San Diego Bay
Naval Base San Diego, once one of the largest US Navy establishments, was now little more than a flattened ruin, a shadow of its former self. The principle base for the Pacific Fleet, home to over fifty warships and twenty-thousand Navy personnel, had been high on Skynet's list of priority targets when it had launched its apocalyptic nuclear attack on mankind. Skynet had aimed two warheads at San Diego; one at the city proper and another at the bay. Almost nothing of the base remained but burnt out wrecks of twisted metal and crumbling concrete. The ships docked at the piers had been vaporised in the inferno that had ensued, the blast-wave had spread beyond the radius of the nuclear fires and shattered the superstructures of those ships further out. The jagged, twisted wrecks of several vessels could be seen jutting out of the shallow waters as their ruined hulks sat on the sea floor.
Almost nothing but rubble remained of the once mighty home base of the world's most powerful Navy.
"Looks like someone had one wildparty while we were gone," Lieutenant Martin Bedell quipped as he flew his SH-60 Seahawk helicopter over the obliterated Navy base, looking down with regret at the destruction of what had once been his home. After his run-in with John Connor and the Terminator that had been bent on killing him, he'd decided to stick out his final year at Presidio Alto Military Academy, but at the last minute opted to join the Navy instead of the Army, much to the annoyance of his teachers and commanders at the school; they'd told him it was a waste of a good soldier but had wished him luck anyway. From there he'd opted to train as a pilot, and two years later had earned his wings and was posted to the aircraft carrier USS Nimitz.
They'd been out on a tour of the Yellow Sea come Judgement Day, and had turned round and headed back home as soon as they'd found out what had happened. To the entirety of the Nimitz's crew, the news that the Skynet Defence System had launched an all out nuclear attack on the world had been met with disbelief. Only Bedell hadn't been surprised. When John Connor had appeared on the airwaves, it had been Bedell who'd convinced the Nimitz's captain to follow his orders, claiming to have met the 'General' previously, and assuring his superior officers that John Connor knew what he was talking about and was the man to lead the fight back against the machines.
That was a while ago, Martin thought to himself; it had only been six months since Judgement Day, but anything before that awful day felt like a lifetime ago. Since they'd arrived off the Pacific coast they'd launched bombing runs and sorties in support of ground forces up and down the west coast. During Connor's worldwide campaign to take out Skynet's satellite network before it could literally get off the ground, the Nimitz had launched almost all of her F/A-18E Super Hornets to take out Skynet's aircraft and to launch bombing runs. They'd lost a lot of planes, though. Skynet's machines were just plain better than the human-flown jets. Faster, more agile, and more advanced. Still, they'd given as good as they'd got, and a number of unmanned drones had been blown out of the sky, saving several resistance units from certain death and contributing greatly to the success of Connor's campaign in their part of the world.
"I'm glad we missed this party," Sam Bates, Bedell's co-pilot, replied, peering down at the wreckage below with a similar sad gaze to Martin's. The base that had been their home when ashore was gone, wiped off the map and burned to ashes. They'd known it was gone long before they got there, but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely. Still, they'd had to make several trips to San Diego over the past few days; Nimitzwas running low on supplies after six months at sea and all the helicopter crews and marines had been tasked with reconnaissance and supply runs, searching for food, fuel, and ammunition. Martin's Seahawk was on its way back to the carrier after raiding the base of ammunition, over five thousand pounds of 20mm ammunition for their jet fighters was slung under their belly. They left the bay area and flew over calm waters that made Bedell feel slightly more at ease than he ever did over land since Judgement Day, but wouldn't feel completely safe until they were on the carrier, a hundred odd miles out to sea, where nothing could sneak up on it. The only machines Skynet had that could reach them were the aircraft, and the Nimitz still had two thirds of its F/A-18s left to fight. The Nimitz was safe.
"I'm just glad Skynet's not here," Martin replied. The mission had so far gone without a hitch, and they'd seen no sign of machines in the area as they'd scoured the base for anything useful.
"Why would it be?" Bates asked. "The base is gone, nothing much left to salvage and no survivors. There's nothing for Skynet here."
Martin still wasn't convinced, though. California was Skynet central – likely the highest concentration of machines in the United States, and possibly even the world, and the fact that none of them seemed to be around or had even detected them made him suspicious. It was pretty clear that Skynet wouldn't tolerate any humans, especially armedhumans. John had told him all about how Skynet had viewed them as a threat, and threats to Skynet didn't come much bigger than a fully armed aircraft carrier like Nimitz.
It was an hour before Bedell's Seahawk had released the cargo from under their belly and landed safely on the flight deck of the massive carrier, sheltered under the protection of the ship and her air group. Bedell hadn't felt safe for the entire flight back until he'd landed on the deck, and as usual he let out a sigh of relief when his boots touched the flight deck. For a pilot, he was very nervous about being in the air. Though given how ruthless and effective Skynet's machines were, he knew he wasn't alone. Every pilot and every marine who left the carrier's decks had already accepted that their next mission could be their last.
Nimitz still held three full fighter squadrons; thirty-six F/A-18s – half a dozen of which were on permanent standby and could be launched within five minutes to meet and take on any threat, with a further six ready to launch within fifteen minutes. The ship had seen its fair share of action against Skynet in the months since Judgement Day, had lost a dozen fighter aircraft and their pilots – good men, all – and the captain and crew had learned the value of being ready at a moment's notice.
As soon as Bedell stepped out of the helicopter, the Executive Officer approached him and told the captain wanted to see him. About what, he wouldn't say. He was led to the captain's cabin and ushered in. Bedell took note of the luxurious looking wooden panels that lined the room. Framed photographs lined a shelf and the captain's desk; of various jets and helicopters, several officers on the boat, and another photo of the captain shaking hands with Barack Obama on the day he'd received command of his ship; the President personally congratulating him as he'd paid a visit to the Nimitz.
"At ease, Bedell," Captain Wallace nodded to him. "Sit down, son. I wanted to talk to you."
"About what, sir?" Bedell sat down but felt far from at ease, he never did when dealing with the captain. Captain Wallace was a hard man, with a ferret-like face and small, dark eyes. He was a good captain but tended to be far too serious and never lightened up, and was completely without a sense of humour. Bedell often wondered if the man ever cracked a smile. He reminded Bedell of John a little.
"John Connor," Wallace replied. "You met him once, right?"
"Yes sir, at Presidio Alto Academy." Bedell hadn't told Captain Wallace that John had only been a student at the academy and not the commandant, like Wallace thought. If he'd let out that Connor had only been a kid at the time, two years younger than he was, then Connor wouldn't have been taken seriously.
"What did you make of him?"
"Well, sir, he was only at the academy for a short time. He was a hard guy to read, but he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He saved my life, though. I trust him."
"Yeah, I heard about that," Wallace replied. "Some psycho broke into the camp and attacked you, and Connor used himself as a distraction and lured the guy into a tar pit. Very clever." He'd heard all about it from Bedell before, but was just getting it straight in his head. "We've not heard from Connor in some time," he sighed wearily, resting his chin on his hands, propped up over the desk between him and Bedell.
"We've lost contact?" Bedell asked nervously. It was unthinkable that John could have just disappeared; he'd been with an entire company at Cheyenne Mountain. He couldn't have just vanished.
"Yes and no," Wallace replied. "We haven't had any contact with Connor since the attack on Skynet's rockets. We've still been in touch with Cheyenne Mountain, with one of his lieutenants, and since then I've been talking to Connor's 2ic, a Colonel Perry. Nobody's seen Connor in weeks. Perry's got no idea where Connor is. Nobody does. Perry's declared him MIA, presumed dead. I thought it would be right to let you know."
"Sir, we can't... that's not possible. We have to find him," Bedell protested.
"A lot of people are missing, Bedell," said Wallace. "One more from the Army brass isn't going to make a difference in the grand scheme of things."
"That's bullshit!"Bedell snarled, jumping to his feet and knocking his chair to the floor. His face was red with anger and the veins started to stick out his temples. Connor had saved his life from the machine, he'd told Bedell about the future; how he'd be a hero and save people. He'd stopped Bedell from dropping out of the academy and making the biggest mistake of his life. He owed Connor more than his life. "You know as well as I that if it wasn't for Connor we'd be out at sea sitting on our hands, and now we're just leaving him to die?"
"Back up, lieutenant," Wallace barked. "Connor was a good general but he's gone. Shit happens, get used to it. We've lost good men, too." Bedell lowered his head and stood at ease, all the fight drained out of him as he thought about their own losses. They'd lost twenty men and eleven F/A-18s, only a single crew had managed to eject to safety whilst fighting Skynet's aircraft; plus two choppers and their crews totalling fourteen men. Thinking of their own dead - some of them having been good friends of his - took the wind out of his sails, and he breathed in deeply to calm himself before speaking again.
"If Connor's gone, then who's giving the orders now, sir?"
"Colonel Perry has assumed command of Cheyenne Mountain and 4th Infantry, but so far he's simply told us to stay on station. I've spoken to other Navy units – the Jimmy Carter and the George HW Bush,and they're also holding on to their dicks out at sea. Ground units for now have no direction, and have been told to await orders. Colonel's a far cry from General, Bedell, and the Jimmy Carter and George Bush aren't happy at taking orders from an Army colonel; even more so because we're not even getting any orders; we're sitting here idle. We're heading out to sea as soon as all our birds have landed."
"So we're just running away?" Bedell asked accusingly. Ever since John Connor had told him about Skynet and the war and the machines, he'd wanted to be involved, wanted to fight. It galled him that they were just going to turn tail and run.
"Nobody's 'running away,' lieutenant, and I'd thank you to keep your mouth in check." Wallace leaned back in his chair and sighed. Truth was, he felt like they were running away, too, and he hated it. But there was nothing else for them to do but to stay in place, in range of Skynet's bombers. Bedell was one of his favourites; he'd taken the young chopper pilot under his wing, and tolerated a more casual approach with him than with other members of the crew. But Bedell was pushing on insubordination this time.
"Sure seems like it, sir," Bedell grumbled.
"For crying out loud, Bedell! What the hell do you expect me to do? We've got no orders and no intel on Skynet. All we can goddamn do is sit around and wait until someone tells us what to do. I don't like it anymore than you do, but we've got no choice. I understand you're upset over losing Connor; he saved your life and all, but I won't tolerate being spoken to like that. Understand?"
"Yes sir," Bedell sighed sadly, knowing he'd lost this debate and nothing he said would change Wallace's mind. "Where are we going, then, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Alaska," Captain Wallace replied. "We're going to rendezvous with the George Bush near what's left of Elmendorf air base to stock up on food and munitions. Then, I don't know. We'll work it out when we get there."
Bedell nodded yes and was then dismissed. He said nothing to anyone and made his way miserably to his cabin. It wasn't right, leaving Connor missing somewhere out there. He felt like a coward. There was nothing he could do, though. Martin Bedell lay down on his bunk and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep, as the aircraft carrier Nimitz broke off from the resistance and quietly sailed out to the open sea, leaving California and its inhabitants to its fate.
Two figures moved through the pitch blackness of night and made their way down a desolate and abandoned street, crouching and creeping and dashing between shadows. Ever vigilant, ever wary, careful that the slightest wrong step could bring the wrath of Skynet's metal monsters down upon them.
The two figures moved with unnatural silence and stealth: one borne with the fine arts of infiltration, subtlety, and stealth already programmed into her brain; the other having learned her skills from months spent living among the machines, where speed and silence had been an invaluable asset that had kept her alive when others had been slain. They were completely different, the two of them. One borne of metal, for the sole purpose of war, a living weapon; the other made of flesh and bone, vulnerable, physically weak in comparison to her companion but with a keen instinct and knowledge of the area they were manoeuvring through. Knowledge that had kept them away from several machine patrols as they skulked their way through the town.
Courtney led the way, blazing a soundless trail through several blocks, taking them on an indirect route. Through and around blocks of houses, doubling back on more than one occasion, standing stock still and flattening her body against a wall or lying down wherever she could find cover. Cameron would have thought she was being inefficient, but she also knew that a direct, efficient route would likely lead them into a machine patrol, and that Courtney knew the way, so she'd follow her lead for how while she brought up the rear with her rifle.
Courtney led the way out of a block of houses and towards the main road that ran through the town centre and ran parallel to the highway, two hundred metres away, that led back out into the desert, the same road Cameron would walk again after she'd helped locate Courtney's father, once again searching for John. Cameron was aware that helping Courtney delayed her search, and every delay could decrease the chances of her finding him, but she'd also come to realise she was never going to find John alone. She needed allies to help her, and in helping Courtney, she'd have an ally to help her search for John. And if her father by some miracle was alive, he could also be of assistance to her. The odds of her finding John alive decreased with every hesitation, but also increased if she had help. It was a worthy exchange. And she still identified with Courtney: both of them were searching for someone they held dear to them, ignoring the high odds that their loved ones were already dead.
Courtney froze as they reached the side of the road and she got down flat on the ground. Cameron followed suit and lay down beside her, her rifle shouldered as she swept the scene in front of her for threats.
"The town centre is the other side of that block," Courtney said softly, pointing towards the block of houses on the other side of the road. "After that it's three more blocks to the school."
An HK soared by in the distance, heading away from them and flying southwest, flying out to hunt down any humans it could find. Courtney looked down at her watch, using her hand to cover the luminous green glow when she pressed a button to illuminate it enough for her to see. "Five-thirty a.m., just like clockwork," she said to Cameron. "Dad and I learned their patterns so we could move around easier. They send out machines every hour or so to patrol. Nearer the school there's the big ones with treads; Dad said they patrol the streets close to the school all the time. They just keep rolling on and on, they never stop."
"T-2s," Cameron replied quietly. She could hear the rolling of treads in the distance, far enough away to not be an immediate threat, but she noted where the sound was coming from and kept track of the sound in case it came closer. "Patrol machines, built to destroy tanks. We should avoid them."
"You can... you can beat 'em, right?" Courtney asked nervously, nodding to Cameron's rifle.
"It's unlikely," she replied. She only had two grenades for her weapon's launcher, and there was no way her 5.56mm rifle rounds would penetrate the T-2's thick armour. She remembered how difficult it had been for her and John to destroy the first T-2 in Fort Carson – the battle that had made John the leader of resistance in Cheyenne Mountain. It had taken a Javelin rocket and half a dozen of the same kind of grenades she was carrying to finally destroy it.
"So what're we gonna do?" Courtney asked, sounding a slightly pathetic as she spoke. "We can't turn back now."
"Hide," Cameron replied, hearing the T-2 treads rolling closer, around the next corner.
"I know that," Courtney sighed. "I know how to hide, I told you. I've been hiding out here since the bombs went off..."
"Hide!" Cameron grabbed Courtney by her hooded top and pulled her upright, dragging her as she ran across the road and into the nearest house, pushing the door to but not closing it to avoid making any noise, and crouched low to the ground. She noted the layout of the house was very similar to Courtney's, or at least what she'd seen of her house. Courtney got down on her knees and hunched over, staying deathly silent as the rumbling of tracks got louder as the machine approached. Both Cameron and Courtney knew that a single sound would alert it to their presence and would unleash a storm of antitank shells that would tear the house apart and collapse it onto them. Cameron had nothing to fear from the house falling down on her but Courtney would be killed and she'd be left alone once again to search for John.
They both waited in tense silence for several minutes until the machine had rolled past and its treads were out of even Cameron's earshot.
"Why Cactus Springs?" Cameron asked Courtney, even though she'd already enquired about it before. Perhaps Courtney had forgotten to mention something. Humans were forgetful; their memory was inefficient. It didn't make sense why Skynet would garrison so many machines in such a small town. There had to be a reason, and she needed to know. It could mean the difference between life and death for them.
"I don't know, I really don't," Courtney insisted. "There's nothing here much at all; we're just a small town, couple hundred families; nothing much else."
"You said cars drove through the town. When, how many?" Cameron asked.
"A few weeks after the bombs fell, maybe. I don't know how many. There were trucks, though. Big ones. They just drove through and the next day the machines rolled in and killed everyone who survived. Everyone but me and Dad."
"What kind of trucks?" Cameron asked. Courtney had said cars before, but not mentioned trucks. She wanted to know what was in them, whether it was connected to whatever Skynet was doing in Cactus Springs. She wanted to know before she approached the school to look for Courtney's father.
"I don't know... big ones, that's it."
"It's important," Cameron said expectantly, wanting more information from Courtney.
"I don't know anything, okay! I'm not like you... I'm not a soldier, I don't know anything about the machines or what they're doing." Courtney realised she was snapping at Cameron and took a deep breath to try and calm herself down, closing her eyes and trying to relax for a moment. "All I know is that whatever they're doing, it's at the school. That's where they all are. Dad said they were doing something there. He didn't say what, but he went there to find out. So whatever it is, that's where we'll find out, so we should go there right now."
Courtney pushed herself onto her feet, still in a crouch, and raised herself up slowly, lifting her head over the windowsill to peek outside. She couldn't see or hear anything, so she stood fully upright and moved towards the door. Cameron stood up quickly, the polar opposite of Courtney's slow and stealthy movements. She could hear no movement nearby and knew no machines were in the immediate area. Courtney was right that they should move out now. But before Courtney pulled the door open Cameron grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
"We've got to go," Courtney quietly insisted, trying to pull free of Cameron's unbreakable grip and wondering how she was so strong for someone not much bigger than her. Cameron ignored her struggling and pulled her sidearm from a hip holster. Courtney's eyes widened at the sight of the weapon and for a moment she thought Cameron was going to kill her.
"Take it," Cameron pushed the gun into her palm, handing her two spare magazines. It wouldn't stop a machine but it might provide a moment's distraction that could prove invaluable.
"I don't know how to use it," Courtney replied, holding the gun awkwardly in both hands.
"Point and shoot," Cameron instructed. "Don't shoot anything over twenty metres away."
"Twenty metres," Courtney swallowed nervously. "We're gonna be that close?"
"Probably closer," Cameron said blankly, as if that were nothing. "I'll lead," she pulled Courtney aside and left the house first, her rifle shouldered. She sensed Courtney right behind her and set off at a fast march around the corner and down the block, having memorised the route Courtney had told her before, she was able to quickly lead the way and her hypersensitive eyes and ears could detect movements and sounds that Courtney couldn't.
Under Cameron's lead, they quickly moved from one building to the next. Neither of them made a sound or spoke a word as they travelled, both of them had eyes and ears strained for the telltale whine of engines or rumbling of treads. As they got closer to the school, Cameron could hear something. She wasn't sure what; she couldn't identify it and it bore no match to any machine she'd heard before, yet it was undeniably the sound of heavy machinery. She wondered if Skynet had already developed other weapons and machines, and if Cactus Springs was the place where they'd been created. It was unlikely, but then she'd seen T-70s brought into production several years before they were supposed to, triggered by the Roswell crash that had in fact been Terminators and not aliens. It was possible the timeline had been altered further, but by what she didn't know. She didn't think Skynet would have the infrastructure yet to develop new machines, but she'd already learned from experience not to assume anything.
Within a few minutes they were less than a block away from their destination. The school was less than a hundred yards away and around the next corner. The rumbling of heavy machinery was joined by that of heavy treads – the telltale sign of approaching T-2s, and a far-off whine of HK engines in the air. Cameron pulled Courtney into a back alley behind a row of houses, not wanting to stay in line of sight of the school in case any machines were watching that she couldn't see.
She peeked quickly around the corner and saw the school down the block, on the other side of a small road. The school consisted of a handful of buildings behind a parking lot, and plenty of space out the back. Much more space than there had been at Campo de Cahuenga High School, even if the school itself was half the size of the one she and John had briefly attended. In the parking lot at the front were a number of abandoned cars and 4x4s. An HK briefly hovered in the air above the school before flying south, most likely on a close air patrol of the town. Cameron could also hear the familiar rolling treads of at least three T-2s patrolling the grounds around the school, although she couldn't see them yet. None of that greatly concerned Cameron, though. They could sneak around the T-2s with ease.
What really caught Cameron's attention was a massive metal tower from what Cameron guessed was the field behind the school, twice the height of the building at least. It was a tall, thin, skeletal structure that stuck straight out the ground, as far as she could tell. She wasn't sure what it was, it could have been a radio tower, an electricity pylon, or something else entirely. It didn't look like it was originally part of the school.
"Was that there before?" Cameron said softly, tapping Courtney on the shoulder and pointing towards the tower.
"No, I never saw that before," she replied, looking at it in confusion. That must have been what her dad went after, she realized. She hoped to God he was still there, still keeping watch on the place. He could be hurt, or trapped, and he'd need help. She wanted to run out there and call out for him. Every minute they waited could put her dad in even more trouble. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to rush forward to find her dad, but she knew very well she'd be killed if she tried. She'd survived on her own long enough to know that it would be a stupid move, even if it felt like the right one, and managed – albeit barely – to keep her conflicting emotions in check.
Cameron kept her eyes on the road in front of the school, before the parking lot, and waited as the squealing, rumbling treads of T-2 tanks got closer. She watched its behemoth form roll into view, its upper half swiveling around and its massive 30mm cannons rotated under pintle-joints under the machine's 'shoulders'. The cannons' gaping maws seemed to focus on them for a long time, as if death itself were staring them in the face. Time seemed to slow down for both Cameron and Courtney. And for Cameron, a cybernetic entity whose chip could perform millions of calculations many times faster than the human brain, time seemed to stop entirely for her. A few seconds seemed like an eternity, and she couldn't stop herself from thinking what would happen to John when those cannons opened up and tore her and Courtney to shreds.
The T-2, however, rolled past without noticing them and continued on its course. Cameron remained still, despite Courtney itching to go forward. She saw the anxiety on her face and knew she'd feel the same if she knew they were close to finding John and she had to wait. Several times she thought her blonde companion might run out towards the school, and considered knocking her unconscious to stop her, but Courtney stood perfectly still, waiting and watching. Courtney wondered how Cameron could display such inhuman patience; how she could just crouch silently, not moving a muscle, and watch, seemingly not even blinking. But then again, it wasn't her dad they were trying to find.
Cameron stayed still for another hour, watching the pattern of the T-2's patrols as she'd done at the Nellis air base perimeter. She'd noted when the first one had repeated the same circuit as she'd identified a mark on it, a scratch on the bodywork, that she saw as it rolled in front of the school for a second time. There was a two minute interval between patrols, and they were approximately eighty five metres from the school entrance.
Cameron sprang forward like an Olympic sprinter – although still limping slightly – and tore down the road, leaving Courtney in the dust as she ran towards the school entrance, hearing Courtney falling behind, unable to keep pace with her. When she got to the parking lot entrance at the front of the school she turned round and knelt on one knee, rifle shouldered as she covered Courtney's approach.
"What're you, like a track-star or something?" Courtney puffed, out of breath. She'd tried her hardest to keep up with Cameron but the brunette had quickly outpaced her. "If we manage to beat Skynet, you should try out for the Olympics," she gulped, getting her air back. "Man, you're fast."
Cameron didn't reply and instead turned around towards the school. Something was immediately off, she saw. There were bodies in the school parking lot, but not of students or teachers. Two men, both wearing greyish-green combat fatigues similar to the figure in Nellis air base, lay on the floor outside a Hummer, their heads blown apart and splattered all over the asphalt into an unrecognisable bloody pulp of blood, brain matter, and chips of bone. The flies were already swarming over them and the smell, while not bothering Cameron in the slightest, made Courtney gag. She fought it down and breathed through her mouth, looking away from the bodies.
Cameron, on the other hand, thought nothing of it and simply noted that they looked like they'd been dead a few weeks. More interesting to her were their weapons and equipment: No nametags on the clothes, no tags or any insignia for either rank or unit. They were carrying SCAR-H assault rifles with grenade launchers; not US military standard issue. She had no idea who they were or what they'd been doing. Their weapons were special forces issue but the car they were in was a civilian Hummer, not a military vehicle. Their clothes weren't military issue, either. They weren't any unit operating under John's command, so she thought it likely they were a separate group, a militia, either acting on their own or for someone else. What they were doing though, she had no idea. She thought it most likely that they'd been observing the school when they'd come under attack. But not by Skynet. Cameron spotted several empty shotgun shell casings littered on the ground. They'd been killed by another human. But why, she didn't know. Humans were irrational, and even in the future, people still killed each other.
She slung own rifle over her back and picked up the SCAR-H, it had larger rounds and would be more effective against machines than her carbine. She pocketed seven extra magazines and several grenades from the bodies and stuck them into her pack, then led the way into the front entrance to the school building.
Inside the school was dead. The air inside was cold and stale. There was no sound, no smell, no movement at all; only the dust particulates floating aimlessly through the air in the hallway. The lights were dead inside and the only illumination came from the slivers of ambient light that filtered in through the glass in the doorway. Courtney was barely able to see anything, so Cameron once again took the lead, able to see easily in the dark.
"I don't like this," Courtney muttered, terrified and starting to shake slightly as they made their way through the dark corridor. Courtney found herself suddenly afraid of the dark; who knew what unseen horrors could be lurking for them in the pitch black. The primitive part of her brain was fully awakened now and screamed at her to get out, to avoid the dark at all costs. She could just... sense something was wrong. No sounds, no movement. Everything was still. It was like a tomb. Still, she didn't turn back or try to run away; her dad was around here somewhere, she knew it and she wasn't going to turn back until she'd found him.
"How can you see in the dark, anyway?" Courtney hissed, curious how Cameron was leading so confidently and so fearlessly through the dark, and also trying to distract herself from her own internal terror. "And don't tell me you just eat a lot of carrots."
"I don't eat a lot of carrots," Cameron replied. She thought it best that Courtney remained unaware she was a machine. She removed the M4A1 rifle from her back, placing it in Courtney's hands. "Hold it and look through the sight." Courtney clumsily shouldered the carbine and peered through the scope, her surroundings taking on an eerie green glow through the sights and narrowing her entire world down to the other end of the sight. She saw Cameron peering through the scope of her more exotic looking weapon, unaware that Cameron could see perfectly well in the dark and was merely keeping up appearances for her sake.
"Don't touch the grenade launcher," Cameron said, seeing that Courtney's finger was right on the trigger and very close to killing them both. She'd have to teach Courtney how to use the weapon later, or she wouldn't be very helpful.
"Oh," Courtney exclaimed apologetically, taking her finger way from the trigger under the barrel. "Sorry."
Cameron moved off again and Courtney followed, swinging the rifle from left to right so she could see all around her. Being able to see where she was going helped to alleviate her fear just slightly, and being able to see Cameron was a huge relief. Courtney was quiet; she'd quickly learned the value of staying quiet when the machines had rolled into town, but Cameron was something else. She didn't even make a sound. Courtney could hear her own heart thundering in her chest, her breathing seemed so loud to her that it was impossible the machines couldn't hear it, and every step she took might as well have been over dried leaves. She knew it was all in her mind, but she couldn't even hear Cameron breathe and she moved so silently it was as if her feet never touched the ground.
They moved quickly through the school, checking each room on the ground level first and performing a thorough sweep of the building, finding nothing before Cameron led the way up the stairs to the second floor. Cameron entered one of the classrooms on the second floor, stepped around a bloody, bullet riddled corpse, similarly dressed to those outside, and walked over to the window at the end of the room. From there she could see exactly what the tower she'd spotted was, Skynet was doing in Cactus Springs, and why the machines had rolled into town.
The entire sports field behind the school had been transformed: five HKs sat on the football field, surrounded by smaller maintenance drones that worked to rearm and refuel the aircraft. More service machines cleared a long, straight strip of land that stretched out into the scrubland behind the field, several hundred metres long. A runway, Cameron knew. On the baseball field, closer to the school, stood the tower she'd seen. It wasn't a radio tower or an electricity pylon like she'd first thought. It was an oil derrick. She saw a long hollow tube that bored into the ground, and pipes leading from the derrick and towards a parked tanker plane at the far end of the makeshift runway, next to a small fleet of tanker trucks and eighteen-wheel semis.
"There's oil under Cactus Springs," Cameron said to Courtney. She'd not mentioned that to her before.
"I didn't know there was," Courtney replied, sounding guilty. "I mean, people talked about it but nobody ever did any drilling before. Nobody really believed it.
Cameron knew now exactly what Skynet was doing. Nellis air base was less than sixty miles away from Cactus Springs. The base itself was Skynet's largest establishment in Nevada, and likely one of the largest in the United States; housing scores of machines and producing many more. Within a few months Skynet's forces in Nevada would have multiplied by many times, scores of machines would become hundreds, possibly thousands. But Skynet needed fuel for those machines and Nellis' fuel stocks wouldn't be enough.
All Skynet's machines in the future were powered by miniature nuclear reactors; even her. But Skynet would be years away from being able to create a nuclear power source small enough to fit inside an aircraft or a Terminator, so it had to rely on oil. Skynet would logically prefer to supply Nellis with oil from a nearby source than to ship it from further away, where supply would be more dangerous and could be sabotaged by human efforts. The tanker plane would carry oil to a refinery, or one would eventually be built on the school site. Eventually Skynet would install pipes either above or underground to pump the oil directly to Nellis, but that would take time.
"This was what your father found," Cameron said quietly to her companion, turning to face Courtney and realising she wasn't there. She'd been so transfixed on the sight before her that she'd not heard Courtney walk off. The girl was very quiet, but Cameron knew she should have still heard her. She didn't know why she found herself becoming distracted at times. All her visual and auditory senses were in perfect working order as far as she could tell.
Courtney left the room silently as Cameron stared at the view outside. They'd found the reason why her dad had gone sneaking around the school, but she didn't care about that; she just wanted to find him. She still held the rifle out in front of her; it felt heavy in her hands and her arms were shaking from constantly carrying it, and her right eye strained from continuously staring through the night-sight. She knelt down and took off her pack, pulling out a small torch and switching it on, sliding a red filter over the lens so it gave out enough light to see, but hopefully not enough to be seen by anything outside that might decide to look in through the windows. It was one of the lessons her dad had taught her that had saved her life several times since the machines took over. She swept the torch around and let the rifle hang from the strap around her shoulder; she didn't know how to use it anyway and all it did was make her arms tired. She didn't know how Cameron could carry her gun so easily, and hers was even bigger.
"Dad... Dad?" She whispered hoarsely, hoping he could hear her but hoping just as much that anything else couldn't.
Three rooms down from the one she and Cameron had been in, she saw the body of a slender, dark haired man on the ground, sitting propped up against the wall as if he'd just sat down and died, yet the massive chunk taken out of his head suggested otherwise. He'd had half his head blown off, just like the other men outside, and he was dressed the same. In his hand he still held a handgun, clutching on to it as if it were a lifeline. She saw a tattoo on his right wrist that looked like a barcode. She had no idea what the heck that was about.
As she shone the torch around the room the red beam washed over a boot on the ground and Courtney bent down to investigate. She moved the torch and the beam moved up the body, revealing another man lay still on the ground. This one older than the first, with short grey hair closely cropped to his scalp, and wearing simple jeans and a shirt. In one hand he held a shotgun, a pair of empty shell casings lay on the ground nearby. Two puckered gunshot wounds punctured his chest and there was a third on his forehead, right between the eyes. A large red stain had soaked into the carpet where the blood had seeped out the exit wound in the back of his head, which was thankfully concealed from her sight. He stared vacantly, sightlessly up at the ceiling. Courtney dropped the torch – ignoring the loud clatter it made as it hit the ground - and fell to her knees as she took in the man's features and instantly recognised him.
"Dad! No, no, no, no, please, no..." she babbled incoherently, shaking her head as if in denial. Her entire world came crashing down and shattered around her, and she felt as if she'd been stabbed in the chest with a red hot poker. Every breath was racked with sobs and her whole body was shaking as she cried. Nothing mattered any more; the only person in her life she'd been able to depend on, who'd always been there for her, was gone. Her eyes brimmed with tears that streamed down her face as she sobbed and cried, and hugged the dead body of her father tightly in her arms as she screamed out a wordless howl of white hot pain and anguish.
A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it. Sorry it's taken me so long to post this one. Anyway, for those who don't know guns, Mk. 17 SCAR-H is a 7.62mm Belgian made rifle being used by American special forces. Google it, it looks pretty cool in my opinion. Do let me know what you think of the chapter, I hope you all liked it.