Terminator Salvation

“Before, if you killed somebody, that usually made you a criminal. But in this world, all it means is that you’re probably a good shot.”

***

This world, he thought. What had happened to the world while he had lain unconscious? He still had no idea how much time had passed or what had turned machine against maker. It hurt his head to think about it.

“You know, Marcus,” she murmured, “we can focus on what is lost. On what is past. Or we can fight for what is left.”

He turned to face her. “You think people get a second chance?”

“I do.” She clutched at herself. “I’m a little cold.” Without waiting for an invitation, she crawled over next to him. Drawing back, he eyed her uncertainly.

“Relax.” She smiled gently. “I just need some body heat. I’ve got low blood pressure, for one thing.”

That was certainly a possibility, he told himself. He mustered a half-hearted grin as she lay down against him, resting her head on his ribs.

“I can hear your heart beating all the way through your chest. Man, you’ve got a steady heartbeat!” Remembrance muted her words. “My dad had a Harley. An old softail he restored all by himself. Whenever things got tough at work or whenever he had a fight with my mom, he’d go to the garage, work on that bike, and everything would be good again. He’d let me ride on the back sometimes, even when I was little. We would pull up to a stoplight and I could hear his heart thumping along, keeping rhythm with the engine. Funny, isn’t it? We’re in a war to the death with machines, and here I am thinking affectionately of a machine. I miss that.” Raising her head from his chest, she looked up at him. “What do you miss, Marcus?”

He thought back, hunting through his past for a good memory. It took some time.

“Me and my brother, we’d steal a car. Didn’t matter what kind: old, new, domestic, foreign. Van or sports car. We’d just go, fast as we could, ’til the gas ran out or the cops caught up to us. Nearly killed ourselves I don’t know how many times. Didn’t matter. We’d laugh ourselves silly. I can still see him going crazy when I’d try to make this impossible curve or we’d turn the wrong way down a one-way street. We’d still be laughing when the cops would slap the cuffs on us, ’cause we knew we’d shared something special.” Realizing he was rambling and that he was starting to lose himself in a past forever gone, he forced himself back to the present.

“What happened to your father? He crash out on the bike?”

She shook her head sadly.

“No. That would have made him happy, to go out that way. He was an airline mechanic. Jet engine specialist.” She smiled and a tear started from the corner of one eye. She wiped it away angrily, as if it was some kind of intruder into her private life. “He loved the noise engines made, but I guess you already figured that. All the big airports and related maintenance facilities were taken out in Skynet’s first strike.” Finding another tear forming, she hastened to change the subject.

“What about your brother? Was he killed on Judgment Day?”

“No.” Any hint of happiness vanished from Wright’s face as his mood darkened visibly. “He died—before.”

Intending to press him for details, she changed her mind fast when she saw his expression. The talk and the lateness of the hour were combining to shrink her span of attention. In spite of herself, she yawned.

“That other world, it’s all gone. All—gone.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Thanks for saving me back there. Don’t meet too many good guys these days.”

His tone did not change. “I’m not a good guy.”

“Sure you are. You just don’t know it yet. You know the only good thing about the end of the world? Whatever you were, whatever you did—doesn’t matter now. That world is gone.” Snuggling closer to his bulk, she dropped her head back onto his chest.

“You get to choose who you want to be.”

He looked down at her, not moving. Not wanting to disturb her. It was a strange feeling. He was used to disturbing people—often violently. Not this time. As she fell asleep against him he let his head ease back onto the ground.

It had stopped raining. Overhead, the sky was clearing, and the stars were coming out.

The Hunter-Killer had picked up movement and changed its course to pursue. Though the illumination from the stars above was feeble, the machine did not need daylight to track its quarry. Sighting via infrared, it had recognized the heat signatures of multiple human forms moving through the trees of the overgrown park below.

Dropping low, it activated its main batteries, preparatory to inaugurating extermination. The human shapes were moving fast as they crossed over a ridge. Reaching the far side, they slowed.

So did the HK. Programming flashed over reports, scanned histories. It halted, hovering just above the treetops.

***

Crouched down on the other side of the ridge, Barnes gripped his assault rifle tightly as he watched the shadow of the Hunter-Killer.

“It’s not following us.”

Raising a hand, Connor used a finger to trace the crest of the hill as it wandered across the edge of the old park.

“This ridgeline is the beginning of solidly defended Resistance territory. We still hold sway here. The HK won’t risk getting hit by a missile battery. Not for a low priority target like a couple of isolated humans out for an evening’s scavenging.”

Barnes managed to look offended.