I do not own Terminator: Rise of the Machines.
I am not in a machine apocalypse. From a certain point of view. ;)
Not A Church Youth Group Sleepover
Jeffrey Barnes
It's quiet and cool and still in the main area.
Shell-shocked survivors sleeping off accumulated exhaustion in actual beds for the first time in months.
The comms are quiet.
And John's in a space in his head where he's wondering how you start putting society back together after a machine apocalypse.
His mom taught him how to survive, to strategize, to fight the machines.
She didn't really train him how to deal with the people left alive in the meantime.
He thinks he's got the rudimentary skills down, Kate hasn't cold-cocked him yet.
Seems to even like him, alot sometimes, other times tolerates him even when he knows he's being stubborn snd insufferable.
So there's hope.
He hears a clatter, a hushed expletive.
Figures it's not a machine if it has emotions and can cuss.
So he follows it into the . . .
"Hey. Sorry. Dropped my damn tin."
. . . kitchen.
It's the big guy, Barnes, the one whose brother is in the infirmary with Kate.
Barnes.
All dark and heavy muscled.
Chiseled features, piercing eyes.
Even a once neatly groomed beard and mustache the likes of which John has never been able to dream of growing if he'd even cared to.
He figures this guy would look more like a leader of anything more than him.
And still finds it odd.
"Is it okay if I get some coffee?"
When people defer to him like he's someone.
"Yeah, sure."
And John tries to remember to be social.
"Having trouble sleeping?"
The big guy huffs.
"Don't think I'll ever sleep again after what I've seen the last few weeks."
Sips the coffee, makes a face that reminds John of Kate.
"Ugh. That's a nightmare too. No offense."
John grins. Or at least thinks he does.
"None taken. Where'd you guys come from?"
The guy studies his coffee.
"Before all this? L.A. slums. Grew up gettin' chased by gang bangers. So, you know, this ain't all too far from home."
He chuckles humorlessly and John nods.
"Got out with football. High school. College. Went pro. Figured I'd just ride that sweet ticket right on up to the sky."
He pauses then, pauses.
And then when he does speak, his voice carefully detached.
"And then, uh, well, you know. Everything was just, just gone."
This casual summary is followed by a space of silence that John feels obligated to fill with humanity.
"How'd you survive?"
The guy shrugs again, sipping his coffee with the face that misses Jamaican Blue Mountain.
"My, uh, beach house had a panic room in the basement. When the sirens went off and the missiles started flying, me and my brother and some other people got down there and just hid."
Gentle press.
"Other people?"
Quiet reply.
"My girlfriend. His girlfriend."
John notices a gold chain around Barnes' thick ebony neck.
A cross, maybe.
"They, uh, they didn't make it. Shawnese got hit in the back trying to save a lady and her kid outside of Bakersfield. Dantrelle . . . she, uh, put a bullet in her mouth before we even made it out of Santa Clarita."
The guy's voice is flat, carefully disconnected.
And John . . .
"I'm sorry, man. That's awful."
"Yeah."
. . . remembers to have his humanity.
So most of Barnes's backstory comes from the book, yes I am that much of a nerd, leave me alone, I'm happy. ;)
But I added some.
Hope you enjoyed.
Thanks to MadMikeE for previously reviewing, who knows who all we'll get to meet down here in the bunker. And feel welcome keep the ideas coming.
