The words of prophecy rang through Johns head. They were handed down from the future, the first generation of soldiers to fight the machines. They had been his own words, given to his father and finally to his mother.
There was no fate but what we make. He was sure of that now. He'd traveled through time, bent the fabric of his very existence. He had changed this one future and now he was about to do it again. What had been done could be undone. Nothing was set.
Perhaps there was a fate, for all of them. But as far as he was concerned it had yet to be written. For now, the future was a dense mist that shrouded the way.
Fifteen minutes later they were rolling down what was left of the Valley highway, going into the west. The ride was slow going and rough as they made their way through the war zone and past ogre patrols. James had said that if they needed, they could engage. Having the two machines and now Catherine put them in a favorable position. Still, the General treaded cautiously.
"Let's not tempt fate if we don't have to. The grace of god only protects the wise, I've come to learn." He said.
They crept along slowly, watching for HK's roaming the sky. Out the windows they looked for flashes of light that might tell of incoming fire, and they listened for the audible pops that could tell of an ambush. Yet the night remained silent, and the two vehicles traveled under Scorpio and Sagittarius, hung on a brilliant blanket of stars.
John sat behind James, and in a moment of thought he had an ironic revelation. Discounting the time frame, he was probably now the safest he had ever been. Catherine rode shotgun, occasionally looking back at him. She always made sure to look him in the eye and he wondered if this might be her custom - he would have to watch to know. Gabriel sat to his right and he carried what John could only call a very large weapon - it looked like something the Imperial Storm troopers might set up if they wanted to demolish a tank. Normally he was sure it wasn't a one man implement. Gabriel, as they all knew, was not a man, so the point was moot. The terminator made no motions to speak or look at John. Instead his gaze was held out the window.
John himself was another story. He was dressed from head to toe in body armor. An oversized helmet dangled from his head at a comic angle, and he wore both kevlar and a flak jacket. The extra layers made even the cool night air seem stuffy.
Johns own window was simply a sheet of quarter inch steel welded onto the frame of the car. He saw Gabriel scanning the rocky terrain.
"You see everything?" He asked.
"I see in multiple wavelengths of light, both above and below the spectrum that humans use for visual perception. At night the infra-red is highly useful in scanning for targets against the ambient background."
"I see..." John said.
"No, I don't think you do."
There was a deep chuckle from the front seat, and James turned to look at them both. For a moment, John was sure he saw a red flash in Ellison's eye, but perhaps it was his imagination. Just a play of the light.
"He's a funny guy isn't he John?" James told him.
John could only shrug.
"Well, funnier than his brother anyway. Say Gabriel..."
The terminator turned to James and listened, as if waiting for orders.
"What did the Buddhist say to the hot dog vendor?"
John thought about it for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. Gabriel looked directly at him and said: "Make me one with everything."
James laughed, and John could only shake his head at the preposterousness of it all. What was even more strange was how Gabriel smiled as he turned away from John. There was a wicked half-grin on his face, the kind of grin someone might have if they were extremely pleased with themselves.
Catherine didn't laugh. Instead she seemed focused on the world around her, as if she had blocked out the joke and the laughter altogether. Her voice was deadly serious when she spoke.
"James can you hand me the radio?"
Without a word he handed over his walkie, a battered black and silver box that looked like it was on it's eight life.
"Mister Reese, are you there?"
It took a moment but the response did eventually come.
"Yeah, what's going on up there?"
" I think we may have been seen. There was a brief spike in the ambient HF radio spectrum. It may have been a short range transmission. Ask Michael if there is anything behind us."
Michael sat in the bed of the truck that held Kyle, Derrick and Alison. He didn't have a rifle, but he did have a large plasma rifle mounted to the truck. As they had bounced along the road, his eyes scanned the darkness for anything moving.
"He says he didn't see anything. You want to stop?"
"No, we'll keep going. Just be alert."
The channel was only static after that.
"I don't think he likes you." James told her.
"No, he doesn't. That's just his way. I can't say I blame him. I've been known to look down on humans from time to time. I suppose someday we'll just have to meet in the middle." She looked over her shoulder again at John, and this time he got the distinct impression that she was talking to him.
"How do you know we're going in the right direction?" John asked her.
"John Henry is a particular kind of animal John, someday I think you'll come to appreciate that. He's going to a place where he can get the most information - and I think he's following the advice of your cyborg."
"Why do you keep calling her my cyborg?"
Catherine didn't answer right away. She smiled instead, in that cold-steel way that only she could.
"Because you programmed her. In the future, you reprogrammed her and sent her back."
John thought the answer didn't sound entirely honest, but decided not to press the issue. There were larger questions on his mind. Assuming he could get Cameron's chip back to 2009, how would he fix her? Her chassis had been badly damaged, and she herself had said she wasn't 100%. John wondered just what that meant. He wondered if was even possible for him to effect repairs on something that was from thirty years in the future.
The thought then occurred to him that maybe he wouldn't have to.
They drove for another half hour until John lost all sense of space and direction. Now he was truly lost in an alien world. They were in uncharted territory. Nothing made this more evident than when James spoke up, talking into the radio and to anyone in the cab who needed to hear.
"Listen up. We'll be ditching the cars in about a half a mile. I want everyone to be ready to go a long ways on foot. If you don't think you can carry it, ditch it. Pack plenty of ammo."
There was a click of static, then Kyle came over the radio. "Roger that General. We're all ready back here. How Johnny?"
James handed the radio back to John so that he could answer himself. He clicked the transmit button. "I'm good, thanks."
There was an audible laughter as two men had a good laugh at his expense. John just shrugged it off. Boys will be boys, in war and in peace. He would liked to have known both of them in another life.
Catherine reached back and took the walkie from him. "I think we might want to consider radio silence as a tactical option at this point James."
"Probably a good idea. Gabriel, switch up to a higher band and encrypt. How's the night looking?"
"Dead quiet." Was his only reply.
"Poor choice of words." John said.
A few minutes later they rolled to a stop in a high-walled clearing. Highway 8 continued on up ahead for some distance, disappearing around a distant bend up ahead.
"Why did we stop here? The road -"
"Goes on just up ahead but stops. The bridge is out. We're just making sure we weren't being followed. We don't come up this way much." James told him. The General checked his rifle and sidearm once more before climbing out of the car.
John could hear voices outside. He could make them all out - James, Kyle and Derrick. They spoke quietly, probably judging the best route to take. John still had only a foggy idea of where they were going. He reached down to open his door.
Gabriel put his heavy hand over the handle. "Wait for Michael and the others the clear the area. The night isn't a safe place, for many reasons."
"Patience, John. We'll be there soon enough." Catherine said.
John relented and settled for looking behind their vehicle. James stood with the Reese brothers, and Michael who posed like a statue. The men looked as if they were discussing best options.
John turned back to Gabriel. "How do people tell you apart? You and Michael, I mean."
Gabriel thought about it for a moment. "He's the quiet one."
"The quiet one..."
There was a knock at his door and John finally wrestled the handle away from the machine. Gabriel at this point seemed to be restraining him only halfheartedly, and eventually he gave up, and again with a smirk.
'Was he enjoying this?'
Alison literally pulled him off of the seat. John could say this for her - she was strong. Stronger than she had any right to be in that little frame. Come to think of it, all the women in his life were like this. He had never dated the cheerleader (and never really wanted to). His girls - the ones around him - had always had the fortitude of Athena and skin like ironhide. Can't break 'em. You might be able to get to them once in a while, though...
He eyed the rifle slung across her back, trying not to let his eyes wander. "Shouldn't I get a gun?" He asked her.
Alison shook her head. "If we come across anything unpleasant, you need to keep a low profile. Generals orders. He can't have you getting shot because you think you're some kind of hero. Come on Gabriel, get the trash packs out of the back."
"I am some kind of hero..."
"Not if you don't live long enough, Connor." James came up behind him. "Look at it this way, if you get your hands on a firearm, then you'll known things have gone very bad, very quickly. You ready for a hike?"
"Yeah, I'm ready."
"Good. You can carry some things for Alison. I'm sure she has need for another strong back."
"She's got Gabriel!"
"He's carrying the trash packs and claymores, plus his own gear. Even he has his limits."
With that he was off again, getting his men and machines organized. He watched as James pushed one of the vehicles into the ditch, followed by the other one. In the shallow ravine by the side of the road the vehicles blended into the surroundings and looked as if they had been there for years. They would be fairly well hidden in plain sight, ready for when they came back.
That thought quickly faded. Somehow John knew he would never come back here. The only way was forward. He looked up at the sky, taking in the brilliant smattering of stars across the band of the Milky Way. Only a jab in the ribs from Alison brought him back to reality.
"You seem to have a habit of staring off into space. Carry this."
She dropped a military-grade duffel at his feet, where it landed with a heavy thud.
"What's in it?"
"Guns and ammo. Girl's best friend, Connor."
"Funny, I always thought diamonds were -" There was another, more firm jab in the ribs this time. "Yeaahhh okay, not the diamond type."
James motioned up the hill, indicating towards a saddle in the valley wall that looked to be about a half mile hike up some very steep terrain.
"It's a bit of a hill, but once we're on the other side, it'll be pretty much a straight shot to the dam. I hope you're right about this Catherine."
"Trust me James. He'll be there."
"Up the path a ways is the saddle of the pass. We had some fortifications up there quite a while ago, must have been a few years..." James dug around in the duffle John was carrying and pulled out his binoculars. "We'll make camp there tonight and get down to the dam tomorrow morning if all goes well."
All this time John had watched Derrick and Kyle out of the corner of his eyes. They stood shoulder to shoulder, passing a cigarette back and forth. They both smoked like chimneys, sharing the silent glances of people that knew each other so well they could speak without speaking. Motions, body language was their medium of choice and in this they could speak volumes. At least the soldiers of the future still had vices.
There was another glance that he caught on to, one that made him far more uncomfortable. Kyle, his own father, was looking at Alison, watching her closely. He looked her over, and what made matters worse for John was the way she looked at him.
He had to let it roll off his back. It was, after all, human nature. Yet there was something about the scene that sent shivers down his back, something about a father that had never heard of John Connor, or Sarah. A father that had perhaps no greater destiny than to die in whatever tribulations lay ahead of this small group of travelers.
This was his father, the non-hero, and in a way, it hurt him to see the both of them. Kyle, so reliant on his brother, and Derrick, so protective. At that moment he desperately wished that his Derrick, the one from his future, were here. John needed a friend. For now, he would have to go without.
"Time to move John. Get your bag." Catherine Weaver had snuck up on him in his moment of reflection and was now poised beside him, hands on her hips. She too wore a rifle across her back, and grenades dangled like ripe apples from her belt.
"They gave you a gun too?"
Catherine smiled. "Don't take it personally. If the shooting starts, you don't want to be a target. I want you to stay by me John. Not more than a few feet away, is that clear?"
He realized how much like a mother she was. A full-metal mother, but a maternal figure nonetheless. "You got it. Right here, close."
"Good. Let's go, the others have already started up the trail. If we stay a bit spread out, then it makes each individual a less likely target. So, not to close to the others."
"But not too far from you."
"Exactly."
With that, they began to climb.
(*****)
The going was easy at first. They headed generally north along an old side road, the pavement turning to rubble under the crunch of eight pairs of boots. The group was quiet and mindful of the hidden dangers of night. Gabriel held the lead, his huge rifle resting in two solid hands. The Reese brothers walked with their general, sharing the occasional word and laugh. Alison was right in front of John, and Catherine was almost uncomfortably close to his side. Behind them he could hear Michael trudging along, weighed down by an almost impossible amount of gear. He was their beast of burden.
They walked for half an hour along the winding road, past abandoned buildings where ghosts might have dwelled when he was a child, and where the spirits of the dead now surely watched over an endless nightmare. Some of the buildings had been homes, others perhaps outbuildings or sheds. One, he was sure, had been a gas station, complete with a set of rusted pumps.
And there were the remains. You can't kill four billion people, wage war for the better part of two decades and not have remains. John understood why James had said they didn't come up here. The place was a graveyard. John stopped counting the bones, the blasted ribcages, the skulls. There was no sacred ground under which to bury the dead. Or perhaps the opposite was true - the world had become a tomb and the catacombs were the streets and derelicts.
"So many." He said, not really intending to say it out loud.
Catherine perked her hear at him, and as she had done before, offered a few words of her own brand of advice. "It's the path of those either not lucky enough to live, or lucky enough to have died. Sometimes it's hard to tell which."
Catherine was a puzzle to him, and the more he thought about her the more she weighed on his mind. She, like Cameron, was different. Cameron was different in a way that made her more human, at least to his eyes.
Catherine...he had no allusions to what she was. She was stone freaking cold.
And yet she could turn and smile with the best of them. Perhaps she'd never win anyone over with that smile, but at least she made the effort. It seemed to be her default mode and in some ways he could imagine nothing more terrifying.
"So, can you tell me something?"
"Be specific John."
"Alright...well, let's start with the obvious." He mustered up the right words, and arranged them in a nice line before letting them walk out of his mouth. He had a feeling that shed appreciate anything that was concise, to the point.
"What was your mission in 2009? I still haven't figured that one out."
She seemed to give it some thought, calculating her own response it turn. "If you think about it John, what you really want to know is why we're walking this road together." She paused again, watching his response. "You're frightened of me."
John gulped, and nodded. Of course he was. "Of course I am."
"Why?"
"Because I know what you are, what you can do."
"But you aren't afraid of her. Why?"
"She's..."
"Different?"
He nodded again, noticing that Alison had begun to eavesdrop on them. Her head was turned just slightly, but she was close enough to hear what was being said.
"Yeah. She's different. She even said so herself."
"It sounds like her. She's very fond of you, you know."
This nearly took him by surprise, but spinning on his metaphorical heels, he fired back. "It's her job."
"Of course." Catherine said this as if it were only half true.
"Well then what is it?"
"You know - " She caught herself in mid sentence, simply smiling at him with that big, wicked grin.
"I know what?"
Catherine would have none of it though. "Not really for me to say. I'll say this though, but I'm sure it will leave you with more questions than answers. You are the reason we're here John - the reason why we walk this path together. I never met you in the future, but I would liked to have. You're different too. You're unique."
She was correct in at least one way. Her answer wasn't really an answer but another riddle, and when he turned to her, perhaps to beg for some kind of clarification she put her palm to him.
"No more. I don't know about your fate and mine Connor - at least I know far less than I'd like. But there is little more I can tell you. I fear we've already changed our timeline. If we change it too much, we'll lose our ability to predict the future. You'll just have to figure out some things for yourself."
With her answer, the conversation ended.
The group stopped at a fork in the road, and John watched as the General checked his bearings. From here he could follow one path as it seemed to meander along the bottom of the canyon, flitting lazily along to other places, other spaces. That was not their road, John knew. It was far too flat, far to inviting. Their road turned upward, bending into hairpins and bobbing in and out from behind outcroppings and boulders.
"It's an old jeep trail - we'll use it to get to the saddle. There isn't much activity up in this area, so the General thinks were probably safe. But we'll be exposed. We need to make it up to the top as quick as we can, that's where we'll camp. There's cover at the top, and good sight lines. Hope you don't get altitude sickness." Kyle informed them.
"Why? How high up is it?"
"It's about six thousand feet. Can't you feel it? Makes all your gear weigh twice as much. What I wouldn't give to be like them." He motioned towards Gabriel and Michael. "Just a little, anyway."
As they headed up the uneven terrain the group separated out into its familiar cliques. Alison settled in next to John, trying to get close to him without coming to close to Catherine. In the end it turned out to be a losing battle, and she heaved out a sigh. Metal could be so persistent.
John, for his part, was puzzled by the attention. The implications of Cameron, her face, Alison and the future weren't lost on him, but he hadn't given it much more thought. Instead he found himself looking at his father, his uncle, and the General.
"You know, Alison, this might be a little rude of me, but..." He paused, not wanting to seem like a leech. "Are you and Kyle...?"
She smiled a little, and laughed just a bit. "Maybe. Who's asking?"
"Ahh, nobody, just curious. I mean..." There were many, many delicate things he dared not mention, so he was sure he'd end up sounding like a cretin, but it could be worse. He could actually be one. "Just the way he looks at you is all. He seems to have a thing for you."
"He does." She eyed him, and did not camouflage her own glances at Weaver.
"I see. Well, I'm sure you must - "
"John you're just not my type. I can't stand a man who bathes every day. Besides, you seem to have someone else on your mind." Apparently everyone around here could read him like a book. It didn't make him feel any better.
"It's good to know where you stand." He laughed at her joke, but was still stung by the reality of it.
"Love Kyle, love his brother."
"Derrick? He seems like a hard man."
"Harder than most. I think it was all particularly hard on him. I think he hates them...I mean SkyNET more than most. He doesn't even know why, he just turns on the anger at a moment's notice. But John..." While she spoke, Alison watched Catherine for any response and was pleased to find none. And a little disturbed.
"Yeah?"
"He's good. Just broken, you know, like a toy you played with too much as a kid."
"This word uses you up doesn't it?"
"It sure as hell does."
"But anyway, me and Kyle..." She saw the look on his face and didn't understand it, at least not all of it. He looked happy and sad and knowing all at once. "Besides, it seems like you have enough friends. After all, you're here looking for someone, aren't you? Cameron?"
"You were listening?"
"I heard you talking, just bits and pieces. So we're here to find your wayward love interest? That's one for the record books. What's she like? Is this the one that looks like me?"
There was no tactful answer that would be safe, so John abstained, instead choosing to clear his throat.
"She must be important to you. Not many guys would take this kind of adventure for one girl. You'll have to apologize for getting her mixed up in all this."
John had to laugh. She was important, in more ways than one, and in more ways than he would realize that day. He simply nodded, and laughed at himself again.
"What's so funny?"
"Just me. I get into these situations, you know. Stuck between a rock and a hard place." He pointed to either side of him.
"Is that a joke Connor?" Catherine asked.
"Yes ma'am."
"Which one am I?" She asked, and John declined an answer for the moment.
"So what's your story? I mean, you're not a triple eight. I can't believe Derrick thought you were, but they don't act like you. You move differently."
Catherine seemed almost flattered. "No, I'm not. In fact, I'm not like any metal you've ever met. Just ask John here, he knows."
"She's right. Watch out for this one. First chance she gets she'll get you right between the ribs."
Alison looked at her curiously. "Oh yeah?"
"I have a question for you, Alison Young." Catherine requested.
"Shoot."
"What is your take on James?"
"The General? Did you guys...know each other?" The last few words came out very slowly as Alison tried to digest their meaning one at a time.
"I found him reliable, more so than many humans I know. Not without his own flaws, though."
"He's...just one of the guys, I guess. They follow him, but I wonder sometimes if he isn't just going through the motions. I always wondered how he knew what he knew." She looked at John and measured him carefully before speaking again. "I suppose he'll tell us, some day if he can."
The subject brought up a bitter taste in his throat. James had found out from his mother, who was now long since dead and buried somewhere in this hellhole. He hated himself for that, and for a moment he thought he might break down right there on the mountain side. Through some show of strength he kept it all down, all the while staring at his feet.
John didn't realize until he was halfway to the ground that he was falling. The shove had been hard, from his left. That was where Catherine was standing. He tried to put his hands up, but before he could stop himself his face smashed against the rocks.
He rolled over and looked up, only to see the silver arcs of tracer fire soaring overhead. There were reports that sounded distant, and the sound of men screaming. He could hear Derricks voice over the clatter, barking down towards them.
They were under attack. They had been ambushed, and now the band was strung out on the mountainside with hardly any cover. Shit.
Catherine stood over him, rifle to her shoulder. She fired one shot at a time, the blasts ringing in his ears. Someone was tugging at his shoulder.
"Come on John! Move!" It was Alison. He looked up the mountain. They weren't far from their destination. If they could make it up there, they would have better lines to fire from. They had to make it there first.
By now the night air was filled with a cacophony of gunfire and arcing laser blasts. John tugged at Catherine's' leg.
"We have to move up the mountain!"
"You have to move! Go, up to the top. Don't stop until you reach the top!" She never took her eyes off the sights, never stopped pressing the trigger. Her words were almost drowned by gunfire, but he understood.
The saddle of the pass road was not far away, but the going was murderous. Ellison had moved down the mountain a few yards, Derrick and Kyle with him. The three laid down suppression fire, one reloading as the other two spun off round after round into the darkness. John didn't know if they could see what they were shooting at or not, he didn't dare look down the hill to see.
They were getting closer now. Thirty yards. Twenty five. The air was thin up here, and john could feel it pulling at his lungs. Alison didn't stop pulling him though, and so he pressed on. They were almost there.
John heard the scream behind him - not a yelling scream, but a guttural one from a wounded animal. He spun on his heels to see Derrick Reese falling backwards. The soldier dropped his rifle and smashed into the ground, gripping his stomach.
"Derrick! Shit!"
Alison pulled him harder. "Get up there dammit, don't turn around!" She was angry, mad as hell and he could see it on her face. Her man was down there getting shot at and she had to drag John up the hill. Such was life because...
We all die for you John.
Kyle was yelling into his brothers face, holding his hand over the wound. Derrick looked to be still alive. There was no way to tell how bad the wound was, but Derrick was still moving, writhing on the ground. He could hear his father yelling about the blood, something about the blood, there was so much of it.
"We have to get down there - fucking let me go!"
"Fucking no I won't let you go. They're dying down there to get you to the top of the mountain, so that's where you're going now move!" She wouldn't relinquish her grip on his arm but John knew she was distracted.
Traumatic events, like being jumped by a dozen endos, tended to be distracting. John blocked her wrist down and snatched the rifle from her in one fluid movement. When it was in his hands even he seemed surprised, but if she was furious before she looked even more so now.
"What the Christ - !"
"We've got to get them! Come on, I know you're just following orders but to hell with them!"
Their group had begun to fight back in earnest now. John could see Gabriel perhaps twenty yards away, laying prone on the ground. His rifle was spread out on a tripod and Gabriel looked down the long barrel. There was no sight, no scope, just
Boom.
The rifle went off like a thunderclap, and John looked downrange. He was sure Gabriel had hit, and he was sure whatever it was wouldn't be getting back up. That thing was a tank-killer, a man mounted piece of artillery. Gabriel chambered another round by hand, pushed the bolt forward and
Boom.
Sonofabitch that thing was loud. It seemed to drown out all the rest of the battle. John saw his target this time - a single endo that was pacing up the hill with two rifles. Its head popped clean off its shoulders, flew twenty yards backwards and vanished from sight. The chassis took a few more steps before falling into a heap.
John and Alison reached the three soldiers. Derrick was on the ground, his face pale and his camo covered in blood. There was a blacked hole in his fatigues just below his ribcage and John could see the wound. It was deep and it had hit something important.
"God dammit, not again." John muttered under his breath. Kyle was trying to keep pressure on the wound. There was so much blood, and now it was becoming clear. Derrick was going to bleed to death if they couldn't get him out of here. If they could get out of here, they could save him. John could save him.
"James! James!" John screamed into his ear.
James just kept firing down the mountain, rattling off round after round. John didn't think that it mattered to him if he hit anything or not.
"James listen to me!"
The general turned his head a little, and John took this as acquiescence.
"We need to get Derrick off the mountain, he's gut shot and he'll bleed out if we don't patch this!"
"Patch him? John, look at him for the love of god!" Alison was practically screaming at him now, yanking her gun from his hands. She pointed downrange and began to fire. She could see them now, marching up the hill. Dammit, they had gotten so close before they even knew they were there.
Kyle looked up at John, his face colored with red smears and the shadows playing on his tormented expression. "God Derrick, god dammit...why now?" He had stemmed off the flow of blood, but it may already be too late. Kyle shook his head, the look on his face saying it all.
"What are we going to do? John?" Alison spoke into his ear, her voice far to calm and collected for this. There was an option. There were always options. They had to get Derrick up the hill. John had plenty of blood, and Derrick could have half of it. That would be fair.
"General! General give me your rifle!" John held out his hand. "You have to carry Derrick up the hill to cover. Alison and I will suppress the advance. When you have reached the top, we'll fall back to the saddle." These were his orders. His first orders, and he had given them to a man that wore three stars. Hell of a start.
James leveled his brow with a look that could only be described as 'Took you long enough.' He handed the rifle over and scooped up Derrick in his arms, oblivious to the rain of bullets and laser rifle fire that flared around them.
"Don't get shot!" And with that, the General made for the top of the hill. Derrick flopped in his arms, and Kyle followed close behind.
John watched for only a moment, satisfied that they would make it to the saddle. Now they were the target. He was the target. That was okay - in fact the calamity seemed to focus his mind into a single, cohesive line of thought. Where were they? Their cover was a single rock maybe three feet high and six or seven wide, slanted on the hill. It would be good cover until they got close, at which point it would be a hindrance. John poked his head over the rock and noted at least a half dozen endoskeletons marching up the hill, and those were just the ones he could see.
And what appeared to be a mammoth, gorgon-tank.
"What the hell is that?!"
"Ogre!" Alison had seen it as well, and she fell back behind the boulder, gripping her rifle to her chest.
The name sounded familiar. It must have been ten meters tall and just as wide, and there was one crawling up the fucking mountain to greet them. Now way they could stop that damn thing. They were just going to have to -
"Connor, I told you to move up the hill!" Catherine was with them now. She stood to fire off a few rounds and ducked down just as quickly. John could see the scars from the firefight on her face close like liquid zippers. Alison saw them too.
"What...was that?"
"We'll talk later! Listen, Alison, can that rifle take the Ogre down?"
She shook her head. "They're too fucking big! Need a trash pack to take it down. Michael had one, but I don't see him." Her head rose up over the boulder, then back down again just as quickly. "He might have been hit, he's not out there."
The rifle went off again, John could feel the damned thing shaking the ground. He poked his head up. Now there were only four endos marching up the hill, but they were close. They could deal with the terminators, but the Ogre would stymie them it seemed.
John reached for Alison's radio. "I need to talk to Gabriel!"
She handed it over. John could hear the tank coming up the hill, grinding away at the mountainside. The rifle went off again, and there was the sound of metal on metal.
"Gabriel, can you hear me?"
After only the briefest of pauses, a voice came across the speaker. "I'm here John."
"Where's Michael? Can you see him?"
"Michael is disabled and approximately two hundred yards south of our position. He was attacked from behind."
"We need to down that tank!" John was nearly screaming into the radio now, and his hands were shaking like dry leaves.
"I agree. I will handle the tank, but I must warn you that I only have one round left for my rifle. There are three endoskeletons approaching your cover. You will have to dispatch two of them yourself."
There was a cutoff, followed by perhaps three seconds of silence. The rifle sounded again, and John poked his head over the wall only to see two endoskeletons standing not ten meters on either side. A third had been dropped and was twitching in the grass, but the three of them were going to be flanked in a very bad way.
"Shit!" John dropped down and grabbed his rifle. "There's one on either side, come on Alison!"
Alison's' eyes went wide. She knew what it meant to get this close. Toe to toe combat with one of these things was certain death. If it didn't shoot you, and it probably would get you on the first shot, it could snap a man in half without the slightest effort. She hoped that John understood that but as she looked at him she knew he didn't. He didn't look afraid, he looked excited. There was an element of fear, but this man was ready for it, ignorant of the danger.
Several things happened at once. Catherine, who had been crouched and silent, snapped up into standing position. Her rifle clattered into the dirt and she threw herself over the boulder just as a single endoskeleton emerged from their left. She was fast - Alison could hardly believe how quickly she moved. The endo fired at point blank range, hitting her each time in the belly. The woman responded by knocking the rifle clean from its grip, following through with both hands to the chest, sending him toppling backwards.
The other endo emerged, its rifle aimed high at first, but then adjusting. John was ready, but even then he had to contest with the faster reactions of the machine. He squeezed the trigger, felt the rifle buck in his hands and watched the spray of sparks erupt from the torso. The bullets left white hot scars on the chassis, but the machine was undeterred. It raised its weapon and pulled the trigger.
And here again perhaps fate stepped in. The gun, less a rifle and more a directed energy weapon, clicked once, then fizzled. Alison was numb, her own firearm still cradled against her chest. The endoskeleton inspected its weapon to reveal that a single round had passed through part of the casing. It was terminated.
Alison looked down the barrel, seeing the black 'O' where death should have come out, and said the only thing that came to mind.
"Holy shit."
There was another burst of machine gun fire and the endo dropped to its knees, a string of searing blotches where its face had been. Alison looked over her shoulder at John, who held the rifle so cleanly, so carefully, and she saw the look on his face.
Maybe there was something to this John Connor after all.
No more than five seconds had passed through these events, and the end was punctuated with a sickening shlink, the sound of sliding metal that made her flesh crawl. Behind John, Catherine Weaver withdrew a long silver blade from the other endoskeleton, sliding it from its mouth with almost sensual precision. The hulk dropped to her feet, eyes dark.
Catherine stood for a moment, a look of satisfaction spreading across her face. John watched her reform her hand, allowing the skin to take the color of porcelain.
Catherine Weaver had enjoyed that.
The next moment she was gone in a spray of fire. John had heard the woosh of the rocket but it hadn't registered in time and as he flew backwards into Alison, the force of the blast knocked him end over end and he thought to himself 'Now I'm really S.O.L.'
The ogre. In his burst of adrenaline and termination of the endo, John had let the tank of all things slip from his mind. Now it rolled towards them, its tracks digging into the mountain side, the whine of its driver motors filling the night air with a tortured electric whine. There would be no dodging this one. John could only scramble behind the covering boulder with Alison, hoping that somewhere, someone was looking out for him again...
And there was. John heard the next woosh, the high pitched sound of a rocket motor and he wrapped his hands around Alison. It was the only thing he could do. Their cover certainly wouldn't stop this.
As it turns out, it didn't have to. The explosion rang out over the battleground as a final exclamation to the engagement. Downrange, Gabriel stood over Michaels lifeless form. There was a tube thrown over his shoulder, and from it leaked a thin trail of smoke that stopped at the Ogres flaming carcass. There was a moment of rebellion in the dead machine as it wheezed out another few feet before it came to a complete stop not a hundred feet from them.
And then there was nothing. Where just moments before there had been the hopeless order of the battlefield, now there were only the smoking remains of this group of endoskeletons and their fallen titan. John made the motion to lift his rifle in the air, to pump his fist as his mind told him to do. His arm was halfway about his waist when he remembered.
"Derrick." He said, breaking out into a flat out run for the saddle.
Derrick was alive, but just barely. John slid down next to the wounded soldier, looking in the eyes of the two men that tended him. James was in well enough shape, sitting on his haunches with a look of bitter resignation on his face. Kyle was another story. His shoulders were shaking almost violently as he held in his sobs. Alison kneeled down next to him and looped her arm through his to pull him close.
"Gabriel, are you down there with Michael?"
"Confirmed. His chassis is severely damaged but I believe I may be able to salvage his chip."
John shook his head. "Later. He had the medical supplies didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Derrick has been shot. I need you to bring the medical supplies up here as fast as you can, bring only them. Do they have any surgical tubing? Anything for a field transfusion?"
"Yes."
"Good. You'll be performing a transfusion when you get up here. Now make it fast, I don't think he can hold on much longer."
Alison heard the conversation, her face growing more perplexed with every word. "John, do you have any idea how a transfusion works? Not just anyone's blood will do."
"I know that."
"Well no one here is a match for Derrick Reese!"
He glanced up at her, then at the General. As his uncle lay dying on the battlefield, John thought about secrets and about this future. He was right, devastatingly so. This ruse wouldn't work much longer, but he had to avoid the questions for now.
"I am."