Livin' In The Future
By Ottovw
2010
Chapter 4
He leaned towards Dalia, "We waiting for the 'all clear'?"
The two runners' gawked. Slightly behind them he could see Kyle grinning.
"How did you know?" It was Jorge. Dalia was still looking at him like he had formed spontaneously out of the air. Which he did, about two weeks ago.
He pointed down, at the base of one of the shrubs they were concealed beneath. The branch had been cleanly cut.
"I'm guessing, that that cut mark had been below the level of the grass, but the shade killed off the grass, which eventually weathered away and exposed the cut. They need to be more careful."
There was a flash of light from a second story window.
"Was that the 'all clear'?"
"No, that's them, telling us they've spotted us," said Kyle, who was watching the ruins.
"Oh. So they're going to come and get us?"
This time they all stared at him: "Yeah." Kyle answered.
"Good."
After about ten minutes someone approached them from their left. There was a short, sharp whistle. Kyle responded in kind. There were eight of them to bring four in. They brought a dog. They didn't cross here. They were 'escorted' back to an overgrown road. John didn't like the idea of getting caught on an open road, and was happy when less than half way down they entered a large storm drain. They followed large pipe about 500 feet. At a manhole cover they were met by another group. The first group stayed behind. Their new guards, who brought their own dog, escorted them to a 'safe house'. They followed the storm drain to a purpose built tunnel that led to a basement of one of any number of collapsed houses.
There were cots there and food, after a fashion. It was dried venison, and a kind of bread made, near as John could tell, of thickened 'breakfast' which was then fried. The 'bread' was round, and about the size of a pancake it was like a very thick, and chewy cracker, it wasn't that bad, although John thought the oil it had been cooked in had been used too many times. He ate two pieces.
He sat on a cot, a piece of venison stuck in his mouth as he waited for it to soften. He was leaning forward over his knees. In the cot beside him was his father, who was patiently chewing on his own piece of venison. Beyond him at the 'far' wall, may be 6 feet away, the two runners sat cross legged on the floor munching on the last of the bread, they were talking, but not with their mouths. John watched as their fingers flashed back and forth.
Kyle seemed to be staring up through the ceiling. "They're talking about you." He seemed to say to the warping floor joists.
John nodded. "Good, I hope." He watched them intently, if the Jorge or Dalia noticed they either didn't care or knew that he could not read their hand 'signs'.
Kyle glanced over. Watched for a few seconds, and went back to chewing at the ceiling. "They are signing about how you single handedly took out an entire 'Hill Folk' hunting party."
"I didn't do it 'single handedly'." John looked at his father's profile. Wondering, if this was how legends started.
Kyle only shrugged. He rolled onto one side, and looked John right in the eyes. "I don't know if I can get in trouble for this, but can I ask you a question?"
"S-sure." John tried to give him a genuine smile, but thought that it would probably look more natural on a cyborg.
If his father saw, he paid it no heed. "You've got good skills. You're 'field discipline' is good. You know how to take care of your weapon. You keep your head in a fight. When we get back to camp I'm going to ask Derek if we can take you on. But first I want to ask you if that is something you want to do?"
John blinked. They were offering him a chance to serve under Derek, under his father. To learn from, at least according to Cameron's records, two of his own best soldiers.
Kyle saw the hesitation. "You don't have to answer now, but keep it in mind." He rolled back to stare at the bottom of a broken house.
Beyond him, John could see the two runners', they were staring at him. There were fingers frozen in "Yes," he heard himself reply. "I think... I think I'd like that."
Kyle looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Good. That's good."
John bit down on the softened strip of venison. The taste of salt, smoke and deer flooded his mouth.
"John?"
"Yeah." He said. For perhaps the first time in the future, he felt like he 'belonged'. He almost relaxed.
"Why did the 'old man' think it was so important for you to know the date?"
John flinched. He opened his mouth and almost lost his venison.
"John?" His father insisted.
His mind raced. He couldn't lie, not like that. Not to his father. "I… I don't think I can answer that question."
Kyle just nodded. "I appreciate that. I appreciate your honesty." He turned to look at him. "I mean that." Without breaking eye contact: "Jorge. Dalia. Kill that light it's late let's get some rest." To John: "We are safe here. No need to keep a watch."
The next night they were back to running. Jorge set a good pace, happy to be back in an environment he knew. They were moving roughly south and east. After two rest stops they were at place called 'Delta 7'. This one was different from the other bunkers John had visited. For one it was much larger.
Allison-
John was sitting alone at one of the folding tables. His hair was still damp, it was getting shaggy again. He would have to consider either cutting it again, or having it cut. Where there barbers in the future? His chin itched. Shaving hadn't been a daily routine for him, but it's been 2 weeks now. He'd end up looking like Derek if he wasn't careful.
He looked around at the other tables. Like many of the bunkers he had already visited this one was an old parking deck. Kyle had gone off with Derek. Jorge and Dalia were still in the showers. He couldn't wait. This was his first hot meal in most of a week. Someone poked their head over his shoulder.
"You made it back!"
He almost spit up his lunch. He turned to the left, but there was no one there.
"I knew you would!" Someone said over his right shoulder. "Everyone's talking about you!" He looked at her. Cam... Allison. The girl sat down in the chair beside him. She too had a bowl of the Venison and barley stew. She scooted the chair closer, and turned it towards him. She leaned in as she spoke. She seemed very excited. "I think I'm in 'tech-com'. Derek interviewed me after the move." She said in a whisper, she ate a spoon full of the stew, which was one more than John had managed to get down.
"Congratulations!" He said with feelings he didn't have. Is this her fate: To realize her dream, to enlist in 'tech-com?' Only then to be captured by Skynet, and become Cameron's 'original'? John lost his appetite, the Rules, however, compelled him to eat.
She whispered again "Derek was right. You are famous! Even before you were out of the showers, the runners' were spreading your story all over!" He realized then that her 'whispering' wasn't out of secrecy but camp discipline.
"Really?" So lame, John thought: way to keep up the interest. Good job, keeping her engaged.
"Really!"
"Wh...What are they saying?"
"That you have nerves of coltan. That you weren't fazed by two 'hill folk' attacks. That you didn't so much as sweat when you were surrounded by wolves and that you didn't even blink with the mountain lion. That you even used an HK for cover fire. You're either the bravest man in the world or..."
"Or," John prompted, around another spoonful.
"Or," she smiled. "You're just not very bright." She laughed. It was a wonderful laugh. It was a brilliant laugh. So alike, yet unlike Cameron's laugh, "The boring kind" he had said and she laughed.
He laughed. He ate, knowing that he needed the protein, and the calories. "How was the move?"
"It went, well, I think. I was with Derek's team. Probably, so he could have an extra runner if he needed one."
Another spoon full. Keep her talking, John thought. "I think I'm going to headquarters tomorrow night. I'm supposed to meet a general."
"Oh." She seemed to be thinking about something.
"Oh?"
"I think. I think I'm going with you."
"Why do you think that?"
"I'm being reassigned tomorrow. That's... that's why I think I'm in. I don't know whose squad, but I was told that I should be ready to travel."
"Oh."
They finished their meal in silence.
John was staring at something, he couldn't see, far beyond the bunkers concrete walls. He was going to meet a general tomorrow. What was he going to say? What was he supposed to say? For as long as he could remember he had wondered how to go about 'building' an army. Now what? Was he supposed to steal one?
"Did she look like me?"
John looked at Allison, she was looking at him. "Wh-What?"
"Your sister, did she look like me?"
John's mind raced back to a conversation that took place almost two weeks ago. What had he said? What had she asked? More importantly, what had he not said? 'Yeah. Yeah, she looked a lot like you." He felt himself smile, at the memory of Cameron and the presence of Allison.
Allison smiled back. She broke eye contact, she was looking out passed the same wall John had. The smile melted away, like frost, in the morning. "Do you know what happened to her?"
"No," he lied. "Not really. She, she just left one day, and... and never came back." John thought about that 'lie'. It was mostly true "he didn't take her chip. She gave it to him".
They sat in silence. John was looking at Allison's profile. Allison was looking at chips of peeling paint.
"That... that happens a lot." A weak smile, aimed at a stained and crumbling wall. "I don't like it when people leave, because I think, that I think, they won't be coming back."
"What happened to you?" John wanted to ask, but that logically led to a reciprocating question. A question he could not answer. Not truthfully anyway. He wanted to just say something in the prolonged silence, but all his questions and suspicions lead down paths he wasn't sure he wanted to go down, just yet. He looked down at his bowl. It was empty. They didn't even have the pretext of eating to keep them here. So, he smiled at her.
She looked at him, which seemed to bring her back from where ever she was. She smiled back. "Come on, I'll show you where we're billeted."
John Connor was an anomaly. This became more and more obvious, even to him, as he spent more time 'in camp'. Others noticed as well. They could not help but look at him and know. Walking side by side with Allison Young, he was easily 6 inches taller. What he discovered was that Allison, at 5 feet 6 inches was considered tall. He had seen it as they moved back from the 'forward' bunker that was the old Zeira corp. building. As they 'ran' he had visited three other 'bunkers' this was his fourth. He met more and more people of his own 'chronological' age. What he saw stunning.
He completely lacked any of the scars of childhood malnutrition that stamped almost all of the other teenagers. He didn't have: the knobby kneed, or poked out at the elbows look, the fragile waif like appearance, or the almost palpable mental 'slowness' that he seemed to see in so many. He could not imagine that the 'slow' kids would survive there first encounter with metal. He could not know how right he was. These 'kids,' most were soldiers, were born just before Judgment Day. Their formative years had been spent scrabbling from shelter to shelter, fighting dogs and other vermin for scraps of food. It occurred to him that this was Riley's world. John had always been considered 'fit' he had 5-10% more body fat; he had 10-15% more muscle mass. He was, with little exaggeration, a giant.
They left the 'cafeteria' and followed twists and turns, and then came upon, what as far as John could tell was temporary housing. Most of these temporary 'sub camps' had their own storage areas, their own supply. A staging area? As he looked around he began to wonder how many 'companies' made up General Perry's command. How centralized was their command? How centralized could it be if they felt it necessary to post guards 'inside' a bunker? How secure were they here? How often and how deep were the 'infiltrations'? "The t-triple-eight is an advanced model infiltrator" Cameron had told to him. "She would not be the first human fooled by a machine," She said. The memories brought him no comfort. He remembered the dogs could they get passed the dogs?
"What's going on?" He asked, barely a whisper. They were walking around the 'sub camps' perimeter.
Her eyes flicked to him to the guarded supplies. She nodded, and said loud. "They always have us in back," she pointed off to the right. "Probably, the quartermaster's idea of a joke."
They cleared that perimeter, passed through what had been a bank of elevators, they turned right, then almost immediately hooked around a 'friendlier' camp and went back left. Their pace slowed. Still looking forward she leaned in, "separate command. General Davis' Fighting 125th SOC." It was getting darker here the spacing between the lights was getting farther and farther.
They passed another camp, a girl there waved. Allison smiled and waved back. "Kate," she said by way of explanation. "That's Kelly Boyd's Charlie Company."
Allison became quiet again, as they passed out of the glare of one bulb and into the shadow. John noticed her smile had faded with it. "Dave... Dave is gone."
"Dave?"
"Yeah, you know the Asian guy?"
"I know, but I thought you said the move went well."
"Oh. No. It's not that. He heard... When we got word you were coming back. He asked for a transfer."
"Oh. Were you and he...?"
"No. Oh, no. We had been runners together. He tried and got 'tech-com' first. He was just someone to talk to. There aren't many our age... in the company."
'Left' John thought to himself. She was going to say 'left'. "Where did he transfer to?"
Allison pointed her thumb over her shoulder.
John thought she meant 'Charlie' Company, and almost said so.
"Davis' Fighting 125th."
John found it odd that two units that distrusted each other to such an extent would transfer personnel. Rather than ask he filed it away for future reference.
They passed another 'encampment' the guards waved them through one nodded at John. John responded as a reflex. Only belatedly, recognizing him as someone he had spent his second morning in camp scrubbing pots with. "Hey," he said as he passed. He saw the grin on the guards face, it was broad and disturbing.
"See, you are famous." Allison whispered.
"You just gained another fan."
He'd die for me, he thought. The chill wiped the smile off his face.
Allison didn't seem to notice. "Until we're assigned, we'll want to report to Derek. He has 1st platoon, and Kyle has second squad. Camp 'layout' is usually pretty standard, until you figure it out, just ask someone."
John could guess the rest, just from the 'rooms' architecture. The 'walls' didn't reach the ceiling they were portable. They made up a small common area and 4 rooms. They were an under strength 4 platoon, company. Derek was in overall command. In the 'common area' was a small folding card table, much abused. Propped against one let was the company 'standard'. It was painted on the back of a scorched and rusted highway sign. It was an image of a lion with a terminator head in its jaws. The legend read: "Alfa Co. 1st Battalion 130th SOC." Beneath this in quotes: "Hang in there baby!" He had stared at it until he remembered the poster from the safe house.
Cameron had said: 132nd SOC. The past had changed the future. Derek had said as much. Some of the other things he'd figured. Each squad would have one runner. When they had gone up to Lancaster, Derek had stripped half of the runners from 1st platoon, and his senior NCO. But, he reasoned, if they had a habit of moving 'runners' into 'tech-com'. Then his platoon might be as much as 1/5 or more former 'runners'.
They went to the first door on the left, there was a curtain drawn across it for privacy, the door was gone though the 'wall' mounted hinges remained. Allison pulled the curtains to one side. Kyle was standing there, he seemed to be about to walk out. "Oh." He looked from John to Allison and back. "Good. I talked to Derek, he agreed. If you want in he'd be glad to have you in his Company. He said I could take you into my squad." He turned to Allison. "I talked to Derek. You're in. Get your gear. You're in second squad." He turned back to John. "I'm pairing up the two of you."
John had spent his entire life hiding who he was. He thought he hid his response, but Kyle had lived his entire life knowing that missing important details could get you killed. He missed nothing. He grinned. "No John, we don't normally 'pair up' raw recruits but neither of you are 'raw'. Allison's been a 'runner' for a year and change now. She knows the 'signs' and the 'cues'." He left unsaid: that she can answer all of your 'unnerving' questions. "You know your weapons. You've got good fire control. You've got a good 'eye' for terrain." He didn't add: you've had training. At your age, it's like you were raised for this. There was a pause, an over long one, like he was thinking about saying it. He did that trick where he was looking at John but was talking to Allison. "Run him by 'supply' get him his kit." This time he was looking at John and addressing him. "Trips been postponed till tomorrow night. Spend tonight 'in quarters' get her to show you 'signs' and you walk her through field stripping one of the long arms."
He moved to walk between them. John and Allison turned sideways to let him pass.
"Kyle." He found himself asking as he walked passed. "Why did they push the meeting back?"
"Scheduling conflict with the General."
John nodded.
Kyle nodded and walked off.
He looked at Allison. She looked at him. "Come on. Supply is this way." They walked back the way they came.
Their bunks were at the near end of the bunks assigned to 2nd squad. They were sitting cross legged at opposite ends of John's, the bottom bunk. He had let Allison have first pick. Between the forest of bunk uprights to his left, he could see the curtained door about 15 feet away. He kept an eye to it. To his right was the back of their quarters, where most of the rest of the platoon was furiously 'signing' to each other. He was watching Allison field strip his pistol. She removed the magazine, checked the chamber, and disassembled the pistol. He was prepared to stop her when she made a mistake, but she had done this before.
His pack with his 'kit' was under his bunk. John's kit included his very own gun cleaning equipment. A set of poor quality flatware, 2 pair of socks, 2 shirts, his own coat though he still wore his fathers, a knit hat, a shallow metal plate, a metal cup, a toothbrush and a bayonet. Allison had already showed him how to bundle the flatware, the toothbrush, and a sock in the cup so that it didn't rattle around. She reversed the operation and check its function and handed it to John, grip first. As John reached for it, he was struck by a sense of deja vu, so powerful his mind reeled.
"Promise?" He had asked her. She was still coated with a fine layer of thermite dust. Behind her he could see the incredulous looks on their faces. His mother had put herself between them and Derek. He didn't realize until now, that she had probably saved Derek's life. Charley just stood there. "Promise." She replied and handed him back his weapon.
"John? John?"
"Sorry," he half smiled at her. "I... that just reminded me of something..."
"It wasn't pleasant was it?"
"No. No. Not really." He shook his head and put the pistol down beside him on his left side. He picked up his AR, checked the chamber then handed it to Allison.
She took the weapon mimed removing the magazine. They didn't have one. They had had to get permission from the armory just to have the 'long arm' in barracks. As John discovered only the security company typically went armed in camp. Allison pulled the charging handle and verified that the weapon was unloaded. Then with the only round within a hundred feet she pushed the pin out and broke the rifle down. The parts were arrayed between them on the rough fabric. She started to reassemble the weapon.
John saw movement by the curtain. It was Jorge and Dalia. They had been right behind him in the shower, yet it had taken them more than an hour to eat and make it back to quarters. Jorge saw him grinned broadly, and waved, just a bit too enthusiastically. Another fan thought John. Who nodded back, pretending to be preoccupied watching Allison. Dalia touched her on the shoulder as they passed. Allison glanced up smiled and gave her a thumbs up. Pushed the retaining pin back into place, pulled the charging handle, and with the weapon pointed at a wall pulled the trigger. Click.
She looked at John.
"Again."
Without so much as a blink she broke the weapon down, again. John watched her. In his peripheral vision he could see the two runners, greeted and accepted by their own platoon. Hardly a surprise. He could see the movement of their hands but unless he turned his head the details were lacking.
Click.
He smiled. Allison smiled back. He wasn't the only one watching. "Again" he said. It was a trick he learned from his mom. You learned by 'doing', and you 'did' until you dreamed it.
Her third run was much better. Her movements were much more confident. Cleaner. Muscle memory, he thought. There was a familiarity that she had with that rifle that he could understand. It struck him then that like himself she had grown up around weapons and had only needed a refresher.
Click. She had a very self satisfied smile on her face.
"You're parents had weapons when you were growing up?"
Her face fell, and left a blankness, that even Cameron would have envied. Her arms and the rifle dropped to her knees. She was looking at him, her eyes darting around his face searching for something. Finally, "John, I was two on Judgement Day. I only have the vaguest memories of my parents."
Oh. "How did... how did you survive?"
"Some resistance fighters found me."
He didn't think he had looked, but he must have.
She glanced at them, in the back corner. "Not them. They've only been in the fight for the past 8 years. The ones before them, found me. I don't like to talk about it."
He stammered out an "I'm sorry."
She waved it off.
Then a puzzle piece fell into place, and he knew. He was so surprised that he couldn't even shut himself up. "You know Martin Beddel." He did manage to keep from clapping his hand over his mouth.
Allison just blinked at him. "I... I've met him. I was sent up to train with him."
He nodded. She lied to him. Part of him was saddened by this. He wondered if she had lied about anything else. Over his shoulder hanging from their bunk, was her pack. He was very aware of its presence. What secrets did it hide? His gaze had wandered down to the rifle in her lap. He looked up at her. "What are they saying?"
She turned to look. John saw a shadow darken the curtain. Allison noticed his notice and turned toward the door.
A man walked in, over his shoulder was the pistol grip of a tactical shotgun. John saw Allison smile up at him. He stopped beside John's bunk. "Radice." She said.
He nodded his acknowledgement of Allison. He looked at John. "I'm Corporal Radice. Kyle sent me to talk you. Have you ever handled an energy weapon?" The man was short, shorter then Allison, and not nearly as broad as Derek. John could see the muscles standing out of his neck. Another former runner he thought.
John looked at Allison. She just shook her head at him. He looked up at Radice. "Energy weapon?"
"Yeah, like a plasma rifle? I'll take that a as a 'no'," He said. His eyes shifted, "Allison, I'm gonna borrow your 'boyfriend' for an hour or two."
She made a face. Then asked, "can I come?"
He looked from John to Allison. "Why the hell not. Blowin' up shit is fun. Come on then."
John uncoiled himself, and put his sidearm in the holster at his hip.
Radice noticed this. "You can leave that, if you like." When he saw that John was going to ignore him: "Or not." He turned and walked out, expecting them to follow. John followed, but not so quickly that he didn't notice Allison signing to the rest of the platoon.
In the hall, they walked abreast. He just looked at her profile. She flipped a stray lock of hair back behind an ear and noticed his look. She smiled at the hall ahead of them. "I told them to knock it off."
John nodded. "Thanks. What do you know about 'energy weapons'?"
She looked down, then at him as they walked. Ahead of them a few paces was Radice. He didn't seem concerned that they hadn't caught up. "They are all Skynet weapons. Most of them are very heavy. Some so big they can only be mounted. The one you usually see carried by 'tech-com' are the plasma rifles. They are noisy and produce a lot of heat."
"What about skynets 'spies'?"
She turned her head to look forward, then back at him. John kept an eye on Radice without turning his head. He was easy to spot his movements were dliberate, people just got out of his way. Even at this distance he could see the muscles move beneath his shirt. This would not be someone he wanted to pick a fight with, not a fair one anyway. "They don't seem to respond to Skynet weapons. Perhaps it never thought we would use them against?"
John just nodded. It made sense, sort of. Or it just didin't care if we used them. The live fire range was below them another three levels. They weren't taking chances. Good, he thought. They were well below the parking structure. He wondered where they got the heavy equipment, the expertise, the electricity, the lumber.
The first weapon was the 'lightning cannon'. Utterly worthless. It weighed about a half a ton. How did they get it down here? It fired a lightning bolt. Nearly impossible to aim. Thunderously loud, go figure. It might be useful against humans but unless you had a large number of people ready with hex head screwdrivers and pliers he couldn't see much utility against cyborgs.
The Gauss gun fired steel or at least 'something' in a magnetic 'sabot' at incredible muzzle velocities, it had two barrels that fired alternately to alleviate 'recoil,' torque really. The fire rate was phenomenal, and would probably work well for supplying suppressing fire. But its size, weight, and amazing noise levels would limit its use. The weapon itself made little noise. A kind of electric humming, but each round broke the sound barrier as it left the barrel. With a fire rate approaching 800 or a thousand rounds per minute. It was quite deafening.
Next, they showed him the 'automatic mortar' it was one of the few 'chemical' explosive weapons that Skynet used or manufactured. It was a 'shoulder' weapon for 'metal' but an artillery piece for a human. The barrel was shorter, and the device was heavily automated, but it reminded him of a russian mortar he had seen as a child in south america. Obviously, it hadn't been 'in the field' it had been in a parade, one generalissimo or another trying to show off their soviet ties.
The only useful weapon they had was the phased plasma rifle. It was bulky and heavy about 25 pounds. it was a 'bullpup'. The magazine was behind the pistol grip. Which was awkwardly placed as the weapon was too heavy to comfortably shoulder. It had no sights. It seemed to John to be the natural evolutionary step of the Gauss gun. Smaller, lighter, much lower fire rate, with much smaller 'projectiles'. If you could call what it fired a projectile. It fired a super heated sliver of metal, it was suspended in a powerful magnetic field to keep it from melting the weapons barrel.
John wasn't very happy with its firing characteristics. It had little in the way of recoil, but the glare, and the shift of center of gravity from its loading mechanism were something that would take to getting used to. He fired more than a couple of 'rounds' into the back wall before he scorched his first target. It occurred to him that a human target might be flash burnt, blinded, perhaps blistered on exposed skin. He looked down at it in wonder.
Radice, smiled. "No worries. Its not like any long arm. Safe that weapon."
It had no safety, so he just took his finger off the trigger and pointed it away.
Radice put a sandbag at the base of John's target. He took his canteen and poured water over the bag. He walked back. "What is the percent water in the human body?"
"70?" John guessed.
"Closer to 60. Hit that", he said. "Aim about a three quarters of an inch lower, and about a degree to your right, of your last shot. Ought to hit."
John did, and did. The bag exploded. Sand sprayed everywhere, the bag itself, crumpled John's paper target against the rooms ceiling. The wooden post his target had been attached to vibrated with the force of the blast.
"That was, may be, 10% water, and the bag isn't air tight, nothing to hold the pressure in. Brought in a squad mate once , we thought he had a compound fracture in his lower leg. The docs laughed and told us it was a rib. That thing," he gestured with a nod. "Will teach you proper spacing." They spent may be an hour down there, plinking at paper targets. John was beginning to feel comfortable. He like Radice. He even learned that as the 'company' supply 'officer' he earned the nickname "Radish."
"Yo! Allison! You ready?"
John jerked. He had completely forgotten about her! He turned, and there she was just standing there. Ten feet behind them, half way to the wall.
"Sure!" She smiled at them, and put a small folding knife in her back pocket. As she passed John, she gave him a smile and held out her hand. Automatically he reached for it. "I made you something."
His heart twisted. He almost stepped away, but before he could she pressed the tiny object into his hand and was passed him. John opened his hand and looked. It was a small wooden dog, its head back, its mouth open, as if howling.
"Its a wolf," she said over her shoulder.
He looked over at her. She wasn't quite to Radice yet. "Thank you." He said, genuinely
"Come on Allison, you wanna burn some paper or not?"
John walked back to where Allison had been standing. The floor was covered with a inch or so layer of sand, he could see her boot prints. He turned and watched them. Shoot, reset. Shoot reset. There was any where from 5 to 15 seconds between cycles. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason between the varying lengths of time it took for the weapon to 'cycle.'Radice was giving her almost the same speech. He looked down at the wolf in his hand. He brought it up close to see the detail and there was some nice detail work, and realized that out of the corner of his eye he could see the light spilling out of the stairway. He glanced up at Radice and Allison, squared himself and looked down, again. He could almost make out the bottom three steps. Interesting. He had felt safe with Radice, and he was pretty sure now, why. He thought that perhaps Allison was the one being over cautious. No, John dismissed that line of thought. There are no coincidences. Cameron would have had hard time finding a better place to guard him from, and would not have had ability to disguise it by carving 'a small furry animal'. They shot for almost an hour. It was only when they were done that John realized that they had never reloaded the 'rifle'.