Livin' in the Future
By Ottovw
2010
Chapter 8
-Allison
John wiped his eyes on this sleeve. He stepped into the hall. Allison was at the armory door. She looked worried. "John?" He noticed two things. One she was armed. Two she wasn't alone.
"What's going on?" He was looking at Sister Sabrina.
She just looked right back at him. Allison said: "They are worried about your safety. They are sending us to the 'Academy'." Sabrina just nodded and handed him his side arm.
Automatically he checked it, and then put it on. He was running again. It rankled. At Allison feet was his pack. He bent to pick it up, draped across it was his father's coat. He hesitated, felt foolish and snatched it up, and drew on his pack. He looked at Allison, she still looked worried. "When are we going?"
"Are y…?"
"I'm fine!" He snapped, he hadn't meant to. He was hurt, and he wanted someone else to hurt too. He was being a child. Dammit. He slung his AR onto his shoulder. He refused to make eye contact. "When are we going?"
"When Roberto gets here," Sister Sabrina said her voice low, cool and impassive as ever.
John turned to the doors. "I… I'm sorry." He said to them.
"It's okay John."
He shook his head. "No. No its not. Where's Jorge?"
"I don't know."
John nodded. A moment or two later Roberto ran up. He slapped the armory counter top. The girl, smiling, tossed him his AK. "We ready?" She slid a large dark box towards him. He pulled its strap over one shoulder. His eye caught on John's coat. He looked at Allison, she was wearing her BDUs. "You want a coat or anything thicker? It gets pretty cold in the desert."
"I'll be fine. I've been to the desert before."
"Is it just the two of you?"
They looked at each other. "Yes." They said in unison.
"Okay. That was kinda creepy." Roberto's smile wavered. He looked at John, "I can only take you part of the way there. When we are on alert all the vehicles have to stay within reach. Once I hit 'bingo fuel' I have to turn around. Normally I'd just gas up there and come back."
John nodded. He thought it strange that a man driving a truck would use that term, but when a truck was as valuable as an aircraft, it kind of made sense.
Sister Sabrina gestured to a mirrored window, to the right of the armory. The bell rang, and the doors opened out. Allison gave her a quick hug. John just walked back out into the air lock.
Roberto climbed into the truck the number on the fob matched the number of the trucks parking space and painted on the truck's cab. John climbed into the bed. He refused to acknowledge the empty space to their trucks immediate right. Allison was poised to step into the open cab door. She looked at John closed the door and climbed in back beside him.
He looked towards her. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I know."
"I'm not going to be very good company."
"That's okay."
They drove east. After about an hour they left the city proper. John now felt that he had a better understanding of the limitations of wheeled vehicles. The truck was 4 wheel drive though this part of the city was lacking in twisted wreckage and impact craters many of the main thorough fares were clogged with Judgment Day traffic. So they were confined to side streets, and on some of those they had to drive on sidewalks, cut across parking lots, slip down alley's, and even through more than a couple of buildings. John was pretty certain that had they run in this direction they could have taken a direct path. Near as John could guess they were averaging about 20 mph.
They were trying to parallel a freeway. Even sulking as he was John noticed that. Other landmarks suggested, Riverside. Which reminded him of Riley and the mistakes he made there, self pity, he thought to himself. Which only pissed him off even more, it felt like a life time ago. It had only been 3 weeks.
They were in the suburbs, when it became full dark. Roberto stopped and opened the box. Looking in from the bed, John saw that they were night vision goggles. Here there had been much less traffic. The worry now seemed to be tree falls and wash outs. John leaned against the weapons mount and huddled down in to his father's coat. His pack was between his legs. His rifle, still on its sling, was across his lap. Without glass the cab offered little shelter from the wind. They were doing 35 may be 40 mph. Allison he noted kept watch behind them, her eyes periodically sweeping the skies.
From the opposite side, she too leaned into the post. He thought she was trying to stay out of the wind. He was going to offer her the coat, as a peace gesture. Before he could ask she said, over the wind noise: "You haven't been sleeping well."
He looked at her.
"I say my prayers every night," she said as if that somehow explained everything.
He continued to stare at her.
"You snore."
"Loud?"
"No, not too bad, Derek was a lot worse." She saw his look, "I was the runner for his squad."
"Oh."
"I saw a coyote back there when we stopped."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Usually good, when there are coyotes around their usually aren't dogs."
"Was this how you got to the 'end of the world," John asked.
She laughed. "Sort of, we had a bigger truck. We took a more direct route."
"What's… What's going on back there?"
She looked away, back down the road. "Panic," she said plainly.
He nodded. "Why," he asked.
"Tran is good. But they are worried that he might have Bell with him."
John thought about that. Bell could be with him. Tran had to know how important Serrano Point was. So he had to know that Wills was 'pinned' there. John laughed to himself. Pinned, is a chess term, for a piece that could not be move because it was shielding a more important piece.
"Do you think Kyle might try and stop him? Or delay him?"
"I hope not." She said to retreating road. "He'd be overmatched. Besides he's too smart for that. He'll leave traps, may be some people to harass their rear areas after they pass, but he won't stay and fight. He'll run."
Just like me, John's thought was bitter as bile on the back of his throat.
"What are Father Bonilla's plans?"
She looked at him at first feigning to be someone not privy to such knowledge, then conceding that she was, "He's going to move two brigades up off 'the line', and into the 'buffer zone'. That should be sufficient to give Tran pause."
He's too static, John realized. Tran could just go around him into the suburbs come around from the east. Then he understood something else. That is what Kyle, and what of the 130th he could save and what of the 125th Radice could save, were for. To harry Tran's flank.
"He's worried," John said into the wind buffeted silence. "He thinks we are going to cut him off."
"What do you mean?"
"Tran is worried about his supplies. That's why he wanted the 130th's supply depot. He's worried, now that I'm here, that we will starve them out to get them to join us."
Allison looked at him, puzzled at first, but then nodded. "Is that what we should do?"
"Yes, especially now that Skynet is too busy with his own problems."
"How did…"
"Father Bonilla told me, and it's the only reason Tran can do this. Skynet is distracted, and he is taking pressure off of the 'west' to engage his new enemy. Tran is using that 'freedom' to consolidate his hold on the 'west', but to do that he needs to secure his supply base. Us."
After a moment, almost to the night chilled air, John said, "Leaflets, or fliers. Reminding them that the fight is against Skynet not me."
They rode on in silence for awhile. The truck continued on its way; occasionally slowing for some obstacle, or bouncing its way around a pot hole big enough to hide it in. Roberto said not a word. Near as John could he was concentrating on the road, what there remained of it.
After another hour, they were out of the suburbs, and into the wild. They were as much off the road as on it. Mostly they seem to use the road as a marker, to show them the way to go. Nearly fifteen years of neglect, and periodic rain storms, had left the roads washed out and overgrown.
A thought kept bothering John. So he voiced it. "Why is Skynet fighting here? What is so important about southern California that he feels necessary to fight here?"
Allison still watching the road, there was a movement of her shoulders. John guessed it was a shrug.
He didn't get it. It didn't make sense. From John's experience machines did things for a reason. Another thought, the zombie net. What had he been using it for? Was it just for processor time? Was it 'living' on the distributed system? Was it trying to solve a problem? What about the computers in South America? Where they networked? Was Skynet using them as well?
The bunker, he understood now. They had built it. They had put away supplies. They had staged people. They had organized. Who? Surely not his mother, Ellison had been involved. Obviously the priest and Sabrina, Martin as well, many others that he had not yet met, or who were dead. He was amazed that a conspiracy so large could have been kept a secret.
He sat up so suddenly, he would have hit his head on the cab's back glass, if it had any. He looked at Allison.
She looked back, startled. Her eyes wide, he wondered if they mirror his own. "Are you okay? Did you have a dream, a nightmare? What?"
"Nothing, it's… it's nothing," he said. He was straight backed, against the back of the truck's cab. He was staring at the unseeable dark behind them. She doesn't know. Allison doesn't know. She doesn't know about Cameron. Oh my God. His heart was racing. What had he told her? He broke out into a sweat.
"John? John!"
What had he said? Had he given anything away? He reviewed their conversations. He was trying to discern what he had said out loud with what he had been thinking. He was panicking.
"I'm fine." He took a couple of deep breaths. It didn't help at all. He had the most incredible urge to vomit. He ran his hand through is hair, it was damp with sweat. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. Dear God. "I'm… just tired." He lay down on his side, and curled his knees up. The wood was rough against his cheek. He needed to shave. He pretended to fall asleep. He didn't think he'd ever be able to sleep again.
The truck lurched to a halt. "John?" Someone shook his shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm up."
Roberto from beside the truck, "he slept through that?"
"You've been in it, Roberto, so you know. You get your sleep when you can."
He laughed, "he's hardcore senorita. I don't think I could have slept through that."
"What's going on?"
"That." Roberto had the night vision goggles up over his head.
John looked out the front of the truck. The road just stopped. His first guess was a massive wash out, but they would just go around a wash out. He climbed out of the back of the truck, twenty feet in front of the truck, the road was gone. He walked to the end and looked down. It was more than five feet below him. "Earthquake?"
"Don't know."
"How often do you guys drive this route?"
"Once a month, may be twice if something important happens."
"So this wasn't here a month ago?"
Roberto laughed. "This wasn't here two weeks ago."
There it was two weeks again, but he thought, this was a natural event. Right? "Was there a quake 2 weeks ago?"
Again, the laugh, "John you lived in L.A. there are tremors all the time."
"I didn't say 'tremor'. I said 'quake'."
Roberto didn't laugh this time. "I don't know. We don't have the equipment or the manpower to keep track of things like that anymore. I wanted to drive you up as far as Yucca Valley but I can see a half a click north, and south, there's no way around. John looked across the gap was only about twelve feet, but they had no equipment to dig a ramp down the near side and up the far side.
From behind them Allison said, "I guess we walk."
John nodded. The face of the drop was pretty steep but not vertical. He slid down. He stood up. There was the sound of sand and gravel. He looked behind him there was a large sealed jug. John picked up the jug. Allison followed it down. Above him he could already hear the truck backing up and leaving. The far face was easier to negotiate it was three broad 2 foot tall steps. Jug in hand, John climbed it. At the top he turned around. The truck was out of sight. "What did I say to piss him off?"
Allison, now up beside him said, "nothing, but you gave him some ideas, I think he was eager to try them out."
He looked at her.
"The pamphlets, the cutting off of supplies, things like that could cripple Tran," she explained.
Allison walked east, off the road surface. After about fifty feet, she turned to her left. Looked up at the stars, and then looked to her left, and her right. Turned back to the right and stared. She did the same thing, looking back the way they had come. She did the same thing looking almost due south.
"What are you doing?"
"Remembering this spot," she said as she took off her pack.
"Why?"
"We are going to lighten our load, and leave unnecessary things here. How much does your pack weigh?"
John pulled it off his shoulders, hefted it. "About forty pounds or so," he guessed.
"Yeah, we aren't going to need most of that. Got your entrenching tool? Start digging," she replied to his nod. "Make it three or four feet deep about a foot or so around."
As John dug, she explained, while rifling through his pack. "They taught us how to 'fix' a location. Find north, and then pick three points. I like: north west; east; and south. Look for 'key' geographic features. They told us to look far away distant objects tend to be large, and so aren't usually affected local environmental changes." She glanced up at John, "like flash floods."
"You've done this before?"
"A couple of times," she said as she tore open four packages of MREs. "Do like the orange, or the apple?"
"Huh?" John asked as he dug.
"The drink," she waved the envelopes at him.
"Oh. The orange."
"Darn." She pulled out a small packet from each the rest she shoved into a plastic bag which she put in another bag. "You've got a full magazine right?"
"Right."
She folded the two magazines she found in John's back and the other six from her pack into individual pockets she folded in another plastic bag. She sealed this bag with a knot and put it into the bag with the MRE's. 'Give me your coat."
"Why?"
"I'm going to store it."
He looked up from this digging. "No. I'm wearing it."
"John. It weighs more than you're AR."
"I'm wearing it."
"Okay, forty miles up the way?" She nodded towards the north east. "Just remember I offered to bury that thing."
John on his belly digging, the entrenching tool is short. Looked up at her, and said "I'll be fine. Is this deep enough?"
She looked at him. 'Yeah, that's good."
"What about our side arms?"
"They'll be more useful than the ARs unfortunately we don't have bags big for them." She handed him the bundle.
It was very neat, and tightly bound bundle. "My socks," he asked as he dropped their cache down the hole, and back filled it.
"I'm sure there will be extras at the 'academy.'"
"Do you always pack like this?"
She laughed. "I knew we were going to the desert. So I planned ahead."
John picked up his pack, it seemed hardly lighter, he looked inside all that was left were packets of instant drinks, some 'snacks', energy bars, dried venison, and three one gallon jugs of water, and three one liter bottles. "Where did you get dried venison from?"
"Supply. It's good mostly protein, and salt. We're going to need electrolytes."
"The crackers?"
"Carbohydrates."
"Peanut m&m's?"
She looked up and smiled. "I just love those things!"
"The t-shirt?"
"A scarf it gets cold enough."
She cinched up his AR's sling. "Silence isn't really an issue, but that thing bouncing around can be annoying. Everything was secured nothing to swing out and snag on a branch or thorn. She pulled down on his back. "That's tight."
"What do we do with that?" John pointed to the jug.
"Fill this." It was a clear plastic bladder. She shoved it into her empty pack, leaving on the top visible. She unscrewed the top, which John saw was also a spigot. The lip of the Jug was bigger than the lip of the bladder. "Be careful, we are going to need all of that."
Allison pulled the pack on.
"Isn't that awful heavy?"
"Are you offering? That's very sweet. I've got most of the water. You have all of the food. We're about even. With that coat you're about ten pounds up on me."
"What do we do with this?" He lifted the empty jug.
"Bury it. We don't want to leave anything visible near our 'cache'." So they crossed and buried the "jug."
They walked away from the cache. "Keep clear of roads especially at night, they retain heat, the snakes gravitate to them. Stay away from rock outcrops, boulders, and shrubs. Actually just follow me like the 'runs' in the city." She paused. John thought to breath. "What's the farthest you've ever run?"
"In one night," John thought about it, "twenty miles give or take."
Allison nodded. "In one go?"
"I don't know. Five or six, I guess."
Again she nodded. "You ready, John?" She smiled. "Let's dance on the dunes," she said. "Just follow my lead."
They walked. The pace was deceptive. This was nothing like the city runs, nor the Lancaster 'run'. She set a steady even pace. John had walked faster to get to a bathroom. There was no 'trail' to follow there was only the desert. The plants were low barely up to their thighs. The shrubs were easy to avoid, they stood out like islands. They kept to the flat ground, which was easy it was all flat. After a mile John was sweating despite the chill. The air here was much cooler than the city even cooler than in Lancaster.
After about 50 minutes and what had to be five miles by John's best estimate, Allison raise her clinched fist, and slowed their pace. "That was about five," she said breathing heavy. "Keep breathing John, we lose a lot of moisture to the air but we need the oxygen." She smiled at him over her shoulder. She gave them five minutes at this pace, and then said: "Let's go."
They were off, and walking. Against the starlit sky John could see the silhouettes of the distant hills. Almost directly ahead of him could see Cassiopeia. Towards his left was Polaris. As they walked John could almost discern Pegasus wheeling high in the sky, after another five miles he was too busy breathing to be concerned about the stars.
"That's about seven, John," Allison gasped. "Drink," she said. "Just a swallow."
John knew better than to stop walking. He opened up his BDU top, between his t-shirt and his top was his water. He lifted up the edge of his 'scarf' and took a sip, it wasn't cold but he let it warm in his mouth before he swallowed it. He took another, and then another. When he could talk he said, "I need to take this coat off."
He saw Allison's look. "Fine, you were right."
"See the plant that looks like a 'w'?" Allison asked.
"The Joshua tree?"
"Yes. Keep walking towards it bearing to its right: we want to be about 10 yards from it when we pass. Keep this pace." Allison slowed and let John pass. Behind him she helped him with his pack.
"Are you sweating?"
"Yes." He acknowledged.
"A lot?"
"I think so."
"Keep the coat on for a bit then. Don't want you getting cold." They passed the tree. "John, about ten degrees to your left see the mound with the 'v' shaped shrub?"
"Yes."
"That's our next way point, stay to its right as well."
They passed that as well. John felt terrible right now Allison was carrying all of their food and water. After about a hundred feet he said: "I'm ready," He took off the coat. Allison helped him put his pack on.
"Give me your coat. There's another tree, the one with the limb hanging down? Go to its left about three yards."
He flipped the coat back across his shoulder to Allison. As they passed the tree John felt a tug on his backpack, then another.
"Good," he heard Allison say to herself. Louder she said. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah," John could hear the tremor in his voice from his shivering. It was probably in the mid to upper 30s. He wished they were running. The terrain was getting rougher. They had been in a valley, but it had opened up. Now it was getting hilly. They turned north, and kept to the lowlands between the hills.
"You wanna try for eight?"
John was glad they weren't running. The stars were still bright he could easily discern the band of light that gave the galaxy its name. They had been walking continuously for more than three hours. Their pace slowed for five minutes every hour but they kept moving. John could see Allison ahead of him. They kept walking. The hills were behind them south and west. It was flat here, and open. "Is this," he asked breathing heavily. "How you always travel?"
"Don't talk, John just breathe. This is how we got to the Academy from Baja."
"You walked from Baja?"
"It was our final. There was a support truck about 4 miles behind us. We just didn't know that."
"You said six of you graduated. How many took the test?"
"Fifteen. Now breath John just breath."
John didn't just breath he thought. She had told him that there were forty of them originally. Only fifteen go to the 'final'. Of that only six 'passed'. Part of him wondered what happened to the others. Part of him wondered what it was like leaving 'classmates', comrades really, behind on their 'walk' not knowing there was a truck waiting to pick them up.
John looked at the girl's back. His training had been hard, but he had never had to leave anyone behind. Then he realized how untrue that was. He had left plenty of people behind and for them there was no truck. For many of them the only reason they needed a truck was to take away the body. John was so stunned that people would do this to children that he didn't even recognize that someone had taken his life and turned it into a curriculum.
They walked another hour. They drank during their five minute cool down walk. It was at this point that John decided that sand sucked. When you stepped into it, it gave and your boot would sink in. Sometimes it might have a kind of crust, which for the briefest moment would hold, and then collapse and your boot would sink in. Rarer still it would hold your weight, then you would realize that you weren't on sand at all but rock, and then you would step into sand and your boot would sink in. After that when you tried to step out of it, it sucked. It wasn't the boot stealing and knee popping suck of a swamp, it was much more subtle. But it built up and built up, until front of his thighs burned from it.
They walked for another hour. Allison slowed their pace John thought it was another five minute cool down. It wasn't. After about half an hour they stopped.
"That was good, John. We got about 26 miles in. Keep walking."
He wanted to fall down, but knew better he might not be able to get back up.
"Drink," She said. "I'll set up camp."
John was dizzy he wasn't sure if it was exhaustion, dehydration or because he was walking in circles.
"Come on John lie down. I'll take first watch."
He lay down. His legs were on fire. His back was on fire. Without the coat on he wasn't sweating at all. Well, he was sweating it just didn't last long enough for him to feel wet. He took the Mylar blanket and draped it over himself. He could already feel the cold attacking his muscles because he wasn't moving.
Allison was sitting cross legged beside him. She handed him a bottle of water. "Drink this slowly," she said. "And keep drinking until you have to pee." John noticed she was wearing his father's coat. He knew better than to say anything. She was drinking too. He was taking bigger sips than he would have wanted to but after the first liter his body reminded him how thirsty he was. He was close to a gallon when he had to get up to urinate.
When he got back Allison was reading the packaging of one of the energy bars. "Eat this." She handed him an energy bar and a strip of venison. He ate. Then he lay down again.
It was the sleazy motel room with the nice flat screen. "Get on top of me", she said. He did. She handed him the switchblade handle first. "Right here," she said. He cut. "Reach down under the breast plate." He reached. "There," she said. "What does it feel liked," She asked. He felt.
"A crucifix," he heard himself say as he jerked awake. The sky was bright beyond the netting. He was sore everywhere. The jerk earned him a cramp in his right calf.
Allison glanced at him. "Did you have one of those dreams where you think you've fallen asleep on watch?"
"Yeah," he lied. As he sat up, his hand landed on a one liter bottle, the water inside it was orange. The blanket crinkled with his movements.
"Hate those," she said to the desert.
He lifted up the bottle it dimpled and made that crackling sound.
"Drink that John. Drink it slow, but drink it all. When you're done you've got three more."
"What time is it?"
"Time to switch watches," She turned to look at him again. John saw how bloodshot her eyes were. They traded spots. John looked out at the desert, while sipping his orange colored water.
From the Mylar blanket Allison said, "nothing out there. Without electricity the pumps don't run. We abandoned this part of the country pretty quickly after J-day."
John sat his watch. He watched his compass points, but paid particular attention to their back trail. Like Allison said there was nothing. Not a bird, not a lizard.
Beside him Allison's breathing slowed. He rubbed absently at his calf. His mind wandered. His father had told him it was harder with just two people. Because, he had said, that you were alone and you thought about why that was. They might be fighting already. They might be killing and dying for him right now and he was running to his mother's over protective wings.
Was Allison right? You did this, she had yelled at him. Had he done this? Was all this happening because of him? Obviously his arrival in this time had precipitated this attack, but he had to think that something like that had been in the planning for some time. He had only touched it off. Like a spark in a powder keg, that prematurely detonates a 'mine' in one of those 18th century sieges. Before the defenders are clear of the wall and before attackers are in the 'breech'. But that wasn't entirely true either, he left. He had gone to the future, after Cameron, leaving the human resistance bereft of leadership.
The thought sobered him. He had done this. What could he do now to fix things, to make everything right? He laughed at the naiveté of that thought. At sixteen, he already knew that everything could never be right. It was life. Nothing was fair. Nothing was right. But some things could be more right, or at least less wrong. What he needed was information, and here in the desert he had nothing.
Under his breath he said: "You still out there?"
The response took longer than he expected, he had begun to think that he was out of range again. "I will keep this response short. Yes, I am here." Weaver's accent was thick in his head. "You have enemies John, they might be able to detect this transmission and localize it. The girl has had numerous chances to kill you since she has not I deem her safe enough."
He looked back the way they had come. To do so he had to look past Allison. He looked down at her. He looked up at the horizon. Somewhere beyond the tangle, somewhere beyond the confusion was Cameron. She was his compass. His lodestone. He had to be certain of that. There was nothing else. There were no other certainties. There were no other sureties. Nothing, only chaos and pain, even the little girl sleeping beside him. He sighed and looked out over another horizon.
Did he have feelings for her? In her own right? Beyond her resemblance to Cameron? Yes, he thought but ultimately like his feelings for his father, they were irrelevant. Not that his feelings didn't matter. It's just that he could not allow his feelings to turn him from his path. From his mission. He looked out at another horizon.
Allison woke on her own after two hours. She had given him four he had planned on returning the favor. "John?" She asked as she sat up. She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Just giving you a little extra time," he said at her questioning look.
"You need your rest."
"So do you."
She didn't respond. "Anything?"
"No, nothing at all. Besides I needed time to think."
"About?"
"Everything," he said truthfully. They switched off four more times. The only item of note that John saw on his last watch was a coyote. When Allison woke and they broke camp he told her about it.
"Another one? That's three in two days."
"Three? When did you see a third one?"
"When Roberto dropped us off. You had just slid down the 'drop'. I thought I saw it out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look it was gone. It might have been my eyes playing tricks."
John nodded, but he doubted that. "Are they that common?"
"Oh they're common enough, but usually they're very shy."
With their gear stowed they turned east. "We got about 26 miles in last night which is good. We'll want to do that again tonight or better. What will be the trick are those hills ahead. We will keep to the valleys but it won't be direct. Not as bad as the 'run' but it will feel like it." She was smiling when she said that.
She was true to her word. They got 28 miles in that night. It was little different from the first night other than rougher terrain and a less straightforward route. It was all uphill as they walked in and then downhill as they walked out.
Their camp was 200 feet off of an overgrown road that ran from the North West to the south east. John took first watch. The sky was turning pink. Ahead were mountains behind were mountains. It was maybe six in the morning it was already about 50 degrees, he didn't think it would get much over 80. It didn't.
He was watching west, and thinking about Tran when he saw the coyote. It was sitting in the road just staring at him. He thought about his one sided conversation with Weaver the previous day. He looked at the coyote, and said under his breath: "Come here."
He was only a little surprised when it did. It was staring at him from three feet away just on the other side of the camouflage net a dog that size might weigh 50lbs. "Where's the rest of you," John asked. There was a whine over his right shoulder. He started and turned to look. This coyote panted into his face, its breath was hot the other padded around to it. Backlit by the pink sky with the still darkened horizon behind it, John had he not known better might have thought it was an optical illusion, but where the two coyote's shoulders touched they turned silver and became one. It was taller, broader at the chest. Its breath was still bad. It was a wolf, big and dark, with patches of grey. Its golden eyes stared.
"Jorge didn't survive the blast at Headquarters did he?"
"No," Jorge said. He was sitting cross legged just beyond the net. It was so quick. It was so fast. John had to blink.
"What happened?" John asked regaining his composure.
"He was five hundred and seven feet from the entrance. When he stopped, he turned to look. I don't know why he did that. May be he felt the earth move. A large piece of reinforce concrete took the top half of his head off. It was very bloody, but I doubt he felt any pain."
"You were there?"
"Yes. I took his pack, and his BDU top."
"Why?"
"The note and the food. Wearing clothes takes less processing power than imitating them."
"You knew about the note?"
"I overheard their conversation."
"You were in the bunker?"
"I had resources there."
John nodded, and thought about the 'rat'. Without turning around he said, "Allison, did you hear all that?"
"Yes. How did you…"
"You hadn't said your prayers yet."
"Oh," she replied. John heard the tell tale crinkle behind him as she sat up. "So that's not Jorge?"
"No," he answered. To Jorge he said, "Show her."
The figure silvered and changed. The hair lengthened and turned red. The skin lightened and smoothed. The eyes turned green. "Happy now," asked Catherine in her brogue. There was something chilling about her smile. John could not say that he liked it.
"You're… You're…" Allison stammered. Behind him John could hear her opening her pack and then her struggling with the water bladder. It flopped down behind him resting against his kidneys.
Weaver's smiled widened there was something very predatory about it. She did this curious thing with her right hand. She had her index finger extended but pointing down. The sight of it was almost as disturbing as Cameron's bizarre non sequiturs.
Something made of paper fluttered over John's shoulder. It landed right in front of him. It was a book. It was made of a rough kind of paper. The cover was stiff, and thick. Glued to each page were pictures. It was a photo album. The first page was a picture of his mom. It was her FBI wanted poster. The next picture was his. It was his FBI wanted poster. The third was, oddly enough, James Ellison. This image was tiny it looked like it was cut from an old newspaper. The fourth was in color, and glossy. It was from some sort of photo shoot, it was rippled by the glue. It was Catherine Weaver.
"You're Savannah's mom!"
The absolute lack of fear in her voice stunned John so much that all he could do was turn around and stare at her. She was beaming. Her eyes were shining. John had never seen her so happy.
"How is Savannah?" Weaver asked. Behind him John could hear her flipping through the books pages. John didn't even notice her taking the book.
"She's well. She's as beautiful as you are."
"Thank you!" Weaver replied over John's shoulder. Behind him he could hear rustle of paper page after page.
The whole time… she had a photo album with her? John felt like he was in one of his weirder dreams. He was waiting for the talking animal. Wait, he thought to himself. The wolf spoke didn't it? He was trying to remember. Flip. Flip. Another page, and then another.
"It's been nearly a year since I saw her. She travels back and forth a lot between the Baja Compound and the Academy. The resistance relies on her she does a lot of the administrative work."
The pages paused. "That's interesting," Weaver seemed to say to herself. Louder to Allison: "Does she ever speak of me?"
"She misses you, dearly." Allison's face became downcast again.
There was usually metal in his dreams, John thought… may be… "Wait. Wait!" He said finally. He looked at Allison. She was looking down at the Mylar blanket. "Allison!" She looked up startled. "That," he said as he gestured with a shake of his head. "That is metal."
Her face hardened. He braced himself for another slap. "That is also Savannah's mother!" She was very protective of mother figures. Part of him wondered who had instilled that in her.
Metal. John thought. The rat, resources, she had said. He turned around. Weaver closed the photo album. She was looking at him the direct gaze was intimidating. "You blew up the depot."
"What?" Allison asked.
"Yes I did," she said as she smiled. "I told you I was going to try to affect the outcome of the attack. I didn't know about the bomb in their headquarters until it was too late. So I decided to return the favor. Not even I can be in two places at once John."
"Oh but you can."
She laughed. "Not all of me."
"I thought you could only make blades and simple tools. I thought you couldn't make a bomb?"
She lifted up her hand, index finger still extended. It stretched and flattened. It was as long and as keen as a bayonet. "I can't," she said. "But I can assemble one." Her eyes shifted to something beyond John's shoulder. The blade like finger shrunk back to normal proportions. "I know you had friends there," she said to Allison. "But John's enemies had two companies. A day's march behind them was a brigade and a day behind that one was a second." Her eyes shifted back to John. "My only other local resource was that HK and it had taken damage in the fight against that hill top fort."
"The 'hill people' damaged it?"
"No, of course not, it was the Skynet HK after we had razed the compound on the hill. My HK destroyed it. Against a platoon with no surface to air weaponry even a damaged HK is nearly invincible. Against a full company, it would have been little more than target practice."
Weaver rose, she looked from one to the other. "You're tired. Go to sleep the both of you. I'll keep watch."
John turned and looked at Allison. Allison looked at John. "There's only one blanket," John said finally.
"Its okay, John." Allison lifted up the edge of the blanket for him. John stared up at the sky. Beside him Allison mumbled.
It always amazed John how much eight hours of sleep helped. He was looking up at the bright almost blue sky. Thinking about the strange dream he had. 'Camouflage netting', the phrase wandered around in brain until…
He flung aside the Mylar blanket; it was only partially on him anyway and sat up arrow straight. His out flung right hand was touching something warm. It felt like a hip.
"Good afternoon John." He turned his head slowly to the left. It was Weaver still standing there. Her head was slowing panning across the horizon.
"Oh God," he said. "It wasn't a dream." He noticed that her booted feet had dug a near perfect circle in the sand.
"No, it wasn't." She said as she took a quarter turn to her right and continued her scan.
"Don't use God's name in vain John," Allison mumbled behind him.
John snatched his hand away. He was groping someone who might be a nun next year.
"Sister, John. I might be a 'sister'."
"I said that out loud?" Beside him was the Allison's photo album. He picked it up. He was looking at the blank cover.
"You mumbled." She sat up. John looked at her. She drug her hand through her hair, it was a mess. John decided that it didn't matter. "We should break camp. It's not that hot out, we can get some extra miles in before dark." She leaned across him and took back her photo album.
They started walking. They had gotten another five miles in when Allison stopped. John almost walked into her. "John," she said as he recovered his balance. "Drop your AR."
John looked down at the sand, but knew better than the question someone speaking in that tone. Lives he understood were at stake. One handed he lifted the sling over his head. He carefully lay his rifle down and took two steps to his left. "What is it?" There was an 'x' made of twigs nestled in the crook of a shrub about three feet in front of her.
"It's a 'crosshair'. John, stop moving." He did.
"Someone, correction, several someones are coming. Five. No, six from the south," Weaver said. "I think I can see the sniper. There is a small heat signature on that rise at your 10 o'clock John. He is very well concealed I suspect that I am seeing his night vision scope."
There was a whistle. It wasn't the usual short sharp one it was almost a phrase. Allison turned her head sharply. She whistled a phrase back. At the edge of John's peripheral vision something stood up, and kept on standing.
John didn't want to move. He didn't like snipers. They freaked him the hell out. What he saw of the man was massive, easily as tall as John but with something approaching twice the muscle mass. "Alli," the giant asked in a deep voice.
"Marty!" Allison squealed, turned, jumped and embraced the giant.
John decided that it was probably safe to move. He turned and looked. He was tall six foot eight may be more. He was blonde haired and blue eyed the proto typical Midwest grain fed football lineman. John was very conscious that he was the only person John could see. The other five were still out there, more than likely armed. He kept his arms at his side, and made no sudden movements. Then a thought occurred to him. "Marty? Marty Bedell?"
The giant turned to him. The expression on his face changed. The smile faded to a question. "Do I…?"
"It's John," Allison prompted.
He looked down at Allison. He looked at John, and then back to Allison again. "John? As in John? John?"
Allison nodded her reply.
John flinched as the giant charged him and took him into a rib crushing hug. "You're here! You're finally here!" John was certain that the sniper on that hill heard that.
"They told us to expect two, Allison. Who is this?"
"Don't you recognize her? That's Catherine Weaver Savannah's mom."
Marty's eyes widened, and John saw the fear and horror that rightly belonged there. He stepped back. "Ma'am."
John almost laughed.
"What are you doing here? Why are you patrolling out so far?"
Marty turned to Allison. John could see by the look on his face that he was relieved that he no longer had to directly confront Weaver. "Roberto told us to expect company. So… um…" Marty glanced at John. "Sarah," he said with some discomfort. "Doubled the patrols, and extended our range."
"Doubled," asked Allison.
"Yeah, Alejandro here." He gestured to a shrub. "Is fresh from Baja see Allison, he's already learned not to give himself away."
"It was the push-ups Marty. A couple of hundred of those and even I learned."
Marty laughed. "Alejandro go on and get Monty and meet us at the truck."
-Sarah
The drive was uneventful. They insisted that John ride in the cab. Allison and Weaver sat in the back of the truck talking. The rest of the patrol huddled together as far from the pair as the truck bed allowed. Near as John could tell Weaver seemed amused by their reaction. Unlike walking the kept to the road, though neglected had left it rough and pock marketed. It was near dawn when they arrived.
The Academy was a 'camp'. It was a tent 'campus' that hadn't moved in years. If John had to guess he'd say nearly fifteen years. As soon as the truck stopped Marty told Alejandro to "find her." He ran off. They were split up. Half the patrol escorted Catherine politely to an isolated tent. John wondered if it had been erected where Martin's tent had been.
Marty, Allison and John went to another tent. Marty opened the 'flap'. John entered first. It was dark inside the walls were canvas, so there were exits everywhere. There was a card table in the middle of the 'room'. A 'single' cot neatly made in one corner and opposite it was a roll top desk, an unexpected piece of furniture in a tent. John went to the table there were notebooks, documents, maps, and a lamp. He was tempted to turn it on. The other two seemed uncomfortable. The tent flap flapped, the tent lightened briefly. John turned. It was her. Her face had more lines. Her skin was darker than he ever remembered. There were one or two wisps of silver. John opened his mouth…
"Mom," John turned his head, Allison rushed in and hugged her. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry." She held her, and John felt a stab of jealousy. The hands that used to pat him down for injuries were patting someone else down.
"It's all right," his mother said. "It's all right." She was looking at him now. "You got him here and that's what's important."
Sarah's hands came up to Allison's shoulders. Held her out at arm's length, looked her up and down "you look good. How are you?"
"I'm… fine."
His mother's eyes darted to Allison's who looked away. John wanted to laugh. That never worked, but today it did. "How are his legs?"
"Good. He can do five miles easy."
Sarah nodded. "How is his wind?"
"Excellent. He has had no trouble with the dust."
Sarah nodded again. "Good he can join us tomorrow morning for PT." She turned and looked at John again. "The both of you go have breakfast."
"Yes mom." They said in unison.
"Marty I want your patrol back out here in an hour."
"Aw, mom!"
"Marty."
"I know." They left.
Sarah looked at John from five feet away. She just stared at him. He took a step. She held up her hand, forestalling him. She backed to the tent flap and looked out. "They're almost as sneaky as you are, and they out number me." She turned and looked at him again. She opened her arms and waved him in. He stepped to her. It was awkward. She took two and embraced him. It wasn't the pat down. It was just a hug. "John," was all she said.
"I missed you," he said.
"I missed you too."
"You did this? All of this?"
She stepped away. She laughed. "I had help." She gestured to the folding chair at the card table John turned it around and sat. She reversed the one at the roll top desk. She sat with her elbows on her knees leaning far forward. She looked tired. She was still beautiful. She blew the hair out of her eyes. "How are you?"
"Confused," he answered. "How are you?"
"I am as you see me. Busy." She sat back and waved at the table top. "I have eight students. That's a big class," she explained. "Teaching takes up all of my time." She looked at him critically. "What have you been doing, since you got here? Word travels slow this far from the fighting. You were supposed to meet with Perry."
He told her. She only interrupted him once.
"So you've been to see Martin. How is he?" John could hear the disapproval in her voice.
"Falling apart."
She glared at him. "He made mistakes John, he made mistakes and those mistakes cost lives. Three quarters of what's going on out there right now are because of him. He's a good man but there is little enough that we can do for him now." She looked away.
John had always wondered about that 'glance'. Sometimes the glance would be brief. Sometimes it was longer. Sometimes he was almost certain that she was talking to someone only she could see. It happened most often when her emotions were up and it seemed to him that she was 'turning away.' Literally not wanting to face a situation but if that were the case than it never ever worked.
She looked back at him, "are the nun's still guarding him?"
"You knew?"
"Of course I knew! It's my loop."
John could only nod. "They're sisters."
"You're getting as bad as Allison."
He shrugged that off, and finished his story. "What's the situation, mom? What's really going on?"
She looked at him. "What do you know?"
He told her what he knew. What the priest had told him. When he was done, his mother scoffed.
"Father Bonilla is very optimistic." Her voice was scathing.
"Optimistic? He's panicking."
"He should!"
"He's got two divisions and a third coming."
Sarah glared at him. Uh oh, he knew that look. John sat back. She stood pawed the table for something. It was blank piece of paper. She put it in front of him. "He showed you the map didn't he? Draw it for me. Draw the map John!" She slammed the pencil down so hard the lamp moved.
He drew it. John's memory wasn't exactly photographic was it was very good. It wasn't precisely to scale nor was it exactly oriented right but it was darn close.
Sarah was pacing, by the time he was done. "Where's the metal?" She stopped close and looked down on his map. She didn't complain about any inaccuracies.
He shaded in the coast line. "Metal," he said.
"Good. The western sector?"
He drew a long curving blob from the north west to just south east of downtown.
She nodded. "The eastern sector?"
John relaxed she seemed calmer. He drew the rectangle south and west of the bow shaped blob.
"What's wrong with that?"
He looked down at the map. "Nothing it looks right to me."
"Not the map, John! The troops! What's wrong with the troops?"
John looked, but didn't see.
"He showed you the table of organization? How many soldiers are in the western sector line? How many are in the eastern sector line?"
Then he saw it, and his heart clinched. Out loud he asked himself: "Why does it take two divisions to hold down one fifth the geographic area as one division?"
"You tell me." She was looking at him, her arms folded across her chest. Very negative body English, John thought. A bad sign.
"They are closer to the coast. Do they see more metal?"
She shook her head. "That's not it John, they're a paper tiger." She stabbed the map with her finger. "Look at Tran way out in front exposed." His brigade was out at the leading edge of the western sectors 'c'. "And like the 130th he sends companies out in patrols to harass Skynet. What do they do in the 'east' John?"
"I don't know."
"Did he show you the 'front'?"
"No."
Sarah ducked her head and her shoulders slumped. "He wants to believe we can still win John. So I can't really blame him." She sat down. She seemed tired again. She reached out to the map touched the leading edge of the rectangle. "They've built a line of mutually supporting forts and bunkers. Skynet has tried it but has been repulsed many times with seemingly heavy losses."
"What about the aerial HKs?"
"We have RPGs."
"They are unguided."
"True, but the HKs are slow, John. Like the Centaurs they are more effective as terror weapons, than weapons of war."
John nodded, and looked at the map. "What's between," he tried to remember the farthest south bunker he had been to. "Foxtrot 9 and Lakewood?"
"Nothing," his mother replied. John remembered the 'no man's land' they had run through. Father Bonilla had called it a 'buffer zone'.
"It's the Maginot Line," he said to himself. He also wondered at the large gap between the 'forts' and the Lakewood bunker.
"What?"
"After the first world war the French built a line of forts along their German border. They wanted to build it to the ocean but Belgium was their ally. So they stopped there. They even tried to help Belgium build forts on their German border but the second war started before it was finished."
"So, what happened?"
"The Germans just went around it."
"That's what Perry was for…"
"'To protect his open flank,'" John quoted.
"What?"
"Never mind." What a mess, he thought, and now Perry was gone, and Tran was coming. Tran might already be there. This conversation might be entirely moot.
"What else did he tell you?"
"That's about it. He said that no one had heard anything from Rome, and that South and Central America were largely intact."
"Fairly intact," his mother corrected her tone angry again. "Jesus. Priests!" She stood up and walked to roll top desk. She unlocked it, and opened the top. It was filled with school supplies. Text books, a microscope, a small telescope, even a tiny globe. This she picked up and tossed to John.
She was pacing again. "Europe," she started. He turned the globe. "Is as bad off as we are. Infrastructure is gone. Industry is gone. Agriculture is mostly subsistence. We haven't heard from Russia in six years, the winters are getting very harsh." The globe squeaked as he turned it.
"Like South and Central America, Australia is not bad," Sarah continued. "But, this is important John, there's not a lot in the way of manufacturing going on. Every pistol dropped on the battlefield very AR or AK lost in a firefight is likely lost forever. The generators are wearing out. The hard drives are failing. We can barely make light bulbs. Down in Baja they are experimenting with black powder reloads for the ARs and the AKs." She saw John's reaction to his. "They kick like mules John and foul quickly."
"Gunsmoke," he said to himself. "The fog of war."
"That, John is the good news. China," Squeak, squeak. "Is a black hole. The Australians have landed commandos, even entire companies on the coast of China. Nothing, they have lost some of their best people there. They have tried ballistic rockets with cameras. Nothing that goes in has ever come out. You know what China has always had a lot of, John."
"People."
"Right and you remember what Kyle said Skynet was using people for."
"Slave labor."
"China should be as bad off as the rest of us."
"We can't assume that," John added.
"No, we can't. Sub-Saharan Africa is another black hole. Nothing John nothing at all comes out of there. The Egyptians, the Israelis have sent people in but…" her voice trailed off. "John, you know where coltan comes from?"
"The Congo."
She nodded.
"You know what else comes from that part of Africa mom?"
She shook her head.
"Uranium," John said. "He's re-arming mom. Why is he taking so long? I don't know. May be China is bad off, but China had nukes. They had the ability to make them, and to deliver them. May be he is busy reverse engineering 'our' technology, or maybe he is teaching his slaves how to build 'our' weapons."
Another thought struck him. "Are they reports of Skynet in Europe?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like here in L.A. this Skynet 'enclave'. Anything like this out of Europe?"
"Not Europe. There were reports of Endos in Russia."
"Which you haven't heard back from in six years. It's a beachhead, mom."
"What?"
"Los Angeles, mom, it's a beachhead. When he's ready he'll invade. He doesn't even need nukes. He can just walk right in. All that's left is South America and Australia right?"
"Mostly but he doesn't even have to do that. The winters are getting longer, and harsher. The growing seasons are getting shorter. We were forced to abandon Quebec ten years ago. We will probably be out of Oregon in another five. There's not a lot of arable land in South and Central America John. If Dr Shelby is right, and you are right in fifty years the metal can walk here from Asia."
He looked at her amazed. "Australia? South America? Egypt? Russia? Quebec? How did you do all this?"
She sat again. "I had plenty of help. Ellison, the Priest…" She paused and looked away again. Still looking to one of the room's empty corners she spoke: "John, I was warned to be very careful with this information."
He looked at her, she seemed uncertain. This troubled John on a very basic level.
Sarah looked at him directly. She took a deep breath. "You sent her back, John, again."
"What… What are you talking about?"
"Cameron. John, I'm talking about Cameron. Ellison and I were picking up Savannah. There was a van there. Neither of us was armed. The lights were out. We found the instructor and three men in grey, all dead. Then we heard laughter from the back. The backdoor was open. Outside were the girls. On the swing set, the merry go round, the jungle gym." She looked down and smiled, then up at him. She was there pushing Savannah on the swings."
John just stared. He was numb.
"You found her John. You saved her and sent her back." There was a long pause. "John, she's… she's… different."
"What do you mean?"
"That's all I can say, John. She made me… She made me promise." She looked embarrassed. "But John you have to do this. You have to find her. You have to send her back again. As bad as things are right now they could be so much worse. You need to find her John." He remember Martin's scream echoing across the leper camp. "Find her." Now he knew. He could only nod.
She looked up at him. She looked desolate. She looked like she wanted to cry. "Go, while they are still serving breakfast. Get something to eat. If you see Allison send her back here. I need to talk to her too."
John stood and walked to the flap. He touched it and turned to his mother. "She doesn't know?"
She almost ran to him. She grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away from the door. She pulled the flap aside and looked both ways. She let it fall. She was angry again. "No she doesn't. What have you told her?"
John stammered. "Just… just that Cameron was my sister and that… that she reminded me of her."
"Good. We did what we could for her… She's a good kid, John."
"How did you even find her?"
Sarah laughed it was a bitter laugh. "Cameron, of course! She and Ellison just a week before Judgment Day leave Baja without telling anyone and come back two days later with a little girl."
"Where is she?" John asked.
"Allison?"
"Cameron."
"Eight years ago, she and Ellison went south; they haven't been seen or heard from since."
Another long silence. "Go eat John. Go eat."
The cafeteria was easy enough to find. It was big. It had wood framed screen doors. He pushed it open and it slammed shut behind him. There were only three occupied tables. Everyone turned and looked at him. To his immediate left was a folding table with eight children sitting at it. They were about 10 years old. They were huddled around a chess board, but they weren't playing chess. They were staring at him. A girl with long blonde hair looked at him, then at her friends, none of whom moved, then back at him again. She stood up, walked to him and lightly touched his arm. She was smiling broadly. She turned to her friends and said, "I win!" She sat back down. The other children just stared at him in awe. John looked at the chess board. There were eight game pieces, all were different, and all were metal. There was a 20 sided die. Someone called his name.
He turned there was another long folding table this one had the sign 'instructors' written on it. One of them was standing he had his hand out. John walked over and shook it. The name on his BDU was Aldridge. "John." He said quietly. He made the introductions. They were all 'teachers' at the Academy. "This is Cross, he and I were colleagues of Ellison's before the war."
"You're F.B.I?"
"Were, John. We were F.B.I. Dr Shelby, used to be a biologist for the USDA. Captain Ramirez USMC once a marine always a marine." Aldridge explained the present tense usage. "Williams was a nurse." He gestured to the only woman at the table. "And Brice is our resident park ranger." John shook hands with all of them. He noticed former special agent Cross looking past him, and Aldridge's smile waiver.
John turned behind him Aldridge continued his introductions. "This is Ms Weaver. She teaches game theory and strategy." Savannah was walking towards him, briskly. Behind her at the only other occupied table were Marty, and Allison. Allison looked miserable. Marty looked unhappy. Savannah looked like she was about to explain to him how this was all his fault.
She was still the length of one of the tables away. John put his hand out in front of him. "All we ever did was kiss," he said hoping to settle the discussion before it even started. Behind him someone choked on their coffee. To his left a 20 sided die clattered off the table and bounced off a metal folding chair. Thunk! In the kitchen someone dropped a plate. He could hear the tinkle of broken crockery. Savannah with one red eyebrow raised stopped and looked back at Allison. Marty a question blooming on his face like a bruise looked at Allison. Allison had buried her flushed face in her hands. "Oh," was all John could think to say.
Savannah still looking back at Allison almost walked into him. She was very pretty. She turned to him. She was very angry as well. She grabbed his collar and pulled him towards the exit. Over her shoulder she yelled: "Eggs, pancakes, sausage." To John: "Do you like coffee?"
"No." John shook his head.
"O.J.," she yelled as she dragged him outside. She was shorter than him about the same height as her mom. Well, her metal surrogate mom. She pulled his head down to hers. "What did you tell her," she hissed into his ear. It was hardly a whisper. He was certain that everyone in the cafeteria had heard that.
John put his hand at the small of her back and drew her out to the center of the 'aisle' was all John could think of. It wasn't really a road, or a path. He leaned down to her ear. "Nothing, I told her she reminded me of my sister Cameron. That's all."
"You're sure."
"Yes," John replied. She wasn't just looking at him. It was like she was examining him. "She's raised you. All of you didn't she."
"Yes," she looked away. "We're practically siblings." She said to something off to their left.
John just nodded.
"Go on and eat your breakfast." John did, it seemed odd to him that he would so easily follow her lead. He taught her to tie her shoelaces. He opened the door caught it before it slammed. The cafeteria was quiet and calm again. John grabbed his plate. It smelled delicious.
They, Marty and Savannah, waved him over. He sat next to Allison. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
She didn't look it, but he didn't say anything. "M…," 'my' he was going to say but he caught himself. "Mom…" it sounded so strange to him. He'd never really had family before. "…Wanted to talk to you."
"I know." She looked at him and almost smiled. She looked back down at her half eaten pancakes. "Marty, before you head back out can you show John his bunk?"