“Barnes, Barnes! Find him!”
“I will.”
It was not necessary for her to ask. It was what they had come for.
The sergeant checked the tracker he was carrying. Linked electronically to the one Connor had used to find Kyle Reese, it had enabled the chopper to get the rescue party this close. From here they would have to proceed on foot, to try and extricate Kate’s husband. Commandeering two of the soldiers who had piled out of the helicopter behind him, Barnes led them off into the darkness.
Finding herself alone with the two children, Kate shepherded them toward the waiting helicopter.
“Who are you?”
“Kyle Reese.”
She stared at him, then led them on board.
“Come on. Are you injured?”
“I’m okay.” Reese smiled at her—but then his attention was back on the factory he and the little girl had just fled.
Kate’s spirits remained down until Barnes and Marcus Wright appeared. Between them they were supporting a bruised and badly injured figure. The man’s wounds were disfiguring, but through all the blood and bruising she still had no difficulty recognizing her husband.
“John!”
They laid him out gently in the back of the helicopter. As her eyes traveled over the length of his battered, tormented body she gradually realized the full extent of his wounds.
“John!”
He didn’t respond. She told herself that his injuries, while severe, were not life-threatening. They couldn’t be. She would save him. She had to save him.
Barnes was hovering nearby, dividing his attention between the domestic drama immediately in front of him and the crowd of prisoners who continued to mill about on the outskirts of the factory. Those who had started to run, to try and hide themselves in the far reaches of Skynet Central, were now returning, drawn back by the sound and light of the idling chopper.
“How the hell are we going to get all of these people out of here?”
A voice sounded from inside the helicopter. It was weak, but still commanding.
“Transporter,” Connor gasped. “There are some parked between here and the bridge. I hacked the nearest one. Overrode the receive and command component.” He fumbled at a pants pocket. “Here—bypass unit....”
Stepping toward him, Barnes took the compact device. Their hands made contact, just for an instant. The sergeant smiled down at the Resistance leader.
“I’ll do it. You hang in there, Connor.”
The man on the floor tried to nod, could not, and managed only the faintest of smiles.
Turning away from him, Barnes gestured to the remaining soldiers. Following the sergeant out of the helicopter, they raced toward the nearby field where the motionless Transporters were parked. Finding the one Connor had indicated Barnes saw right away that it was big enough to do the job. He only hoped it held enough fuel. As he entered the unsealed craft and made his way toward the control pod, his men began to organize the survivors and lead them to the waiting craft.
Back in the chopper, Kate Connor yelled forward. Up in the cockpit, Blair Williams nodded understanding and turned her full attention to the controls. Overhead, the whine of the engine rose. Then it began to spit. A hissing sound made itself heard above, over the noise of the fleeing crowd.
Williams uttered a curse, added more loudly, “Something’s wrong with the turbine!”
Leaning out the open side of the aircraft, Wright peered upward. Spraying from a stray bullet hole, hot fuel was running down the side of the helicopter, sizzling as it struck the metal. Some of it hit him in the face. Casually, he wiped it away, along with part of his cheek. Reaching up, he deliberately slapped a hand down over the puncture. Steam rose around the edges of his fingers.
“Try it now,” he suggested calmly.
Williams complied. The turbine hesitated, coughed, and began to spool up. Rotors began to turn, accelerated, picking up speed.
In the back, Connor continued to flit in and out of consciousness.
“Charges,” he mumbled. “We set charges. But the detonator—there was a fight. Leave me here. Need to find it, set it off—after you’re out of range.”
Screams sounded from outside. Something massive and monstrous was coming toward them out of the night. Single-minded as it advanced on the chopper, the Harvester ignored the remainder of the crowd that was piling into the waiting Transporter.
Leaning out of the opening, one hand still clamped righteously over the hole that was leaking fuel, Wright reached across the gap with his free hand. Exhibiting strength prodigious even for him, he hoisted up the door gun in his other arm and took aim at the approaching machine. Finding the trigger, he let loose a mad barrage of shells. Tearing into the oncoming Harvester, they shredded section after section, until one shell finally struck something volatile.
The big machine
Parts of it landed on the factory. Hissing and sparking, they also struck the ground in the vicinity of the legless
