NOTES: Takes place during "Mr. Ferguson Is Ill Today", though diverges somewhat from the aired version. It could be considered a sequel to my previous story "The Uncanny Valley", but it is not necessary to have read it.
SUMMARY: Cameron decides to intervene before John makes a terrible mistake with Riley.
DISCLAIMER: All characters herein are the property of someone other than me. No profit has been earned.
"Only Lonely"
Chapter 5
T.R. Samuels
Snap.
John and Cameron broke apart as a man took their photograph.
"What a beautiful couple," He stepped forward, brandishing a digital camera. "And for only five dollars; a photo memory."
He showed them the tiny screen, displaying what he had taken. It was a great shot; Cameron and John frozen in time as they kissed, all the love and affection captured forever on a digital chip.
"Sure, I'll buy it."
The man smiled, happy for a quick sale. "Gracias, señor! It's all digital so I can email it to you."
John dug into his back pocket and fished out his wallet, eager to send him on his way, especially when the man's brow furrowed at him.
"The young boy and mother who stayed in Vivian's cabana."
John felt his blood run cold, covering it admirably as he handed him a crisp $5 bill. "Thanks a lot."
"John Connor!"
He felt Cameron's body stiffen in his arms as her eyes locked on the man; a cruise missile ready for launch. He tightened his grip around her as the full realization materialised on the man's face.
"You're Sarah Connor's son!"
"Listen, we don't want any trouble."
"I remember when the Connors left Dejalo. And I remember the stories that were told after you were gone."
John could almost feel Cameron ready herself. Either a word from him or a wrong one from the man and she'd strike.
Walk away pal. Save yourself a world of grief.
"You really mixed me up with somebody else."
No good. John knew the look on his face. Certainty. Esuriency. Looking to deal as he dangled the camera in his hand.
"These are pictures you wouldn't want the authorities to see."
John shifted gears. "How much?"
"Everything you've got."
Snatch. Cameron's hand lashed out like a rattlesnake, seizing the camera in a lightning move and whipping it out of his hand.
"Hey!"
Her next move had the man by the throat, pressing his larynges to bursting as he began to choke. Eyes wide, voice croaking. His leg lashed out behind him, groping for balance where it disturbed the offerings on a nearby alter, making a crash.
Before John could think two police officers bounded out of the bar, each looking for trouble as their eyes landed on the squabble.
And everything had been going so well.
####
John was thrust into an unforgiving chair, shoved by the policeman that had arrested him. He enquired about the camera.
"Stick to English kid," The cop remarked. "Your American accent is killing me." He was flicking through John's passport, to his displeasure finding all in order.
"This is all just a misunderstanding, I'll pay for the camera, okay."
"What the hell were you doing down here anyway?" The guy's contempt was thinly veiled, clearly disinclined to believe a foreigner.
"We're just tourists."
"This is the guy?"
The deputy looked to his superior, his body straightening. "Yes sir, I was about to take his statement."
The sheriff stepped forward, a more congenial man that looked John over with more patience and respect, competence unmistakable.
"A man took a picture of me and my girlfriend, he wanted us to buy it. It was crowded, someone bumped into him, he dropped his camera, I was afraid a fight was going to start so we tried to leave. That's all."
The senior officer had no reason to doubt him, but the events of the night were not what played on his mind.
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"When you say girlfriend, I guess you meant wife, right?"
John was flummoxed, not certain what to say.
"You both share the same name."
"Right," He covered. "We only got married yesterday."
The lie felt ridiculously easy.
"Congratulations. Have you been drinking?"
"No."
"Do you have parents?"
"A mother and an uncle."
"They know where you are?"
Checkmate. "…no."
The sheriff reached out, picking up the phone and depositing it in front of John. "I'll make you a deal. They come and pick you up; I let you go with a warning."
John felt the unmistakable feeling of defeat slide down inside him like a cold stone. Biting the bullet, he picked up the receiver and began dialling Derek, right now the lesser of two evils.
"Leave a message." Came the gruff response of his voicemail.
John pressed the alarm code and hung up.
"What the hell was that?"
"My uncle's voicemail."
"Call your mother."
John didn't want to do that, but the sheriff stared him down. Besides all that, if he didn't return to Cameron in the cell she would soon kick the door from its hinges. He lifted the phone again and began dialling, bracing for her wrath.
"Hello?"
John tapped in the authentication code.
"John! Thank God! Where are you? I've been going out of my mind!"
Cold slid down him again, this time in dread. He tapped the code again.
"Did you get through?"
"John? Are you there? Are you in trouble?"
John slammed the phone down, not knowing what else to do, wanting more than ever to get out of there.
"She… didn't answer."
"Put him in holding. In a few hours give him another phone call." The sheriff took his leave. "And run his name through Interpol."
"Yes sir."
John was sure the deputy asked him something else, but he didn't hear a word.
Soon he was brought back to his cell where Cameron was waiting, looking ready to tear the station in half. The officer unlocked the door, the cage swinging open like a rusty violin, pushing John inside.
"Are you alright?"
John's response was to take her in his arms in a hug, feeling the tension drain out of her.
"I had to call Derek to come and get us."
Her voice left no room for ambiguity. "We can leave right now John."
Part of him wanted to indulge her, set her loose on the precinct and tear it to pieces, blaze out of town in fire and glory and give the village a new set of stories to tell. Instead he leaned down and kissed her, taking some of that passion for himself to relieve the pressure.
"No. There's dozens of cops in this place. People could get hurt." He saw the objection in her eyes but stood firm.
His mother had not responded to his id-challenge. She wouldn't have forgotten that, meaning only one thing. He thought about telling Cameron, but if he did she would take the decision out of his hands, punch a hole through the masonry and carry him out kicking and screaming if necessary.
He'd have to sit tight, and hope Derek got here first.
####
Daybreak graced the Earth once more as the sun's rays cast their cell a morning orange. John lay across the folded out bed, little more than a rusty frame and tattered mattress, his pillow Cameron's lap. She looked down at him, as she'd done so for hours, time slipping by as she'd watched him dream, pulling him out of the ones that troubled him with a gentle caress.
She was certain that touching him was addictive. The more it happened the more she wanted it, craved it, drunk on its power. The warmth and pleasure no one else could give her. No one else she'd allow. He'd never even asked if she could feel or have sensation.
She loved him for that; for not asking such questions, certain in her feelings.
"Come on, get up." The deputy appeared beyond the cell, looking hung over and in no mood for games. John came awake, lifting his head and got to his feet.
"What's happening?"
The deputy pointed out through the door. "Some guy's here to collect you. Say's he knows you."
Derek. Thank God. A few more minutes and they'd be out of here.
"I'll be back." He promised Cameron before being manhandled down the corridor.
After making a few turns through the building, the deputy indicated an interrogation room. "In here."
"What for?"
"I'm not leading you out into the reception kid, that's not how things are done," He brought John inside, seating him behind a simple table. "I'll bring him in so he can identify you. Then you and your girl can leave." He threw over his shoulder before disappearing out the door.
The deputy made his way down the corridor and knocked on the door to the sheriff's office. He opened it, switching to Spanish when he saw he was not alone, the commander sitting opposite a formidable man.
"Excuse me."
James Ellison watched him get up and join his subordinate at the door, the two leaving to attend another matter. He'd driven more miles than he'd care to for this meeting; a few more minutes wouldn't matter.
"I'm sorry señor. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Ellison's attention was pulled over his shoulder as he heard the commander's voice, his vision focussing through dirty glass before resolving on the figure of Cromartie.
"I'm going to need to see John Connor." The machine reached into a bag, retrieving a Glock 9mm and casually blowing a hole through the sheriff's chest. Ellison dove for cover as the foyer erupted in a hail of panic and gunfire, two more officers getting blown away in a spray of coffee and plaster as the glass above him exploded into smithereens.
The terminator surveyed the scene of his debut, stepping over a twitching body before taking out another cop that put two rounds in his stomach, beginning his advance into the station.
John bolted upright in his chair, hearing the muffled sounds of gunfire. The certainty of what was happening crystal clear.
Cromartie pumped round after round into all who challenged him, striding past a holding area where a handcuffed prisoner screamed for mercy; the figure before him an angel of death. He ejected the pistol's magazine, never breaking stride as he retrieved a new one and slid it home. Another officer was downed as Cromartie reached a sealed room, kicking the door open, timber scattering about the place, containing naught but over stacked filing cabinets. His scans negative, he moved on.
As more gunfire erupted John picked himself up from behind the table and moved to the door, sliding his head out slowly where he saw the triple-8 grappling with more cops, downing them left and right. He slammed it shut, clicking the lock before overturning the table where he hid down behind it, his whole body shaking.
He'd never felt so scared in his life, feeling trapped like a rat, paralysed by the rhythmic thunder of Cromartie's onslaught.
More gunfire, this time right outside the door as John heard a flurry of banging and smashing, the whole building seeming to shake as dried plaster rained down from the ceiling like snow.
His blood ran cold as he heard the handle to the door rattle as it was tried from the outside. Moments later it was blown off its hinges, the splintered timber falling in a heap right next to him as he felt the purposeful strides of someone approaching.
"JOHN?!"
His heart soared as he heard Cameron's cry, bolting him out from behind the rubble where she stood in the centre of the room; her dress torn and bloodied, covered with dust, a deep laceration to her neck.
"Cam!" John threw himself into her arms where she gathered him to her, kissing him hard before taking him by the hand and leading him out.
The corridor looked like a war zone, brick walls riddled and broken, timber and shattered glass, all the hallmarks of a terminator battle.
Cameron led John forward, never breaking stride before an arm emerged from a nearby room, pointing a Glock that she quickly dispatched as she released John's hand, twisting Cromartie's limb around herself before flinging him out, his body colliding full force with the opposing wall. Before he reacted she grabbed him again, her dexterity defeating his strength as he was flung back the way he came into a pile of falling rubble.
She grabbed John again and they bolted for the exit.
"John! Wait!"
In a flash of movement Ellison found himself the next victim as Cameron deflected his arm, grabbing him by the collar and pinning him to a wall, her hand tightening like a vice.
"I'm here to help you!" He choked, sincerity in his eyes.
John didn't have time to decide as Cromartie dug himself out from beneath the wreckage.
"It's alright Cam, let's go!"
Cameron released him, the three bolting for the exit and into the sunlight. Ellison looked down the street, spotting a sky blue Camaro with racing stripes parked nearby, keys dangling from the ignition.
"Get in the car!" He yelled and the three of them piled in, Cameron throwing herself over John as they landed in the back seat. Bullets hailed passed them as Ellison roared the engine to life and meshed the gears, ramming the car into reverse. Cromartie emptied a full clip from his automatic at the retreating car before it swung around into a side street, altering course forward where he fired his Glock until the vehicle tore off in a cloud of dust.
"John, are you alright?!" Camerons' eyes were huge, checking him over.
"I'm fine." He pulled her against him where she forced her fingers into his hair, kissing his forehead, the relief euphoric.
"Look for ammunition!" She commanded, back to business as she grabbed a discarded shotgun.
John tore though the piles of paper and supplies strewn about the back seat, finding the odd cartridge before his hands seized upon their box. He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt the sudden banging from the trunk.
"There's someone back here! Stop the car!"
Ellison swung the wheel, turning the car into an alley and hitting the breaks. Cameron was out of the door before the vehicle had stopped, pumping a round into the shotgun as she moved to the trunk. Ellison retrieved the keys and jabbed them into the lock, waiting her nod before twisting them round and yanking the door open.
Sarah Connor glared up through the sun and Cameron lowered the shotgun, Ellison offering her his hand to help her up.
"Sarah Conner. James Ellison. I need you to come with me."
Her hand fell into his and he hauled her to her feet.
"Mom!"
Sarah tried to regain her bearings as her eyes rested on her son, overjoyed to see him as her hands grabbed the fabric at his shoulders. Her vision went beyond, seeing the police cruiser roll up across the street.
"We need to move!"
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