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

Post Apocalyptic Welcome Wagon

The survivors have come, a dirty, hysterical, terrified mess of them.

Clamoring down the hatch ladder, limp body maneuvered carefully between them.

"I think they're right behind us!"

"You can't know that, we were so careful!"

"It doesn't matter, they're everywhere!"

"You saw what they did to Jaime!"

"Shut up, just shut up!"

And it's chaos, it's loud, it's disorientating.

It's just been him and Kate and the comms station for so long.

Isolated.

Ordered.

Quiet.

Unnervingly so, sometimes.

Like waiting to take a breath.

And now . . .

"Take Jericho, take him! Watch his head, watch his head!"

. . . everything is upended.

The hatch is open, he's got to get it closed.

Their location is way too exposed. This is their only secure location and if it goes . . .

He catches a glimpse of the outside world.

The cloud cover is so thick and low and heavy, he can't tell whether the sun is there or not.

The heavy drone of a machine, some aero monstrosity, he thinks, thrums his eardrums.

There's a foul smell on the breeze.

If there is ever a time to hide in a hole, it's now.

So that's what John Conner does.

If they find out we're here, we're dead.

It doesn't matter how much concrete and dirt we've got on top of us.

He ducks his head back down and slams the escape hatch closed.

Spins the flywheel and uses all his adrenaline to heave it tight as best as he can.

He doesn't feel his feet or his hands take him down the ladder.

All he knows is . . .

". . . , Jericho! Stay with me, man! Stay with me!"

. . . there's a lot going on everywhere.

"Where's Conner? Where's John Conner?!"

"Yeah, yeah, that's me!"

The guy looks at him and John can guess what's passing through his mind at that instant.

Young, scrawny. Not military, not anything.

He knows how he looks.

But the old world is gone and he's been the voice on the comms for weeks now, he's the only one who knows what happened and why.

And so he guesses the guy will process it later because in the space of two seconds, he nods and keeps talking.

"Conner? I'm Tyler Russell, we've been trying to get here for days but the machines, they're everywhere!"

And John's nodding, trying to pay attention, spatially aware Kate's already been drawn away from him.

Bent over the unconscious guy on the gurney pulled in for just this probability.

Kate.

"What happened?"

"Shot. Ambushed by machines. Two days ago. Said he was okay. But this morning, we couldn't wake him up. Been dragging him all day-"

Talking a big, buff, black guy, with a similar build and facial structure to the guy Kate's hunkered over.

"Okay. Let's take him to the infirmary."

The guy John's been mildly disappointing calls out across the room toward the trio.

"He needs to be decontaminated."

And this is instantly shot down by Former Apprentice Veterinarian and Current Apocalypse Med-Book Trained Professional Katherine Brewster.

"No. He won't make it."

They have a decontamination room for removing the radioactive fallout that may still be clinging to them after SkyNet told all the supercomputers to launch the nuke codes and wipe out the human race.

"I'll have to clean him as I go and hope for the best."

And she turns and she, along with the big guy, . . .

"Come on."

. . . push the gurney out of the chamber.

John loses sight of her, bites down on a call out for her to come back or be safe or some other dumbshit statement he impulsively wants to yell out.

Instead he turns to the loose assortment of bedraggled survivors.

No more than ten, counting the two gone with Kate and the guy who's already trying to engage intelligences.

They're dirty, they're hungry.

Some of them are sick and wounded.

And they're all very . . .

"Everyone. Everyone please listen to me. Please listen."

. . . very scared.

And John realizes he doesn't quite know what to say to them or what to do to reassure them.

But Kate told him awhile back to reach out and give them hope.

So that's what he tries. . .

"My name is John Conner. This is Crystal Peak."

. . . to do.

"We have food and supplies."

As simply as . . .

"You're safe here. The machines can't get in."

. . . he can.

This seems to allow the people before him to breathe a shaky sigh of relief they have sorely needed.

All but . . .

"So what do we do now, Conner?"

. . . one.

"What?"

He thought he did well.

And now there's this guy again.

Tyler Russell, tall, gaunt, haggard.

Older by at least a decade.

"I said, what do we do now?"

John shakes his head, realizes this is going to be it.

Over and over again.

"Nothing. We survive."

For a very, very long time.

And the guy just stares at him.

"What?"

The disbelief.

He grits his teeth, forces himself to stay calm.

He knows the others are hearing this conversation.

Knows they're going to be hurt by it too.

"Survive. That's all we can do for now."

It's difficult to hear.

"We can't . . . we can't beat them?"

The brutal reality that there isn't going to be a grand and glorious resurgence for the human race against the machines just yet.

Movie-worthy uprising and imminent beatdown of the foolishly arrogant machines.

Not yet.

This isn't Independence Day, buddy.

Sorry.

And he tries to encourage.

"You have beaten them right now. You're here. You're alive. That's what they don't want."

In the face of the guy's spiraling dejection.

"You mean, we . . . can't take it all back?"

Take what back? The rubble?

But he gets it

And he can't lie to him.

"No. Not yet."

It wouldn't do any good but delay the inevitable realization anyway.

"Eventually. But right now . . ."

And he has to tell him the truth, tell them all.

". . . we survive."

Thanks to DinahRay and MadMikeE for reviewing previously!