted her visual acuity. It was not quite full night vision but it allowed her to discern shapes and movement with greater assurance. Almost simultaneously she picked out the forms of men moving toward the Château. Evidently they lacked night vision equipment as well since more than one seemed to be stumbling and tripping over unseen obstacles. One man had taken the lead using a shielded beam flashlight to guide his steps. She knew that the calmly impassive façade she has shown in the Lair was an illusion. Inside, she was consumed with an anger so intense that even she found it difficult to control. These men had come to defile her home, to hurt her children, to kill the man she loved. They would pay dearly for those transgressions. Of that Cameron Connor was certain.
"John" she whispered. The supersensitive microphone attached her earpiece instantly transmitted her voice. John's response was immediate.
"I am here Cameron."
"Can you see them?"
"Yeah, I can make out the leader. Idiot is using a flashlight." John Connor's fabled J company would never have been so careless, he thought.
"We have to kill them all John. We must not let any of them get away."
"Roger that." John replied. These guys were about to learn that the Connors did not take threats to their family lightly. "You open the dance when you are ready."
Rather than a vocal transmission Cameron's response was a burst of automatic rifle fire. Multiple screams of pain confirmed her accuracy. Whoever the attackers were they did not panic easily. A staccato round of gunshots blazed out as they tried to answer Cameron's attack. In doing so, however, the intruders revealed their positions to John who was now squarely behind them. He knew that if she were hit, Cameron's cyborg body could withstand the impact of bullets but they would still cause her pain. That was not acceptable to him. From a kneeling position he unleashed a fully automatic fusillade that slashed out of the darkness. Before any return fire could be offered he dove and rolled hard to his right. Standard J company tactics, he thought. Shoot and move. Shoot and move. Don't let the SOB's figure out where you were.
"John Henry, can you hear me?"
"Yes I can."
"What do this sensors show?"
"They seem to have gotten more than they bargained for. I believe they are trying to withdraw. At least four of them are down."
Another burst of rifle fire followed by another scream echoed from out of the black night. "I think it's probably five down now," John said with a tone of fierce satisfaction." Cameron's moving to block them at the gate. I think she just got another one. I'm coming up behind them."
"John" Cameron's voice, low and concerned, sounded in his earpiece." Are you all right?"
Before he could answer John Henry cut into the conversation. For the first time there was a note of intense urgency in his voice. "John, there are additional intruders coming over the back wall. They've shorted out all of the electrical countermeasures on the top of the wall."
Shit! John cursed silently to himself before drawing on that calm center a good combat officer had to possess. "All right John Henry, stay locked down and keep feeding me all the monitoring information. I'm on my way back." John took a deep breath before continuing." Cameron, did you hear all that?"
"Yes, I'm coming back to you."
"No." John's voice we sharply authoritative. I want you to leave your blocking position and circle around behind these bastards. Don't let them double back to the house. If they'll run let them go."
"John please..." Cameron was close to begging.
"Do as I say Cameron. It'll be okay. I can handle this." John silently wished he felt as confident as he had just sounded.
In a low crouch he moved quickly back in the direction of the Château. When he was confident that he was far enough away that his footsteps would not be audible to those would-be killers trying to escape, he broke into a trot. Peering through the darkness, trying to avoid any unseen impediments, he found himself remembering that mad dash over broken ground he had made as a raw trooper when he rescued the Jividens. Tonight he felt that same tension, that same choking dryness in his mouth and more. He also felt that the same driving battle fury that would not let fear restrain him.
John Henry's voice again filled his head. "There are four of them John. They are almost to the back door." Once again combat experience fell into place. Even the most sophisticated attackers tended to focus their attention to their front or to their flanks if they were smart. Rarely, however, did they pay attention to their rear. A counterattack from that direction often caught them unprepared. John had no need to consciously review these principles. Instinct guided him as he reached the Château and began to creep around the side. By the time he got to the back door these new intruders would likely be in the house. With luck they will be concentrating on searching each room as they entered. They would not worry about the rooms they had already passed.
The explosion and bright flash of light were virtually simultaneous. He saw one of the windows in the dining room just ahead of him burst apart as the impact of the flash grenade shattered the glass. These bastards knew what they were doing. They were clearing the rooms ahead of them, preparing the ground as they advanced.
The light faded. For the moment the house was dark again. Then a spear- like beam cut through the blackness. Crouched beside the smashed window John cautiously peered into the room. There were four of them just as John Henry had said. One of them in the middle of an impromptu formation carried some type of portable searchlight that shot its blinding beams into the corners and into the next room. Flanking him on each side John could make out two men each with heavy rifles pointed ahead of them. Trailing the first three intruders, the fourth figure was carrying something oddly shaped that he also seemed to be aiming.
A shaft of light swept back toward the window and ducked out of sight. In that last moment he realized what the fourth man was carrying – a heavy taser. There could be only one reason why he would have that type of weapon. It was for Cameron, to incapacitate her long enough for them to finish the job. These men knew their anticipated targets. They had come prepared. John felt a rage even hotter than his already burning fury sweep through him.
Cameron rarely cursed. She had tried it once when the Russian gangster in St. Petersburg attempted to betray them. She had thought then that the liberal use of profanity would fit her character. But after the incident was over and she had settled for just breaking the man's arm, John had looked at her with a bemused affection before shaking his head.
"You're like a singer who has learned the lyrics but you can't quite master the tune." She had taken his hint and resolved to avoid profanity after that. At this moment however she was close to breaking her pledge. There were only four of the ten left and the route to escape was open for them. All they needed to do was run for the gate. Unfortunately these imbeciles would not do it. In frustration she squeezed off two more rounds before shifting position to avoid their return fire. It was as if they had become so terrified by the death that stalked them in the night that they were frozen in whatever defensive position they had taken.
She flinched when she heard of the crashing sound of the grenade echoing in the night. Logically she knew that John had not been hurt. She could actually hear his breathing over her earpiece. She understood that she needed to stay with his plan. That knowledge only infuriated her more, however. Every fiber of her being, every atom in her body screamed for her to get back to John's side." God damn you! she snarled as she pulled the trigger on her rifle." Run you sons of bitches." This time she had fully mastered the tune as well as the words.
The back door the Château hung wide open. One of the ornate brass hinges on the heavy wooden door had snapped off when the intruders forced their entrance. None of the interior lights were on. The would-be killers relied solely on the compact searchlight that they carried with them. John could plainly see the flashes of light coming from the room ahead of him. Cautiously, slowly, deliberately he edged forward sliding his feet on the floor to avoid the sound of footsteps.
The intruders had stopped in the dining room and he could hear the growl of their voices. Unlike Cameron he could not instantly master foreign languages. He could however make out enough French to understand what they were saying.
"You want us to search upstairs or in the cellar?"
"No." The response was immediate. "Start planting the explosives. If someone is upstairs we will blast the house out from under them. If they're in the cellar we will bury them there."
John took a deep breath, held it and slightly pushed open the door to the dining room with the muzzle of his rifle. A quick look before the intruders saw him was all that he needed. The man with the searchlight was playing it casually against the interior wall while his companion who had been carrying the taser had laid down and begun to unload a backpack. John instantly recognized the brick like blocks of C-4. They had more than enough to bring the entire Château crashing down in flames. If the explosives were detonated John Henry and the girls would still be safe in the Lair. After the explosion ,however, they would be buried under mountains of debris. Would he be able to get them out before the French authorities came flooding onto the grounds? Screw that! He thought. The battle lights were gleaming in John Connor eyes. Screw that!
John rose to his feet and kicked the door the dining room wide open. He fired a burst on full automatic before he jumped away into the unlit shadows in the corner of the room. From the screaming and the now complete darkness he concluded that he had brought down the one with the searchlight. A whimpering moan suggested he might have hit one of the others as well. The remaining gunmen had scattered like sheep before the wolf. Now they all crouched motionless in the dark, their ears straining to hear a sound that would let them find their unseen adversary.
There were least two of them still capable of fighting, John thought. Would they know enough to coordinate their actions in the dark or would they just act as murderous individuals? His answer came almost immediately. He heard scrapes of movement, a shoe inadvertently dragging on the floor coming from different directions. They were circling – staying close to the wall, probably on their knees. If he allowed them to complete the circle they would have him between them. He was already cut off from the door back to the kitchen as well as to the access to the rest of the house. The window broken open by the force of the grenade was behind him. The door to the cellar was on his left. Neither option felt particularly attractive. He could not leave these men alone in this room with the explosives.
This was something akin to the knife fight in the dark he had mentioned to John Henry only instead of blades everyone was carrying automatic firearms. Feeling around himself on the floor he found a large shard of glass from the broken window. With an overhand motion he hurled it away to his right. When it struck the far wall the glass broke again generating a scratchy crunching noise. As John had hoped one of the men hiding in the darkness fired wildly at the sound. Using the muzzle flashes as his target John released a burst of responding fire before rolling hard to his side. Shoot and move. The scream of agony that split the darkness assured him that he had just narrowed the odds.
"It seems as if it is just you and me now monsieur." The voice was a growling taunt. This one was sure of himself. John snapped off a shot, not where the speaker had been but to his left, - an educated guess - trying to anticipate his opponent's move.
"Maybe we should just call it a draw then" John said. This time he did not move as the man in the dark fired a shot in a similar effort to deduce his location. It was no longer a knife fight. Instead, the contest had become a lethal version of rock, paper, scissors. The only question now was whether he could kill this man or last long enough for Cameron to get back. The continuing sound of gunfire from outside suggested that she still had her own problems. You're on your own Captain Connor.
A loud scraping noise near the kitchen door galvanized him. He leapt from his prone position and pulled the trigger to send a burst in that direction. The dull metallic click of an empty weapon dropped a chunk of ice in his stomach. Before he could even move the room burst into light – the full illumination from the overhead chandelier. A tall hard looking man stood with one hand on the light switch, the other pointing his rifle at John's chest. Game over.
"Might as well drop that," the man said with a grin. "I don't think it's going to do you any good now."
Buy time, John thought as he allowed his weapon to fall noisily to the floor. Look for an alternative. There was always an alternative. Then again, in this instance perhaps not. In the bright light John could see the carnage the room that suffered. As he expected the other three intruders were all crumpled on the floor. Only one of them still seemed to be breathing. You didn't do too bad Connor. It just wasn't quite enough.
The man looked at him intently before he withdrew what was apparently a photograph from his pocket. Keeping his gun pointed at John he looked down at the picture and then back at his captive. His grin widened. "Well monsieur, the evening has not been a total loss. It looks like I am about to earn a very large amount of money."
"If someone is paying you to kill me, I can pay you a lot more." John realized that he was stalling with little hope of dissuading the man. He was correct.
"I am sorry monsieur..." The man glanced again at the photograph." Monsieur Connor. I suspect that when my gun is no longer pointed at you, any offer you might make would cease to be valid. I believe I will take the sure thing." The man let the photo flutter to the floor as he put both hands on his rifle. He smiled in an expression of triumph undiminished by the sacrifice of his companions. He was still smiling when his chest exploded. The massive obliterating force that struck him lifted him off the floor and propelled his body through the air crashing into the far wall.
John spun around in stunned surprise. John Henry stood in the doorway of the entrance to the cellar holding one of the prototype Narvan pulsars. The expression on his face was a blend of confusion, surprise, and pain. As John watched wordlessly John Henry looked around the room before focusing on the man he had just killed. All animation drained from the cyborg's face leaving only a mask of anguish."That... that was distasteful", he whispered.
John stepped over to face him and gently removed the rifle from unresisting hands. He placed the gun on the large dining room table before putting his right hand on John Henry shoulder. "Thank you John Henry."
John Henry again looked at twisted bodies lying sprawled on the floor. His voice took on a something of a confused child trying desperately hard to understand a difficult problem. "How do you do it, John? How are you able to...?"
John raised his palms stopping his shaken friend's inquiry in midsentence. "I do it because I must, John Henry."
John Henry nodded sadly, knowingly. "You pay a high price for it don't you John?"
"You once told Cameron that there is no such thing as a free lunch. For anything valuable there is always a cost. Cameron believes that. So do I."
"Am I being used as a good example or a bad one?"
They both turned to look at the doorway where Cameron stood cradling her rifle in her arm. Before either could answer she let the gun slide to the floor as she walked slowly and deliberately over to them. There was a look of relief on her face tempered by an expression of compassion – of understanding. Cameron could visualize the events that had occurred in that room as clearly as if she had witnessed them as they happened. When she reached John she put her arms around his neck and pulled him tightly against her. After a moment she extended her right hand to John Henry. When he took her small hand in his she gently drew him to her side. For a long minute the three of them stood clinging to each other linked by Cameron's embrace.
Finally John reluctantly stepped back. The sharp look of command regained its place in his appearance. His tone became brusque and decisive. "We have to move now. The sound of all this must have carried. Someone will have heard it and called the police. We have to be gone before they get here."
"Where will we go?" Cameron asked.
"Marseille for starters" John replied. "Once we are there, we will decide our next step. Cameron you get the girls ready. John Henry you pack up all materials you need to take. I'll bring the car around to the back."
John Henry motioned toward the bodies on the floor. At least one of the men did appear to still be alive, his chest moved in a fading attempt to draw breath. "What about...?"
"The hell with them! Let's get out of here."
A constant readiness for flight had become part of their existence. The car already contained an emergency bag of clothing as well as an artfully concealed weapons compartment. It was only a matter of gathering up the children as John Henry loaded his emergency computer equipment and a rectangular wooden box. Watching as that last article was placed in the trunk, John shook his head with a note of resigned amusement. "Don't tell me", he said." The chess set."
John Henry's wan smile suggested that for the moment at least he had moved his painful memories of the events of the last half hour into a closed part of his programming. "Some things are too important to be left behind, John."
A moment later John discovered that there were other things too important to be left behind. A loud wail from Allison caused Cameron to bolt for the house. Seconds later she returned carrying a small stuffed rabbit. Allison's distress subsided when Cameron placed the toy in her tiny arms. John again shook his head. Stomping his foot on the accelerator he thought that commanding Company J might have been easier than overseeing the Connor family.
.
.
.
MEDITERRANEAN SEA
SEPTEMBER 26,2011
.
.
.
He thought that the stars seemed particularly bright at sea. Staring up from the deck the sky had the appearance of black velvet sprinkled with diamonds. Just over the eastern horizon a rising half-moon provided a counterpoint to the more delicate lights gleaming in the distant heavens. As he leaned over the rail to watch the waves splash against the hull he realized that at night the ocean appeared as black as the sky without the stars.
The sporadic movement of the deck beneath his feet reminded him that while the Sabrina might be New Legion Shipping's latest acquisition, it was a long way from the Queen Elizabeth II. A little over 30,000 tons , the freighter usually ran dry cargo along coastal routes in the Mediterranean. Tonight it labored along on its way toward Malta. The official manifest might indicate that it carried a mixed cargo of textiles, olive oil and processed foods. The real treasure on board, however, occupied the owner's cabin on the upper deck.
John removed the photograph from his pocket and studied again. At least three of the men who assaulted the Château had carried a copy of it. The photo had given them their targets. The images were sharp and well-defined, better than might be expected from a security camera. Still, Skynet probably employed the top-of-the-line photographic technology.
She was so quiet that he didn't even hear her approach. Her arms slipping around his waist, her head tilted against his shoulder announced her presence.
"Anyone still seasick?" He asked in a low voice.
"Everyone is feeling much better. I don't think it was seasickness anyway. I believe someone allowed them all to eat too much ice cream at dinner." Her comment carried a clear note of accusation.
"Guilty as charged," he replied pulling her closer against him." It's just they have been through so much in the last couple of days. I thought they deserved a treat."
"John, you must not blame yourself every time something bad happens to us. This is not your fault."
"In the way it was Cameron." He held up the picture. This was taken when we raided the building in Los Angeles. The men who came after us were sent by Skynet. I made it far too easy for them to find us. I was careless. We stayed too long in one place."
Cameron snatched the photograph from his hand and threw it out into the darkness. "We stayed because we were all happy there John. We stayed because it let us be a family. You, me, the girls, Sarah, Catherine, John Henry. We all just wanted to live a normal life for a time."
"We may not have that luxury much longer."
Cameron was resolute. "All the more reason to cherish it when we can. We are warriors John, You and I. Our daughters and Savannah must learn to be warriors too. I need to start teaching them more than just ballet. You will have to let them grow up. You can love them with all your heart but you can't shield them from everything the world throws against us."
John leaned over and kissed her. At first lightly, then with a steadily increasing passion. "When did you become so insightful?" He whispered.
"Don't you remember, John? You only love smart women."
He chuckled before he asked, "Should we get back up to the cabin?"
"We don't have to hurry" Cameron replied softly. John Henry is reading to them now. They'll be fine."
"What is he reading?"
"Winnie the Pooh. He can do better voices than you can." John burst into laughter. How much more bizarre could this world get?
"Maybe I should go listen."
"No", Cameron said." Let's stay and watch the stars a little longer."