lost patience; shortly wasn't soon enough. She took one hand from his mouth and felt along the column of his throat. The man tried to shout, making muffled sounds, then tried to turn his head, obviously meaning to shake off both of her hands, almost succeeding in actually moving. Alissa found what she was searching for, and with a flex of her fingers she felt his hyoid bone snap.
For a moment his struggles became more violent, then he fell forward. The computer confirmed unconsciousness and she let him go; pushing herself upright, she stared down at him. A brief spasm passed through the body and it voided, finally going limp. That was good. She hadn't wanted any more blood to
contend with.
As she scrubbed her dress the child part of Alissa enjoyed pretending that Skynet had set up a test for her, just like it used to do for Serena, her mother/sister, a test that she had passed. But the computer part of her objected to the dissonance and with a wistful sigh she put the idea from her.
She looked at the bodies on the floor. It would probably be best to leave here now. This incident had already caused enough delay.
Holding up the dress, Alissa studied it. Most of the stains were gone, but there was a shadow of brownish red at the neckline. Future washings would probably remove the stain. Meanwhile she could hardly walk through the diner in a soaking-wet dress. She ordered the T-101s to meet her at the van and slipped out the back door in her underpants.
The guys' attitude had changed dramatically in just the few days that John had been gone. Wendy listened to them with growing unease.
'I feel like I've been hypnotized,' Snog was saying. 'I can't believe I was making life-changing promises to some seventeen-year-old!'
'If what John was telling us is true—' Wendy began.
'Hey! He lied about his age,' Yam pointed out.
'That's because you guys were making such a big deal about it,' she said crossly.
'Anyway, if Judgment Day happens, then at least we'll
'His father is from the future,' Brad said dreamily. 'He probably hasn't even been born yet.' He looked around at his friends. 'How the
'Not too well,' Yam commented. 'At least as far as his dad was concerned.'
'Yeah,' Carl agreed. 'Imagine sending your father back through time to become your father, knowing he's going to get killed.'
There was silence as they all contemplated the idea.
'Do it to my old man in a flash,' Yam muttered.
'Yeah, I've met him, I second that,' Carl said. They high-fived.
Wendy frowned but said nothing. She listened uneasily, not liking the implied criticism of John, and not sure where they were going with this. Not knowing for sure how she felt about all this.
On the one hand, she felt uneasy knowing that all John's mother's ravings were nothing but the truth; on the other, she didn't like knowing that far from being the victim of some government conspiracy, his mother really had blown up a bunch of computer companies.
'His mother must be terrifying,' Brad said, almost as though he was listening in on her thoughts.
'I heard she was a fox,' Snog said, and waggled his brows.
The guys started kidding and snickering about that, and Wendy listened. Maybe they were just acting out because John intimidated them. Her lips quirked in a smile. If seventeen-year-old John was intimidating, then maybe his mom actually was terrifying.
'So what are we gonna do?' Carl asked. He looked directly at Snog.
Snog shrugged, his eyes wide in a manner that invited Carl to say more.
'What do you mean, what are we gonna do?' Wendy demanded.
'Oh, c'mon,' Carl almost shouted. 'When he's around, you somehow can believe all that crazy shit. But let's get real, guys. A father who hasn't even been born yet? Killer robots? A maniacal computer that's going to blow up the world?
That's bullshit! None of that can possibly be real!'
'But this is real,' Snog said. He held up the chip that John had left with them.
'And he sure didn't create this thing.' He gave Wendy an apologetic glance.
'John's smart, but he's not smart like us, and none of us could have come up with this design, never mind actually manufacturing it. I know we all want to go into denial, guys. I can feel the pull myself. But there's always this.' He shook the chip. 'And this says it wasn't a dream, and it isn't a lie, it's real. So what
Wendy let out her pent-up breath quietly, tremendously relieved. If Snog had backed out on this project John had given them, the others would have followed
his lead. There wouldn't have been a thing she could have done about it, either to change their minds or to retrieve the chip.
She met Snog's glance and she still didn't feel absolutely secure about him, but for now, he was on John's side, and that would have to do.
There had been a little spate of customers and it was a half hour later when the waitress noticed that the three men were still seated, unmoving and silent before their untouched coffee, and the little girl wasn't back from the rest room yet.
She brought over their check.
'Twenty-eight eighty-seven, boys,' she said with false cheer. 'Hope you enjoyed it.' She stood, smiling expectantly, determined not to be intimidated by their size and their silence, even though she was.
The three Terminators looked at her, their faces expressionless, unblinking. Then one of them took a wallet out of Alissa's bag and extracted two twenties. The waitress, so tense she actually felt taller, began to count out change. Then, as one, they suddenly rose and walked out, paying her no more attention than if she'd been invisible.
'Well, hell!' she murmured. Then she shook herself.
She'd been wrong; they were good tippers. But she hoped she'd never meet their like again.
Soon after her strange customers had gone it occurred to the waitress that she might want to check the ladies' room. She didn't quite trust that strange little girl.
Opening the door, she found the place in perfect order. Well, as perfect as a rest room ever got. As she went back down the corridor she decided to check the men's room to see if it needed paper.
A bloodcurdling scream was heard all the way to the kitchen.
'Dr. Silberman was surprised to find his office door unlocked, but put it down to his having been quite tired the night before. He was even more surprised to find a short, dark stranger turning away from one of his filing cabinets.
'May I ask who you are?' he said carefully.
In his profession, in a place like this, it was unwise to display even perfectly natural irritation. This might be a new resident who had wandered in quite innocently, or a new resident hopped up on drugs and looking for more, and it was, after all, his fault for not locking the door.
