The Secret Diary of Cameron Baum

FRIDAY

The day begins with a lie.

Mia wakes up and announces she is sick, far too sick to attend school. I suspect this a ruse designed not so much to avoid lessons than spend more time here with Mac, who is presently in the yard doing press ups. With his shirt off. Yowza.

Sarah Connor too smells a rat. Not literally, of course; no rodent would dare linger in a house I inhabit.

"If you're sick how come you've just eaten for breakfast two pop tarts and all the leftover kung poa chicken?"

"Sick people get hungry too! And look at my temperature. It's really high."

She hands over a thermometer, sourced from the first aid cabinet.

Sarah Connor examines the mercury in the slim glass tube. She grimaces. "One hundred twenty degrees. That's bad."

"See. I told you!"

"According to this, you should already be dead."

"Okay, well, maybe I'm not quite that sick."

"Did you put this under the hot water faucet?"

"What? No! I'd never do that. Just ask Snowy."

Snowy nods his head vigorously. He's not the brightest when it comes to subterfuge.

"Don't listen to him! He's only a dog."

"Get your coat. You're going to school."

"Suppose I've got the plague? I could infect the entire school."

"It's a risk I'm prepared to take. Coat."

"You can't do this! I'll call social services. Or the President. Or Mark Zuckerberg!"

"Or you could go to school and we'll think about getting that phone you want," John proposes to a frown from Sarah Connor. Bribery is so not her thing.

"Really? The premium model?"

"All the bells and whistles. Better hurry though the deal expires in five...four...three..."

"I'll get my coat!"

-0-

Mac comes in from the yard where he's exercised for the last twenty-three minutes. He's shirtless. Sarah Connor throws him a towel to wipe the sheen of moisture adhering to his upper torso. Too bad he doesn't have self-regulating pores like some of us present.

"Good workout?" John asks. He and Daniel are seated at the kitchen table perusing the newspaper funnies. I don't get these at all. How come Jon doesn't have Garfield euthenised? It would save him a whole lot of bother.

"Pretty good," Mac concedes. "If I go more than a day without a workout I start to feel flabby."

"Please. There's not an ounce of fat on you," Daniel comments. "Er - not that I've paid much attention.

John smirks but says nothing.

"Your shirt will be dry in five minutes."

"Okay. Thanks, Sarah."

Mac is still wearing the clothes he arrived in. He didn't bring a change, trusting in his ability to find his sister and rescue her from harm in less than a day. Normally such confidence would not be misplaced. Mac is a trained soldier and carries impressive muscle on an already imposing frame. In the future men such as he will be mown down like corn. Survival instincts favor more wiry humans who aren't so gung ho. Or such clear and obvious targets.

Mac picks up one of Sarah Connor's homemade protein shakes. "You're not going to drink that, are you?" Daniel asks.

"Sure. Best protein shake I've ever tasted."

"But it's green."

"That's the spirulina," Sarah Connor explains.

"It looks like a glass full of boogers."

Mac shrugs. "I like it. You'll have to give me the recipe."

He downs the contents in five swallows. Daniel looks like he's going to be sick. Even John looks queasy. Neither have ever managed to swallow more than a mouthful. And Snowy? He whimpers like a baby if he hears the liquidiser running.

"Here's your shirt."

"Thanks."

Mac pulls on his tee. It's a snug fit. "Didn't they have one in your size?" Daniel quips.

"XXXL. That is my size." He looks around and says, "So...you folks gonna tell me how you plan to beat the thing that looks like my sister? Because I don't know about you but I'm ready to kick the shit outta some hellspawn shiny metal ass."

Well! That's him off my christmas card list.

-0-

We convene in the command HQ at the top of the house.

Mac is shown all the information we have on the T-1000 - the maps, photographs and drone footage. He's especially interested in the bit where the T-1000 elongates her arms to close the rear of the truck, replaying it over and over again. Everyone loves the money shot. I wonder why it's called that? Later I will Google 'money shot' and find out. There might even be pictures.

"You think my sister's in here? My real sister not those...cybermen."

"Cyborg," I correct. Cybermen? Honestly, he'll be calling us Daleks next.

"It's possible," John says carefully. We have to mind not to be too negative about his sister's slim chances of still being alive. This especially applies to me. Apparently I can be too blunt.

"You think she's dead, don't you?"

"Yes," I state bluntly. Oops, can't take me anywhere.

"That's also a possibility," John admits, aiming a frown in my direction. "There's no sugar coating this one; these things are deadly."

"What are they doing inside the building?"

"We don't know. Nothing good that's for sure."

"We're going in tonight. Take down anything that moves and blow the place sky high. " Sarah Connor. She can give Mac a run for his money in the gung ho stakes.

"Sounds like a plan! How do we get in - here at the front entrance? These guys cybermen?"

"Cyborgs."

"No, they're human. Almost certainly they know nothing about who they're working for. They just open and close the gate and make the occasional security patrol."

"Should be an easy takedown then."

"Probably. But we're not going to do that."

"Then how do we get in?"

"From the air down onto the roof. See the door there? Go in from above. Perfect element of surprise"

"How - parachutes?"

"Drones. Individual drones."

Mac grins. "Seriously? Well, alright!"

"There's one thing you have to do first."

"What's that?"

"You gotta learn to fly."

-0-

The wheels leave the tarmac for the desert hardpan, making the scrunchy sounds that have become so familiar of late. John steers carefully between the mesquite bushes and the towering spires of segura cacti, only bringing the pickup to a stop when we are far enough from the road to be safe from prying eyes.

Mac is the first to exit, takes a few steps then gazes at the desolate landscape with a soppy grin on his face, looking for all the world like a newbie tourist seeing some national monument for the first time.

"So this is the California desert. Wow. Got nothing like this in Ohio."

"First time? I thought you jarheads did your survival training in places like this."

"Not me. Got dropped in Belize for a week. That's rain forest country. You wouldn't believe the size of the bugs."

John lifts Snowy off the backseat and carefully places him on the ground. He was loitering in the driveway as we were preparing to leave, putting on his sad face when it seemed we were going somewhere without him. John took pity and brought him along for the ride. Despite being a dog of meagre intelligence, Snowy is remarkably adept at reading human emotions and manipulating them to his advantage. Perhaps if I ask him nicely he'll give me some pointers.

"Don't go wandering too far. We're not gonna be here very long."

Snowy barks twice then sets off, tail wagging and nose low to the ground, detecting scents far more exotic than any found on a Santa Monica sidewalk.

I go to the back of the pickup and peel back the tarpaulin, carefully lifting out one of the drones.

Mac eyes it dubiously. "You really expect that to lift me in the air? It's the size of a pizza. I weigh two-twenty and change."

"It's rated for two-fifty," I assure him.

"Battery's good for twenty minutes," says John. "Oh - and you'll need this." He hands over the controller.

"For real? This looks like it's from a Playstation console."

"Nintendo, actually. We were in a rush and had to improvise."

Mac lets himself be strapped into the harness with the drone attached, his body language that of a man who thinks he's being pranked.

"Go up to three hundred feet. Then practise flying horizontally. That's the flightplan for tonight."

The rotors start to buzz. The harness takes the strain. Mac's feet lift off the ground.

"Holy crap, I'm flying!"

"Three hundred feet. Remember, don't drop the controller."

"What happens if I do?"

"You die," I tell him.

"Roger that. Don't drop the controller."

Mac ascends into the sky, slowly at first then faster as he realises he isn't going to plummet to his death.

John watches with his head back, both hands shading his eyes from the sun. "So what do you think of Mac?" he asks.

"The bearings are running a little hot. We'll have to watch his payload."

"Not that. As part of the team."

"He's career army. Physically fit. If he can shoot straight and remain calm in a crisis he should prove an asset."

"So I'm right to bench Lieberman?"

"Daniel has many qualities, although he struggles to hit a target at anything other than close range."

"I guess you're right."

"You sound dubious."

"It's just...this guy rolls into LA with nothing but the shirt on his back thinking he can rescue his sister by sheer brute force. No plan. Nothing."

"He's headstrong. But his army training suggests he willl obey orders."

"Whose orders? Ours? Maybe. And if he doesn't find his sister he might be a loose cannon we can't control. And if we bench him how's he gonna react?"

"So, a decision to make. You could discuss it with your mother. Her advice is occasionally rewarding."

"She'd love you for saying that."

"There is no circumstance in which Sarah Connor would ever love me. Except as melted down slag."

John smiles and gazes upwards, lost in thought. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

After eighteen minutes Mac begins his descent. Once his feet touch the ground I grab the drone and detach it from the harness.

"How was it?"

"Amazing! I could see for miles. Is this how people travel in the future?"

"Not unless they want to be easy kills for laser cannon."

We walk over to the pick up. John reaches under the tarp and produces a pistol. He shows it to Mac. "Know what this is?"

"Looks like a Glock nine mill. Where'd you get that?"

"Doesn't matter." He reaches under the tarp and takes out an empty glass Coca Cola bottle. Mia favors the glass over plastic because she thinks it is kinder to the enviroment. One day the enviroment will have a lot more thrown at it than excess plastic.

"Think you can hit this if I toss it in the air?"

"Pretty sure I can."

"You ready?"

Mac racks the chamber. "Whenever you are."

John walks several paces then throws the bottle as high as he can. It tumbles over and over around its central axis.

Maybe Mac is over confident. Or impatient. Or the sun is in his eyes. He pulls the trigger while the bottle is still rising. And misses.

The bottle falls back down, ever a slave to gravity. By some small miracle it doesn't smash on impact.

"Shit. Thought I had it. Go again."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. Again. Double or nothing."

John retrieves the bottle and tosses it high in the air. This time Mac waits until the highest point. He squeezes the trigger.

The bottle shatters into pieces.

"Nice shot."

"Got any more bottles? I'm just getting warmed up."

"No more bottles. Check the clip."

"Huh. Empty."

"Two rounds. If you'd missed with both..."

"I'd be on the first bus back to Ohio. A test. I get it. You don't know me from Adam."

"That's right. We don't."

John holds out his hand for the pistol. Mac shakes his head. "Maybe I hang onto this for safe keeping."

"Give. Me. The. Gun."

Mac's smile vanishes. John spoke softly yet with undeniable authority. There is suddenly palpable tension in the air. The army grunt and the once and future leader of Resistance stare each other down. Neither seems willing to blink.

Mac looks away first, fixing a grin to his face that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He holds out the gun. "Sure thing, boss."

John pushes the gun behind his back and under his belt. "Okay, mission accomplished. You've got your flight wings. Now let's find Snowy and get the hell outta here."

This is easier said than done. Snowy doesn't appear when called.

"Where is that dog? What did I tell him?"

"Don't go wandering too far. We're not gonna be here very long."

"Exactly. Find him. We don't have time for hide and seek."

I take out my cell phone and open the relevent app. All Snowy's collars are lo-jacked for just such a contingency. "Four hundred yards west. Stationary."

"Probably taking a nap. Let's go."

Snowy isn't taking a nap. He's wide awake and trembling with fear, standing on a plateau of bare rock. Facing him is a large lizard, regarding this intruder with a predator's eye, as if undecided which bit to chomp first.

"Shoo, ugly. Get lost."

The lizard slopes away at John's approach.

"Hey, buddy. You ready to come home with us?"

Snowy begins barking non stop.

"He's saying-"

"Yeah, I think I cracked the code."

Back at the pick up, Mac is leaning against the hood, eyes closed, face turned towards the sun. "Find your dog?"

"Yeah. He was about to be chow for an ugly big-ass lizard."

"An ugly big-ass lizard, huh? Don't get too many of those in Ohio."

"Trust me, you're not missing much."

-0-

Since Cameron subprime will be joining in the raid tonight she needs to be introduced to Mac.

We have a simple cover story in place: she is my sister who lives apart from me in her own apartment across town. To aid the deception Cameron subprime has altered her look slightly, curling her hair with hot tongs and donning a pair of eyeglasses. Everyone knows glasses are an impenetrable disguise. No one suspects Clark Kent of being Superman. Why? Glasses.

Introductions are made. Mac grins and says, "Hey, you two are identical! Are you twins?"

Identical? Ah hel-lo? Glasses.

"My name is Jan. I live across town though I converse with my sister regularly by phone. Do you wish to know what we converse about?"

"If you're anything like my sister, celebrities and fashion?"

"Correct. Small puppy dogs would also have been an acceptable answer."

"Are you from the future as well?"

"Yes. I am a major in the Resistance."

"Are all the Resistance women as beautiful as you two?"

"Oh no, many have missing limbs and bleeding sores caused by the radiation."

Daniel starts coughing loudly. Perhaps he has a frog in his throat. This is not an actual frog and doesn't require extraction with a pair of long handle pincers. That's one mistake I won't be making again.

Sarah Connor enters the room. She's come from driving Mia and Snowy to Megan's house for a quickly scheduled sleepover.

"How was she? Did she kick up a fuss?" John asks.

"Not too bad. She's eager to show her friend that new phone you bribed her with. I can't believe it cost so much. In my day-"

"-you had wax tablets and a stylus?"

Mac laughs. "Come on, your mom's not that old."

"That model phone holds its value really well," Daniel observes. "I had a girlfriend who worked in an Apple store."

"Girlfriend? I figured you for gay," Mac says.

"Well, I'm straight," Daniel insists clearly affronted. "Very straight. Steeped in straightness."

"Hey, no offence. Guy in my platoon's gay. Least he listens to Celine Dion. That's a gay thing, right?"

"No! What music do you listen to?"

"Oh you know, Garth Brooks. Classic Merle. Kentucky bluegrass.

You can take the boy out of the country but you can't take the country out of the boy...

-0-

As the afternoon progresses, preparations are begun. Daniel and Cameron subprime take the Suburban and head for the firebreak road in the San Fernando valley where they will launch a camera drone and keep the factory complex under constant observation until it's time for the assault to begin after midnight.

In the safe house various weapons, ammunition and high explosives are brought from their hiding places and spread across the kitchen floor.

Mac whistles at the sheer quantity displayed. "This is some home arsenal! Where'd you get this stuff?"

"It's better if you don't know."

"That's semtex over there. You guys know how to use it?"

"It's not our first rodeo," Sarah Connor smirks.

"The ammo's armor-piercing," John explains. "A head shot is the kill shot. If that's not on, go for the leg joints. It'll at least slow them down. Don't hit the torso."

"Why not?"

"It's where the powercell's located. And the thickest armor. Chances are it'll do nothing. But if the powercell is pierced it'll cause a massive explosion."

"Isn't that what we want?"

"Not if we're in the building."

"Got it. Head. Lower limbs. Nix the torso."

"What's your weapon of choice?"

"I'll take the M-16."

A finely calibrated pair of scales is produced. The payload limit for us all is two hundred fifty pounds.

Mac steps on first. He's getting close to the limit with just the M-16. We add several magazines and he tops out at two hundred fortyseven.

"Dang, thought I was leaner than that. It's because I haven't hit the gym in two days. I'm turning into a fat slob."

"Yeah, that'll do it," John deadpans.

I'm up next. I'm to carry a handgun, ammo, semtex and thermite. I top out at two hundred fortynine. John makes a note of the payload and duplicates it for Cameron subprime to carry. Mac doesn't question how he knows we weigh the same. It is not socially acceptable to question a woman about her weight. It is acceptable to stare at her boobs and tell her she has a sweet cabose, at least it is if you're Harvey Weinstein.

John and his mother make their selections. "Trouble is we don't know what we'll need the most of," Sarah Connor states, regarding the large amount of kit we'll have to leave behind. "Will we have shoot stuff, blow it up or burn it down."

"Can't you build like an unmanned drone to carry more?"

"Don't have the parts," John explains.

"So this is future tech?"

"Some of it. Most is off the shelf from the here and now."

"What about wearing body armor?"

"We'd have to reduce the payload. And it's of no real use if a triple-8 gets their hands on you. They can punch right through it."

"The Deontay Wilder of the cyborg world, huh."

"Don't you mean Anthony Joshua?"

"That pumped up brit? Nah, he's all showy gym muscle."

Pot kettle. Kettle pot.

-0-

By the time everything is stowed in the pick up truck it is early evening. Daniel and Cameron subprime have reached the firebreak and have sent aloft a camera drone.

"Do you see it? Do you see what I'm seeing?" Daniel yells excitedly over the FaceTime link.

We're gathered round a laptop screen.

"Holy crap, is that a bus?"

"It's a freaking school bus!"

On the screen a long low bus is backed up to one of the loading bays.

"When did it arrive?"

"Five minutes after we sent the drone up. One driver, a triple-8. He backed it up to the loading bay then got out and went inside."

"Please tell me there were no children aboard."

"No, it's totally empty."

"That's one blessing."

"What do they need a school bus for?" Sarah Connor contemplates aloud what we're all thinking.

"Transportation? Maybe they're making bombs."

"Why not use a truck? No windows. More private."

"Buses are designed to carry people." John turns to me. "Could they be building terminators in there?"

"Highly unlikely. The exo-skeletons require a smelting furnace with tall chimneys belching smoke night and day. There is zero evidence of that. Plus the power cells use plutonium. This is virtually impossible to source in this time period, legally or by criminal means."

John stares at the screen. "Whatever's happening is about to go down very soon. We can't wait till midnight. We need to move now."

"It's still light outside."

"It'll be dark by the time we drive over there."

"You heard the man," Mac says with a defiant expression on his handsome face. "To coin a phrase, people, let's roll."

-0-

Next: The Endgame commences...