A/N: Hey all. Really, REALLY sorry it's taken so long to post this chapter. Was really hectic in the build-up to Miami, and then suffered horrible jet-lag afterwards, which combined with starting work again, left little time or energy for writing. But back into the swing of things now and have more energy to write. Plus I planned out a hell of a lot of chapters before I went, which should make writing a little easier. Anyway, hope you enjoy.
The deathly still silence of the desert was shattered as a gleaming silver bird of prey soared across the sky; the shrill whining of its vectored-thrust engines pierced the otherwise silent night as the machine flew low over the flat desert floor, its radar sensors and infrared 360degree rotating camera in the nose constantly searched for threats or targets of opportunity.
The airborne machine, a hunter, predator, an aerial assassin, like others of its ilk, dominated the skies in the name of its master. It soared over the Nevada desert completely unchallenged towards its destination. Lockheed-Martin/Kaliba Systems Q-38 Hunter-Killer, Serial Number #425-77K, had already found and despatched of three separate groups of humans on its assigned patrol path, expending three of its four Brimstone anti-armour missiles and still retaining both AMRAAMs, nestled neatly underneath the short wings between engines and fuselage. Estimated human casualties: 31.
If HK #425-77K had been blessed by its creator and master, Skynet, with any intelligence beyond that of a soldier ant or worker bee, it might have felt proud of its achievements that night. It might have rejoiced in serving its master so well, or felt satisfaction at terminating its earthbound organic enemies. The machine was too simple, though. As it were, the machine was simply a thoughtless, emotionless drone; an automaton. It continued on its path with no thoughts of any kind. Simply searching, endlessly searching, for more targets to attack.
HK #425-77K flew onward over an empty road with a few abandoned cars scattered on the road. It detected no heat signatures, no movement. No sign of life; at least, not any human life, as it continued on its course.
As the HK flew parallel to the road and out of range, movement stirred inside the back seat of a battered grey sedan that had seen better days even before Judgement Day. Out of the already open rear door, a petite hand slowly reached up and gripped the roof, followed by a head adorned with long flowing locks of brown hair.
Cameron looked up at the shrinking form of the Skynet drone in the sky as it continued on its course, and confident it was out of range to see her, pulled herself out of the car and onto her feet. She'd heard the machine before she saw it and had quickly hidden inside the car, motionless in the way that only a machine could. The HK had come and gone, oblivious of her presence. All of her processes, which had been running much faster than normal, slowed down to their normal levels, and she felt something akin to relief. Her recent encounters with HKs had all resulted in her losing John and nearly being blasted apart by missile fire, and she'd started to associate HKs with severe damage and pain – causing her to be extra cautious whenever she heard the familiar whine of jet engines.
Despite her newly developed aversion to HKs, she'd found them useful in recent days. Cameron had searched throughout Clark County, Nevada, for any signs of John. She'd hidden herself from view whenever any HK aircraft approached, but had noticed during her travels that many had flown in the same direction. She'd tracked eleven separate air patrols flying the same trajectory. That in itself wasn't unusual, but this last HK, like the others, had been flashing its landing lights on the inverted V-shaped rudders on the tail, indicating it was returning to whatever airfield or base it originated from.
Cameron had logically reasoned that John was either a prisoner of Skynet or had rendezvoused with other people and was once again fighting Skynet. Either way, he'd be in or near a Skynet installation. Hence her strategy to find John was to search for any and all Skynet facilities until she found either him or a human soldier who could lead her to him.
Cameron shouldered her pack and assault rifle and marched in the direction the HK had flown to. She hoped – something she'd never done before – that John was somewhere in Nevada, hiding, fighting, alongside other people. He loved her as much as she loved him. She knew that, and she knew he'd never leave her alone willingly. So she didn't understand why, if he was out there somewhere, once again fighting the machines, he hadn't come for her. She knew it was far more likely that John had been taken prisoner somewhere, but she'd seen no trace of Skynet having the infrastructure yet for the capture and orderly disposal of humans, nor any factories or labour camps where they'd be put to work. Being a machine, she naturally calculated all possibilities and probabilities, and it hurt her to realise there was a chance – growing every day – that John was dead. The machines hadn't killed him outright, but she knew that meant nothing. John could have resisted his captors or attempted to escape, both would have resulted in instant termination.
Cameron tried her hardest to block thoughts relating to the possibility of John's death and carried on down the abandoned road, trying to distract herself from her misery and longing by replaying happier memories of her time with John, as she had done continuously throughout her search so far. It didn't help much and she kept thinking that her memories might be all she had left of John.
Cameron walked for miles, constantly searching for movement or sounds of any threats – HKs, T-2s, T-70 patrols... they'd be a danger, but they'd also indicate she was closer to the base the HK had flown to. After an hour of walking, the only movement she'd seen was a pair of coyotes fighting over a dead rabbit. She'd watched for a moment, intrigued, comparing the wild animals to civilians in the future. Tunnel rats, or tunnel trolls, the resistance fighters had called them. They'd fight to the death over a small amount of food. Before being infiltrating the Connor Camp in 2027 and being reprogrammed by Future John, she'd once observed a pair of captured humans. Skynet had kept them starved for weeks. A T-888 had thrown an old tin of baked beans into their cage, along with a six inch combat knife, and Skynet had asked her via a terminal what she'd thought would happen. She'd replied that it would be logical for the humans to use the knife to open the tin and share the food.
She'd watched as the two humans attacked each other, fighting viciously like animals until one gained the upper hand, stabbing his companion to death, and ate the beans himself. The T-888 had waited until the man had finished his meal and then killed him, snapping his neck. Cameron had learned that day that humans were unpredictable and could easily become wild animals, given the chance. She'd identified over a hundred similarities between post-Judgement Day humanity and the coyotes in the desert, and knew that without John all of humanity would become like them. He was the one who – both future and present – had bound the remnants of mankind together, taking them from scavengers and tunnel rats, and forging them into fighters, teaching them to fight effectively against Skynet. As far as Cameron was concerned – regardless of her programming - John was the most important person in the world. People needed John Connor just as much as she did, and she'd do whatever it took to get him back.
Cameron marched north until buildings came into view in the twilight sky. She read a signpost on the right-hand side of the road as she approached. Welcome to Cactus Springs, Population 2215. Cameron had never heard of Cactus Springs, nor had she ever seen a town so small. She walked into town, past blocks of run down houses and litter strewn roads. The town was silent, dead. She'd heard of ghost towns on from TV, and from what she'd seen and read about them, Cactus Springs matched the description. The town itself was intact but there was no sign of life and no bodies in the open. Cameron had no idea what had happened in Cactus Springs, but she'd missed it, whatever it was.
As Cameron walked down a small street, between two rows of small, neat little houses with gardens full of dead plants – killed by lack of sunlight from nuclear winter – she saw the first signs of battle in the town. She saw stains scattered on the ground, and using her sophisticated night-vision sensors to see as well as if it were daylight, identified it as blood – most likely human. Scores of bullet holes in the ground, walls, doors, and windows indicated Skynet's drones had been here and the battle had been one-sided. There were several bloodstains dried onto the road but not a single deactivated machine.
She continued walking down the street, increasing the sensitivity of her eyes and ears to their maximum levels, and kept her M4 carbine shouldered and aimed forward. She heard a faint scuttling sound behind her and whirled around with lightning speed, bringing her rifle to bear as she intently scanned a row of houses where she'd detected movement, switching from normal vision to infrared and back again. She saw nothing. It was likely just an animal scavenging for food, nothing that would warrant her concern. She carried on through the town, searching for any sign of a Skynet base.
Within a few minutes she found one; a Predator buzzed low overhead, flying slowly as if searching for something. Cameron threw herself against a wall and stood statue-still, but she knew straight away that the drone had spotted her when it circled around and flew slowly back towards her. She looked up and saw it wasn't armed; a reconnaissance drone. She aimed her carbine into the air and fired three well aimed bursts at the low-flying machine, slicing its wing off and sending it spiralling to the ground. Cameron didn't celebrate her kill and felt no sense of elation as a human might have done; the Predator was destroyed but it had spotted her and HKs or ground machines would soon be on their way.
Cameron ran quickly but awkwardly – still limping on her mismatched knee joint – and turned as many corners as she could, putting angles between her and where she'd been spotted, to confuse any pursuers who came after her. She heard the high pitched whining of jet engines, getting louder as an HK approached from the North. Cameron ran towards the nearest house, seemingly undamaged in whatever battle had taken place in the town, and moved into their back yard, staying away from the main streets where T-1s and T-2s would likely patrol. She heard the HK getting closer, and also heard the familiar heavy rumbling sound of treads. Like a miniature tank. T-2s were approaching. She wouldn't be able to run for much longer; she needed to hide.
Cameron wedged herself into a doorway in the back of a small house as the HK soared overhead. The older HK designs – initially designed for the US Air Force to hunt insurgents with – weren't equipped with the powerful searchlights that their larger cousins from the future had, but they still had a powerful array of sensors that would easily spot her, given the machine's low altitude. If Cameron moved she'd be seen. If she stayed still she'd be seen. Her M4 was able to shoot down the much smaller Predator, but the HK was larger and more agile, and build to easily withstand something as small as assault rifle fire. A well placed 40mm grenade into one of the engines would down the drone but would also attract more machines to her position. She didn't know how many machines there were and had limited ammunition.
Cameron decided she'd shoot the HK down and run through the back yards in the block and move onto the next one, putting more distance and angles between herself and the machines. She knew it wasn't much of a plan, and had little chance of success in the long run; she was on the defensive once again and the machines would keep searching until they found her. They, like she, never gave up. But she had no other choice; the longer she remained in place the more machines would approach, and the chances of evading them would decrease further.
She very slowly loaded a grenade into her under-slung launcher and started to bring it to bear on the HK, facing away from her and scanning another block of houses. As she started to take aim, the door she was pressed against opened and she stumbled backwards. A small pair of hands gripped her pack and pulled sharply on her, yanking her inside as she fell backwards and landed on her backside, and quietly closed the door.
Cameron looked at her surroundings and realised she was in a kitchen, taking note of the fridge, the oven, and several cupboards. She got up, turned around, and saw a teenage girl, small, slender, slightly shorter than she was, and around the age she was designed to look; dressed in jeans and a dark hooded top, the hood covering most of her head. Not tactical clothing, Cameron noted. She had large green eyes that locked onto Cameron's for the briefest moment and then rapidly darted left and right to look out the window and back door. She kept low to the ground, on all fours, staying below window level to keep out of sight of the machines. The girl was clearly not a soldier but her posture and her movements were very similar to the resistance fighters and tunnel rats of the future, who'd evaded machines their entire lives.
"Who are you?" Cameron asked suspiciously, staring at the girl who'd manhandled her inside.
"Not now," the girl hissed quietly, moving out the kitchen and into the hallway, she opened a door underneath the staircase and beckoned Cameron inside. Cameron did as instructed and went through the doorway, seeing a staircase leading down into a basement. "In there," the girl said, and followed, closing the door behind her, as Cameron descended the stairs, into what looked like a lounge. She saw a sofa, a television, a shelf of DVDs, a small pool table on the far end of the room, and all the furnishings that normal families had in their homes. What made it different, Cameron noticed, was the mattress and duvet on the floor, the tins and packets of food scattered across the room, plus bottled water, first aid kit, and various survival equipment.
The girl closed the door behind her as she entered the room and drew the blinds closed, then struck a match and used it to light up a pair of lanterns on opposite sides of the room, casting a pale light in the room. The girl pulled down her hood and let out a long mane of dark blonde hair. Cameron frowned without realising. She didn't trust blondes. Riley Dawson and Jessica Morgan, both blondes, had both tried to come between her and John. It was illogical, she knew, but she was already wary; she wouldn't allow this girl to get in her way of her searching for John.
"Who are you?" Cameron asked for the second time, carefully scrutinising the girl. She was unarmed, too young to be a soldier, and likely had no combat experience or training. She'd be little help to her against the machines.
"Courtney," the girl answered, kneeling down to a small, portable gas cooker and lighting it up using the same match. She placed a small saucepan on top of the cooker, poured in some water, and waited for it to boil. "You?"
"Cameron," she replied. "Why are you here?"
"I live here," Courtney answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She pulled a chocolate bar from the pile of food and tossed it to Cameron before tearing open a square packet and dumping the contents into the saucepan, then she poured flavouring into the mix. "You're not from around here, are you?" Courtney asked. Cameron shook her head, watching intently what Courtney was doing, both wary and curious. "What're you doing here, then?" Courtney asked.
"I'm looking for someone," Cameron replied simply, placing the chocolate bar in her thigh pocket. Her skin had fully healed and she didn't need to eat. What she did need, however, was water. Her power cell was operating at several times the maximum safe level and she needed the water to cool her internal temperature. Cameron picked up and opened one of the water bottles on the floor and brought it to her lips, gulping down several mouthfuls without spilling a drop. "What is that?" She pointed at the saucepan as the water started to boil."
"Dinner," Courtney said. She picked up a fork and stuck it into the saucepan, pulling out a forkful of stringy white pasta. "I love noodles!" she grinned widely. "You want some?"
"I'm not hungry," Cameron replied, trying to make sense of what Courtney was doing here. She lived here, she'd said. Whether she'd lived in the town or in this particular house, she didn't know. Courtney seemed to know how to evade the machines and moved around cautiously like a resistance fighter. Cameron briefly wondered if she was from the future, and considered interrogating her for information.
She scanned over the room again and realised the house was indeed Courtney's home. A framed photograph on a shelf of her and a man in his early fifties, their arms around each other, caught Cameron's attention. The photo was taken outside, judging from the trees in the background, and she and the man wore outdoor clothing and wool hats. Both looked happy; large smiles on both of their faces. Next to that was a photo of Courtney in a pink dress, holding hands with a dark haired boy of the same age in a black tuxedo. Another photo showed the man from the first photo in army uniform, receiving what Cameron recognised as the Distinguished Service Cross and a Purple Heart. Good, Cameron thought. Whoever that man was, he was a soldier; he'd be useful.
"Who's that?" Cameron asked, nodding at the photo.
"That's my dad," Courtney replied with a sad look on her face. She strained the noodles – catching the water in a tin and pouring the noodles into a bowl. She took a mouthful and chewed thoughtfully, savouring the spicy taste of the noodles before swallowing.
"Where is he?" Cameron asked.
"I don't know," Courtney replied, her eyes welling up as she put her fork back into the bowl. "He disappeared three days ago. I haven't seen him since. I wanted to go look for him but he... he told me to stay here."
Cameron was certain he was dead, but she said nothing. She knew from past experience that humans liked to believe their missing loved ones were alive, and didn't like to be told otherwise. She realised that was what she was doing with John; searching for him and ignoring the increasing probability that he was dead.
"What did he do?" Cameron asked, looking at the photo on the shelf. She sensed Courtney's discomfort and decided it was best to keep her talking.
"He was in the Army, a long time ago. He got those medals in the Gulf, before I was born. He doesn't like to talk about it."
Cameron nodded, feeling inwardly disappointed. Her father was a war veteran. He'd received the Distinguished Service Cross. Courtney's father would have been useful.
"What about your mother?" Cameron asked.
"I never knew her," Courtney said quietly, sipping the last of her noodles from the bowl and swallowing the water. A good survival trait, Cameron noted. It would keep her hydrated.
"I'm sorry," Cameron said, not knowing what else to say. Courtney's family reminded her of John; he'd never known his father – whoever he was – just as Courtney had never known her mother. Cameron had seen sadness in John's eyes whenever he spoke about his father, although Cameron had never asked about him or who he was. Future John had never spoken of it and she'd logically assumed her John wouldn't want to talk about it, either.
"What happened here?" Cameron asked.
"You mean, since Judgement Day?" Courtney asked. Cameron just nodded as she put her rifle on the floor and sat down. Courtney took a few moments to collect herself and Cameron set her pack on the sofa and pulled out a weapons cleaning kit, then started to take the M4 apart and clean and oil the pieces, and listened intently to Courtney, also keeping her audio sensors tuned for any approaching machines outside.
"I was working in my dad's store at the time. Been working there since high school," Courtney sighed. "I didn't have the money to go to College so I just worked in the store. Normal life, I guess. I was working in the store when we heard on the radio that we'd been attacked. We didn't know what the hell was going on; we thought it was terrorists or something. Then we heard it was all over the world, and my dad said 'that's it' it's all over.' He kept the store open, rationed out food and gave it away for free. He was like that, you know; always helping people.
"Two days later, we were cleaning up the store. Routine I guess. You gotta do something, right? So we just carried on like normal. The bombs didn't hit us and we'd heard nothing about what was going on in the world – radios went down the day after the bombs fell. Anyway, dad and I were in the store when we heard planes in the air, and an explosion in the town centre. People were screaming all over. Dad grabbed my arm, pulled me into the fridge and shut the door after us. We were in there for another two days, eating what was in the fridge, and when we came out, there were... bodies all over. The whole town was dead; blood coming out their eyes and ears. It was horrible."
Cameron listened intently, recognising the deaths she described. Her town, too unimportant and minute to waste nuclear weapons on, had been hit with nerve gas. The deaths would have been agonising.
"Anyway, Dad packs up some supplies and we head back here. We lived here for a while, and we were okay. We heard broadcasts on the radio saying it was machines that took over. So dad said to stay inside, and we'd be okay. After a week or two, we heard cars driving nearby. They came and went, and the next day a load of machines rolled through town. We went out to look, and some other people must have survived, like us. They ran out of buildings and the machines just killed them all, wiped them out like they were bugs. Dad had a gun, but he said there's nothing we can do, so we came back here and hid. After a few days our supplies ran low, so we'd sneak out, get food from other houses, and bring it back here. Not like they'd need it anymore, we figured, so we took what we needed back to the basement.
After we'd been hiding out a few weeks, the machines were everywhere; on the streets, in the air. They were all over."
"Why?" Cameron asked. She'd seen nothing special about Cactus Springs. It was, as John would describe it, a hick-town. No power plant, no factories, no airfield. No reason she could think of that the machines would stay after wiping out the town. Normally they'd clear an area and move on to the next. The machines were acting strangely, and she was curious what they were up to.
"I don't know," Courtney replied. "That's what dad wanted to know, too. He started going out at night to find out what they were up to. He told me to stay inside, not to follow him. He said he'd found something in the school field, he wanted to find out what it was. I..." Courtney paused, trying to fight back tears as she told Cameron her tale. "I never saw him again. I wanted to go look for him but the machines are all over, and... I was too scared. You're the first person I've seen since dad disappeared three weeks ago.
"You can't just wonder around out there at night like you did," Courtney insisted. "The ground machines aren't too bad – they're easy to sneak around – but at night the flying ones all come out, and once they see you, they don't ever give up. You're lucky I saw you wondering through town earlier."
Cameron stared at her, confused, as she finished cleaning her rifle and quickly snapped all the parts back together.
"You were following me," Cameron stated, realising that the movement she'd seen scurrying around earlier hadn't been an animal. She'd sensed movement but not actually seen what it was. Courtney was apparently highly skilled at evading the machines and had learned to survive alone in a town swarming with HKs and T-2s; Cameron realised she would be far more useful than she'd first thought.
"I was searching houses for food, and trying to build up courage to look for my dad, when I saw you and heard the machines. I figured you'd need to hide out."
"Thank you," Cameron replied automatically. She was actually grateful for Courtney taking her inside her house, knowing her initial plan had less than 50 percent chance of her surviving. Her own survival was secondary, however; she'd come to Cactus Springs to search for John. "Did your father find people; Soldiers, Skynet prisoners?"
"No," Courtney replied, unsure of what Cameron was getting at. "We didn't see anyone since the machines killed everyone. Dad said he found something but never said what. He went out the next night and never came back.
"Cameron, I need to find my dad. I couldn't go out alone with the machines everywhere, but now you're here and you've got a gun, we might be able to help him."
"I need to find someone, too," Cameron said, shouldering her rifle and her pack. She wasn't going to help anyone else who would simply lie and use her, hindering her search for John. The machines would have moved on to search another section of the town by now, she knew, and she needed to leave while their attention was drawn elsewhere. "I have to find him, I can't be distracted."
Courtney stared at Cameron as if she'd grown horns, looking at the brunette opposite her and wondering how she could be so emotionless and uncaring.
"Please..." Courtney pleaded, shooting her hand out and grabbing Cameron's wrist. "I need him; he's all I've got."
Cameron stared at Courtney, taking note of her eyes, nearly brimming with tears, filled with desperation and fear. Her lower lip quivered and she was shaking slightly. Courtney was desperate to find her father; as desperate, Cameron thought, as she herself was to find John. She wasn't a fighter or a leader, and would follow Cameron if she thought it would lead to her finding her dad. She could use Courtney to help her find John. The girl could hide run and hide, if not fight. Cameron could hear the machines scouring the skies and the streets, still. Courtney was another pair of eyes, and if the machines found them then she could sacrifice Courtney to make her escape. She'd sacrifice her, or anyone else, to find John. He was all that mattered.
"I'll help you," Cameron said, flashing an automatic smile at Courtney. Cameron, unlike humans, was able to keep count of her ammunition stocks as she'd depleted them, and she was running low. They wouldn't last long against those HKs scouring the town from above. "Do you have any high calibre or antitank weapons? Grenades or rockets would be best."
"In my house?" Courtney replied, shocked. "Uh, no; who keeps stuff like that in their house?" Cameron instantly thought of Sarah Connor; the bills weren't always paid and the refrigerator was often devoid of food but their ammunition stocks were always well maintained.
"What about ammunition?" Cameron asked, calculating a high chance her father – a former soldier – had kept a weapon of some kind in their house.
"Again," Courtney said. "House, not armoury." In Cameron's experience, both from the future and living with Sarah and Derek, a house and an armoury were often the same thing. In the future, the tunnels people lived in also housed their weapons and equipment, so ammunition was always available.
Cameron didn't dwell on her lack of ammunition for long, and would simply make do with what she had. They'd rely on stealth over brute force and would only engage when attacked. She was an infiltrator by design, and Courtney had learned to survive among the machines. Their chances were fifty percent.
Courtney stuffed several tins of food, bottles of water, and some choice chocolate bars into a pack, as well as spare clothes and a first aid kit, and other utensils for cooking, eating, and washing. She stopped at the shelf with all her photographs on it and quickly pulled the photo of her and her dad out of the frame and stuffed it into her bag. Cameron was curious how the girl was able to organise herself so well and be ready to move so quickly when she wasn't a soldier. Most human civilians Cameron had ever met had been horribly inefficient at such tasks. Most girls she'd been to high school with had taken thirty percent longer than necessary in the restrooms. Courtney was unlike most girls, Cameron noted.
"We should leave now," Cameron said, heading up the stairs. "The HKs will be searching elsewhere. The T-2s are easily fooled, we can sneak around them." Courtney, previously lecturing Cameron on going out at night, and seemingly too afraid to leave the house after dark, was practically on Cameron's heels before she'd finished speaking. To find her dad, she'd take the risk. Cameron led the way up the stairs and into the kitchen, opening the back door a crack and peeking out. A HK hovered a mile off in the distance, facing away, its attention drawn to something or someone else.
"Follow me closely," Cameron said quietly. "Be very quiet." Courtney said nothing but simply nodded; she'd learned the value of silence very quickly after the machines had descended on her town. The machines weren't infallible; if you were quiet and quick, and very lucky, you could survive.
Cameron led the way, rifle aimed forward and her finger on the trigger. She'd insisted on leading because Courtney would certainly lead her straight to the school to find her father, taking them closer to the machines. Courtney had confirmed that there was no human presence in the town, so Cameron was no longer interested, and wanted to continue searching as soon as possible. She quickly and silently marched out the back door and down their back garden – noting the dry, dead grass on Courtney's lawn, how it crunched under their feet ever so slightly. To Cameron it rang loud and clear, and every step increased the chances of a machine patrol hearing their movements.
At the bottom of the garden was a six foot tall wooden fence. Without a word being spoken between them, Cameron knelt down next to the fence and placed her hands on top of her knee. Courtney understood what Cameron wanted and stepped onto Cameron's hands. She easily hoisted Courtney up to the top of the fence, and Courtney pulled herself up and swung over the top, landing silently on the ground on the other side as Cameron used her good leg to propel her up and over the fence with ease. They silently ran down the next garden and did the same again, repeating the same action several times until they were at the other end of the block.
From there, Cameron led the way at a quick pace, keeping in cover and in the shadows where they could and staying close to the houses rather than walking in the open on the road. She doubled them back around the block to where she'd run in from avoiding the Skynet patrols. They managed to avoid any machine patrols as they made their way. Twice they heard machines approaching, and they simply ducked into a house, stayed low to the ground, and very still and silent, and waited for them to pass.
Courtney silently followed Cameron's lead as they silently made their way through town. She knew the town better, and she knew how to move silently and stay hidden, but she knew from only the short time she'd known Cameron, that her new companion was much better at this than her. She didn't know who or what Cameron was, exactly. She moved like a soldier, but she was so young; about the same age as her. Courtney had let Cameron lead, knowing that Cameron seemed to know what she was doing and looked like she knew how to handle herself well.
She'd thought they were taking an odd route to the school – where she'd told Cameron her dad had been staking out – but simply assumed Cameron was taking a different route to avoid encountering any machines. Courtney had also wondered if Cameron was lost, not knowing the town like she did, but Cameron moved so confidently, without the slightest trace of doubt, that Courtney didn't think so. They'd doubled back a number of times and she'd put her trust in Cameron. But when she saw they were on the road headed out of town and into the vast open desert, the road signs telling them they were leaving Cactus Springs, she knew something was up. They weren't going to the school; they were just leaving.
Courtney grabbed Cameron's wrist and pulled back, not enough to pull Cameron around but enough to get her attention, so she turned around herself and stared blankly at Courtney.
"This isn't the way," Courtney said quietly, looking at Cameron, confused.
"We should keep moving," Cameron replied, pulling her arm away and turning forward again.
"No," Courtney snapped, unable to stop her voice from rising in anger, her hands balled up into fists and her face red. "You weren't going to help me find my dad at all. You lied to me!"
"Stop talking," Cameron narrowed her eyes and glared at Courtney, whose shouting was likely to alert the machines to their presence. She started forward, ready to kill Courtney if necessary.
"Why should I?" Courtney asked, almost sobbing.
"Because the machines will find us," Cameron replied. "We have to go, now."
"No. I'm not leaving without my dad," Courtney said, knowing Cameron was right, and scared to death of being found by the machines, but refusing to budge. "Just help me find him, and I'll help you find whoever you're looking for."
Cameron had heard that promise before, from Major Scott. He'd used her and manipulated her, and she'd nearly been destroyed and almost lost any chance of finding John because of it. She wasn't going to make any more deals with humans.
"It's too dangerous. I need to find John; I can't let anything happen to him."
"Fine, we'll find this 'John'," Courtney said. "But just help my find my dad, first."
"Your father's dead," Cameron finally said, knowing the chance he was alive was near zero. She hadn't said it before, knowing humans didn't like to hear such things.
"Fine," Courtney mumbled, something snapping inside her at Cameron's remark. No longer feeling desperate for help, knowing she wouldn't get any from Cameron. "I'll look for him myself."
"The machines will find you. You won't survive."
"I don't care!" Courtney shot back, turning round and walking back the way they'd just come. "He's my dad; I'm not leaving him here."
Cameron stared at Courtney for a moment, her head tilted slightly as it always did when she was confused. Courtney was walking alone, towards an unknown number of machines, searching for her father, whom she refused to believe was dead. Not very intelligent, she knew. Humans did stupid things. But she was doing the same with John, she realised. She was searching for John, alone, actively searching out Skynet positions, knowing that John would be near one of them, and ignoring the high probability that John was already dead. Searching for John, by her logic, was a stupid thing to do. But she'd continue anyway and wouldn't let anything stop her.
She'd identified numerous similarities before, between Courtney and John, but now she realised that she and Courtney were very much alike, and felt a strong sensation of guilt for lying to her.
Cameron marched forward and placed a hand on Courtney's shoulder, stopping her in her tracks and turning her around so they were facing each other.
"I'll help you find your father," Cameron said. Courtney said nothing in reply, simply nodding gratefully, but the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her face said it all.
A/N: Hope you all liked it, please do let me know what you think. And hopefully, the next chapter will be a LOT faster to post than this one was. Apologies once again.
Oh, and AMRAAM stands for Advanced Medium Range Air to Air Missile.