John woke to the sound of someone rummaging around near him. He opened his eyes slowly and was could see sunlight carving shafts from the shadows. Apparently the sunrise still worked, and the future had a tomorrow. He got up and stretched. There were a few people, most of them already awake. One of them was looking at him - and she caught his eye right away.
She looked like her, not just in a passing way but in a precise way, the same feeling you might get looking into a photograph. This was Cameron. She was eating something, casting occasional glances out of the corner of her eye. She had been watching him.
Before he had given it any thought he sat down near her on his haunches. The resemblance was uncanny and for a moment what that meant slipped from his mind. They had even gotten the eyes right - those curious brown orbs that seemed to look and know at the same time.
"I'm John." He said, holding out his hand.
She smiled, taking his hand in her own. She was beautiful in a way that he had never noticed, and instantly he thought that perhaps he hadn't been looking hard enough. "I remember you John Connor. I'm Alison." She said his name as if he were really important. He tried not to notice.
Without knowing it, he held her in his gaze for a moment. It was only when she looked away with a slightly reddening face that he did as well.
"I'm sorry, I…"
"Do you see something you like John?"
Suddenly he realized what he was doing and looked away. "You just… Well, you look a lot like someone I know. It's a long story."
"Oh?" This made her smile.
"Yeah." He dared not elaborate.
"Want some?" She held out her breakfast, what looked like a pack of preserved food that looked almost edible. John wondered where she got it. He didn't wonder because he wanted more for himself, just because he felt pity for a moment. Had this girl lived like this for her entire life? The future was unkind, he knew. It seemed only more so that it be unkind to this creature before him, beautiful as she was.
He knew she was not alone in her suffering, and the thought brought him a sort of bitter comfort.
"Thanks." He took a bite and moved closer to her, folding his knees up to his chest.
"You're awfully clean."
He laughed a little, looking over at her and seeing sincerity. "What?"
"I don't see many people that look like they just stumbled out of a bathtub. You even smell nice. Where are you from, John Connor?" She called him by his full name as if to mock him. "Obviously somewhere where everyone knows who you are."
John nodded. "Something like that. I'm not from far away, actually, just haven't been back in a while."
She looked at him with her brow raised, a look he recognized immediately. "I see."
He had seen the look before on Cameron, almost the exact same look that seemed to say 'A cryptic answer deserves a cryptic look.' Suddenly he felt very silly.
This line of questioning could become awkward fairly quickly, or perhaps even dangerous. He decided to change the subject to something else, something less threatening.
"Well Allison, what's the story around here?"
"The story?" She seemed almost incredulous.
'Wait for it.' He thought to himself. 'Wait and see, you'll think I'm the crazy one.'
"Yeah, I mean how's the human race holding up, in your opinion?"
She laughed a little louder than she should have. "What are you talking about? Haven't you been outside lately?"
"Humor me, remember I'm new around here."
She regarded the question with a cautious eye, but tried to answer honestly.
"It's holding together. Mostly we just live, it's hard to do anything else. The machines hunt us if we go out at the wrong time. We try to fight but they're everywhere, they're into everything. But through it all, people have survived. But it makes you hard." She paused for a moment. "You don't seem like a hard man, John."
"I'm probably not."
Another cryptic response, and another raised eyebrow. "You really aren't from around here are you?"
He could only think to shake his head. "No, not for a long time."
She turned away from him and continued to eat, not paying him any heed. For a moment he thought he had offended her, and she would have every right. What man asks questions like that? No sane man, after everything that had happened. Not after you've lived through what they have.
"You seem nice John, it's nice to see someone who has hope around here. I haven't seen anyone like you in a long time. I always thought J-day burned humanity down to the bare essentials. I was afraid we'd lost hope in the fire."
"Judgment day."
"You're real bright, Connor."
"Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to be dense." He tried to be tactful. "Do you remember it? What day it was? The date exact date?"
"I remember it, sure. Twelve, tweleve, tweleve. That was the day the first bombs went off."
"What?"
"December 12th, 2012. The day SkyNET destroyed the human race. There were warnings, but people didn't listen. People always have to learn the hard way."
"Seems that way. Maybe it was inevitable."
She gave him a strange look and soon he realized that she had all kinds of strange looks to give him. One for being clean, one for being an idiot and one for being a smartass. So he was an idiot, and a smartass, but at least his teeth were brushed and he smelled nice.
"So, are you in the resistance?"
She bit off a piece of whatever she was eating. After the first bite John was in no hurry for any more. Yet it occurred to him, sitting there that he could be in the future for a very long time. This wasn't going to be a day trip.
"Isn't everyone? Isn't every human on the face of the earth fighting SkyNET?"
John thought about it. She was right of course. The war for the survival of your species didn't have a draft or a civilian volunteer backbone. It wasn't the future that he came from, where a mother might choose to send their gifted son to Harvard and their eccentric daughter to Julliard. No, instead they would be giving little Tommy a plasma rifle and little Suzie a backpack bunker buster. Go fight the good fight kids, and try to come home in one piece. Welcome to the apocalypse.
"Okay, this will sound strange, but do you know what year it is?"
Allison thought it over. "Must be 2028. And it's no stranger than anything else you've asked."
John rolled over a few answers in his head - not the truth per-se, but variations on a theme. In the end he settled for a smart-assed smirk. "Sorry if I seem dense, I'm just trying to get my bearings."
They talked for a little while, exchanging small pleasantries while dancing around the bigger questions that glowed like fireflies around them. This was Cameron - or at least, her template. The thought gave him a chill. Had Cameron killed her? John didn't know the answers, didn't want to know them. Somewhere along the line, SkyNET had picked out a beautiful young girl to be replaced. The thought was terrifying.
After a while, the conversation began to die down. John thought more about the war, and how it had unfolded in his absence. If not him, then who? So many questions.
"So, this may sound a little strange Alison..." He began.
This made her laugh. "John Connor, everything you have said sounds strange. In fact, I don't think I'll forget this conversation for the rest of my life."
"Good, that's fine. Just don't tell anyone if they ask. Don't want the teacher to know I've been sleeping in class."
"Do you know which end of the gun goes boom at least?"
Now it was his turn to laugh. "Yeah, I got that much in school."
"School?"
"Well, you know, my mother taught me a lot."
"That's good, it's a start at least."
"Back to my question..."
She tilted her head and looked at him with a mocking grin.
"Who is in charge? I mean, who leads the resistance?"
This time she seemed genuinely surprised. "Where are you from again? You can't not know that, everyone knows him, people practically worship the ground he walks on."
"He sounds like a wonderful man."
"He is. Before JD he was a kook, but said he knew it was coming, like he had hints on the future. He predicted everything in his writings, the stuff is like gospel. Are you for real, you've never heard of him?"
John looked at her. "Look, it may seem hard to believe but…"
"Connor! Alison, get away from him. Just stay there Connor."
"Holy shit." It was all he could think to say.
Alison looked down the hall and spotted a familiar face striding toward her. Derrick Reese was there with Kyle in tow. They were both armed with what looked to be rifles of some sort, both wore sidearm's that could stop a raging bull. Derrick had his eyes on John and gave him a look that he didn't find reassuring.
Derrick pulled up beside the two of them, his arms crossed and his lower lip stuck out just a little, as if sucking on it helped his thinking process.
"You, you said your name was John Connor right?"
John had a hard time eking out a smile. The last time he had seen Derrick Reese he had been dead on the floor, blood pooling around him, eyes open. One shot, right to the frontal lobe was all it took.
"John Connor, you're him right? Answer me."
"Yeah, yeah that's me. I'm John Connor. Who wants to..."
"Lucky you then. Come on."
(*****)
Derrick pulled John up from his semi-crouch, tugging on his arm hard enough to let him know that this was business, not personal. John breathed a little easier – someone, somewhere knew him enough to send Derrick. That was good, wasn't it? When he really got to thinking about it, however, he had the sinking feeling that this was no cordial visit. Before leaving the tunnels he turned and gave one last look over his shoulder.
'Where the hell is Weaver when you need her...'
The sun was bearing down on them already, and John had to hold his hands over his eyes. As the world came into focus he wanted to retreat back underground. He was in a city, which one he couldn't tell, but it felt familiar.
This was the wasteland.
Ruined towers of concrete and steel leaned against the sky, crumbling in the daylight. The streets were clogged with rubble, cars and any other manner of filler. There were no people. John looked around quickly, taking stock of the area. Nothing moved here, nothing lived here.
"Come on, stop dragging your feet." Derrick gave him another tug, this time Kyle joined him on the other side.
"Do what he says, move quickly. We can't stay out in the light very long. Move, John!" Kyle pulled harder than Derrick and seemed to be in even more of a hurry.
John looked at Alison and the other two. She walked between them with her firearm at the ready. Looking closely he was fairly sure the safety was off. Unlike the others, she looked him in the eyes. John wished she wouldn't.
The tall one was Sinclair, he'd heard the name. He was skinny and had an even tan all across his chest but didn't seem to have enough muscle mass to lift the machine gun he was carrying. The other, he hadn't caught his name yet, was much the opposite. He was squat and fair skinned with arms as big around as your thigh. Neither of them looked friendly.
There were roughshod vehicles parked not far away under a craggy overhang of what used to be a tall building. Now the structure was a burned out shell with steel spires protruding upwards like the ribs of some maimed animal. They got to the cars and lifted the doors open (aftermarket modifications, no doubt) and dropped John in the back seat.
"Come on. Jake, you and Young get the crawler. Sinclair, get on the turret. Come on, we're on a timetable here. Patrols will be back quick."
There was a smattering of 'Yes, lieutenants' and even an 'Affirmative' as they all loaded into their vehicles. John felt like he was in a sardine can. The back seat was dark despite the sun being so bright. The doors were really just sheets of scrap metal, welded into plates and bolted onto the frame for protection. There were narrow slits that let in the light and were just wide enough to stick the barrel of a rifle from.
"Don't you think I should get a gun? I mean, if we're going outside…" He asked.
Derrick laughed. "No."
Kyle turned around to elaborate. "Don't trust you enough to give you one. Nothing personal. Just stay down, the ride will be short and quick."
"Where are we going?"
"San Diego bunker, about a half hours ride from here." Kyle said.
"Where is here?"
Kyle and Derrick shared an incredulous look. "Welcome to sunny southern California! Woo!" Derrick slammed his foot on the gas and stroked the ignition, and in a flash they were speeding down the city streets with the sun in their face, engines roaring.
The cars swerved around boulders and sinkholes at a frantic pace. The decay around them provided infinite firing lines, and Kyle scanned the rooftops and high angles for movement while his brother hammered the accelerator. John began to wonder if the car had any brakes, or any suspension for that matter. He bounced around in the back several times nearly spilling into the front seat. Derrick put his elbow in his face, pushing him back.
"Hey, I'm driving. Sit." This was almost polite.
John looked behind them. The crawler was slower but whoever was driving it – he thought it was probably Alison – was far more careful. They kept up by moving more gracefully around the curves, dodging the big debris and generally taking the path of least resistance. He wished he was riding back there.
"Coming up on the dip, hold on." Derrick said. A moment later John was thrown up to the roof as the back of the car lurched upwards. He stayed up in the air long enough for him to see exactly where he would come back down, right over the seat bevel. The floor rushed up to greet him, and he heard the crunching of metal on metal.
"Man I love that hill." Derrick said.
Kyle was less enthusiastic. His rifle had fallen into the backseat at some point during the bump. "Jesus slow down." He looked around for his gun. "John can you hand me that?"
He did as he was asked, thankful someone wasn't treating him like he was a piece of luggage. As he handed the rifle forward there were three quick raps on the roof.
"Up ahead! Go left!" Sinclair was on their car, riding in the gunners spot. John could hear what sounded like weapons fire, but not like any gun he had ever heard. He wasn't firing bullets. The mounted gun made a sound like hammering on sheet metal and John could see red tracers flying through the air.
Kyle looked out the window and got on the radio. "Alison, six hundred up here to your right. Don't know if he sees you yet."
The rapid fire continued from above. John could feel the heat from the gun radiating into the cabin. Seconds later there was another sound. He recognized this one – automatic gunfire, sharp and loud. He wondered who was shooting at whom. Sometimes you just shouldn't ask.
The car was peppered with rounds, filling the air with the sound of a dozen angry hammers. John ducked down as close to the seat as he could. He watched the side panel flex as it stopped a barrage of rounds only inches from his face. Then, quiet. Just as quickly as it had begun, the fireworks stopped.
"First kill!"
"Ahh shit!" Derrick swore as loud as he could. He snatched the radio from his brother. "Sinclair says he got first, tell me he didn't."
Alison came back to him over the radio, her voice filled with mirth. "Saw it with my own eyes. Good shooting up there."
"Dammit." Derrick handed the radio back to Kyle.
"Every dog has his day." Kyle sighed. "He was due."
"I don't hear a thank you!" Sinclair said from up above, slapping his hand on the roof.
"Yeah, thank you, keep it to yourself." Derrick said. John recognized the look on his face – he often saw the same look when he was dealing with his mother.
"What was that?" John asked.
"Six hundred. Scout, probably. We'll have to take another road if they know we're on this one." Kyle spoke half to Derrick, half to John, yelling over the sound of the engine.
"Guess that means we can't take the freeway. Get on the radio and tell Alison."
Kyle did as he was told. "Alison, we're going to take the tunnel road, you follow?" He waited for a moment. "Copy tunnel road." Still, there was no response.
John tried looking out behind them but the dust kicked up off the dry road made it hard to see. The crawler was nowhere to be seen, even on the straight-aways. The road seemed to be clear for at least a quarter of a mile.
"Hey, I don't think they're back there."
Kyle's checked behind them, hanging his head out the window. "Shit!" He said, barely audible over the wind. "Turn around."
"Here we go!" John learned that this was code for a Derrick maneuver and held on tightly. He looked up at Sinclair who seemed to have no problems holding on even as the car spun its wheels into a turn, coming in a half arc until it was headed back the way it came. John peeled himself from the door panel once again.
"When was the last time you saw her?" Kyle said. He was checking out his rifle and trying to look calm but John could see the worry etched on his face.
"Not far back. Just as we passed the six hundred." John said. "Give me something to shoot with! I'm no use to you without a gun."
Derrick stuck his head in the back seat. "I'm really sick of hearing you say that." He looked at Kyle as if to give him a warning. "No guns. Not unless we're really in the shit, got it?"
"Yeah I got it, just drive Derrick."
The elder Reese did and John sat back in his seat, dejected. He thought it made sense though, in a soldiers way. You don't just meet someone and hand them a gun, particularly not when they're spending an entire trip sitting behind you. He felt a stab of anger and then self pity but quickly shed both of these. Somewhere behind them Alison and her companion had gotten sidetracked. Everyone in the car hoped it wasn't a permanent derailment.
(*****)
When Alison began to wake up her head felt murky and slow. She tried to open her eyes only to see the dark and as soon as her sensation returned she feared the worst. Her hands flew up to her eyes to make sure she still had them. Was she blind?
No, she was under something. There was sound around her, most of it muffled. She began to remember where she had been; driving, following Derrick as he ran roughshod down the canyons of old Los Angeles. Jake had been next to her, yelling at her…
Where was he? She listened for his voice but heard nothing. There was a high pitched whine coming from somewhere up above her and she finally realized where she was. She was still in the crawler. The steering column was jammed over her thighs, pinning her to the seat, but she felt like she hadn't broken anything. The steering wheel was holding her in the seat, and she was dangling upside down.
Slowly she tried to slide her butt off the seat and when she did, she fell onto the roof. There was light now coming from up above, through the floor panels that had been under her feet. There was something soft next to her, warm and wet. She muffled a cry as she felt a human face. It was Jake.
"Jake! Jake are you okay? Talk to me. Oh my god." She felt his face, and felt the warmth of his body spreading out below her. Her hands traveled down below, under his chin. There was a wound there and her fingers felt the torn flesh.
"Dammit dammit dammit…" She felt for a pulse but realized without seeing that the wound was so severe that he was already gone. "Jake, I'm sorry." She whispered.
Soldiers of the resistance have moments after the death of a comrade, where they take heart that the deceased lived well. That they would continue the fight in the absence of the fallen comrade. Alison had no time for such a moment. Whatever had killed Jake and destroyed the crawler would be back soon, if it had not already found her.
She tried to right herself in the cramped space and put her face near the source of light. When she did at first she could see nothing. The sun blotched everything out and her eyes needed to adjust. When she finally did adjust she saw that there was a shallow bank nearby. She could see the tread marks where they had rolled down, and she saw something that made her heart sink.
The portable radio was there, tossed into the brush. She didn't remember the crash but knew that whatever it had been had likely knocked her out. She was in the driver's seat. Alison wondered why she wasn't dead, the driver was usually the preferred target. Luck, or fate, saves the day.
She scanned for movement up above but saw none save for the windblown brush. She listened closely for any sound, no matter how faint. What she heard made her stomach churn.
Alison saw the first endoskeleton poke its head down over the embankment. Does it see the crawler? Of course it does, these things are smart. It was the one who shot at them. She recoiled as she saw the second standing next to the first, slightly behind and to the left. She was in trouble. They were eight-fifties. Two of them. They were looking for something.
The eight-fifty series chassis represents the edge of SkyNET's manufacturing capacity. Sure, there are smarter terminators. The triple eights are more effective infiltrators, the eight hundreds are cheaper and more cost effective. But when it comes to brute force the eight-fifty cannot be matched. They're heavy but fast, strong but agile. When you encounter one the best advice is what gets you as far away as quickly as possible.
To her horror, she realized that the radio was still on and working. She heard Kyle's voice calling out to her and she knew that they heard it too. They were coming down the slope.
"Alison? Alison can you hear me?" He clicked off the radio. "Drive faster." Kyle told his brother.
"We're about there, just hold on. Relax." Derrick said the words but both Kyle and John could sense the tremble in his voice. These people were his responsibility. He had to get them back.
"You see anything Sinclair?" Kyle stuck his head out the window as the vehicle slowed.
"Nothin'. Not a damned thing."
Kyle swore again and spoke into the radio, hoping without cause to hear back from her, from Jake, from both of them. They heard only static.
Alison watched, terrified, as the eight-fifties approached the radio. They stopped for a moment and listened to the conversation, each of them taking in a mechanical satisfaction. More would be coming for these two. They would kill them as well. It was what they did.
They approached the overturned crawler and Alison curled herself into a small ball. She tried to hold her breath. She could hear their footsteps down the mountain, heavy and deliberate on the ground. She saw the light overhead flicker and knew they would find her, it was only a matter of time. She knew there was a gun in the cabin but to reach for it now was certain death. The machines could hear anything this close, especially amplified by the metallic body of her tomb. She put her eyes down and waited.
The strangest thing happened. Nothing.
She expected, at the very least, to be ventilated by the endo firing its rifle into the belly of the vehicle, finishing off anyone who may be inside. She wouldn't have been surprised if one ripped the floor plates off and tossed them aside, lifting her up by the neck and finishing her by hand. There were many ways to die, some less pleasant than others but the strangest thing was that none of them happened.
It took her a minute to figure out why. She could hear something. A sound grew outside that filled her with hope and dread. It sounded like Derrick, and god forbid it sounded like Kyle. They were here.
Her first instinct was to cry out to them. They had to know the endos' were down there. If they got the drop on them, they'd all be dead. Hopefully they were smarter than that. She knew they were, but still, they needed luck.
She had to make noise. She screamed out to them, not knowing if they could hear her or not and not really caring.
"Kyle! Derrick get away! There're two endos' at the bottom of the hill! They know you're here!" She called out as loudly as she could, pushing her hands into the ceiling, pounding her palms on the plated steel. They just had to hear her.
And they did. Derrick heard her first, he was closest to the embankment and when he poked his head over he saw the two endoskeletons regarding the crawler with a sort of disdain. He knew why - Alison wasn't a threat, trapped inside. Once they dealt with whoever she was talking to they would come back and finish the job.
"Kyle! Big eights! Get to the turret!" Derrick screamed.
Kyle heard his brother loud and clear, turning to Sinclair. "You heard him! Get ready. John, stay in there!"
John heard all of this but wasn't about to stay anywhere. These men seemed afraid, almost panicked. He heard Sinclair breathing above him, his feet shifting from side to side.
The eight-fifties crested the hill and wasted no time. Each one carried a single endorifle - a high powered energy weapon carried by SkyNET troops, powered by their own internal nuclear power sources. They laid down a spread of fire no one could hope to escape. John was almost certain that he'd been killed, but when he looked around he saw three holes in the roof where the projectiles had passed through. They left glowing, smoking rings in the metal.
The sound of standard rifles came from outside, somewhere to the west where he knew they had found Alison. John thought for a moment and then threw caution into the wind. They might not think much of him but that didn't matter. He knew he could be useful, if he could just get outside...
He opened the hatch on the far side of the car and fell immediately to the ground, scrambling as he felt something fall into his face. It was Sinclair. The first salvo had downed the man, cutting him cleanly in two. John shuddered as he got up. There was no choice really. He would have to move the body one piece at a time.
While he was deciding which half to move, the firefight was going strong in the background. Sinclair hadn't even seen them coming and now the endoskeletons had Kyle and Derrick cut off from one another. Kyle was on the far side, making his way through broken concrete and steel rebar, trying to stay a step ahead of the terminator that trailed him. Derrick was faring no better. He rolled down the hill to the crawler, losing his grip on his rifle in the process. The endoskeleton would still shoot him, of course, armed or not.
John coaxed the corpse to the ground, feeling a little nauseous as Sinclair spilled out onto the ground. Spilled was the right word. John had never seen so much blood or so many parts just spread out all over the place. He got up to the gun and put his hand on the action. There was no trigger.
"How do you fire this thing?" He said aloud.
Derrick must have heard him, or at least seen the look on his face. "Push the button! Push the damned button!"
"Oh, I see it." And so he pushed it.
The gun fired into the ground, catching everyone by surprise, including the user.
"Whoa, wow that was hot." John turned the gun down hill and took aim against the endoskeleton, sighting it in as well as he could.
Derrick seemed to sense impending disaster and dove to the ground, covering his head. The endoskeleton turned to face John and wasted no time opening the exchange before John had gotten a shot off. John pushed the button, letting white hot plasma fly down the hill.
The turret fired in a wide spread, seeming to hit everything accept the terminator before he finally figured out how to aim it. It seemed off a little, maybe high and to the right. These things didn't matter. John Connor bore down on his target and let fly.
The endoskeleton went down in a smoking heap. The eight-fifties may be tough, but even they were vulnerable to this kind of hardware. John scored direct hits all over the place. He saw pieces of the torso fly off in one direction, and the skull split in two.
"Hey Derrick, I got him! Woo!" He said, mimicking Derricks battle cry.
"John get down!"
He turned to the right just in time to see the one that had been chasing Kyle emerge from the debris field. Its gun was already up. John could think of nothing else, so he went into a controlled fall off the back of the car, smashing into the ground as arcs of plasma streaked overhead.
This unplanned move gave Kyle the opening he needed. Facing one of those things up close was a very bad idea, particularly if it was fixed on you. It was looking at John now as the highest threat target. Kyle stepped down into a kneeling position and leveled his rifle at the base of its hyperalloy skull, squeezing the trigger.
The first few shots seemed to have no effect, but after the sixth or seventh round one of the control rods broke free from its rotational housing, followed by another. With the housing exposed, several of the projectiles entered into the core electrical housing near the chip. The endoskeleton staggered forward before falling to the ground.
For a moment he wasn't sure if it was over or not. His head hurt like nothing before, and he was coughing up a fit. The fall knocked the wind out of his lungs and John was having a hell of a time getting it back. He coughed, pulling his arms up to his sides, trying to get his head to stop throbbing long enough to put a complete thought together.
The next thing he knew Derrick was standing over him, shaking his head.
"Damn, I guess I owe you one." He said, offering a hand to John.
"Thanks."
He pulled John up with one strong arm. "Thanks to you. You saved our asses, big time."
"Sorry about Sinclair."
Derrick let out a sigh. "Yeah, I am too. Dumb bastard should have ducked." His voice belied the tragedy of his death and John was certain that once you had buried enough people, it became mundane. He hoped it wouldn't ever be that way for him.
"Where's Kyle, and Alison?"
"He's getting her. We'll all be in one car, the crawlers busted all to hell."
As if on cue, Alison reached the top of the hill as Kyle held her arm and guided her along. She had a gash on her forehead and seemed a little wobbly on her feet but aside from that, she wasn't any worse for wear.
"You alright?"
She only nodded, still trying to shake the cobwebs loose.
"Jake?"
She shook her head.
He put on a resigned face, one that he wore all too well. "Well, Sinclair is down too. We'll have to move on, can't stay any longer."
Both Alison and Kyle nodded at the suggestion. They would have to leave the dead to the tomb of the world. Waiting here meant waiting to die. This was the truth John heard in their words.
"Get in." Derrick said.
Alison refused. "I'll drive."
"Thank god." Kyle and John both breathed out, and Derrick gave them both a hurt look.
"You sure? You look like hell."
"I'll look worse if you drive. I've seen how it is with you, Reese." That was his name when he was in trouble.
"You never call Kyle, Reese."
"I do, just not when you're around. Means different things." She explained.
"I see. Well, I'll get on turret. Don't want John showing me up twice in one day."
They smiled at this, and John took it as a thank you, albeit a muted one. He went to sit down when Kyle grabbed his arm. "My seat. You're in the back."
"Ah, come on, that's not..."
"Get in the back." Derrick said.
John turned to Alison but found no help there either. "You can sit on Kyle's lap."
He rode in back.