We continued to speed off down the freeway.
I rubbed my sore, bruised neck, dragging blessed air into my lungs. Jesus, this wasn't funny anymore. Had I somehow stumbled into an alternate dimension without knowing it? These things just don't happen in real life. I glanced across at the grim-faced man beside me and an idea hit me – Last Action Hero. Maybe these guys had somehow stepped out of their movie and into ours… Yeah right, and I was really James Bond in disguise. I shook my head, groaning.
Reese flicked me a quick glance. "Are you injured? Are you shot?" I was too busy wallowing in self pity, muttering "why me?", to hear him. He reached over and ran a hand over my arms, legs and torso to search for wounds.
"Hey!" I shoved his hand away, scooting sideways in my seat to get as far from him as possible. "Touch me again and I'll sue your harassing ass off, buster." I glared at him angrily. He was the one who'd gotten me into this mess to begin with. And I wasn't about to try what Sarah Connor did in the movie – open the door and allow him the satisfaction of giving me that 'Do exactly what I say' speech.
"Has it ever occurred to you that you might have the wrong person?" I asked.
"No." His reply was immediate. Taking the next turn-off, he drove through some side streets before cruising to a stop in the middle of a narrow alleyway. Cutting the engine, he turned to me. "There was a war. A few years from now; nuclear. All this…" he gestured. "All this is gone. Everything….just, gone."
Oh no. He's going to give me that whole future war spiel. I decided to cut to the chase. "Alright, let's see it. Let's see that barcode tattoo thing of yours."
He pushed back his sleeve to reveal the 10 digit number etched into his skin above a pattern of lines like a barcode. "Burned in by laser scan," he said.
So, he had that detail covered too, did he?Laughing a little, I said, "Next thing you'll be telling me I have a son named John."
He seemed surprised that I knew. "You do, Sarah. An unborn son. He taught us to fight. To storm the wire of the camps." His voice was filled with raw emotion as he stared intently into my eyes. I swallowed. Was this guy for real? He seemed to believe every word of it. As I stared up at him, it suddenly dawned on me how John Connor came about – that night Sarah and Reese slept together in the motel…
Uh oh. I mean, don't get me wrong. This delusional dude was kinda goodlooking, in a scary, dangerous kind of way, but me and him…? No way.
In a flash, I went for the door handle. Lucky for me, four guys had just entered the alley. "Hey, help me! Over here! Help!" I yelled out the window while Reese tried to restrain me. As they approached, I realized these guys might not exactly be the helpful type. The leader flipped out a knife.
"Give us ya wallets!" he held out a tattooed hand, pointing the knife threateningly at Reese.
Reese turned his head and fixed the guy with a hard, expressionless stare. He lifted the Remington until the long, black barrel pointed directly at the guy. The guy's eyes widened and he backed off, hands raised. "Hey, hey, ok! I get it!" He and his gang took off down the alley.
"Don't do that again." Reese told me coldly.
I slumped in my seat, watching the four guys disappear around the corner.
Suddenly, a police cruiser turned the corner – seeing the grey LTD, it bore straight down the alley toward us. I stared at the driver, my heart lurching in renewed fear as I recognized that face. Guess who? Yep, you got it. "Man, doesn't this guy ever give up?"
