Chapter 8: Sergeant Jones

December 3rd, 1992

06:40 P.M.

Durango, Mexico

—

"Where are you going?"

Sarah Connor walked hurriedly around the small flat, gathering everything she would need inside of a colorful bag she had received from Jolanda Salceda several years ago. She spoke briskly as she shoved things inside, including one of their pistols.

"I'm going to find a local bar and try to get some work."

John stared at her with a confused expression as he held his last taco in his hand.

"As a waitress?"

"No. I'm trying to find another crew I can join. We need money and we need to continue training."

John nodded slowly and took a bite out of his taco, knowing there was no point in arguing with her. Sarah slid on her leather jacket and walked over to John, bending down to kiss his forehead.

"I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay."

"If I'm not back by 9, call me."

"Okay."

Sarah stepped away from her son with a small smile and left him to finish his taco. She opened the door and hesitated to leave; wanting to remind John of everything he needed to do in an emergency but instead she drew in a deep breath and locked the door behind her. John knew the rules and she needed to start trusting in that. She hopped in the truck and drove around Durango, eagerly searching for the closest bar.

The first one she found was a run-down building with faded yellow and red colors with the techiest thing being a neon sign that said open. She parked in the small lot and locked the truck behind her, keeping her bag on her shoulder and her hand ready to move just in case. She noticed a sign that read 'Brother's Bar' in Spanish and opened the wooden doors. The building was hot just like it was outside and reeked of body odor and alcohol.

Sarah drew in a slow breath and watched men and women holding beers as they played cards at tables strewn across the restaurant. There was faint music in the background but Sarah hardly paid attention to that. She walked to the counter and dug through her purse for a few pesos, ordering a beer. The elderly man smiled and nodded, placing the beer bottle on the counter. She opened it and took a sip, turning in her seat to look over the different people in the bar. There was nothing out of the ordinary but Sarah could tell that there were some people that seemed more uptight than others.

She took another sip and turned her back to the people, trying to think of her next move. She stared at the beer bottle in her hand and reminded herself not to drink a lot tonight. She didn't want John to see her drunk. Besides, she had never really liked alcohol anyways. Its purpose was to distract and distort the mind and that was something Sarah could never afford to do.

"You look like a woman who could drink her problems away."

Sarah turned in her seat to see a tall, muscular man wearing torn blue jeans, a gray flannel shirt and brown boots. He wasn't the most handsome man but he did have unique features; long nose, jutting chin, light blue-gray eyes, and short dirty blonde hair. He nodded toward the seat next to Sarah and she nodded back, letting him sit next to her. He took a sip of his beer before turning to her with a white smile. Sarah shook her head as she looked back at him.

"There isn't enough alcohol in this country to wash away my problems… not without killing me."

The man nodded slowly as he let out a slow breath.

"You don't seem like the other woman here. You're tense…"

His eyes flicked to her biceps before going back to her eyes.

"And strong."

Sarah smiled dryly.

"I like to work out. It keeps me sane."

"Who are you? Ex-soldier?"

Sarah hesitated to answer the question, not wanting to spin another web of lies but he couldn't know who she was. Her life was meant to be told as someone else's story.

"Army and dishonorably discharged. Mission went south right around the time I was in a relationship with my commander. It didn't end well. So here I am in Mexico… wasting away."

Sarah opened her mouth to talk about her son but decided to close it, taking another sip of her beer to make it look like she was exasperated.

"What about you?"

"Sgt. Frank Jones, Army. I had my share of adventures as well. I served my time and then left. I wasn't the same person when I got out. I was… damaged."

Sarah nodded slowly as she watched for tells that he was lying but she couldn't find any.

"Yeah… the PTSD alone is hell."

Sarah stretched out her hand and shook Frank's.

"Sarah Reese."

"Nice to meet you, Reese."

"It's always nice to find a brother or sister in arms."

Sarah turned away for a moment, making it look like she was taking another sip but she was faking it. She tried to think of as many details as she could. She had just reinvented herself… again and she needed a story. After a few silent moments, she turned back to the man sitting beside her.

"What can an ex-soldier do around here? Any good jobs?"

"That depends on what you want to do. I'm sure they could use another waitress somewhere."

Sarah scowled at him as he chuckled softly but made sure to make it look playful.

"I've already been a waitress before and it's not something I would do again. I'm trying to find something to match my skill set."

"And what is that skill set?"

Sarah stared straight into the ex-soldier's eyes as she spoke.

"Military grade firearms, handguns, edged weapons, explosives, and hand-to-hand combat."

Frank shifted in his seat, glancing over at the bartender, before he looked back to Sarah.

"I'll ask around and see what I can find. I'll see you in three days."

Sarah nodded and turned away from him with a small smile.

"Thanks, Jones."

"Sure thing, Reese."