Sunday 1st September 1996 – 11.57am
It happened like this; An arrow came out of nowhere and stuck firmly into the side of the building below them. They stared around, looking for the source, and found it – a dark shape in a window across the street. There was a strong wire attached to the arrow, and Patton got it before Markus did.
"Take off your pants," she demanded.
"What?"
"Take off your pants. Your shirt is too thin."
The man was getting closer. He seemed to have run out of ammunition, although that probably wouldn't matter too much once he got close.
Markus did as he was told, and Patton wrapped his pants around the wire, handing both ends to him.
Markus' brain caught up. "Oh no. No. No. We are not doing this."
Patton climbed on his back anyway. There was no other option. Markus held his breath as he jumped off the side of the building, pants firmly in both hands.
They swung sideways as the pants took up the slack. It might have actually been exhilarating, even fun, if Markus hadn't been in complete agony the whole time. His injured hand threatened to give out the whole way across, and Markus wished he'd just sent Patton on her own.
He'd imagined smashing heroically though the glass on the other side, but the window was already opened the whole way out. They collapsed on the floor. Ignoring his throbbing hand, Markus went to the window and looked out.
The man-from-the-puce-volvo was silhouetted against the sun, standing on the edge, watching them. While Markus looked, the man walked away, and Markus realized it was only a matter of time before volvo-man was over here.
"We gotta go." From the man who'd shot the arrow.
"Yeah, I'd figured that out," Markus grumbled as they left the apartment. In the hall outside there was a staircase and an elevator.
"Well, which one this time? What's he going to least expect? What's our best tactical manoeuvre?" Markus was beginning to realize that no matter where they went, how clever they were, that man was going to follow them. And now it looked like they couldn't even kill him. And it was pissing Markus off.
He'd had two days of this now, two days of running, hiding. He couldn't imagine doing it for the rest of his life, and he really didn't want to have to find out.
They both gave him the same withering look and stepped into the elevator.
"Coming?" the new guy asked.
Markus got in.
Monday 15th October 2029 – 4.43pm
Erica had wandered for a while after the crowd in the barn had finally dispersed. She found herself near the graveyard wall. Her mother's body was still stretched out in front of it, but Erica paid her little attention. Her mother was dead, and that body was just a thing.
She looked at the wall, walked up and down it, examined faces she'd never seen before, and some that she knew very well. She recorded a bit, but she was too busy thinking to really pay attention to what she was doing.
How many pictures were on that wall? Thousands, definitely. It had gotten so big recently that they'd had to start expanding onto the walls nearby, and even onto the ceiling.
How big would it be this time tomorrow? How many bodies would there be in this hall?
Sunday 1st September 1996 – 4.25pm
"So, what the hell did you think you were doing?"
Markus had filled Jack – the new guy – in on their adventures of the last few days.
"Seriously, you got that Cecilia woman and those police officers killed. And all the people in the office building and the mall. And the waitress, and probably a whole bunch of others. If it wasn't for little Patton here, you'd have been dead in that hotel. Do you realize how many times she's saved your life? And she's, what, like eight?"
"Twelve. I think," Markus did not like being told off like this. It wasn't anything he hadn't told himself a hundred times.
They'd changed their clothes. Markus had gone from being looking like an escaped metal patient with bad dress sense to a fourteen year old with glasses, but he'd gotten to keep his back-pack from Cecilia's house. Patton looked about six – she'd even been given shoes with soles that flashed. She was not amused.
"You two, after today's antics, are probably at the top of someone's no-fly list. You're all over the news. They're looking for a college student and a twelve-year-old, not a nerdy teenager and his little kid sister. We've got to get you past security with no questions, or a whole lot more people will get killed." Jack explained.
He looked at his watch. "We should get going. Plane's leaving soon."
"Where are we going?" Markus asked.
"We're meeting up with Sarah in Panama."
Jack still hadn't given Markus any proper answers, and Markus was done.
"Who the fuck is Sarah? And why on earth is she in Panama? Where even is Panama? And why is volvo-guy trying to kill me? And why can't he die?"
Patton started to clear the table – Markus had had a massive cheeseburger meal, Patton had left her chicken nuggets completely untouched. Jack rescued his half-drunk cup of coffee as she whisked the tray away.
"Seriously, what is her deal?" he asked distractedly – he was examining their tickets.
"I don't have all the answers kid. Sarah is a bad-ass who is in Panama because of reactions like yours. No-one expects her to be there. She's got this kid, John. She treats him like the fucking Messiah. Says she's trying to prepare him, or something, but she won't say any more than that. And volvo-guy? Are you six?"
"What else am I supposed to call him?"
"I don't know. Sarah sent me here to keep you away from him and get you to her – don't know anything else... He can't die? What the hell's that about?"
Markus shrugged. "He's been hit by a car, shot a couple of times, completely fine."
"Huh."
Monday 15th October 2029 – 8.19pm
Erica was one of the few who had bothered to make the trek upstairs to greet the new arrivals. If she hadn't been making the documentary, she doubted she would have. What was the point? And anyway, what was going on downstairs was much more interesting.
The doors to the outside world opened, just a crack.
People started to pour in. And they just kept coming. More and more, one by one. Two hundred and eighty four, George had said – it looked like more.
As they came in, they sort of naturally divided themselves into two groups, and it was very clear which was which – those who had already been in the military, and those who'd been drafted over the last few days.
There were a lot fewer actual soldiers, but they looked a lot more organized than those from camp nineteen. Most of them had uniforms and guns, and, for the most part, they stood proudly. They were young, but they looked like seasoned warriors, and Erica had the slightest moment of hope, before she turned to look at the other group.
They were tired, bedraggled. They were in even worse condition than the new recruits from nineteen were. Most were old, and those that weren't had a scared nervous look about them, some sort of physical disability or were just too young – little more than children. They didn't even look like they met the fourteen year-old age requirement, and that was incredibly young – too young, to begin with.
But, people were people and troops were troops, and Erica was glad they were here. But did having more people fighting mean more people would die?
Sunday 1st September 1996 – 4.30pm
"This is going to be fun," Jack was leaning back against the railing, nonchalant.
The security queue wasn't very long, which was not a good thing. The security guard got to take his time, examine everything and everyone properly. They were halfway down it when something occurred to Markus.
"Shit, Jack. Shit."
Jack looked at Markus.
"Shit. Um. Shit." Markus did not know what to do.
He hissed under his breath at Jack - "the gun, Jack."
"What gun?"
"The one I have in my bag."
Jack's face dropped - he had a serious "oh crap" expression on, but he kept it together. "Bathroom, wipe it down, throw it in the bin."
There were now only two people ahead of them in the queue, but a large gang of teenagers on some sort of group trip had come in behind them.
"Sorry, so sorry," Jack grovelled conspicuously as they elbowed their way out. They were getting some odd looks.
Markus headed for the bathroom. He heard Jack say "that boy is an idiot," to Patton as he walked off. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about the gun. If he hadn't remembered in time...
There was a couple of people in the bathroom, and Markus went into one of the stalls. As he waited for the room to empty, he got some toilet paper and started to wipe the gun down. The noises died off; when Markus opened the stall door, the bathroom was deserted.
He was about to drop the gun into the waste-paper bin when the door opened. Hurriedly, he buried it under some damp tissue paper and avoided the gaze of the small Asian boy who'd come in the door. He thought he'd gotten away with it as he made a big charade of washing his hands.
Back outside, they joined the security queue again. Jack and Markus went through the metal detector with no problems, but with Patton the machine beeped.
Markus' throat leapt into his mouth. Jack's words rang through his head - "We've got to get you past security with no questions, or a whole lot more people will get killed."
This was it, they were all going to die.
The security guard made Patton go through the machine again. It beeped again. Markus' anxiety level went through the roof. He was debating grabbing her and making a run for it as the security guard made Patton turn out her pockets. She'd been wearing a metal headband and she went back through. It beeped again.
Markus was literally stepping forward to pull her away, when the security guard checked her shoes – there was wiring inside them. The security guard was clearly pretty relieved, though not nearly as relieved as they were, and he after he'd scanned her shoes, he didn't make her go back through again.
"Just don't do anything else stupid," Jack hissed at them a few metres later. Patton and Markus looked at each other – the shoes had definitely been Jack's fault. Probably better not to argue though.
Monday 15th October 2029 – 11.57pm
They'd run out of space in the military bunks for the new arrivals, so most of them had been absorbed into the mart. Some sat separately, but most were chatting and laughing with the people from nineteen.
There was an air of celebration – if this was to be the last night on earth for so many, the least they could do was make it a good one.
Erica sat with a group of old men, playing cards.
"This reminds me of -," one of them began.
"Here he goes again!" another teased. "Hey, girl, you'll want to get out your camera for this." He was joking, but Erica started recording anyway.
There was something very sweet about these men. They'd fought together before Judgement Day, and for a long time after, before being discharged. But, they'd been called up again along with everyone else.
"That time, do you remember?" He was drunk, but they all were. This was their last goodbye. At least some of them wouldn't make it through tomorrow.
They laughed loudly.
"Oh, yeah, that time."
"That time was my favourite time."
"I think we should do that time all over again, don't you?"
"Shurrup, you know what I - I mean" he slurred.
Erica felt like she was intruding a little – these men had been together so long, fought together, lost friends together, been with each other through wives and kids, and illnesses and deaths. They were closer than family, and they deserved to say goodbye in peace. So she slipped silently away, and just heard "hey, where'd she go?" as she went out of earshot.
There was a mother nearby, holding her uncomfortable daughter's face in her hands, and staring at her proudly, tears streaming down her face. The girl was a little more than fifteen, Erica knew her a little. The mother pulled the unfortunate daughter into a tight hug, and whispered, just loud enough for the camera to pick up, "just come back, okay?"
She noticed Erica recording and raised her voice at her; "Do you mind?" She pulled the poor daughter away.
Erica moved on.
"Eight, nine, ten! Ready or not, here I come!"
Hide and seek had become a favourite new past-time for the kids since more corridors had been opened up. The little girl zoomed right by Erica, just missing her. The kids really had no idea what was going on. It was just another day, and for some reason they were being allowed stay up really late and do whatever they wanted.
She went into the hall. The same group as earlier didn't appear to have moved, although they were much drunker now. One of them was giving a speech about Connor's failures as a leader, and how they were all doomed. Erica didn't want to hear it, so she kept walking, kept recording.
There was a muffled din coming from the farmhouse, so Erica headed that way. She poked her head and the camera inside.
A bunch of people – she recognised them as some of the new recruits, were kneeling on the floor, sacks over their heads and a bucket of water in front of them. There were soldiers standing over them – mocking, shouting. Some sort of hazing ritual probably. Erica didn't wait to see what happened next.
Out in the corridor again, she bumped into Joan and George. They were kissing passionately, but jumped apart when they heard Erica coming.
"Oh, it's just you. Were you recording?" Joan asked. Erica nodded.
"Doesn't matter really now, I suppose. We're not supposed to be dating. Regulations." George explained. "But after what's going down tomorrow – well, I don't know how many of us will be around to care."
They walked off, and Erica didn't follow. They deserved a last night alone together too.
Down some more corridors, and Erica found herself outside the barn. Inside, the instructor she'd thought was an ass-hole was running drills with any of the new recruits who'd bothered to turn up. Erica hadn't been told about it, so she didn't think it was an official training session.
She stood, recording them on and off for about ten minutes, until they finished up.
"Any questions?" The instructor asked, and everyone's hand shot into the air. Another half-hour was spent answering everything from how to shoot a rifle to how long it would take to get from camp nineteen to the Skynet base, to what he thought their odds of survival were.
"Just remember your training and you'll get out of this okay," he finished.
Eventually, they dispersed, none looking comforted or prepared. Erica went up to the instructor while he was putting away the few guns he'd brought to practice with.
"You weren't ordered to do this, were you?"
The instructor shrugged. "I don't have anyone to say goodbye to, and they are so... not ready for what's coming. If I can put their minds at ease, or at least slightly less un-at-ease then..." he let the sentence trail off.
"Do you believe what you said a minute ago?"
He shook his head. "They were mostly ones and twos. I'd be very surprised if a single one of them comes back alive."