'My presence in this time has been anticipated. The T-X is designed to terminate other cybernetic organisms.'
'So, she's an anti-terminator terminator,' Connor said, working it out. He shook his head again. This was getting worse, much worse by the minute. 'You've got to be shitting me,' he mumbled.
'No,' Terminator replied. 'I am not shitting you.'
He moved a pair of contacts, rerouting the last of his power circuits, then looked up for a moment as the circuitry displayed in his head-up unit confirmed that he had successfully isolated the damaged power cell.
Terminator handed the tool back to Connor, gingerly unplugged the power cell, and carefully removed it from his chest. It was about the size of a small book, and it looked battered, but not particularly dangerous.
With a snap of his wrist, Terminator threw the power
cell out into a sloping field of scrub brush and boulders. It arched one hundred feet into the morning sky, hanging at apogee for a long moment before it came down, a thousand feet off the highway.
When it hit the ground it exploded with a tremendous flash-bang. The shock wave hammered off the nearby foothills and slammed into the pet van, nearly shoving it off the road. Terminator had to help hang the Toyota back under control.
'When ruptured, the fuel cells become unstable,' he said.
He pulled down his T-shirt and zippered his jacket to hide the surgery as Connor glanced back at the sizable mushroom cloud rising out of the field.
An hour later they were over the foothills and headed down toward the desert, the Toyota's gas gauge on empty, wisps of steam coming from under the hood.
A large gas station-truck stop-convenience store was nestled up against a low hump in the desert.
'We must stop here for fuel and coolant fluid,' Terminator said. 'Do you require supplies?'
'Something to eat, maybe some water, would be okay,' Connor said. 'Where are you taking us?'
Terminator ignored the question. He slowed down and pulled into the gas station just as the Toyota's engine began to buck and stall, finally out of gas. He coasted to a stop at one of the pumps, got out, and went into the
store, leaving Connor to fill it up, check the oil, and get some water into the radiator.
No one was inside the station except for the cashier behind the counter. He was a teenager, wearing a striped cowboy shirt and a baseball cap. He could see the battered condition of the pet van, and the still obvious injuries to Terminator's face, though much of the skin had reformed, hiding the metal cranial case. It made him nervous.
Terminator took a moment to scan the contents of the store, spread down four aisles with rows of coolers along the back wall. He picked up a basket and walked
up and down the aisles, methodically selecting various food items including beef jerky for protein, potato chips for carbohydrates, cookies, ice cream bars, and Twinkies for sugar, and bottled water for hydration.
The cashier was fiddling with a small television set behind the counter, but every channel he switched to displayed the same message: please stand by.
He had taped a hand-lettered sign in front of the cash register. no credit cards?computers down.
'Man, this is crazy,' the kid said, switching to another
channel that showed the same please stand by message, 'It's been like this for hours. Every goddamned station.'
Terminator stopped at a rack of sunglasses, studied
the styles for a second, and then picked a pair of Sama wrparounds and put them on.
He turned and headed for the door.
The cashier looked up from the television set. 'Hey,
man, you gonna pay for that?'
Terminator ignored him.
'Hey,' the cashier shouted.
Terminator pulled up short, turned to the kid, then stuck out the palm of his hand, just like the stripper had done to him in the desert roadhouse. 'Talk to the hand.'
The cashier shrank back, not sure what to do, and Terminator turned and walked out the door.
Connor was just finishing with the water in the radiator. He set the can aside and closed the hood.
Terminator unbent the lug wrench locking the pet van's back door with one hand and pulled it open.
Kate leaped out past him. 'Help!' she screamed. 'Help me!'
Terminator wrapped his free arm around her waist before she took two steps and pulled her back.
Kate suddenly attacked him like a madwoman, kneeing him in the groin with every ounce of her strength, chopping his windpipe, driving her thumbs under his sunglasses deep into the sockets of his eyes.
Terminator was not affected. His diagnostic circuits were clear of any serious damage indicators.
He gently pried her away and shoved her back into the pet van. He adjusted his sunglasses, which had been knocked askew, then placed the basket of groceries in back with her.
Connor, who had watched everything, spotted the cashier through the window. The kid was on the phone. Probably calling for help.
'I think we should go,' he said.
Terminator nodded indifferently, and he went around
to the driver's side as Connor climbed in back with Kate and closed the door.
Kate was huddled again in the corner, her knees up to her chin. She braced herself as the pet van took off and swerved sharply back out onto the highway.
Connor didn't know how he felt about her now that he knew she would become an important part of the human resistance. But she sure could fight He had to grin.
'You've got some good moves on you,' he told her. A flash of something came to him. 'I remember now. You were like an army brat or something, right?'
Kate didn't look at him. He pushed the basket of food over to her. 'Ice cream?' he suggested.
She kicked the basket away, scattering the contents. Connor held up his hands and shrugged. 'Okay,' he said in an effort to be conciliatory.
'You're kidnapping me,' she said after a few moments.
'Look, I?'
'God, you were always a delinquent,' Kate said. It was as if a dam had broken inside her. The words came put in an angry rush. 'And look at you now. Sitting there like the bad boy thing still works.' She gave him an ex- tremely critical once-over. 'What are you, some kind of a gang member? A drug dealer?' She was disgusted. Her loathing dripped from her tongue and attitude like venom. 'How do you live with yourself?' she asked.
Connor shook his head, another smile coming to his
lips. How was he supposed to tell her the real story when
he had trouble believing it himself?
Kate's nostrils flared. She thought he was laughing at her. 'What?' she demanded.
Connor rapped on the divider window, and Terminator slid it open. 'Tell her who I am,' Connor said.
'John Connor is the leader of the worldwide resistance and the last best hope of mankind.'
Kate shook her head again. was painfully obvious that she thought they were raving lunatics, probably high on something. 'Right,' she said. 'And him?' She nodded toward Terminator.
'He's a robot from the future. Living tissue over a metal skeleton. Sent back in time to?'
Kate sat back morosely. She was tired of the game. 'Go to hell.'
'He doesn't mean you any harm,' Connor assured her, knowing how this must sound.
Kate held up her left hand, showing him her engagement diamond. 'I have a fiance. He's going to be looking for me.'
Connor sat back too, suddenly morose. His mood matched hers. If Terminator was right about the abilities of the T-X, they didn't stand much of a chance.
Kate watched him. 'I... What is it you want?.'
Connor lowered his eyes. 'I don't know,' he answered. And it was the truth. He didn't know what he really wanted. He looked up after a beat. How to tell her? What words? 'I guess... Imagine if you know you were going to do something important with your life. Something amazing. Maybe the most important thing anyone's ever
