"The will is not free - it is a phenomenon bound by cause and effect - but there is something behind the will which is free." - Swami Vivekananda
At dusk, Sarah calls Ellison's cell from the parking lot of a roadhouse north of Culiacán. The phone booth smells of stale beer and vomit, and the glass has been shattered – there are still strands of blonde hair and flaking blood in the fracture lines.
It could be worse.
He answers on the third ring, "Ellison."
"Zero nine eleven zero nine. We had to relocate."
"Zero four twenty-one eleven. Where are you?"
They don't do small talk; they aren't friends.
She looks back at the deserted road. "Right now? Five miles north-east of nowhere."
"You're not coming back to the US?" Ellison sounds tired, she hopes this is keeping him up at night.
She hopes he never sleeps again. If he wanted into her world so badly he'd betray them, he deserves the nightmares too.
She says nothing; Ellison knows better than to ask her plans by now.
There's a huff that might be a sigh, "Don't do it. Do not do it. There's a storm up here you want no part of. Terrorism, kidnapping, multiple homicides, assisting the escape of federal prisoners-."
"Is that all?" Sarah smirks and lets him hear it as she cuts off the list of charges.
"Give them time, they're still working on it." There's an undercurrent of amusement in his tone now and she doesn't like it; he doesn't get to find this funny, he hasn't earned it.
"Run a name for me," she says shortly. "Felix Reyes, he used to live in Nogales."
"Nogales? Nogales, Sonora? You can't take a child across the desert, Sarah."
You can if you have to, if your only choices are bad and worse, but Sarah's not in the mood to argue. "Then find Reyes. Do you have anything new?"
After a long pause Ellison grudgingly replies, "Yeah, I do. ZeiraCorp won a defense contract a couple of years ago. It's buried in their records, and I mean buried. Black bag buried.
"They outbid a company called Cyber Research Systems – CRS – for Cyberdyne's research. It was one of the first things the machine did after it killed Lachlan and Catherine Weaver.
"CRS went under the next year and Cyberdyne's research never went anywhere: it was buried. Probably harvested to make up parts of John-Henry."
CRS. Sarah tries to find any trace of the name in her memory, but it isn't there. "Does CRS have anything to do with the Kaliba Group?"
"I don't know - I'm still looking into it. And my job will get a lot harder if you're back in the country."
"I'm not here to make your life easy."
"Yeah, I noticed that. How's Savannah?"
"She likes the food here and her Spanish is getting pretty good. She's fine." Sarah toes the dust at her feet. "She's okay."
"She won't be if you're planning what I think you're planning. She needs stability. She's just a little girl, Sarah. She's not -– she's just a child."
"Stability won't keep her alive, what I can teach her will. The machines came for her, you really think they won't try again?"
"We don't know it was there for her."
"We don't know it wasn't," she hisses and then takes a breath and tries for an even tone. "We talked about it; you agreed."
Ellison snorts. " I didn't agree to this. You said you would stay in Guatemala."
"It wasn't safe." When they're sniping at each other like this, Sarah can't help it. "Is this what it's like being your ex?"
Ellison laughs without much humor. "Lila never gave me half the hell you do."
"Maybe she should have." And maybe it's time to change the subject. "We have a new friend."
Ellison's silence is pretty eloquent, so Sarah goes on. "Jesse Flores. She's Resistance." Sarah doesn't feel any particular obligation to share what else Jesse is; they've argued enough and the smell of the airless booth is beginning to make her nauseous.
"You trust her?"
She shrugs even though he can't see, "I can use her."
Ellison is silent for a moment before he says flatly, "You're really coming back, aren't you?"
"I don't know," she lies. "Call me when you've got something on Reyes."
"Reyes, Felix R. Declared missing March two-thousand three, with three other men and two women. Officially, they're still missing. There's a chance they crossed into the US, but the investigating officer concluded that the desert took them."
"You knew already," Sarah's mouth curves in an unwilling smile. Ellison's a bastard, but she has to admit he has timing. She doesn't think the desert took Felix, but she doesn't think he's in the US either. Somewhere the Sonoran Desert is hiding skeletons with bullets in the hollow places. Stupid son of a bitch always said he'd stay clear of the drugs.
"I was on your case a lot of years; there isn't a lot I don't know about your associates. There isn't a lot I don't know about you," Ellison mildly points out.
"You have no idea how much you don't know about me." She means it to be hard but it comes out tired and maybe that's just as well. "I'll be in touch."
"Sarah, wait-"
She hangs up and picks her way back across the debris in the lot. The double wave of heat and noise of the roadhouse is disorientating when she pushes through the doors. It takes her a few seconds too long to locate Jesse and Savannah in the crowd and her chest is tight as she walks towards them.
Savannah is still scaling the east side of a plate of tortillas and nachos, Hijo at her feet and Jesse watching from behind a few beers and a bottle of tequila. Sarah wants to ask if Jesse could have picked a harder place to see, but she knows that was exactly the point.
Jesse's eyes are dark and amused and Sarah knows Jesse's just waiting for the comment, so she smiles blandly and asks, "You know the Kaliba Group?"
Jesse thinks about it for a few seconds and then shakes her head. "Never heard of them. They have something to do with the machines?"
"Something," Sarah nods and sits.
Savannah looks up, there's a red ring of sauce around her mouth and more of it in her hair. "Mommy says I should have eight portions of fruit or vegetables every day at this stage of my physical development."
"Yeah, well Jesse says you should eat what's there." Jesse pulls a rag from her pocket and dips it in a glass of water, Sarah watches as she cleans Savannah's face gently and efficiently, but without any particular tenderness. Jesse still earns a smile; she's earned more smiles from the kid in a week with her careless attention than Sarah ever has.
It's a mystery, but it isn't one she needs to solve. "We'll pick up some oranges tomorrow," she promises.
Savannah feeds globs of cooling cheese to Hijo while Jesse stares thoughtfully at Sarah. Sarah takes it for a moment and then snaps, "What?"
Jesse runs a finger down the condensation on the bottle of her third beer and licks the water from her hand. "Who did you call?"
Before Sarah can speak, probably lie, Savannah says, "Mr. Ellison."
"Ellison," says Jesse tonelessly.
Sarah cants her head and trades toneless for impassive. "Derek told you about him?"
"He said he didn't trust him."
Sarah smiles crookedly, "Derek didn't trust anyone."
Jesse's eyes shutter. "He trusted John Connor. He trusted you."
Sarah wants to ask if they're talking about the same Derek, but she says, "Ellison is heading up ZeiraCorp for now, he has access to information we need."
"We're going back?"
"Maybe."
Jesse props up her head with her hand, fingers weaved into her hair. There's a thick, vividly pink scar running from just above her temple and into her hairline. Sarah thinks it was a ricochet – it must have been a ricochet or Jesse wouldn't be here.
Sarah never asked John or Derek what had happened; she'd never had to.
Jesse brings the bottle to her mouth, swallows until it's empty, and then slides it over with the others. "Derek said he killed his best friend. Billy Wisher. Andy Goode. Whoever he was."
Sarah doesn't know where this is going and really wishes she did. "I didn't know they were friends," she says at last.
Jesse nods as if Sarah has just proven her point. "The Derek I knew? He never would've killed a friend, but he thought I wasn't his Jesse because I had to kill Riley."
"If you're trying to say it was the same thing-"
"I'm saying I don't think there's a Jesse anywhere who wouldn't do whatever it took."
Sarah lets silence settle between them as she moves the plate away from where Savannah has let her head fall on the table. How the kid can sleep with Los Lobos cranked up to eleven Sarah doesn't know, but she isn't complaining.
She sits back. "Whatever it takes to do what?"
Jesse's mouth twists, "You tell me. I can drive and carry the bags and make sure the kid eats, but you need more than that. I know you don't trust me, that doesn't mean you can't use me."
Sarah wonders if the woman was listening but she can't see how she could have been.
Jesse takes silence as an opening and leans forward, "I don't need to know; I never needed to know. You think John Connor gives details? I did everything and it cost me my boat and my crew and my ... I did everything," she repeats, "and it cost everything."
Sarah shakes her head. "You're drunk."
The look Jesse levels at her is sardonic, "I'm drinking."
Sarah pulls the tequila towards her and pours a messy shot, she downs it and says, "A soldier from the future saved my life so John Connor would exist - so John Connor would fight the machines. And I said to him we'd stop Skynet. We'd stop it right there so there wouldn't be any machines to fight."
She stares at the table and sees the past; how young and stupid she was. Now, she can't believe Kyle went along with it, doesn't know how she convinced him.
"Anyway, we tried. He died. I trained John - I trained my own kid - to survive. To kill. When he was ten, the machines tried to take him again and we stopped them again.
"Then one day, after years on our own, the machines come back and he asks me, he asks me, to make the world not end."
Jesse silently pours two more shots for them and Sarah keeps talking, because she can.
"And now he's gone and I don't know. Maybe we stop it here, maybe we don't. Maybe he's dead."
Sarah's gaze settles on Savannah; the kid's head is pillowed on her hands, her eyes are closed.
"It always costs everything," she says at last. "Life costs everything, and then you die."
Jesse breaks the silence, leaning back in a creak of the chair. "Then at least we got it to spend."
They both drink and Sarah laughs quietly. If you see a killer robot, one shot. If it kills everyone you love, two shots. Her life is a hell of a drinking game.
Jesse looks warily bemused, "What's funny?"
"Nothing. Short version? Andy Goode – Billy Wisher – created a chess machine that we thought would become the base of Skynet's AI. Derek killed Andy, but the machine was already gone. ZeiraCorp stole it and as far as we know, they used it to build an AI they called John-Henry. He went into the future and John followed him.
"ZeiraCorp was controlled by a T-1001 who took the place of a woman called Catherine Weaver. It claimed it was helping Connor, not the machines."
Jesse nods slowly. "Helping him do what?"
Sarah shakes her head. "It didn't say, but I don't think it was trying to stop Judgment Day."
"You said yourself that was never the plan."
Sarah shrugs. "John asked me to stop it; I'm stopping it. The Kaliba Group are a part of it, somehow. They're building HKs and they probably attacked ZeiraCorp, but I don't know who their target was. We were all in that office, except Savannah.
"Now Ellison's found a reference to a company called Cyber Research Systems, they may be a new lead."
Jesse cants her head. "Never heard of Kaliba, or ZeiraCorp, but I know CRS."
Sarah stares at her. "Who are they?"
"A cybernetics company, want to guess what they did?" Jesse's tone is even, but Sarah can see the hint of a smirk.
She ignores it. "Do three dots mean anything to you?" She makes the dots in the spilled tequila. For Sarah it's 'because', for Jesse it's 'therefore'.
"Their logo." Jesses dips a finger into the same liquid and draws thin, beaded lines between the dots until a hexagon appears.
Sarah breathes out. "Derek didn't know it; that message came from someone who came back after Andy Goode was killed – we changed something."
"Hey, good for you." Jesse raises her shot and then bolts it back.
Sarah ignores her. "If we changed that much, we can change more."
The glass drops back onto the table. "So I guess I really wasn't his Jesse."
Jesse is watching Sarah with an absolutely blank expression but for once – God for once – Sarah knows what to say. "Yeah, you were. He wasn't your Derek."
She pulls her glass towards her and swallows the tequila down; winces a little. She can't remember the last time she really drank, not when it wasn't to get close to someone or an integral part of third-world health care.
"We're going to Nogales. You're going to cross the border, drive a couple miles into the desert and pick us up at these coordinates." She takes the pen and inks the directions onto the back of Jesse's hand.
Jesse studies her hand for a moment and then looks back up to Sarah. "Risky."
Sarah meets her eyes squarely. "Only if you don't show. And if you don't show, you better be dead or dying."
Jesse blinks first and then looks away like it's nothing. "I'll be there. And after that?"
Sarah reaches into her jacket and pulls out the list. She scans it just one more time, like some part will magically make sense, and then hands it over. "Anything on there you recognise?"
"P. Alto? Greenway? What is this?"
"Guess that's a no." Sarah reaches over to take the list; Jesse's fingers tighten and then let go.
She looks up to the ceiling and Sarah waits. Finally she says, "T-b-3-N. Connor ordered an attack on this compound. We took the machines out, but there's this old guy – a Gray, Murch – and he's just standing there writing on the wall. The same thing, over and over. T-b-3-N-C-8-4 and G-d-3-N-C-8-4."
Murch. Sarah knows that name, she's seen that name, and she fights to keep any flicker of that from her face. She schools her expression into vague interest and asks, "A Gray?"
"Collaborator. War criminals. Machines kill, Grays murder." Jesse spits on the floor.
Sarah looks at the shape on the table; the liquid glitters and shifts under the lights. She reaches over, drags a finger through the middle and then stands. "Get the kid up to the room, I have to make another call."
"Zero nine eleven zero nine."
"Zero four twenty-one eleven. Tell me you're not over the border."
"Murch could still be alive."
"You found him?"
"No, I'm leaving that to you. Look harder."
"I had them dredging the river, how much harder do you want me to look?"
"Harder than that. And find what you can on something called T-b-3-N-C-8-4 or G-d-3-N-C-8-4." She can hear his pen in the background; she waits until he's finished writing and then asks, "Anything on CRS?"
"It's been an hour."
"You're meant to be good."
"Yeah, well I am good. CRS had a lot of subsidiary companies, and those companies had subsidiary companies. Most of them are technology; a lot of DoD contracts, networking systems, what you'd expect. They're defunct."
"How about something I don't know?"
He ignores her and goes on, "The two smallest companies are still active: DreiFirma and Pure. DF is a scientific research company. Pure designs water filtration systems for industrial installations."
"You think they're anything to do with Kaliba?"
"Could be. Both of them did direct business with Desert Canyon Heat and Air. Pure is a little brass plaque on a door. DF has a compound and forty-eight researchers."
"Where is it?"
She can hear him thinking and she lets him; threats aren't going to work here. Besides, she might need them later.
"Outside Bishop, up in the foothills of the Sierras," he finally answers.
"Thank you."
Ellison ends the call this time.
The stairs up to the rooms on the second floor are behind the main building and the massive shape of Hijo sits at the bottom. Sarah pats her head as she passes and then climbs the steps.
She knocks on the door, waits until she hears the sound of Jesse's gun against the wood and then says, "There's no place like home."
Jesse pulls the door open and then steps back to let her in. Somehow the music from the bar is louder in here than it was outside: fast guitar and a bass she can feel through her feet.
Savannah is under a pile of blankets on one of the beds, the other is untouched.
"She still asleep?" Sarah whispers.
Jesse replies as quietly, "Yeah, she's out."
Sarah nods and drops into the room's only chair. It makes some alarming noises and then settles. "We're going to Bishop."
Jesse frowns. "The Sierras?"
"You know it?"
"The Crystal Peak installation's out there. Only one the machines couldn't take out."
"Why?"
Jesse shrugs and begins to bolt up the door. "Hell if I know. Connor never let anyone near it."
"Sounds like-"
Savannah sits up with a gasp and Sarah reaches out to touch her shoulder; touch helps, sometimes. "You okay?"
Savannah looks around with wide eyes; Sarah can feel her shaking under the light cloth of the blanket. "Mommy says-"
Jesse groans and Sarah tries, really tries, not to roll her eyes. She fixes a gentler smile and nods. "What did she say, Savannah?"
"Mommy says it's coming," Savannah whispers.
Jesse spins from the door to grab the bag of guns without missing a beat, but Sarah doesn't have the time to appreciate that because she's already scooping Savannah up from the bed.
The logical part of her brain tells her this is one of the kid's nightmares again, says it's the end of a bad dream. The part of her brain that's kept her alive is already directing her to the door.
Jesse twitches the curtains and ducks back as Hijo begins to bark in a loud, vicious staccato.
Sarah looks around fast but she knows what she'll see: the only way out is through the door and the only way down is those stairs. Stupid, really stupid, she should have insisted they keep moving until they'd found a better place to hole up but Savannah had been tired and Sarah had taken a chance.
Son of a bitch.
She shifts Savannah around in her arms and holds her hand out for the shotgun; Jesse throws it to her and then pulls two guns from the bag before swinging it onto her back. "Loaded, right?"
"Are you serious?"
Jesse laughs; it's a wild, happy sound and Sarah would be worried if she had the time. "Leapfrog, you first."
Jesse shakes her head once. "I'll cover."
Sarah bares her teeth and snarls, "Don't argue with me, just do it."
Jesse's jaw works, but she nods. Without waiting for more she reaches forward and pulls the door open fast and hard. Sarah sees her dive left before the door slams back on the rebound. Fragments of the frame explode as bullets kick into the wood and Sarah ducks back.
The window shatters with the fire that follows Jesse's run to the dubious cover of the stairs; Sarah grits her teeth, rolls to her knees and uses a sprinter's start to break out at a run. She throws Savannah to Jesse as she passes her position, fires two shots down into the night and then vaults the railing to land hard behind a vending machine at the bottom.
Jesse yells "Above!" and that's all the warning Sarah gets before the kitbag full of guns drops from above and lands heavily a couple of feet beyond the cover of the vending machine.
When no bullets come, Sarah cautiously edges out enough to see the lot. Hijo is nowhere to be seen and for one brief, flaring moment of hope she wonders if it was just some lowlife who thought he'd try his luck with the pretty women traveling all alone.
Then she sees the figure walk from the darkness into the patch of weak yellow light cast by the phone booth with the same mechanical stride that's stalked her for nearly twenty years.
It's been modeled after a male, slim and tall with dark hair and – incongruously – glasses. The gun in its hand is barrel down at an exact angle and its head turns by increments as it scans the interior of the phone booth.
Sarah begins to stand but ducks back as she hears Jesse's descent – more a controlled fall from the sound – down the stairs.
Jesse pushes Savannah into Sarah's arms and draws herself up to a crouch, breathing fast. "How many?"
"One I can see, it's next to the phone booth."
Jesse takes her turn to edge around for a better look. She ducks back after a second and murmurs, "Is it looking for something?"
Sarah shakes her head; she has no idea.
"What's the plan, boss?"
Leapfrog isn't going to work now; the truck is as close as they could get it but the machine is still in the way.
"Cover us," she replies at last; she keeps her tone flat like she doesn't know what she's asking.
Jesse stands smoothly and breaks from cover and makes a run straight for the phone booth, firing all the way. It gives the music spilling from the roadhouse a new beat and Sarah feels her heart beginning to keep time.
The machine turns its head to the new threat and begins to raise its own gun; Sarah tightens her hold on Savannah and sprints for the truck.
Five measured shots of a heavier caliber than Jesse's guns toll out and Sarah doesn't look; she can't look.
If it's aiming for her, it's missed.
She doesn't think it's aiming for her.
There's a dark blur in front of her as Hijo tears across the ground, but it means nothing. There's just her and Savannah, the truck and distance to survive. She's running too fast to stop and takes the impact on her shoulder as she slams into the side of the truck. The door jerks open as she pulls. Savannah cries out as Sarah throws her in, but curls into a ball in the foot-well just like she's been taught.
"Good girl," Sarah wheezes as she pulls herself into the seat. The keys are still in the ignition; no one would be able to steal the truck with Hijo guarding it, and there's no way she's losing her life or anyone else's because she can't find the damn keys.
The engine turns over and she swings the wheel around hard. Two headlights pick out the machine; the glint of metal under its skin where Jesse's bullets have scored flesh away. One of its arms still hangs at its side; the other is extended just enough to hold Jesse by her neck.
Her feet kick uselessly at air and one bloody hand grips the machine's arm as she desperately tries to take enough of her own weight to breathe. Sarah can see the moment – the exact moment – when fear turns to rage; when the struggles stop and Jesse's other hand rises with a gun in it. She fires almost point-blank into the machine's eye-sockets.
A ricochet shatters the side-mirror and Sarah pushes down hard on the accelerator, feels the revs build and then shifts the gears.
The truck rams into them both, denting the hood and sending the metal and Jesse flying apart.
The engine begins to stall and Sarah coaxes it to stay with her as Jesse stirs. "Up," she screams; this isn't happening again. This isn't happening ever again. "Get up."
Jesse staggers to her feet while the machine sits smoothly, Sarah gives it both barrels of the shotgun and it flinches back but doesn't fall. She can't ram it again, the truck will fail and they'll all die. Jesse backs towards them firing until both clips are empty and then she turns into a weaving run.
"Move it," Sarah screams again. She leans over to force the buckled door open and is already shifting into reverse as Jesse falls inside. She's aware of the light spilling from the roadhouse as those within rush out just like she's aware of Hijo leaping into the back, Jesse's choking and Savannah's crying: they mean nothing; all that's important is speed.
The machine is loping towards them as she guns them back and away, pulling a one-eighty that makes the truck shriek and sends the boxes and bikes in its path flying. Another shift and she's taking them out onto the highway, but the running figure in the rearview mirror is just feet away. It leaps, trying to get a hold of the truck but she pulls away faster. It falls in their dust.
Sarah darts a look at Jesse, the woman is slumped against the door and her eyes are dull but alert as she rasps what air she can get through. In the rearview, Hijo is licking at a patch of fur that's covering oozing blood and Savannah's face is pale and wet from the tears.
The machine stands in the road, Sarah watches as it turns and strides back into the parking lot. It will be stealing a bike, or a car. It will follow and if they stop it will kill them. It's what it does.
So they won't stop.
"Okay," Sarah says. "We're okay." She looks at Jesse again, "can you drive?"
Jesse opens her mouth to reply, grimaces and just nods.
"Switch."
The truck barely slows as Jesse puts a hand on the wheel and slides left while Sarah climbs into the back; they've both had practice, one way or another.
Hijo is bleeding sluggishly; Sarah thinks a bullet grazed the dog's side, but it doesn't seem bad. Hijo growls but doesn't snap as she rips a blanket and ties it around the mid-section.
That done she turns to Savannah and pulls her awkwardly into her lap; the girl doesn't resist but she doesn't help either - a living, breathing, child-sized doll.
"Savannah? How did you – how did your mommy know the machine was coming?" She tries to sound as gentle as she possibly can but nothing in Savannah's expression says she's heard.
She tries another approach, "That was pretty scary, huh? You were really brave. Your mommy will be proud of you. So would John-Henry."
At that Savannah shudders and Sarah holds her a little tighter. "Can you tell me how you knew, Savannah?"
"Mommy says I mustn't tell," the girl whispers at last.
"She wouldn't mean you mustn't tell me, or Jesse. We're looking after you for her."
Savannah looks up dubiously; Sarah can't honestly say she blames her.
"If you tell us, we can make sure this doesn't happen again."
Savannah sucks in her cheeks and looks miserable, but she doesn't speak.
"Tell us or I'll feed you to the first bear we see," Jesse rasps. Sarah opens her mouth to say something – she's not sure what but it'll probably involve yelling.
Savannah gives a tiny giggle. "There's no bears here."
"I'll get some. They'll eat you up."
Sarah watches the girl twisting her bracelet around and around; it's a nervous habit but not one she's in any particular hurry to get her to break. All Sarah's nervous habits include firearms; she doesn't really get to comment.
She watches the metal spin and then she sees it. Actually sees it. It's red; it was blue yesterday. "Savannah," she says quietly. "Did your mom give you that bracelet?"
"Mommy says I'm her life."
"Yeah," says Sarah and touches the bracelet. It's warm and gives just slightly. "I'm sure she does."
"Is that how they found us?" Jesse manages, just about audibly.
"If it was, they'd have come for us before now. I think it was the call. Anything behind us?"
"Do you see me pushing a hundred?" Despite having almost no voice, Jesse still manages to sound sarcastic; Sarah's impressed.
Why would it be behind them? The machine knows where they're going.
Sarah watches the bracelet, barely blinking as Savannah slowly falls asleep.
When she's sure the kid is well under she touches the bracelet again and just, just, manages not to jerk away as it flows up to become sphere in her palm.
"Weaver," she breathes.
"No." It's a high, thin and metallic-sounding monotone; the sphere vibrates in her palm. In her mind's eye, Sarah sees Savannah listening to it at night, whispering to it, curled up with her hands under her head.
"But you're part of the thing that killed her."
"Yes."
"Why are you here?"
"To gather data. To record."
"And protect Savannah?"
"She is required."
"Mommy?" Savannah whispers, still half asleep.
"Shhh," says Catherine Weaver's voice – distorted, but recognizable. "Go back to sleep."
Sarah waits until the girl has relaxed in her arms again and then says, "Tell me what you know."
"I have no instructions to do so."
"Then you can record how hot thermite burns."
The metal sphere collapses and flows back to take its place around Savannah's wrist. Sarah frowns as she sees the girl's skin begin to whiten, her hand redden.
How much does it need Savannah? Or maybe the question is, how much of Savannah does it need? The machine is bluffing; she's sure it's bluffing.
She can't risk it. "I get it. Let her go."
When the color begins to return, Sarah breathes out and tries logic. "She's required, I'm keeping her alive. Help me keep her alive."
There's no response from the remnants of the 1001, but Sarah isn't really expecting one. She slides out from under Savannah and climbs back into the front seat.
Jesse's eyes are fixed on the road and Sarah can see the dark shadows of bruises ringing her throat. Her face is scraped up and there's gravel in her hair. Dark blood smears the wheel and Sarah runs a clinical eye over the woman until she sees the blooded rent in her jacket: another graze. They were lucky.
Shot up, carrying a new passenger and still lucky.
She leans back and rips another bandage from the blanket.
"I can use you," Sarah whispers as she begins to bind the cloth tightly around the blood-soaked denim.
Jesse smiles crookedly and watches the road.