Part 14: A Final Message
They sleep together; she is still wrapped in his arms come morning. But she greets him with a smile, lets him give her a final squeeze before he hops out of bed to the bathroom, seems more easy than she has in all the time he has been with her.
He comes out of the bathroom, and she's pouring orange juice, snacking on wedges of cheese and helping Savannah mix pancake batter.
"I'm starving," she announces. "Can we go out today? To a restaurant, maybe? And I want to check out that main street you found. We need some things."
"Do we?"
"Well, unless you plan to stay in this dump forever. I had an idea, actually. Of some place we could go. But we'll need some things."
"I think it would be fun to live in a spaceship," Savannah says.
Sarah ignores that. "I'm starving," she says again. "Don't we have any food here?"
"Get dressed," he says. "I'll finish up in here."
He whips up the pancakes, spreads half of them with peanut butter, makes them into little sandwiches. He wraps the lot of them in foil, then transfers the glasses of orange juice into empty water bottles. When Sarah comes out of the bathroom, refreshed, he hands her a sandwich.
"For the road," he says.
Savannah picks up on the changed mood, and spends the whole ride chattering. She wants a doll, she says. A friend for Mr. Fur. She wants a new dress. She wants pink sunglasses.
They find a fifties-style diner, and Sarah shrieks. "There. A restaurant."
She's polished off three of the pancake sandwiches already. But he pulls into the parking lot, helps his girls inside. He orders the large platter for himself, expecting to share with Savannah: eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns and toast. Sarah orders one too, and to his surprise, polishes off the lot of it.
Then they drive into town, and she is disappointed. "What we need is a camping store," she says. "And a Walmart. But definitely, a camping store. We're good for money, right?"
"I've started setting up some things," he admits. "I'll need to stop in LA at some point, make some last arrangements. I've told them I am taking Savannah away for awhile. Out west, to visit family."
"Good. That's good."
"But with her mother's death, she inherits a controlling stock in Zeira Corp. That will have to be addressed at some point. She can't be Savannah Johnson forever. And I might have to be James Ellison sometimes."
She shrugs. "That won't really matter once we go off-grid."
"Oh. Is that your plan?"
"Is there another way? At least until the dust settles some and she's old enough to defend herself?"
He supposes that's a good point. "And you? We'll need a cover story, Sarah, even if we are off-the grid. The two of you traveling with me..."
"You have legitimate papers for that, as James Ellison," she says. "You took in the little girl after her mother disappeared. Call me...call me the nanny if you want to, I don't care. I'll wear a burqa, keep my mouth shut and blend in if you need me to. But honestly, it's really not going to be an issue. We'll go to Los Angeles, close up your business, buy what we need. Then we're disappearing."
The days pass in a blur. She keeps on Savannah about the schoolwork, and the three of them complete their study of the cyborg's corpse. They burn it with coltan and bury the ashes in the desert. He starts giving Sarah lessons on the computer. She starts giving him lessons in self-defense. She's a dirty fighter. He takes his share of bruises.
He decides to go to Los Angeles on his own for several days. He is worried she'll be conspicuous, staged death notwithstanding, and he senses that in spite of her bravado about their future plans, she's still a little skittish about leaving the trailer. They activate the cell phones. They set up a code so that they'll know who they are talking to.
He has not needed to talk about the heavy things since the night with the scrapbook. He has seen the inadequacy of mere words for what she's been through, and has accepted the drawings as her final statement on the matter. But there is one more conversation he has to have with her, before he leaves for Los Angeles.
He is in bed with her; they have taken to sleeping that way, bodies spooned together, hands touching. It hasn't gone beyond that. It hasn't needed to yet. But with his impending absence weighing on him, we wants to set things straight.
He moves his hand closer, traces circles on her t-shirted back. "Can we talk?"
She frowns. "I thought we were over that now."
"Not about that, Sarah."
She tenses in a way he hasn't felt in her for days. "Okay..."
A part of her will always be suspicious. It's in her nature by now, he supposes. But he is ready to believe that she will not always be suspicious of him. He is ready to put himself out there as her equal, her partner. In this, and other things. And he is ready to believe that she might let him...
"I love you," he says. "It seemed important to say that before I go."
"I love you too," she says.
He is stunned by how easy that was. "You do?"
"Look, if you think that means we're going to talk about it all the time..."
"No," he hastily assures her. "I mean, of course I don't expect...but even so, I..."
"And if you get yourself killed, you'll break my heart, you know. I won't forgive you for it."
"I know."
"James, this...this'll be hard sometimes. I tried before. I tried once before, since Kyle, and he..."
"This is different," he says. "I know what I'm getting myself into. I'm ready for it."
"I hope to God you are, because I'm serious. If you die, you'll ruin me. Again."
He wants to tell her he'll never die, tell her that he'll never leave her with Savannah like Kyle left her with John, like Charley left her with herself. He wants to tell her John was right, that she shouldn't be afraid to live a little even while she fights the fight. But more importantly, he wants to tell her that she if she dies, she'll ruin him too.
--
He's in Los Angeles for three days. He visits Mr. Murch at a new office building. He's all that's left of Zeira Corp. He tells him he's taking Savannah out west. Mr. Murch is supremely disinterested. He's busy as a beaver training his new computer tech, a fellow named Edward who is a whiz when it comes to AIs. He tells Mr. Murch that an employee of his named James Johnson will be administering Savannah's inheritance, in trust, and that he's already made arrangements to transfer a stipend to a secured account each month. Mr. Murch agrees this sounds like a splendid plan and all but shoves him out of the office.
He doesn't see Edward while he's at Zeira Corp, but the boy is waiting by the jeep when he comes out of the FBI building. He'd come to say goodbye to his ex-wife. She, like Mr. Murch, had moved on with her life already. Seeing her this final time confirmed that to him. She had wished him well on his trip, inquired when she might see him again.
"Not for awhile," he'd told her.
"Well, good luck," she'd said.
It has surprised him, how easy it was to close out his life as James Ellison. And now, here was Edward, the boy from the future, helping him be on is way in his new life as James Johnson.
He greets the boy with a terse nod. "You again."
"Uh huh. Final gift for you, my good man. To help you bury James Ellison for good." It's a birth certificate for one Savannah Johnson, daughter of James and Sarah. They can travel with her, both of them can. And they won't have to pull out his Ellison identity at all.
"I'm not sure I can pass Savannah off as mine," he frets.
"Just tell them she takes after her mother," Edward says. "And she will, James. In more ways than one, she'll take after Sarah Connor. And it'll be how she survives Judgement Day."
His heart quickens. "So, you're confirming that for me? That she lives?"
"In my future, anyway. And she is spectacular, James. John Connor is not the only future leader Sarah will spawn."
He is not sure whether that's meant as blessing, as curse or as prophecy. But he's happy that Savannah is destined for survival at least.
"Of course, the future hasn't come yet," Edward says. "Not from where you sit, anyway. They'll come after her. The same way they came after John. You'll need to protect her. You'll need to fight."
"I'm ready," he says.
"You will be."
"Edward, does Sarah survive in your future? Do I?"
"Now that, I am under orders not to spill. The future isn't set, James Johnson. No matter how much it might sometimes seem to be. There is time. There are chances. For all of us, there are chances. You have one now, with her, with both of them. It's yours to shepherd that through."
"Give me something to take back to her," he pleads. "Please."
Edward hesitates, drums his fingers on the trunk of the jeep. "She beat the cancer," he finally says.
"Excuse me?"
"She'll know what it means. Or, will mean. I can't say which. But tell her this: she beat the cancer."
His cell phone rings, and he recognizes Sarah's number on the screen. "I need to take this call," he says.
"I know you do. Peace, man. Take care of them."
And he's gone, leaving James Johnson to his future.
--