Author's Note: Sorry this hasn't been updated in a while. I had midterms. This chapter was planned differently, but the ending was still pretty much the same. Maybe I'll write it out and post it later as an Alternative. Maybe not. Next chapter coming soon!
The explosion had knocked loose chunks of concrete from the room's walls. Dust and sharp concrete debris littered the floor. The un-sturdy table had collapsed. One of the weapon storage cabinet's doors had been knocked off. Loose bullets skittered across the concrete with shallow clinks. The light flickered on and off. Over the crackling radio and his own erratic breathing, John could hear sporadic gunfire.
Kate was quivering in his arms. He had thrown himself over her instinctively.
"Are you okay!" he screamed into her ear.
She turned to face him. She had a shallow cut on her cheek and her nose was bleeding. She swiped the blood away with the back of her sleeve and nodded, "Yeah."
John relinquished her and dashed across the room in a ducked crouch. He reached for a discarded plasma rifle and held it up close to his face in the flickering light in order to check the gauge. The weapon was covered in dust and John swiped a filthy sleeve over the dusty weapon to reveal the gauge. 23 pulses remaining. Not much. John scavenged the floor for magazine power cells for the rifle. He stuffed the ones he found into his pocket. Kate joined in the effort
"You have to get out of here. It's not safe," John said as he clapped a helmet to his head. He got to his feet and charged the plasma rifle. It hummed to life in his hands. John liked this machine. It was one of the few he could control in this world. John scanned the floor for more weapons. He found some Light Canister Charges and a pipe bomb. He slammed them both into a pack and slung it over his side.
Kate was still there. Standing there. John was almost mad at her for endangering herself. What would he do if he lost her? Who would he fight for?
"Get to the other corridors. East wing. Help pass out weapons," John said gruffly. The gunfire was getting closer.
Kate picked up a plasma pistol from the floor and slammed a power cell into it. It hummed to life in her hand. She clipped her helmet strap under her chin.
"No, John. You aren't the only one who has something to fight for."
Something in her eyes was burning and John knew he couldn't stop her, "Okay. Then secure the Southern Wing corridors."
John knew there was no infiltration in the Southern Wing. The gunfire was coming from the Northern section.
Kate nodded, "Right," And then added, "Be careful, John."
John stood and adjusted his helmet, "I will. I've got something to fight for."
The two parted ways and John followed the sound of gunfire. His radio was telling him in panicked tones that there were three Infiltrators and two had already been contained. But where was the third?
A man rounded the corner. His back was to John and he kept his arm close to his chest and under his cloak. He was racing backwards shooting ahead at something. He brushed John. John stepped back, "Careful, soldier."
The man wheeled on John and threw him into the wall with a powerful backhand. John blinked stars from his eyes and got his first good look at the man.
The man turned on John and John saw the man's face was blown away. Underneath ragged skin, metal gleamed. His face was shredded diagonally and exposed both eyes as red pupils set in metal sockets. The Infiltrator was still very human. One arm was fleshy and the other was stripped to the metal.
John instinctively reached for the Light Canister Charge in his pack.
John twisted the Light Canister Charge explosive and it's ends lit up. Armed and ready to tear apart that walking metal menace. John wound back and pitched the canister at the Infiltrator. The Infiltrator's mechanical eyes narrowed to pinpricks of red light. They pierced through the smoke and bored right into John. The red eyes contrasted eerily to the still very fleshy Endoskeleton. John watched the machine raise its half-metal arm and catch the canister. It turned it over, probably analyzing it, and then wound back in order to vault the ticking time bomb back to John.
John never saw the Terminator throw the canister. He had already dived behind a barrel. He pressed his back against the barrel and braced himself. He prayed that the Infiltrator would miss his mark and completely miss the barrel.
John's prayers were answered. The Light Canister Charge exploded before the Infiltrator could throw it. The heat ate hungrily at the remaining flesh on the Infiltrator and fire clawed at the parts that had been blown from the Infiltrator. The roar quieted to a crackle as the fire feasted on a meal of metal.
John exhaled the breath he had been holding. He adjusted his helmet.
That's when he heard it: the sound of hot metal grinding on cold concrete. A slow, cruel scrape that seemed so harsh to John's ears. The thought dawned on him with a jolt of lightning; the damaged upper half of the Infiltrator was crawling towards him. The fingers that wouldn't stop dragging it along, the half-torso that didn't feel pain, and the freezing, pitiless eyes that didn't show fear…
John raised his plasma rifle and jumped from the shadows with his plasma rifle aimed at the ground. One of its arms was still fleshy and was clutching a plasma pistol while the other was bare metal. Its chest was full off bullet holes exposing tough armor. A worn, tattered green hood, ones commonly worn by refugees, was hanging by a thread from its neck. The crawling Infiltrator was closer than John had thought. It took a powerful swing with its fleshy arm at John's feet.
John felt his ankle give way and he instinctively tucked himself as he fell onto the ground. The corridor rotated before his eyes and he was staring into a red light: the Infiltrators eye. It dilated and narrowed and then brought its plasma pistol to John's head.
The tuck had put John in a favorable position. Perfect for lashing out with his boot and kicking the Infiltrator in the side of the head. The jar knocked the Infiltrator's targeting cross hair off target and the plasma pulse grazed John's shoulder. It scorched his uniform and scalded the skin beneath it. John threw his head back and howled in raw pain. The pain rippled through his body and John was immobilized for a moment. The Infiltrator crawled over John, pinning him beneath the machine's grip. He was so close. John could feel the hydraulics of the machine moving across him. So effortless. So calculated.
The Infiltrator reached for the plasma pistol. John knew. He knew that if he didn't act now, he wasn't going to survive. Nobody would save these people in the bunkers, that little boy who had asked him for bread, Kate…
Gritting his teeth against the pain, John pulled the trigger of the plasma rifle in rapid-fire succession and swiped it across the Terminator's head. The plasma rifle's rounds tore the Infiltrator's head wide open revealing sparking wires and melted computer chips. The plasma was never meant for that close range and John's face broke out in sweat almost instantly. His chest armor was smoking and the clasps were melting…
But the Infiltrator's bright red eyes were fading. John watched as the Infiltrator's eyes faded from fiery red to icy black. Black like the shade that was creeping over John's vision.
Kate's footsteps slapped the concrete as she dashed into the narrow corridor and her eyes fell upon John with the Infiltrator on his chest. She shrieked for John. He didn't response. Kate's heart was racing. Fear and adrenaline gripped her. Kate targeted the Infiltrator with her gun, but it didn't move. Cautiously, she stepped up to it. She lifted its head back and saw black eyes. That's when she got a good look at John. His face was red and blistered in patches across it and his armor was warped and still smoking.
It took effort, but Kate managed to roll the Infiltrator off of John. She dropped to her knees besides John. His breathing was rapid and shallow. His eyes were wide and fixed. Kate gently shook him, "John."
John continued to stare as perspiration collected above his lips and on his forehead.
Running out of options and desperate for any sign of recognition, Kate took John's face in her shaking hands and kissed his lips hard. They were hot and unresponsive. She drew back. She shook him once more. His limp fingers dropped his gun and it clattered to the floor.
Kate realized that John's shoulder was bleeding terribly. The twisted armor was preventing Kate from seeing the wound clearly. Kate tore a strip of cloth from the hem of her shirt and managed to stuff it under his armor and apply it to the wound. She watched the cloth soak up crimson blood.
That did it for Kate. The sight of blood, John's blood, was more than she could process.
"John! John!" she screeched as her voice began to break. She mouthed the words when her voice suddenly went hoarse. She distraughtly hoped that this was just a nightmare like so many others she had had. But in dreams, you don't feel pain and this couldn't be a dream because Kate was experiencing the most pain she had ever experienced in her life.
Two soldiers dashed out of a corridor. They didn't even pause when they saw John on the ground. Quite the contrary, they sped up. Private Lawley slid his arms under John's and pulled him from Kate's hold. John's head lolled to one side and his toasted helmet fell askew.
Corporal Hatch screamed orders into his radio about medical intention. He then rounded on Kate and said something about an infirmary, but none of it got through to Kate. She stared straight ahead with tears welling in her eyes as the images replayed in slow motion before her. Corporal Hatch took her by the arm and led her down a twisty path to the infirmary.