The Future War

She looked over at him. His eyes were closed and he shuddered, but she could see he was trying to contain it. Mary tightened her lips. He was pitiful, but she couldn't let him see that. 'Oh, right,' she said. 'It must have been an accident because no machine would ever deliberately harm a human.'

'Fuck you,' he said.

She stood over him, pill in one hand, glass of water in the other. 'You know what, Sam? You're not supposed to be here.

Your guys rushed you in here and then dropped you like a hot potato. Here, in the prisoners' clinic. Think about that.' She leaned toward him. 'I don't think they thought your accident was an accident.'

'Fuck you,' he snarled.

'Redundant,' she said. 'But then, I guess you're not at your best. What's it like out there?'

'It's paradise.' The look in his eyes was pure evil.

'That must be why the machines thought they could dispose of your services,' Mary said lightly. She leaned forward again and stage whispered, 'Does it occur to you yet that turning the world over to the machines might not be the best thing for the birds, and the bees, and the bunnies?'

'I hate you,' Sam growled.

'Gee, and I was gonna ask you to be my valentine. Do you want this?' she asked, holding up the pill. His eyes went from it to her face and he couldn't hide his desperation. It was a look that made her feel sick and triumphant at the same time. 'All I've got is pills. Can you lift your head to take it and swallow water?'

He did so, straining visibly.

'What is it like out there?' Mary asked, spacing her words.

She held the pill and the water ready.

After a second he dropped his head down and closed his eyes.

'You bitch,' he muttered, panting slightly.

'Look,' she said firmly. 'Just answer me. What's the difference? It's not like it's going to help me; I just want to know.

Tell me, and tell me the truth.'

He lay as still as he could, swallowing hard. She could see his heart beating overtime.

'What's the difference?' she asked, deadly quiet. He opened his eyes and turned his head slightly. Tears trickled down his cheek. 'The difference is, if you don't answer me, or if I think you're lying to me'—she held up the pill—'I'm going to put this away.'

'I'm gonna tell them about that kid of yours,' he said, sneering as best he could.

Mary put the pill and the water down, her heart pounding, and picked up a pillow. She stood beside his bed.

'I could always do you the favor of putting you out of your misery,' she said. 'Mention the boy again. Go ahead. Mention him.' She could see that he saw the truth in her eyes; he turned away, blinking.

'Am I gonna make it?' he asked.

Mary bit her lips. Then decided to tell him the truth. 'No.

You're too badly wounded and we don't have anything like the facilities for treating burns of this magnitude.' She watched him take that in.

'They shoulda let me die,' he said.

'Yes, I guess they should have. But they didn't know that you didn't have a chance and they wanted to give you one. They were friends and they meant you well.'

'Stupid bastards.'

'Yeah, well. Thing is, you could last anywhere from forty-eight hours to two weeks. Two long, long weeks. And I could help you.

Keep you as comfortable as possible; let you die with a little dignity. Or I could just ignore you and let you die in your own shit.' She rolled her eyes thoughtfully. 'Unlessss, you threaten the boy again. In which case'—she tossed the pillow away—'this is much too kind.' Mary leaned close. 'I know some very, very painful ways to die, Sam.'

She shook her head sadly. 'You don't have to go through this.

Just answer me. C'mon. Tell me what I want to know and I'll give you the pill. Trust me, you'll feel a lot better.'

Mary stood back and waited. Soon he was shivering again, in pain and from the effect of losing so much skin. Mary bit her lip.

Withholding medication went against everything she believed in.

She could only do it for Kyle, and because she despised this man.

'There's fewer Luddites,' he said at last, sounding out of breath. 'Most of my friends are gone.'

Mary rolled her eyes. Like I care, she thought.

'There's tons more Terminators. Whole squads of 'em. They're everywhere. And the HKs, they're bigger and better than ever.

Some of 'em can fly; they're deadly accurate, very heavy weapons.'

'And they just 'happened' to get you by mistake,' Mary said.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, breathing heavily.

'Go on,' she said. 'What about the resistance?'

'They're still there. They're not winning, but they're not losing, either. That's why they need us Luddites,' he said, his voice sounding plaintive. 'We could infiltrate, spy, sabotage.

They'd never know what hit them.'

Oh, yes they would. 'Skynet doesn't control you,' she said aloud. 'If you'd turn on your own kind, you might turn on Skynet. It could never trust you. And why should it, when it can manufacture the perfect soldiers? To Skynet you're a risk not worth taking.'

He closed his eyes again.

'And Skynet will make the rest of the world just like this valley. One unending industrial shed. Because it doesn't need deer and elk and trees and free-running streams. It needs mines and factories. It's going to make the world into your worst nightmare. That's what all your work is going to amount to.' She watched him swallow and knew she'd hit the mark. 'What's it like up there, around this place?'

He looked at her. Then he began to speak.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MISSOURI

Jack Brock came out of one of the cave complex's side tunnels and almost ran into Dennis Reese, charging in the same direction. The tunnels were a world of gray anyway—gray uniforms, gray faces if you'd been underground long enough, equipment painted with the new gray nonreflective paint that baffled mechanical sensors. Like most resistance centers, this one was also as much a gypsy encampment as a military center; people were born and raised here as well as training in it, and were sent out to fight from it. The air always bore a slight tang of wood smoke, seldom-washed bodies, and cooking food.

Reese stuck out his hand and Brock took it before he quite recognized him. Captain Dennis Reese looked like his own father might have, lean and grim and gray. It was hard to believe that this was the smiling young man Jack had married to Mary Shea just ten years ago.

Reese's looks shocked the older man to silence as they walked along, their boots rutching on the sand and rock of the cave floor; once they had to stop for a second while a group of screeching children ran by, playing some wild game—People and Terminators, probably.

He'd heard that Mary and Kyle's disappearance had hit Reese hard, but he'd expected that time might have