Disclaimer: I of course…don't own any of The Terminator legend. The world and its characters belong to James Cameron and the Hollywood powers that be. I'm simply borrowing them for a while.
T4-Connor's War
Chapter 4
Dr. Luke Mitchell would never know if his wife, Ellen was dead. She was of course. Along with the rest of San Francisco. But he would spend the rest of his life praying against the odds.
He'd lost contact with her when he was kicked off line in his Marriott Hotel suite. Chucking it up to a minor network error, and too rushed to give her a quick call, he barely gave it a second thought as he left to meet his son Chris and new fiancée, Kimberly, that afternoon for dinner. But Luke never made it to dinner that night. The floor of his silver Lexus shook violently and he at once assumed it was an earthquake. Having lived in California his whole life though, he was used to those tremors and it was soon apparent this was something far more severe.
Luke Mitchell was 52 years old but looked not a day over 40. Grays and whites streaked through his hair and beard, accenting his angular features and brown eyes. He was known, in fact, by his nurses and associates as Doctor Striker!…all his nurses were dead now.
It was useless to go out looking for Ellen. Foolish in fact as he had barely made it to that desolate gas station/convenient store on the outskirts o town. It was there he came across Rico Ferrari, a kid really, barely 18 left by himself to run the store. In him, Luke seized the opportunity he had now lost with his own son. Refusing to deal with the grief of losing his only boy, the good doctor set about helping the lad who had sustained mild injuries and the two of them set out across the American wasteland.
Now…sitting here in this place Mr. Connor had called Crystal Peak, the cries of the woman down the hall echoing in her mind as she mourned her own losses, there was nothing left to do but grieve. Before the tears came however, he was again distracted by a small clattering down the corridor. For the second time that night, Luke ventured down the hall and peered into the next room. It was the room Kate had given the boy…the boy who hadn't said a word since they picked him up. The boy had flipped his cot on its side and was hunched against the wall, wide awake behind it and clutching a flashlight to his chest. Luke was reminded strangely not of a boy, but of a soldier holding his own in the trenches of World War II. Still, the fear in his eyes was unmistakably that of a 12 year old.
"Hey Champ," he offered, tapping into paternal instincts lying dormant since he divorced Alice. The boy made no indication that he even heard. Luke stepped forward. "You uh…you ok?" Again, nothing but an empty stare. His physician instincts urged him to bend down, examine him, search for brain damage, illness. But he did nothing- which is what he suspected he would find anyway. This kid was impervious. Luke recalled watching Kate try for hours to make some kind of connection with him. It was no wonder he'd had no better luck. Defeated, Luke's shoulders slumped and he retreated back without a word.
His back to the room now, Luke never saw the boy's eyes dart up, watch him, study him, stealthy and alert as he walked away.
* * *
"So, you think once they…re-mobilize, they'll come after us here next?" Jo asked, her voice still shaking, but far calmer than her hysterical shriek from the previous evening.
John nodded, not looking up from the AK-47 he was assembling. Jo stared half frightened-half comforted by how rapidly his hands moved over the contraptions of the weapon. "It's only a matter of time. We have to move out soon, establish new grounds they can't detect."
"But this is a secure location right?" Mike asked from his place in the corner. "I mean, we're miles below ground…weapons, surveillance?" It was morning at Crystal Peak. After a rather restless night for everyone, Jo and Mike ventured out early and discovered John in med-labs, taking inventory and organizing more weapons than either had ever seen. Shortly after, Kate joined them, groggy but capable as she began to redress a bandage on Mike's forearm. Eventually, the entire crew had assembled. Even Martin Kane, who after enduring several of his own nightmares, was significantly subdued. The only one missing…was the boy.
"You have to remember this is a government facility," John continued, glancing up and acknowledging Mike. "The location was undisclosed to most of the army. But it's in a database somewhere. They'll find it…and destroy it."
Ricco, sitting atop an elevated stretcher, shifting uncomfortably as Dr. Mitchell gave him another shot of pain medication, sighed audibly, "So this is what it's gonna be like? Us just… running from place to place 'till they catch us?"
John paused his work and regarded the teen. But it was Kate who answered. "Only until we've built up enough of a resistance to fight them." The room was silent, unconvinced. She tried again, "we're already stronger now." She looked to John for help…but he was just grinning at her.
"So…where to?" Kane asked, his eyes still determinedly fixed on the coffee pot he'd been staring at all morning. It was the first time he'd spoken since his outburst the night before.
John cocked back his finished rifle, "South."
* * *
The boy remained behind his fort, now reinforced by a second cot, several crates and an average-sized camp stove. John was torn between admiration for his resilience…and the temptation to chuckle at the absurd sight before him. After all, the machines were unlikely to be deterred by a 1957 authentic Texsport deluxe…and where did he get that thing anyway?
The boy didn't seem to mind John leaning against the doorframe. In fact, it didn't seem like he'd noticed.
"Connor," he heard behind him. He turned to see Kane standing a good foot or so taller than himself, propped up against the wall. "We've hot-wired two more RV's and a couple transport trucks. 5 vehicles in all that are still functional."
For a moment, John contemplated this very sudden and almost surreal event. He had asked Kane and Ferrari to check the bunker for functional transportation units. Asked not told. But here he was, two hours later with results in hand, ready to de-brief. His first order. Followed. It had happened. John Connor had taken command.
"Connor?" Kane's impatient grunt brought him back to Earth.
"Good. Tell Kate to start loading supplies. She knows which crates we tagged from med-labs and operations. And see if Mitchell's had any luck with the uplink tower." He held his breath, anticipating resentment, protest, an affronted look…He got a straight nod, and Kane disappeared. John gaped at this man, who probably hated him right now, walking down the hallway to do as he was told without confrontation. John Connor… leader of the world-wide resistance…Leader. Until now that word never seemed real. He wondered briefly if he should be bothered. If it was at all inappropriate that it felt…natural.
He turned back to the boy's quarters and nearly jumped. The child's eyes were not fixated on the wall any longer but boring straight into John's. John froze as the boy studied him, his scathing glare a mixture of caution and curiosity. The first real connection he had made to anyone in the crew. John stood motionless, trapped in his trance.
The new leader hesitated, afraid of shattering this unspoken trust that had been established. Then he moved forward. The boy didn't flinch. Gradually, John positioned himself right outside the camp-fire fort and crouched down, their eyes now level. The boy was taking harsh and sharp breaths, sweat breaking along his young brow, but still his glare held firm. There was something…disturbing there.
Slowly, he extended his hand over the upturned cot, "I'm John," he said.
The boy remained still, as if struggling to make the final decision to leave his sheltered world behind the cots and accept the world they now had to face. Finally, he gripped John's hand, his arm darting out from his fort, and his small voice finally making itself known. "I'm Seth."
* * *