Hope
Chapter 03: When The Man Comes Around
HOMESTEAD - ARROWHEAD
MONDAY 25TH MAY
8.02AM
Pop… pop… pop… pop……. Pop!
Two hazel eyes opened to the world, and through a pair of black slits they saw a black-haired human holding a metal toy in both hands. The human was aiming this toy at a line-up of green food balls and squeezing it, resulting in repeated popping sounds as the green balls exploded without reason. Timmy stretched out his paws and gave a wide yawn as his sleep was disturbed for the fourth time that day by the noisy bipeds that lived in his home.
He had become accustomed to the racket of his owners, yet they still managed to find some way to disrupt his daily patterns. The human stopped to fiddle with her toy, taking a long part out of the bottom and tapping it on the side of the whole, a frown on her complicated features. The sound of wood scraping against wood alerted Timmy to another human approaching from behind, his footsteps on the hard gravel notably heavier than the one before him.
The female paused to watch as the gruff male opened up the metal moving monster and threw a green bag into the passenger seat before hauling himself inside. He slammed the door closed and a few seconds passed before the monster roared to life with a hair-raising growl, followed by a steady chug chug chug that Timmy could only guess was the monster's equivalent to a purr. The female approached the side and tapped on the invisible door above the metal, prompting the male to roll it down for her to speak.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
Timmy simply watched on as the humans made their bizarre throat noises at each other, recognising only a few of their tones and words.
"I'm visiting our guy. We need to restock on explosives", the male replied.
"What for? We have no leads. Nothing pointing us in the right direction", the female countered.
"What about the information Jason sent you? You telling me there's nothing there that even hints at Skynet?"
The female shuffled on the spot and crossed her arms; a defensive gesture that even Timmy could recognise.
"Nothing's conclusive, which is why we should hole up until we know something for sure. You've been dropping into the city every day since the attack. Where do you keep going?" she asked.
"I told you: I'm looking for the son-of-a-bitch who did this. I have contacts-", he began.
"Well your contacts can call you when they have something. You can't keep disappearing. We need you here", she interrupted.
The male looked back at the house for a long moment, and then glanced down at the toy in the female's hand before returning his eyes to her face. "No, you don't", he replied. The monster gave a sudden snarl before pulling away from the female, who jumped back in surprise, almost stumbling onto the bench where Timmy was sprawled out upon. The monster disappeared around the corner with one last howl, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.
The female sighed and slapped the piece back into the toy, catching Timmy in the corner of her eye.
"You have no idea what's going on, do you?" she said.
Timmy stared up at her for a second before lifting up his back leg and licking his foot.
"I thought so", she mumbled, pulling a spare clip out of her belt.
-----000-----
8.11AM
Heavy boots clunked upon the wooden steps as John ascended, his eyes and ears seeking out the source of the hissing he heard whilst sharpening a knife downstairs. Reaching the landing, he stopped to observe the three rooms around him; one directly ahead of him, his mother's; another to his right, Derek's; and the third room behind him; his and Cameron's. Each room had an en suite shower with the exception of Derek's, who, as always, got the sore deal when it came to accommodations.
That was what he assumed the noise was as he stepped around to his door, pushing it open gently so as not to be heard. The room was empty, though he noticed a single towel neatly folded upon the bed. Steam crept under the bathroom door and John's inquisition ceased to be an issue. Kneeling down, John hastily unbuckled his boots and set them to the side before tip-toeing towards the door. He wanted to know if cyborgs were capable of being startled or snuck upon.
With quivering fingers he clamped the knob and slowly turned it, feeling the door give a little as the latch slid out of its covert. The noise of the shower greeted him without filter, reminding him of a mass of desert crickets or the rattlesnakes he would capture and kill with Enrique so many years ago. Hot steam hit him, dousing his clothes with moisture that threatened to soak him through. The room was filled with it, so much so that he could hardly see anything besides the white mist.
Closing the door behind him, John stepped towards the shower and reached for the curtain, catching a glimpse of the shadow that stood within. Grasping the curtain in his hand, John's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he suddenly swept the curtain aside and shouted her name. In a heartbeat, she spun around and clutched his shirt, lifted him off the ground and slammed him against the wall. This was not how he had intended it to go, and as the water cascaded around him, Cameron's expression turned from intent to recognition.
"John? What are you doing? I could've killed you", she said, releasing her grip and allowing him to step out of the tub.
"And here I thought I could sneak up on machines", he grumbled, shaking himself dry with little success.
Cameron switched off the shower and stepped out of the tub, reaching for the towel on the nearby rack to dry her body.
"I have proximity sensors. They are finely tuned; you cannot sneak up on me", she replied matter-of-factly.
John snorted and let his eyes wander, lingering on her soft exposed belly for a moment before his self-respect kicked in and he handed her another towel. Cameron took it with a thank you and wrapped it around her waist before opening the bathroom door and moving into the bedroom. John followed; glad to be out of the humid environment she'd created in there. Cameron picked up the towel on the bed and started drying her hair, turning to face John as she did, who was still dripping from his brief stint under the shower.
"Is there something you wanted?" she asked, rubbing behind her ears.
John opened his mouth to reply but was suddenly struck by a tick. Cameron had long since stopped asking such questions whenever he spontaneously decided to approach her for no apparent reason, knowing that he did so simply to be close to her; so for her to make this error now, John's suspicions were immediately aroused.
"Err… nothing. I just… you know. What's up?" he countered, closing the bathroom door to contain the steam.
Cameron ignored his question and turned to the wardrobe, opening the right-hand door with a mirror inset. With one hand she untied the towel around her waist, allowing it to drop to the floor. John's heart began to race as he caught her reflection in the mirror, displaying her body to him in glorious detail. Again, the voice in his head told him to cast his gaze elsewhere, so he chose the floor, only to find something truly distracting on the carpet: blood stains.
At first he didn't quite register what he was seeing, but after a few seconds it sunk in. Next to the small blob was a second, and close to that a third, and then a fourth, and then a few other droplets of red that when he followed the trail; led all the way to Cameron's bare feet. He watched as another drop fell upon the carpet, a small puddle gathering at her feet as she ignorantly picked out a gown and slipped inside it. John's eyes darted to the mirror and he saw the source of the blood. His heart stopped.
"Cameron?"
His voice was hoarse and full of alarm. Cameron turned on the spot with concern and puzzlement in her features. Following his attention, she looked down at herself, but couldn't see anything below her protruding belly. Looking back at the mirror however, she spotted what he was fixed upon. A moment of silence passed as she observed herself carefully, touching the skin of her thigh and rubbing the liquid between her fingers thoughtfully.
"Cameron, why are you bleeding?" he asked finally.
Cameron considered the blood on her fingers for a second before looking up at him with a reassuring smile.
"It's okay, John. There's nothing to worry about. This is normal", she replied without concern.
"Normal?!" he yelped. "Since when is a cyborg bleeding like this considered normal?"
"I'm not like any other machine", she reminded him with a coy smile.
John wasn't fooled, however. She was trying too hard to reassure him, and that was the giveaway. Snatching the towel from the floor and laying it out on the bed, John gestured for her to lie upon it before sticking his head out of the window and calling for Sarah.
"There's really no need", she tried to tell him, but John ignored her and pushed her gently onto the bed.
The sound of a charging elephant shook the house as Sarah came hurtling up the stairs, a gun in her hand as always. Timmy was not far behind, trotting inside to observe the commotion. Sarah examined the scene before her, spotting the blood on the floor and the panicked expression on John's face.
"What's going on? Are you hurt?" she asked him.
"No, it's Cameron. She's bleeding. Something's wrong", he informed her.
"Bleeding? What do you mean?"
"Like… Like she's… she's… just down there", he replied awkwardly.
Sarah frowned at him for a moment before switching to Cameron with a measuring look.
"Oh…" she said as her eyes found the source of the dilemma. "Ohhhhhh", she gasped, her expression incredulous.
"I know, right", John acknowledged.
Cameron stared up at them as they started jabbering away between themselves, pulling theories and explanations for the anomaly out of thin air. Accessing her sensor readings, Cameron carefully probed the new data coming from the womb and the foetus. The information was garbled and made little sense even to her advanced intelligence, but one strip of data stood out from the chaos: anomaly error. The pulse monitor in the left hand corner of her HUD was beating at an irregular rhythm and she knew something was far from right.
"…could be something that happens. I mean, she is pretty far along", John tried to reason, casting Cameron another look of concern.
"You don't know the first thing about women, John. We don't bleed this late in the pregnancy unless there's something wrong", Sarah told him.
John rounded on Cameron, unfolding his arms and looking her straight in the eye, even though he could never see anything in them that would help him tell the truth from a lie.
"Cameron, what's happening with the baby? You shouldn't be bleeding like this, right?"
Sarah's eyes bored into Cameron as she considered her best choice of response.
"I am not a woman", she pointed out.
John rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like 'You could've fooled me' under his breath as he turned away from the bed, realising she was going to do everything in her power to beat around the bush about this. But he needed to know. He needed to be sure that the baby was okay. She was going to tell him, whether she liked it or not.
Closing his eyes, John took a steadying breath before repeating his question: "Cameron, tell me what's happening to you."
Cameron remained silent however, and cast her eyes down to her belly as she assessed her options.
"He asked you a question", Sarah snapped.
--[Running scan…
"I'm not sure", she answered finally.
--[Scan complete.
"What do you mean you're not sure?" Sarah pressed.
--[Processing results…
"I mean I'm not sure. I'm still collating data", Cameron replied.
--[Results verified and confirmed…
"And what does this data tell you?" John asked, turning back to face her again as the result of her scan displayed itself in her HUD.
--[Anomaly Termination Imminent
Something small inside her snapped as the damning fact presented itself to her. On the one hand, this was what she wanted all along; to be free from this impediment so that she might resume her duties. But on the other, she knew how much this creature meant to John, and that its expiration would destroy him. A broken Connor is a worthless Connor, Future John had told her. She had to keep him sane.
"The foetus is… experiencing complications", she confessed in her softest tone.
John froze for a long moment before blinking and swallowing her admission.
"Bad?" he asked.
"I don't know yet. It's too early to tell", she lied.
A dozen explanations ran through his head as he tried to make sense of why this would happen all of a sudden. The most obvious reason would be the explosion and whatever underlying damage it could've caused. Not knowing what to do with himself, John moved to sit down, but decided to approach the window instead, crossing his arms one second and holding the back of his neck the next.
"O-O-Okay we need to… We need to get her to a hospital. We need… We need to get a scan or something. We need to know what's going on in there", he stuttered to himself, pacing back and forth.
"There's no way we can take her into a hospital. You know that, John", Sarah reminded him.
He paused, considering her words for a moment before nodding and immediately forming another plan.
"Then we take what we need and bring the equipment here."
"John, if this is as bad as you think; we won't be able to go all the way into the city, find a hospital, steal what we need and make it back in time", his mother countered.
"Then call help. Call Jason", John suggested, his desperation apparent in both his tone and his decision to involve the cyborg.
Sarah couldn't believe he would resort to such a suggestion, even in the current circumstances.
"There's no way I'm involving that son of a-", she started.
"Mom!" John cried; sheer disparity and abandonment in his eyes as he looked from her to Cameron and back again. "This is my child."
Sarah stared deep into those eyes and what she saw almost broke her heart. He was in such pain, and she had a way to ease it.
"God damn it", she cursed, flipping her phone open and dialling the number. The tone rang for several seconds before an all too familiar voice answered on the other end, one that belonged to a woman. Sarah counted herself fortunate it was Sophie answering and not Jason, but this gave little comfort for she knew she needed to speak to him regardless.
"I need to speak to Jason, now", she ordered.
The phone went silent for a moment and Sarah thought she'd been cut off, but then Sophie's voice returned.
"Jason isn't available right now, but if you leave a message I'll be sure to pass it along at my earliest inconvenience", she joked.
Christ, Sarah sighed as the prospect of trading taunts with Jason's better half seemed a most unwelcome reality.
-----000-----
MIKE KRIPKE'S BASEMENT – LOS ANGELES
8.30AM
Even after 22 years on the job, James still felt a sense of foreboding every time he stepped under the yellow tape and onto the threshold of a crime scene. CSI were already conducting their examinations of the building as he followed the plastic covering leading to the basement door. Agent Carlson stood at the door, idly jotting something down on his notepad.
"Agent Carlson, I see you got an early start", Ellison remarked.
"You know what they say: early bird catches the worm. Or in this case-" Carlson began.
"The suspect", Ellison finished.
Carlson simply nodded, twirling the pen between his fingers before pocketing it.
"Shall we?" he said, motioning for Ellison to follow him down the stairs.
Ellison complied, and as they started the short descent he immediately knew this wasn't going to be a cut-and-dry case. Rarely had he enjoyed such simplicity in the past few years. Ever since his encounter with an agent of the future, Ellison had started to see signs in every case he took, and not even his faith could answer the many questions that plagued his dreams. 'Kester' had spared him so that he might lead it to the Connors, but this proved to be its undoing, for Ellison led it straight into the guns of its targets.
He could still hear the thunder of automatic fire as they pinned the machine to the spot, ironically before an icon of Christ on the cross. The thunder was replaced by heavy booms of lightning as the noble cyborg obliterated Kester from behind, blasting the side of its face into the fiery oblivion that awaited the rest of it. It lay there, twitching and helpless as the boy it spent so long hunting delivered the coup-de-gras. Justice for the men it murdered in the Mexican police station, and for Ellison's HRT unit back in Los Angeles.
Justice for George Laszlo, the man whose face it stole. Justice for James Ellison, the pawn it used for its nefarious ends.
Too engrossed in his past, Ellison did not heed Carlson's warning to mind his head and promptly collided with a low beam. Carlson stopped at the base of the stairs and cringed at the mishap.
"Ouch. Didn't you hear me?" he asked.
Rubbing his temple, Ellison ducked under the beam and finished his descent.
"Tell me what you've got so far, agent", he sighed, trying to ignore the dull pain in his skull.
Finally, Carlson thought as he flipped open his notebook again.
"Okay, from what I can gather from eyewitness reports and what our CSI guys have dredged up; we got two perpetrators who apparently came ploughing through this wall…", Carlson began, showing Ellison the gaping hole in the bricklayer. The hole was large enough for a grown man to step through without crouching and bore all the signs of forced collapse. "Plus one for the weirdo-meter, right there", Carlson remarked with a smirk.
"You say they came in through the wall? Two guys?" Ellison enquired in disbelief.
"That's what they say. The 'squints' seem to think so too. They found skin and blood traces on the wall and scattered brick", Carlson replied.
"How could they break through solid brick?" Ellison asked himself aloud.
"Beats me. Maybe they were on steroids or something. PCP, maybe: must've broken every rib and not felt a thing", Carlson reasoned.
"Yeah, maybe", Ellison murmured.
Unwittingly, thoughts and theories started to rear their ugly heads in Ellison's mind. For once he'd like to find a peculiar assignment and not have it create images of metal skeletons and nuclear horrors. But he could be jumping to conclusions; this could just be a brawl between two crack-heads high on ice. Then again…
"Something, or someone, collided with the stairs here; collapsed the first few steps. And this…" Carlson reported, kneeling beside a dark patch of ash on the floor, "This is the strangest thing I've seen since taking this job. Anything make sense yet?"
Ellison crouched down beside Carlson and narrowed his eyes at the charred remains of whatever (or whoever) was immolated. Glancing up at the staircase, he noticed the first few beams were blackened and crumbling from the fire. Touching a solitary beam with the tips of his fingers, Ellison was surprised when it dissolved upon contact, becoming little more than a pile of ash.
"What kind of incendiary could cause something to burn this fast?" he asked.
Carlson flipped a page on his notepad and tapped it with his pen before clearing his throat.
"Forensics' early guess points towards an industrial inflammatory. They did find traces of a compound called thermite in there, and some kind of metal, too", he answered.
"Metal?" Ellison repeated, the warning bells in his heart ringing.
"Yeah, metal. They don't know what kind of alloy it is yet, but they recognised elements of Titanium and err… what does it say here…" Carlson flipped another page and frowned as he searched for the right note. "Ah, here it is; columbite – tantalite. Otherwise known as-"
"Coltan", Ellison interjected.
"That's right", Carlson confirmed, a little put off by Ellison's foreknowledge. "You gotta wonder what that kind of alloy is doing in some guy's basement. I'm telling you, Jim; this is making less and less sense the more I think about it", he added.
I don't think we'll be finding any here, Ellison mused as he stood up and observed the rest of the scene.
"What do the witnesses have to say about the fire?" he asked.
"Well, if they're to be believed; we're standing over one of them", Carlson snorted, inclining his head to the ash stain on the floor.
Ellison looked down at the stain and from his height he could almost make out the shape of a person.
"Be specific, agent."
Carlson pocketed his notepad once again and stepped into the middle of the room, turning to face the breached wall whilst looking back at Ellison as he explained: "Okay, the fleeing couple were making time on this couch here…" he began, tapping the furniture, "…when suddenly our two 'perps' came crashing through the wall here. The couple took off, but the guy stuck around long enough to see them duke it out. Now apparently, one of them threw the other across the room and into the staircase."
Carlson, in an almost dramatic choice of movements that were not lost on Ellison, pranced to the staircase and directed his attention to the ash. "Now get this: once the other guy was down, the first came along and shoved his hand right into his chest and ripped his heart clean out", he explained.
Ellison took a moment to digest this before asking: "And what about the fire?"
"We, he, doesn't know. The kid didn't stick around after seeing a guy tear the still-beating heart from another guy's chest. Can't say I blame 'em", Carlson replied.
"Right", Ellison murmured, scanning his surroundings once again as he tried to find some way of clarifying the information they'd gathered so far. If he were ignorant, Ellison might've chalked this up to some bizarre scrap between two cultists or a drug feud of some sort. But know what he knew, he couldn't help but make nonsensical sense out of what he was dealing with.
They were here, he told himself. It was the only (ir)rational explanation he could muster.
Carlson waited patiently for his superior to offer up his opinion, but Ellison continued to examine the basement, hoping to find some small detail that could bring this investigation back onto the rails of sanity. He could find no such reassurance however, and perchance he spotted something on the south wall. Stepping closer to get a better look at his discovery, Ellison found a small hole in the wall and the faint smell of alcohol and, curiously, disinfectant seeped through it.
"You got a flashlight?" he asked Carlson, who was also squinting at the hole.
"Sure", he answered, producing a penlight from his jacket and giving it to Ellison, who then flashed it inside the hole and, to his surprise, was greeted by a circular reflection.
"Who is the owner of this property?" he enquired.
"One Mr M Kripke", Carlson replied.
"Then I think we should ask Mr Kripke why he has a camera set up behind the wall of his own basement", Ellison suggested.
-----000-----
FBI HEADQUARTERS – LOS ANGELES
10.10AM
Locating Mike Kripke had proven to be more work than either of them had expected, for when not at home his daily routine was, as his disgraced mother described; "as random as a crocodile using roller-skates". This was not all that inaccurate for they found the man purchasing a packet of writable DVDs from a video store several blocks away. He was apparently completely unaware of the event that took place in his basement, and his mother was shopping for groceries at the time, though she had an alibi to support her statement.
Mike could make no such claim.
"I already told you; I wasn't there when it happened. What more do you want?" he asked the agents.
"What we want is for you to explain this", Ellison answered, placing the camera on the interrogation table between him and Mike.
The man twitched at the sight of it but remained silent.
"We found it in the wall of your basement", Carlson explained.
"With a convenient little peephole for it to see and I assume, record everything that goes on inside said basement", Ellison added.
Mike blinked, and Ellison knew it was not the normal reflexive moistening of one's eyeballs. Leaning away from the table, Ellison looked the man over. From his tasteless Hawaiian shirt to his white golfer shoes, Mike had the word 'sleaze' written all over him. In some ways he reminded Ellison of Carlos Salceda, the nephew of Enrique Salceda (or "El Finito", as he liked to call himself), a Mexican lowlife who dabbled in fake IDs and other GTA-wannabe activities.
At least Carlos had a mouth on him, the agent mused.
"We spoke to a few of the teenagers you let into your basement. At first, they were a little reluctant to explain what they were doing there, but when we explained to them the penalty of perjury, they became a lot more cooperative", Carlson taunted.
"You were running a make-out den", Ellison clarified, just to get the obvious out into the open.
"F-Free country", Mike stuttered, the sweat on his brow shining beneath the high wattage bulb above him.
"You're right, it is a free country", Ellison agreed, pulling up a chair and sitting with his hands together at the table. "We can't stop the shenanigans kids get up to these days, and it would be a remarkable waste of police time to try. But there is a limit to our tolerance, Mr Kripke. And right now, you're testing that limit. Now you have one of two options here: you can dally and delay the inevitable for as long as you like, or you can explain to me and my good friend here why it is you hide a recording device in your walls: your choice."
"And just so you know; the longer you stay silent, the worse off you'll be when we figure it out ourselves", Carlson reminded him.
Mike's hands started to shake as he stared down at the camera for several long seconds, considering his options.
"We're waiting", Ellison calmly pressed.
Finding no way out, Mike cracked and let out a sigh of defeat.
"Alright look; I let the kids use my basement as a free brothel. They bring their dates and get it off watching the other couples. They pay me for every hour they spend down there and in return they get to fool around with as many likeminded kids as they want. Fair deal", he explained.
"And you record their activities and offer to sell it to them for an extra fee?" Carlson asked.
"No, if that was the case the camera wouldn't need to be hidden. You don't want them knowing they're being taped, do you?" Ellison interjected.
Mike's sweating worsened as he started ringing his wrists.
"If they knew I was recording them they'd freak out and I'd lose my business. I don't record it for them", he answered.
"Who do you record it for then?" Ellison enquired.
"I… I know some guys who pay big money for new material. We have an arrangement…" Mike trailed off; knowing he'd sealed his fate.
Every moral code in Ellison's body wanted him to throw this pervert into a hole somewhere and leave him to rot, but he had to control himself if this case was to be solved. He needed to know exactly what happened that day. He needed solid proof that it was what he believed it to be.
"I have one last question for you: where is the tape from that session?"
Mike looked from Ellison to Carlson, who glared back in disgust and sadistic satisfaction at his being cornered.
"It's under a floorboard where you found the camera. I hid it after everything hit the fan", he answered.
Satisfied, Ellison stood up from his chair and buttoned the front of his jacket. Turning to the door, he cast the man one last look before giving Carlson the order to lock him up. Closing the door behind him, Ellison strode down the corridor with a profound sense of accomplishment and dread at what he would find on that tape. Nothing could make it any easier, however. He needed to see it. He needed to understand. He needed to know.
-----000-----
HOMESTEAD – ARROWHEAD
10.35AM
Peeling the sticky packaging apart, Sophie removed a single syringe from the box and set it to one side as she reached for a small bottle of pure alcohol. Placing that beside the syringe, she twiddled a dial on the side of the microscope to raise the device a little higher from the base. To the left of the scope sat a small plastic screen and a Petri dish, both ready for the examination she was poised to perform.
Glancing up from her makeshift desk, she saw John and Sarah in the same anxious state as the last time she checked. John was sat on the edge of the bed beside Cameron, who simply laid there without concern, one hand close to John's, the other above her belly. Sarah was standing by the window, occasionally peering outside as if expecting to see something new.
Sophie opened the bottle and poured a little of its contents onto a cloth, which she then rubbed in a circle on Cameron's exposed stomach. Picking up the syringe, she was about to inform Cameron that the prick might sting, but remembered her nature and decided it unnecessary, so she stuck it in without pause and a little more force than would be necessary for a human. After a few seconds passed, Sophie drew a small sample of blood and then removed the needle, squirting a drop onto the screen and sliding it under the scope.
While she adjusted the microscope to better see the blood, John started to get restless and broke Sophie's earlier request for absolute silence. "So what happens if the baby's blood matches the blood you swabbed from Cameron? What does that mean?" he asked impatiently. Sophie frowned as she examined the blood cells, pulling up a visual memory of the other sample in her peripheral to compare the two. The CPU in the centre of her brain took what she was seeing and did all the calculations for her, revealing the answer in seconds.
"It means your baby is in trouble", she replied, leaning back from the microscope.
John's lower jaw hung loose for a moment as he absorbed her answer. Try as he might however, he could not find any means of accepting the turn of events. Every ounce of sense in his brain told him it was so, but all he could think was 'no'. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. It was impossible, because he wanted it to be. Because he was John Connor. After everything he'd suffered, and all that he would one day suffer, this was the one thing that could never happen to him.
Or so he believed…
"Why? Why is this happening? Why now? Why not before?" He asked with a dry throat.
"I don't know. I'm not even sure of what's happening in there. It could be any number of things… and any number more considering what she is", Sophie replied, wiping the alcohol from Cameron's stomach.
"So how do you know it's bad?" Sarah pointed out.
"I don't. But then not knowing, not being able to figure out what is wrong is a bad thing. Like I said: trouble", Sophie explained.
A spark of hope erupted inside John's chest as he considered her opinion. He knew in his gut that this was a bad thing, but it might not be as bad as he feared after all. Either way, he needed to know for sure.
"What do you think?" he asked Cameron.
Cameron stared up at him and tipped her head a little to one side before answering; "It's nothing to be concerned about."
John growled in frustration and turned his back on her, rubbing the stubble starting to form on his chin from the lack of shaving since his return from Presidio Alto. He looked to Sarah, only for her to remain engrossed in her watchdog duties. Asking her opinion would yield nothing useful, he decided though. She was not as unconcerned as he believed however, for she was simply mulling over everything in her head, trying to make it all fit so that she might find some approach to the situation that her frantic son could not see.
"Is there anything more you can do to find out what's going on in there? Are there any tests you can perform?" she put to Sophie.
The I-950 pursed her lips at Sarah's query and folded her arms, casting them both a scathing look that neither had seen on Cameron before, unnerving them a little. Sarah had an easier time reconciling the difference between Sophie and Cameron, however. John on the other hand was hit harder every time he looked at her. He didn't like having Sophie around, for she reminded him of everything Cameron wasn't. That blonde hair and those blue eyes were not enough of a difference for his liking.
"Why don't you try asking the mother, because right now she's the only one who can give you the answers", Sophie replied.
All three turned to Cameron in unison, expecting her to reveal some truth that would shed light on the entire situation.
"Everything is fine", was all she spoke however, to no one's surprise.
"I'll take that as meaning the opposite then", Sarah remarked.
John kneeled down beside her and slid his hand into hers, looking deep into her eyes, hoping she would see his desperation and give him the answers he sought. "Cameron, please; tell me what's wrong with the baby", he pleaded. Her expression seemed to soften a little from his perspective, and she brought a hand up to stroke his cheek reassuringly.
"You have to trust me", she said.
John watched her for a moment before pulling away and standing up from the bed.
"I can't do that", he replied.
Before she could say anything, he walked out of the room, the sound of his boots on the steps echoing as he went downstairs. Sarah cast Cameron a sour look before following, leaving the two alone in the room. They stared at each other for a long time before Sophie decided to tidy up the equipment she'd lifted from a hospital on the way there.
"Don't tell him", Cameron pleaded suddenly.
Sophie sat down and placed a hand on Cameron's belly, feeling the erratic heart beating inside of it.
"I don't break the promises I make. Unlike you", she affirmed.
Cameron looked away, knowing Sophie was right; but also knew some promises had to be broken.
-----000-----
FBI HEADQUARTERS – LOS ANGELES
12.40PM
"Damn crack-heads."
Ellison barely heard Carlson's remark as he watched two men wrestling with each other on the screen before him.
He recognised neither man, but this didn't change what he was seeing. One grabbed the other and hurled him across the room, sending him crashing into the staircase, fragments of splintered wood showering the other guy. Before he could get up again, which Ellison was sure he could do, despite the ferocity of the impact he'd suffered; the attacker knelt beside the other and pulled his arm back. With a clenched fist, he drove his arm into the man's chest with a metallic clunk.
"Well I'll be God damned", Carlson breathed.
"Don't blaspheme", Ellison muttered idly, rewinding the video to replay that moment.
The man seemed to twist his arm and jostle it around for a second before ripping it out again, his hand clutching something bloody.
"I think I'm gonna be sick", Carlson said, covering his mouth just in case.
Ellison remained transfixed however, and after a few moments he realised that the screen had frozen, but the counter continued to tick away. The offender was stuck in the exact same pose for almost a minute before suddenly moving again. He appeared to examine the thing in his hand, but a voice cut his attention. A voice Ellison recognised.
What the-? What the hell are you doing here?!
"Hey, hey, hey, what's this?" Carlson commented, leaning closer to the screen.
I might ask you the same thing.
The newcomer stepped into the picture and Ellison could see his face for the first time. There was no mistaking him: Derek Reese.
"Hey, don't I know that guy?" Carlson asked.
Oh I certainly do, Ellison thought as the memories came flooding back. The first time James met Derek was in lockdown. He'd been snatched trying to escape the scene of Andrew Goode's murder, a private software designer. Derek's fingerprints matched those found at the scene of another multiple murder case, to which Ellison was assigned. He questioned Reese, only to be met with cryptic warnings of death and apocalypse. During his transfer to a Federal facility, Derek's transport was ambushed and he escaped.
The next time he would meet the man was in Mexico where he was working with the Connors to find an endangered John. Together, they brought down the machine that was hunting them and buried its remains in the earth. That was the last he'd seen of him, for Sarah refused to allow them to travel back to the States together. As far as he was concerned, Derek was a loose end… or so he thought.
"That's that guy from the Andy Goode case, remember?" Carlson reminded him.
"Yeah, you may be right", Ellison replied vaguely, struggling to think of some way to bury this. At this stage it would be impossible however, for Carlson was an honest agent and would eagerly add this to the report. He had no chance of convincing the young high-riser of all that he had learned, so it was merely a case of limiting the damage at this point, which he knew would prove most difficult.
They both watched as the offender sprinkled something onto the body and set it alight. The flare from the fire blinded the camera however, preventing them from seeing much of anything until the flames settled down, revealing a pair of legs sliding across the floor and out of view. Someone was whistling out of shot, but it quickly diminished until it was no longer audible. The video wobbled before panning up to reveal the horrified face of Kripke, and then it went dead, leaving a snow storm in its wake.
"Wow… I… What do you make of that?" Carlson asked, lost for words.
"I'm not sure", Ellison replied, rubbing his brow as he tried to plan his next move.
"Well that's the guy from your case, right? That's him?"
Ellison didn't know how to answer this. Perhaps he should try his luck and lie, but Carlson would either think he was going crazy in his old age or know he was lying; most likely the latter. There was only one way to handle this...
"Yeah, that's him", he confirmed.
"Then we send an alert and get the local PD searching the neighbourhood for him", Carlson suggested enthusiastically. "Don't look so glum. We'll catch him this time", he added, seeing the morose expression on Ellison's face. Tapping his shoulder with the case file, Carlson stood up and opened the door. "I'll take care of the paperwork, Jim", he said before leaving the room.
"It's James, not Jim", Ellison muttered to himself, all alone with the blue-grey glow of the camera screen.
I should've stayed in bed this morning, he thought.
-----000-----
LOS ANGELES – TESLA HOTEL (EXTERIOR)
3.22PM
Your flies are open.
Derek was still smiling from her warning as he stepped down to the curb, rummaging in his pockets to find the keys for the truck. Sitting behind the wheel, he brought the vehicle to life and wasted no time in pulling away from the hotel, putting almost a block between him and it before breathing easy. As if the current assassin situation wasn't bad enough, he now had Jason to contend with on top of it. Derek didn't know what his agenda was, but he knew that letting him discover Jesse's location was in nobody's interest.
Jesse refused to tell him Jason's part in her future, but insisted he was the enemy and was incredulous when he revealed he and the Connors were working with him to stop Skynet. Derek was fairly confident that Jason was unaware of the hotel however, and allowed himself a little ease as he passed a police cruiser. It took him a moment to notice the vehicle on his right, but upon doing so, his pulse began to race. The cops performed a double-take and one started talking into his talkie.
Crap! Derek thought as their lights and siren exploded into life.
Slamming his foot to the floor, Derek felt the truck roar as he sped into 60 going on 70 in a matter of seconds. The cruiser kept pace however, and continued its pursuit. Turning down a side road, Derek spun the truck in a 180 to throw them off, his entire body vibrating from the force. Before he could punch it again, a second cruiser pulled out of nowhere and swung sideways, blocking him. Derek switched into reverse and hurtled back, but the first cruiser slipped in behind him, blocking his escape.
The street was narrow, and as rain cascaded down from the heavens, he could no longer see a means of escaping. He would have to take his chances on foot. Grabbing his Beretta, Derek kicked the door open and hurled himself out of his seat, firing two stray shots at the advancing coppers.
"Take him down!" one of them shouted, and they fired chaotically in Derek's direction.
He jumped to one side and made for the alley across the street, but just as his foot touched the pavement, an explosion of pain erupted from his right arm. Crying out in agony and surprise, he dropped to his knees, his gun clattering across the ground. It was a flesh wound, nothing life threatening. But it had struck deep and cut through the nerves, doubling his suffering and effectively disarming him. Gasping for air, he tried to stumble into the alley, but a cop came up beside him and swung his boot into Derek's gut.
"Arrrrgh! You son of a bitch!" he growled as he fell onto his back, barely able to breathe.
"Cuff him!" the same cop commanded.
They rolled him over and roughly pulled his arms around to secure them with their handcuffs, making them so tight they cut off circulation to his fingers. "Not so tough now, are ya? Fucking murderers. C'mon, let's take this bastard in", said another. Grabbing him by the shoulders, they started dragging Derek through the gutter, not caring to lift him to his feet even as filthy rain water splashed up his nose.
"Wait a second", the first cop said.
They stopped as ordered, and the cop leered down at Derek, pointing his gun into his face.
"How does it feel, scum, to have your life resting in the hands of another man? Sucks, don't it?" he taunted.
"I don't know, sometimes it's quite thrilling", a voice answered.
The cop spun around to find a man in a long dark coat standing in the rain, his eyes hidden behind an expensive pair of sunglasses. Derek had never been so relieved, and yet so reviled to see Jason's face. Spotting the gun holstered under Jason's left arm, the cop's eyes widened and his finger squeezed the trigger, but Jason moved faster than his eyes could track. He dodged two more bullets before grasping the cop's wrist, crushing it, and whilst he screamed in agony; hurled him one-handed into the wall.
The others abandoned Derek as they tried to circle Jason, firing erratically as he continued to duck and weave from every bullet. Spinning forward, Jason drove his fist into a cop on his right, likewise sending him flying into a cruiser. The other two, starting to panic now, backed towards their car. One kept firing at Jason while the other dived for the shotgun inside the vehicle. Detecting the new weapon, Jason reached into his coat, removing his SIG-Sauer P226 from its holster and fired twice before putting it back.
Derek could only watch as the two cops fell to ground, a perfect hole between their eyes.
"Hmm, I very much enjoyed that", Jason mused.
Turning his attention to Derek, Jason strolled over and reached down for him, lifting Derek to his feet without effort and snapping the cuffs just as easily. "You're lucky I happened to be in the neighbourhood, or else this would've gone a lot differently", he remarked.
"Yeah, bullshit; you were following me", Derek growled, his wound begging for attention.
"Indeed I was. But I don't see you complaining", Jason replied.
"Not this time", Derek muttered, meandering back to the truck.
Jason chuckled and flexed his fingers, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. Scanning the bodies, he detected two heartbeats belonging to those fortunate enough to have survived. Derek put one foot inside the truck before noticing he was still boxed in.
"Do you mind?" he asked.
Jason followed his gaze to the cruiser in front of him and promptly gripped the underside. Adjusting himself correctly, he lifted the vehicle from the ground and with a single burst of strength, pushed it up and out of the way; granting Derek the space he needed to leave. Rubbing his hands together, Jason stepped aside as Derek drove forward a little before stopping.
"And by the way, if I catch you following me again; I'll kill you", Derek threatened.
"How?" Jason replied.
Derek paused for a moment, then answered; "I just will. Don't follow me."
Spraying rain water in his wake, Derek stormed off without another word, and Jason could just barely see him talking on the phone to someone as he turned the corner and disappeared. He didn't even say goodbye, Jason mused. Looking down at the body of a cop, he noticed the man was starting to stir. Instinctively, he placed his boot on the cop's neck, but it occurred to him that killing the man was quite unnecessary at this point. Still, he knew an ambush when he saw one, and this lawman had his uses.
Grabbing the cop by the throat, Jason lifted him off of the ground and held him aloft.
"Guess what? This is your lucky day", he said with a sadistic smile.
Time for a little chat…
-----000-----
HOMESTEAD – ARROWHEAD
5.06PM
The dark sky flashed twice in quick succession as rain hammered against the window incessantly, threatening to drown them all. Cameron was unconcerned about the weather. By her calculations, the likelihood of them being swamped was highly unlikely. It was more likely a bolt of lightning would hit the property, but the odds of that were in safe averages.
She simply watched as the water poured down the window panes, rogue drips joining with others as they travelled down the surface to join the main mass. It reminded her of the surreal automation of the T-1000 series: millions upon millions of cells merging together to form a single consciousness; an entity of sentience and immortal magnificence. Cameron had never second-guessed her nature, but as she observed the behaviour of the rain, a small part of her wished she could be comprised of such perfection.
Footfalls on the floorboards signalled the arrival of a visitor, but not John.
"We need to talk", Sarah spoke.
"Do we? I believe you know everything you need to know", Cameron replied, keeping her back to the woman.
"Not everything", Sarah countered, taking another step into the room.
Every time Sarah cornered her alone, Cameron developed the habit of placing herself in a combat-ready state. Of all their allies, Sarah was the most dangerous and potentially treacherous. Even Derek was safer to be around, and he had a real reason to hate her. In many ways, Sarah was the disapproving mother-in-law who was only supportive for her son's sake, and certainly under protest. But Cameron would not let herself count Sarah as a safe asset under any circumstances. So for that reason, her right hand curled into a cautious fist.
"I have nothing more to tell you", Cameron repeated.
Sarah stepped closer, but consciously kept out of reaching distance of Cameron.
"I already know you're not going to tell me the truth, just as you haven't told John the truth. I do know that you're hiding something, and that the situation is a lot worse than you would have us believe. I'm not going to try and get you to talk, cos' I know it would be useless", she said.
Cameron turned her head to look at her, peering over her shoulder as her fist started to lax and uncurl again.
"You're a machine. John often forgets this but I don't. And no matter how advanced you are, no matter how human you may appear; you are and always will be just wires and clockwork."
"Then why do you allow him and me to be so close?" Cameron asked.
Sarah's brow twitched as she crossed her arms and sighed; "Because he loves you. Because somehow he sees something inside you that's human. I don't see it. I don't. But he does, and that's all that matters to me. And so you matter to me. And that thing inside you, whatever it is, matters to me too. You want to know who else it matters to? John. This is his child. Understand that if anything happens to it, he will never forgive you. This thing that you have will be gone, and when you no longer matter to him, you will no longer matter to me."
She didn't need to ask Cameron if she understood what she meant. If anything happens to the baby, John would turn his back on her, and she would no longer be protected from Sarah. Sooner or later, she would find herself on the wrong end of a high-explosive incendiary round, and John wouldn't be there to keep her safe. To put it plainly; her survival now depended upon the baby's survival.
"I was reprogrammed to protect John from any threat. I have saved his life more times than you can count. Everything I do is for his benefit. For whose benefit would it be if you were to kill me?" Cameron replied.
"Just make damn sure you tell him the truth before it happens. You owe him that", Sarah answered, avoiding her question.
Cameron turned back to the window as Sarah left her in peace. The rain was starting to slow and the thunder was gone, but the drops continued to roll down the glass, making vein-like patterns in every pane. They were steamed from the cold, and when Cameron pressed her finger to it, she could feel the change of temperature so sharply it surprised her. Dragging her finger across, she relished her newfound clarity of sensation and let her finger drop to the frame.
Looking at the glass she noticed the pattern of her finger trail greatly resembled a 'J'.
Deep down, she felt the tiniest of movements inside her womb. Hair follicles on her inner thigh alerted her to the presence of a slow-moving droplet of bodily fluid as it descended the length of her leg. This was followed by another, and another, until she realised it was happening again. Staring out of the window at the rain-soaked world, Cameron could no longer help but question her resolve.
-----000-----
LOS ANGELES
7.13PM
The traffic light turned emerald green, signalling the end of another long day for James Ellison.
Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, a report arrived informing him of the failed arrest of Derek Reese earlier in the city. The report said they were lucky to have spotted him at all, but they were far from lucky in the end.
Two dead, one wounded. Another missing. And an unidentified assailant working with Reese.
And who was blamed for this debacle? The answer was as obvious as it was inequitable. Ellison was forced to endure 'the long walk' down to the senior offices where he had his ass handed to him by three of his superiors. Though he was fortunate to get out with his job intact, he was still put through the humiliation and stigmatism of a leave of absence pending evaluation.
It truly could not get any worse.
Unexpectedly, the windshield of his car suddenly cracked and a small hole appeared to be the source. Ellison's body bucked, and at first he thought it was just surprise on his part, but a few heartbeats later he realised he was bleeding. Time seemed to stop as he let go of the wheel and the car swerved to his right, smashing to a stop on the side of the road. The impact shook him, and for the first time he could feel the utter agony of having a bullet imbedded between his ribs.
Breathing became harder for him, and the more he breathed, the more his heart worked to transport the blood, the more he bled.
Removing his hand from the wound revealed the extent of the damage. What little coherent thought he had left was screaming for help, but in his heart he knew his end had come. No one could save him from his fate, not even the dark figure now standing at his door, peering through the shattered glass of his side window.
"James Ellison, we meet at last. It's a pity this had to be under such unpleasant circumstances", Jason quipped.
"Wha- What… Who… are… you?!" asked Ellison, barely able to string a sentence together.
"My name is Jason Corvain. Formerly an Infiltration Specialist Series I-950, formerly a patch-up, currently a Series 999 freak show. It's a pleasure to meet you", Jason answered pleasantly, reaching inside to shake the agent's bloody hand, which he then wiped clean on his suit.
"Why would you-? Why would you do this?" Ellison gasped, the pain becoming too much.
Jason knelt down a little so he was of the same eye level as Ellison before removing his glasses, briefly revealing a red flash behind his eyes. Ellison's pulse, already erratic from the blood loss, became even more unstable upon seeing that.
"You're one of them?!"
"Not quite, but close enough. Now I have a few questions I would like to ask and since I aimed a little too high, you haven't much time to indulge me so let's cut right to the chase, shall we?" Jason began, resting his gun on his arm; a suppressor attached to the barrel. "Four cops cornered one Derek Reese today and almost carried him off for murder. I've caught up to speed on his dealings since coming here, so I know all about the Goode charge. But I also know that that occurred long enough ago to prevent that kind of pre-meditated snatch."
Ellison could hear his own heart beating. It wasn't long now…
"So that means something new must've occurred to alert them to his presence in the city. I ran by the basement and found your people crawling all over it, and I'm guessing someone spotted Derek and me leaving the place that night. So I asked one of the men who tried arresting dear old Derek, and guess whose name escaped his lips?" Jason explained.
Ellison started to pant as his whole body trembled from the shock of his injury.
"So I followed you. Got a little ahead and took aim. And now here we are", Jason concluded, taking note of Ellison's worsening condition. "I have to know what you were planning to do about the case. You know what I am and why I exist. You've met one of them and helped the Connors destroy it, so I wonder why you would lead an investigation that could potentially harm them."
"I… I… wasn't… I… was going to… to… shut it… down… to… bury it… I…" Ellison laboured.
"Ah, so I'm assuming the deaths of those cops prevented you from doing that, right?" Jason realised.
Lesson learned, he mused.
"Well, I am sorry for that meddlesome business. Had I known in advance, I might've let them live. Oh well, you can't undo the past, now can you?" he sighed, pulling back the hammer on his gun.
Ellison could feel his body giving up, but even when facing the inevitable, he still hoped there was a way out of it.
"Please", he pleaded in the smallest whisper.
"As you wish", Jason replied, thumbing the safety on and pocketing his weapon.
A small sigh of relief escaped Ellison's lips as the world grew darker and his vision blurred. In the blink of an eye however, Jason reached into the car and clasped his hand around James' mouth, then forced his head sharply to the right. A small click was all that marked the death of the agent as his neck snapped, putting an end to his life. It wasn't quite what he had hoped for, but Jason had done his homework on the man. He knew of his faith, and he knew that if it was to be believed, he had forever saved him from suffering.
"You are the fortunate one here", he muttered as he closed Ellison's eyes.
Let the devil take me instead.
-----000-----
TESLA HOTEL – LOS ANGELES
7.37PM
One bag. Clothes. Guns. Have to leave now!
Jesse threw her spare jacket in with the rest of her clothes, darting from one side of the room to the next, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Through the phone pressed to her ear, she could hear Derek listing off the places that would be safe for her to move to. Grabbing her gun, she stopped him at the third address and gave the room one last check to be sure she'd gotten everything.
"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll leave now and set up shop. You just make sure you come and see me tomorrow, okay?"
I'll be there. Just be careful, he replied.
"Will do. See you soon", she promised, clipping the phone shut.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes, carefully contemplating whether to call for help. She knew she shouldn't, but she was in way over her head now. Flipping the phone open again, she started tapping in the number; and upon pressing the call button, she turned around to find she was not alone.
"Hello again", Jason said.
A voice on the other end asked her what she wanted, but before she could answer, Jason's hand was around her throat and pinning her to the wall. The phone clattered to the floor, its screen going dead from the impact. She'd waited too long. She should've left the second Derek told her he knew her location; another error that will lead to her death. Jesse always had a feeling this monster would be the cause.
"I've killed a lot of people today, so I strongly advise you to be concise with me this time", he warned.
Her eyes darted to the bed where her gun lay useless upon the canvas. It took her a second to remember she was not unarmed however, for tucked in a belt around her ankle was a spare she never believed she would need. Jason studied her closely, patiently awaiting her response and cooperation. Jesse took several deep breaths as she counted the seconds leading to her move, then she struck. Pulling her legs up, she grabbed the small gun from her ankle holster and ripped it free, breaking the strap holding it in place.
Jason barely flinched as she brought it to bear and fired three times into his face. His fingers twitched and loosened a little, and she saw her chance. With all of her strength, Jesse tore herself from his grip and hit the floor hard. Before he could react, she fired four more times into his jaw, causing him to stagger slightly. He was still in front of the door however, blocking her escape. But then it occurred to her: the window. Jumping to her feet, she dived through the glass and onto the metal staircase on the side of the building.
Jesse struggled to her feet and hurtled down the stairs, jumping the last set and landing in the alley below. Wasting no time, she pushed her body to its limits as she fought to escape the vicinity as fast as she could, but a heavy thud and the cracking of concrete alerted her to his presence. Jason took pursuit, his pace easily matching hers as he dashed down the alley and around the corner, finding her a little way ahead. With a smile of satisfaction, Jason increased his pace to exceed hers, and a few seconds later he was almost within reach.
Jesse peeked over her shoulder to see him almost on top of her and her heart began to race faster than her legs could run. She sped alongside a parked delivery truck, idly wondering if she would be better off trying to jump inside and keep him out long enough to start it up. But she knew it would be suicide. He would catch her anyway. Putting the truck behind her, she urged her body to go faster, but her legs could not accommodate her needs. There was no escape.
Clu-CHUNK!
She almost stopped at the sound of the noise, but glanced over her shoulder instead. What she saw filled her with a mixed ecstasy of relief and elation: the truck door was hanging off its hinges whilst a bewildered-looking driver ogled at Jason on the floor, who was moving slowly to cradle his head; his sunglasses shattered and his hair a mess. "That did not just happen", she heard him groan as he removed his ruined shades. Jesse had no desire to look the gift horse in the mouth however, and so she carried on until the cyborg and she were safely apart.
She had used up another of her lives. If she were a cat, she'd have only three chances left to her name.
Live today. Revenge tomorrow, she reasoned.
To be continued…