Livin' In The Future

By Ottovw

2010

Chapter 6

Radice and 4th squad with Jorge as a second runner were sent out to check on the Delta bunker. They had been gone for little more than three hours, when Jorge came back. He was still winded. "Wounded."

"Who is wounded," Kyle asked, worried. He was still standing vigil over the countertop weighed down by crumpled piece of paper bearing its two word message.

"Lots. Of. Wounded," Jorge got out between gasps. He was still doing his cool down walk.

"How many?" Asked John, as Jorge paced passed him. John, arms across his chest, was leaning against the wall opposite Kyle's countertop.

"Many. A whole train. They weren't even trying to hide them. Sixty may be more." He added between gasps, as he paced.

From the wall John called out to Kyle. "We have to hit them. Now."

"With what? We're a platoon."

John ignored Brandon, and walked to their countertop. "How many battalions in Davis' Brigade? Five or six?"

"Five." Kyle answered, uncertain. Not, John knew, uncertain about the figure but whether or not he should be responding to the question. Kyle, like Torres the corporal from 1st squad, Brandon and Tyler, looked unnerved. They were discussing troop dispositions with someone they 'found' two weeks ago in a forward bunker.

"And, what five Companies for each battalion?"

They nodded, they looked at each other. As if willing one of them to wake the others up. John would've laughed if it weren't so serious.

"How many are 'field' units? Four? I've heard mention of 'security companies' I'm guessing one per battalion. How many 'command' units?"

"One company." Torres shot a look at Kyle. Kyle only shrugged.

"HHC?" No one responded. "How many battalions active in the field?"

"All of them." Kyle replied.

"Seriously," asked John surprised by the revelation. "Nothing in reserve?"

"One battalion is held back, but..."

"They just rotate the companies?" Again, no response. John just nodded.

"Davis takes his 'reserve' battalion." This is what he wanted to hear. It was even better than he expected, better than he had could have hoped. John counted off on his fingers. "The security company he blew up. The company at the Delta bunker. The one he attacked the supply depot with. The one covering for that security company. That leaves him one company in 'reserve' pretending to be a battalion. How much do want to bet its his Headquarters Company? We have him! There's no one at the Delta 7 bunker!"

"How can you say that? You just mentioned the delta bunker company."

John just looked at Brandon. "How many people are in that company?"

"125, 135, there abouts."

"How many people does it take to carry a stretcher?"

"Oh. My. God. Kyle, he's right!"

John looked at Kyle. Kyle was just looking at him. John shook his head. "Send Jorge back out. Tell him to move 4th squad to a position where they can block the wounded. We move in and capture the bunker."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"You don't think Davis might object?" His father was still unconvinced.

"Davis is either severely wounded or dead."

"How do you know that?" Brandon, again.

"This!" He wanted to yell, but he remembered to use his 'inside voice'. "This is a mistake!" He stole of one Kyle's tricks. He was looking at Kyle but directing that last at Brandon. He wanted to pound his fist in the countertop but the glass case was long gone, and he was worried that the cloth covered base would just explode comically into a puff of dust. "Davis would have had them fall back to a secure bunker in his territory. Not advance with more wounded than 'effectives' on to one of Perry's bunkers. Its too dangerous. One of his lieutenants is doing this. In a panic."

Kyle seemed to think about it. He was looking at John. "Jorge, when will you be ready to run again?"

"Give me 15," came the reply from corner.

Still looking at John, "get 1st squad together."

Torres, knowing who was being told what. Just nodded, and went to the back room. John could hear the rustle of fabric.

John went back to his place by the wall.

"Tyler get 2nd squad spun up."

She patted Brandon on the shoulder. Nodded to John, and gave a short sharp whistle: "Second squad." It was barely above a whisper. She was drawing a circle in the air with her finger: Rally point.

John crouched down. "Come on. We're up." Beside him curled up on the floor was Allison.

"I know. I heard."

John was excited, this was like his first command. They were going to go into combat against real soldiers, at his suggestion. Out the front of the store, he could see the far ruins glowing pink with the dawn. A black smudge marred the pastel colored sky.

For no reason John could think of, he looked over his shoulder. Kyle was still looking at him. "I'll break the news to 3rd squad," he said. He looked down at the note, still sitting there after all this time. He looked up at John again. His eyes flicked back down to the note. He was reminding him John knew, that lives were at stake. Kyle went to the back room. He could hear him: "Third squad ears up."

They were still more than a half mile from the bunker. Radice hadn't gotten the message in time to block the 'train'. Radice, Kyle and John were crouched behind a pile of rubble.

"That's your plan?" Kyle looked bewildered.

"Yes," John was unable to keep the sound of disappointment out of his voice.

Radice just grinned. "I like it."

"You like it?" John and his father asked in unison.

"Its brilliant!"

"Its sparse," Kyle countered.

"Look at it. It plays to all our strengths, all of our fears." John understood that when Radice said 'our' he was not referring to the platoon, alone, but the human resistance in its entirety.

Kyle looked a 'so' at Radice.

"What would you do if a high ranking officer you didn't know approached you and gave you orders?"

Kyle was looking out at the bunker entrance, finally he said, "I don't know."

"Exactly. You would do nothing. Which is what John's plan is banking on. That's a sharp kid you got here," Radice added. "He knows how to play us, better watch yourself, Kyle he'll be after your job next."

"So, you think it'll work?" Kyle asked, ignoring Radice's commentary. He was still looking at the bunker from where they were it looked like a kicked ant hill.

"Of course not. Like as not this time tomorrow we'll all be dead." He was still grinning.

Following John's Plan, they had exchanged BDU tops. They all had different names, now. So they decided to stick with 'ranks'. Allison walked up to John. She was wearing Brandon's top. Her name was now 'Hughes'. She was a 'Sergeant'. "This," she asked. "Was your idea?"

John thought he could detect a hint of skepticism in her voice. As a master of the arts sarcastic, he knew, or thought he did, when not to employ those skills. He judged this as one of those times. "Um, yeah," he said, thinking that given time he could have come up with better.

"You're crazy." She said.

"They approved it!" He gestured towards Kyle, and the cluster of squad leaders who looked as doubtful as Allison sounded. Fortunately she had her back to them. John, knowing a tough fight when he saw one, rallied others to his cause. It didn't matter that they might have sided with her.

"You're all crazy!"

"It will work."

"John Connor, if you get me killed. I will haunt you for the rest of your days."

Looking at that face, hearing that voice, yeah, he thought, you probably will. He just smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

It was full daylight, wounded were lined up out side the bunkers main entrance. More were coming in. Kyle had called it a 'log jam'. Resistance fighters were milling about. They hadn't secured their perimeter. John's first thought was that the bunker's hospital was overwhelmed, then he realized that Davis' troops couldn't get inside.

Kyle was at their lead. He wore Tyler's BDUs. He only had his sidearm. He walked up like he owned the place. First squad was fanned out in front of them, a moving defensive wall. Fourth was doing the same behind them. The squad leaders, John, and Allison were grouped behind Kyle. Beyond fourth squad everyone could plainly see the heavy weapons fire team with their plasma rifles, a clear threat. They got close enough for John to hear someone knocking on the bunker's reinforced door. Someone detached themselves from the door and approached them. They were stopped by someone in first squad. They were brought under guard to Kyle.

"Col. Tyler, sir. This is Lt. Branch." Said Jorge, who was wearing Hill's top.

John saw the man stiffen to attention when he heard 'Colonel'. Branch, smelled of smoke. His uniform was blackened around the knees. There were ugly stains on front and sleeves of his BDUs. He had washed his hands and his face, but his hair looked stiff and scorched.

John's 'suggestions' to Kyle had been simple. The officer will be young. He will be scared. Ask him tough questions. Keep him off balance. When he reveals something hit him hard. Keep him scared.

"Llieutenantt. What the hell is going on here?"

"I'm trying to see to my wounded, sir. But they won't give me access to their bunker."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know?"

"Well, it's complicated, sir."

"Then un-complicate it for me."

"Well, this bunker's one of 130th's, sir."

"I am aware of that soldier."

"I am under Gen. Davis' command, sir."

"What is a company from the 125th doing so far from their assignment areas?"

"Two companies, sir." Branch winced, at this correction.

"Two companies?"

"Yes, sir. What's left of two companies, anyway. We were responding to request of assistance. We got word that there was a major incursion here."

"Incursion? What sort of incursion?"

"The metal sort, sir."

"What happened soldier."

"We were on our way up. When we saw the blast... and Gen Davis ordered us to the 130th supply depot."

"General Davis is with you?"

"He was sir."

"He was?"

"Yes, sir. We were unable to locate him after the explosion at the 130th supply depot, but until that point he was in over all command."

"Of two companies?"

"Well, there were three initially, but he detached the third. Well ahead of our arrival there."

"Where is 'there'?"

"The 130th's HQs, sir. They were being overrun, sir."

"What unit did he send on ahead?"

"It was a security company, sir."

"Didn't you find that to be a little odd. Sending a 'security' company up to fight before the 'combat' companies?"

"Yes, I did sir, but..."

"But, he's a General."

"Yes, sir. Besides two of us were security companies. There was only one combat company present."

"Say again?"

"Sir, my company was only to hold the supply depot once it was secure."

"What about the depot's security detail?"

"We were to reinforce them."

Kyle nodded. "Lieutenant. Did you ever see metal."

"No, sir."

"That didn't bother you either?"

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

"We were just late for the 'dance', sir."

Kyle nodded again. "And these wounded?"

"Most are from Alfa Company, 1st battalion. Sir."

"Lt Branch. Do you understand what you have just told me?"

"Sir?"

"You just told me that you were given orders to capture a 'skin' held supply depot, and hold it for other 'skins'."

"No sir, that's not the case, sir."

"Then what is the case?"

"I was instructed to reinforce the security detail at the supply depot."

"And what were Alfa company's orders?"

"To engage the enemy sir."

"But you saw no metal."

"No sir."

"Who blew up the depot soldier?"

"I don't know sir."

"Skin or metal?"

"I don't know sir."

"Who held the depot, soldier?"

"I don't know sir."

"I see. I'm going to have to ask for your sidearm." Kyle held out his hand.

"Sir?"

"Sergeant Reese!"

"Sir!" John stepped up.

"Arrest this man."

"Sir." John walked over to Branch. Who gave him a helpless, almost pleading look. When he saw no help from that quarter he turned back to the 'colonel'.

"Sir, But wait..."

"But nothing!" Kyle hollared at him.

Branch wilted.

"General Perry was concerned for the safety of his command. He asked ME to assist him. I have written orders to that effect." He pulled out the folded and much crumpled note. "My Battalion is out there!" He waved at the horizon. "So unless you want more blood on your hands soldier, surrender your command."

"Sir. I… I can't… Sir." John grabbed Branch by the elbow, he could feel the bandage shift beneath his sleeve. The Lt. flinched. Kyle turned away to talk to 'Captain' Radice, who was really Tyler. "Wait! Sir! Wait. Goldman!" Branch called over his shoulder, "Sergeant Goldman!"

"Sir?" A man in a make shift stretcher not ten feet away replied. His chest was wrapped, his face and arms were bandaged with what looked like strips of his own clothing.

"Lay… lay down your arms." By the time he said 'arms' Branch's voice had cracked.

The man banged his head on the ground, and shook it, three times. John couldn't even imagine the anguish on his unseen face. "Jolly?"

"Here, sarge." Said the man, boy really, sitting cross legged beside him.

"Go tell them. Tell them, we are laying down arms." Jolly nodded, then got up and ran back along the long train of wounded.

John looked at the man, as he lay, on his back he seemed to sag even farther, almost sinking into the stretcher.

"Sergeant. Sergeant?"

"Sir!" John remembered that he was the sergeant now.

"You can release that man."

"Sir!" He said to Kyle, and "Sorry," he said to Branch. He meant about the surrender, not grabbing his wound.

"I'm sorry too." Branch sat down right were he was and wept. He pulled out his sidearm and handed it upto John.

Kyle and the rest approached the bunker's entrance. Kyle was talking to the door. There was a scrapping sound, then two muffled bangs, as they shot bolts back, and the door screeched open.

And just like that. Inside of 15 minutes without a shot fired, and no, additional, loss of life. John won his first victory.

The bunker's CO with surprising swiftness converted the 'firing' range into a detention center and field hospital. Triage was being done above ground. It seemed the easiest way of doing it. They sent down the worse first.

The platoon was in the cafeteria. They were given water and 20 minutes to 'rest'. A bunker runner had been dispatched to bring third squad in. Afterwards they would be broken up by 'teams' to help guard and process the prisoners. There were more than twice as many prisoners as the bunkers security company. Still their tables were close to the stairs, the ones the prisoners were using to get to the firing range. The group coming down now, were on stretchers. The stretcher bearers were mostly from the hospital, some staffers' even some the hospitals own 'walking' wounded.

Some of the bunkers civilian staff would pass with trays of water and 'bread'. For the prisoner's John guessed. Many of them waved. Some clapped him on the shoulder. He even got a couple of hugs. The bunker's CO, an older man named Weintraub, even stopped by, however briefly to personally thank him.

Allison leaned close, their shoulders touching she was sitting to his immediate right. "Stop it."

"What?" He asked just as another 'staffer' passed waving at him.

"You're grinning like an idiot."

The rules, John remembered. He took stock of himself and the situation. He was sitting high in his folding chair, back straight, grinning 'like an idiot'. He slouched down into it, hunched over his water. With his left hand he ran his fingers through his hair. What he wouldn't give for a shower, and then pressed his thumb and his forefinger to his forehead. This had two effects it covered his name, and it gave him the appearance of exhaustion that he saw in most everyone else in the platoon. It was exhaustion that John, despite his lack of sleep and food, in no way felt. He sipped his water. He turned his head, so that his hand was at the back of his neck now, as if rubbing away fatigue or sore muscles. Over his own shoulder he was looking at Allison. "Thank you."

She leaned back in her chair stretched her legs out under the table, closed her eyes to the ceiling and whispered back: "You're welcome."

Beyond Allison, screened by her until she leaned back, sitting at the head of the table, John saw Kyle. Staring at him, it was obvious to John that he had seen his transformation. Questions, John knew, would follow.

There were a lot of wounded; Many with burns, others with assorted blast injuries. All with the soul crushing wounds of surrender. John and Allison had been stationed near the stairs, one level down from their 'quarters'.

He watched them as they shuffled passed. Most not even looking up to see where they were going. His initial elation was tempered now with the heartsickness he felt when he looked into their faces. He held his weapon across his chest. He wasn't trying to provoke anything he was just trying to cover his name. He might have to lead these people someday.

After nearly two hours, the prisoner's were confined. Their surrendered weapons were stowed, and secure. The large firing range was full. The side closest the stair was the hospital. It was separated from the other prisoners with tables. A purely psychological barrier, but it worked. There was security on the landing and at the top of the stair, though they expected no trouble.

John was in his bunk. He was staring at the bottom of Allison's. He had been doing so for most of half an hour. As he watched the bunk shifted. Long brown hair and a face appeared, upside down, to his left.

"John."

His only response was to turn his head and look at her.

"They're alive, John. You did that."

He just stared.

"How far are we from the front," Allison asked.

John had no idea.

The head vanished. Booted feet, and he felt the bunk shift as she dropped herself to the floor. She was standing beside him, looking down. "Ten miles? Twelve miles? How far is that for an Ogre? Or a Centaur?"

Again, John had no idea. He knew next to nothing about his enemy, his tactics, and his capabilities. He knew nothing of the situation beyond what he could see at any given moment. This was a liability that he would have to correct.

"That's a wrong turn for an aerial HK," Allison continued, not knowing that she had just sent more gears churning. "They were out there, in full daylight. It would only have been a matter of time, before they brought metal down on themselves and this bunker."

He nodded, but otherwise made no response. He knew the last part. He needed a clearer tactical picture, but first things first. What he needed to figure out now. Was how he was going to get the prisoners to fight for him.

He wanted to go down there; to talk to them, to listen to them. He needed to recruit them. He couldn't risk going down there himself. "I need to talk to Kyle."

Allison nodded, and walked away. Less than a minute later, she was back. "Come on."

Kyle was in the CO's office. Allison took him there. She didn't seem happy at all that he said he needed to talk to Kyle alone. He waited in the hall until they were done. The door opened. John stiffened to attention looking at Kyle. They were both leaving. Weintraub smiled at him and walked off to the right.

"John? Is something wrong? Do you need something," Kyle asked as he turned to the left back towards the stairs. John turned to walk beside him.

"I need those prisoners. We need those prisoners." John said as they walked.

"What do you mean?" The stairs were empty it was daytime most of the bunker would be sleeping.

"We need them. They are soldiers. They fight. Recruit them. Send Radice he'll know what to say." Kyle had stopped on the landing.

"John."

John turned and looked at a man, perhaps ten years older than him, who was also his father.

"Who are you, John? What are you? Four days ago, you recommend we turn on enemies roughly five times our number, and we beat them. Which is fine, we had surprise, terrain, training and luck on our side. This morning you plan us a way to capture a bunker, and take 10 times as many prisoners as we have soldiers. And now you want me to recruit those prisoners?"

John couldn't think of anything else to say: "Yes."

Kyle nodded. "When I talk to you I feel like you are three steps ahead of me." He waited, when he got no response, he continued. "I've been a soldier most of my life, but I don't think at 16 I could have done what you do. I don't think now, I could do what you do. Derek, told me not to worry about it. With Derek…"

Gone, John filled in for himself.

"I'm in command now. I have to worry about it. Do you even know what Weintraub and I were talking about in there?"

"No," John answered, glad to have a question that he could answer.

"No," Kyle agreed. "You wouldn't, because you weren't there, but we were discussing this very thing. He suggested one of his people. I suggested Radice."

John nodded. "Is his guy better than Radice?"

"I don't know."

"Then use Radice."

"What, do you know their guy?" Kyle asked this in a way that suggested that he would not have been surprised if John said: Yes.

"No, but I know Radice."

Kyle nodded. "You know, John. You never answer any of my questions."

John didn't know what to say. So he just stood there. Kyle just stared at him.

"Dismissed, soldier. Get back to quarters and get some rest. We'll head out when the reinforcements get here."

"Thank you." Belatedly he added, "Sergeant." He went down the rest of the stairs, and wasn't surprised at all to see Allison waiting for him at the bottom. They walked back together, in silence.

They were sitting on his bunk again, side by side, but not close. "You heard," John asked.

"Yes."

"What do you…" John never finished his question. Tyler walked past and had smiled at him. I guess I am a hero, he thought to himself. Out loud he said: "Why isn't Tyler down stairs helping with the wounded?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"I figured they could use every medic they could get their hands on."

"They could, that's why they have Brandon and Torres."

"I heard that Tyler was our medic."

"Tyler? Who told you that?"

Tyler drawn by the sound of her name, appeared.

She nodded at them. "Young. Connor."

Without turning her head Allison said, "Someone told John you were our medic."

Tyler held up her left hand, the one with only the thumb and the forefinger, reminding him of her handicap. She looked at it. "Have a hard enough time with mah laces, can't imagine bandages and stitches."

"So… you weren't an EMT before the J-day?"

Tyler laughed. "Someone's bin pullin' your leg! Ah was recruited from up in 'da hills' as you city folk say."

Unable to stop himself John asked her, "you're one of the 'hill people'?"

"John? Where else does someone get a knife scar like that one?" Allison added.

Tyler turned her head and smiled adding, John thought undo emphasis to the injury. "One of mah uncle's made advances. Ah said 'no'. This was his reply. Ah joined up aftah his son's decided that mah counter offer was too harsh." Tyler's smile already, disconcerting, carried the suggestion that her 'counter offer' had been terminal.

Allison continued, as if Tyler's aside has been just that, an aside. "Besides Tyler's may be five years older than us."

Then something clicked in John's head. He signed: Stop.

Tyler laughed again, but signed: okay, and said out loud " 'Ah was an EMT' that's a funny! If you all got any more jokes. Ah'll be in mah bunk." She walked off but circled around, quietly.

"What", signed Allison.

"Nothing", John signed one letter at a time, he waved them both off. "I need to think", he painstakingly spelled out. As Allison stood he rolled into his bunk and stared at the bottom of hers. He stood up, he remembered something. With his finger to his lips he looked at Allison. She was about to climb up into her bunk. "Did you and Dave ever argue?" John signed. He needed to expand his vocabulary; signing one letter at a time was tedious.

"No. Wait. Once. Staged." Allison signed back.

"Staged?"

"Yes. Explain later. Why are we using sign?"

John signed "metal" and then cupped his left hand to his left ear: "Metal listening," he thought it was a very clever joke.

After breakfast, Radice gathered the platoon in the 'common' area. Kyle was pacing, the rest sat in front of him, waiting. "I need volunteers." He stopped and turned towards them. "I need 6 people, to help me take John, out to the 'eastern' sector." He looked down at his boots kicked at something only he could see. "I know that many of you want to go back to Headquarters to help with any possible rescue. I will be leaving you in the capable hands of Corporal Torres. I ask for volunteers only because this 'task' exceeds your duties as resistance fighters. Any takers?"

John was surprised to see that Brandon volunteered, two of his heavy weapons squad had joined him. Allison and Tyler also joined up. John was happy they spent a lot of time together. Jorge had also volunteered, again no surprise. John had suspicions, but would need more evidence before he could consider any actions. Radice and Dalia had wanted to come, but Kyle had said 'no' to both. They would be needed here, besides John had other uses for Radice.

They slept another day , stayed the next night gathering supplies, and woke late the next afternoon. Two companies had arrived while they slept; one a pretty beat up combat unit, the other was 'scratch' security company, made up of security platoons from four nearby bunkers. At breakfast, Jorge excused himself and told them he would meet them topside. John, wasn't the only person to notice. Dalia was signing furiously to a runner that John didn't know. John was trying to remember if Jorge had entered the bunker with them the two days ago. He wasn't sure. He also couldn't place Jorge at all that first day, but that could be fatigue, or just their work 'assignments'.

John caught Allison's eye. Glanced towards Dalia.

She watched. Then just nodded at John. Later, she signed.

Kyle and his squad of volunteers were waiting in line at the supply room. John was at the back of the line, thinking about: The 'Jorge problem' as he dubbed it; The 'Cameron problem'; The 'Allison situation', he didn't want to call it a 'problem'; and the 'Army procurement problem', when he heard Allison gasp. Distracted, his reactions weren't nearly quick enough and he caught an elbow, in the ribs. "What," he managed to ask.

"Look." She said staring at the supply office.

"What?" He looked from her to counter. He saw nothing unusual.

"Look!" Allison insisted.

He did, and he saw. There above the supply office's clerk's head. He was so glad it wasn't Kemper. Was a polished wooden plaque bolted to it was an oddly shaped dark mass, that resolved itself into a chunk of a 'boot heel', his boot heel. Below the 'heel' was a metal plate etched into its surface, crudely, but neatly, John read this:

John Connor

Wore this boot heel during a

Skirmish on "Connor's Ridge"

Where he repelled a determined

'Hill people' assault.

Date: August 20, 2025

Unit: 130th SOC (detached)

Location: Unknown

John just stared at it. They had even etched in the lion with the terminator head in its jaws.

"Ahem." Someone said behind him. At first John thought that line had moved and he had missed it, but it hadn't. He looked behind him. He was an older man, probably in his forties, certainly with the exception of Weintraub, the oldest person he had met, so far in the future. His hair was streaked with silver. He was tall, tall as John, but lanky. "I couldn't help but notice your friend's reaction. Might you be, that Connor?" He nodded towards the 'plaque'.

The rules, John thought, but how would he ever lead them, if they didn't know who he was. "Yes, I'm John Connor."

The man's face broke into a grin, a huge grin. "Sir," he said as he took John's hand in both of his. "I'm, Lieutenant Kilpatrick, 3rd Battalion, Bravo Company." He nodded towards the plaque, again. "With the 130th, and I am damned glad to finally make your acquaintance." He leaned in close, spoke just barely over his own breathing. "Some of them doubted, but I believed. I always believed." He leaned back out. "Thank you, sir. For givin' an old vet'ran a reason to keep fightin'." The man, still grinning walked away.

"What?" The word had formed on John's lips, but he never said it, he turned to look at Allison. Her face was neutral. She was not surprised by this encounter, and she was obviously not at all pleased by it.