Terminator Salvation - From the Ashes

women and children here. We can’t run, either—where could we go where Skynet couldn’t find us?”

“There isn’t any place,” Barnes agreed grimly. “But don’t sell your women short. We’ve got women in our group, too. Most of them are damn near as good at fighting as the men.”

“Perhaps,” Sibanda said. “But there are still the children. I doubt you have any of them in your group.”

Barnes grimaced. “We’ve got a few. Civilians. Mostly because they didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Then you see our problem,” Sibanda said. “Even if Chief Grimaldi was willing, there’s little he can do.”

The southwest post had a lone sentry, a teenaged boy who clearly wasn’t interested in anything but Barnes’ snack bar bribe. The lookouts in the northwest and northeast posts were pretty much the same, though the girl in the northwest post was at least willing to listen to Barnes as she ate.

“Is that it?” Barnes asked as they headed back down toward the lobby.

“There’s a sniper’s nest in the building across the street,” Sibanda said, “and I daresay Sergeant Orozco probably has a few other places around the neighborhood where people can watch or shoot from. But I would guess he’s already called all of them in to hear your recruitment talk.”

Barnes nodded. “I can check with him on that before we go.”

By the time they returned to the mezzanine balcony, the snack bars had been distributed and Tunney had formed the residents into the circle he liked to use on these occasions. In this case, there were enough folks to form a circle three people deep, centered around the broken fountain in the middle of the lobby.

Tunney himself was standing on the inner part of the circle facing the balcony. A dozen steps behind him, a few meters inside the distinctive entrance archway, the other two men of their foursome were standing in a loose guard circle around their cached weapons, their arms folded or clasped parade-rest style behind their backs, eyeing the two men who’d taken up guard duty at the entry. From the voices drifting up to the balcony, Barnes gathered that Tunney had finished running through his standard sales pitch and was in the process of answering questions.

There were a lot of questions, too, Barnes noted as he and Sibanda walked down the stone staircase and settled in unobtrusively at the rear of the circle. Maybe the preacher was right, that the people here didn’t have anywhere else to go. But that didn’t mean they’d all bought into Grimaldi’s ostrich plan, either.

And it was pretty clear that Grimaldi didn’t like that. He was standing a quarter of the way around the circle to Tunney’s right, flanked by three other men. All four of them had rifles or shotguns slung over their shoulders, and all four of them were glowering.

But for the moment, at least, they seemed willing to let Tunney talk.

Finally, the people ran out of questions. Tunney let the silence hang in the air for a few seconds, just to make sure, then cleared his throat.

“If there are no more questions,” he said, “it’s time for you to make your decisions. What we offer isn’t much, but it’s better than sitting here waiting for the inevitable. Are there any who would like to come with us?”

For another handful of seconds no one moved. Then, from the front row directly across from him, a young man took a step forward.

“I will.”

A quiet stir rippled through the crowd.

“Your name?” Tunney asked, gesturing him forward.

“Callahan, sir,” the young man said, circling the fountain and going up to Tunney. “I’m not very good at fighting. But I can learn.”

“Indeed you will,” Tunney promised, motioning the man over to stand beside him. “Anyone else?”

A young couple stepped out from the middle row, the woman clutching at the man’s arm like she was afraid to let it go.

“Leon and Carol Iliaki,” the man said. “I’m not much of a fighter, either, but I can also learn.

And Carol has some skills you might find useful.”

Barnes looked at Grimaldi. The boss man hadn’t looked happy when Callahan had deserted him, but that was nothing compared to the stiffness of his expression now as he watched the Iliakis cross the circle.

“She’s a master seamstress,” Sibanda told Barnes quietly. “Amazing woman. She can take nearly random bits of cloth or leather and fashion them into clothing that’s both warm and durable.”

Barnes nodded. No wonder Grimaldi didn’t want to lose her.

“Anyone else?” Tunney called.

“Can I come, too?” a familiar voice called from behind Barnes, and he turned to see the kid Zac Steiner hurrying down the stone staircase.

Apparently, that was the final straw.

“Hold it, Steiner,” Grimaldi called, stepping into the circle. “What are you doing down here?”

The boy faltered to a confused-looking halt.

“Mr. Barnes said I could—”

“You’re on sentry duty, boy,” Grimaldi cut him off. “You think these people want someone who deserts his post?”

Zac sent Barnes a look that was full of sudden guilt and fear.

“But I sent Amy Phao up—”

“You sent Phao up?” Grimaldi echoed. “Since when are you authorized to make changes in the duty roster?”

“It’s all right,” another voice put in, and Barnes turned in mild surprise to see Orozco step into the circle across from Grimaldi. Either the Marine had just arrived, or else he’d managed to blend into the crowd so well that Barnes hadn’t spotted him a minute ago from up on the balcony. “The sentries have permission to leave their posts under extraordinary circumstances.”

“This is not an extraordinary circumstance,” Grimaldi countered. He shot a glare at Tunney.

“This is a circus.”

Barnes’ mind flashed back to the gangs he’d locked horns with so many times when he was growing up. They’d all had the same kind of single-man rule he could see happening here…and with most of them, this kind of ridicule had been the next-to-the-last resort when they didn’t have any other way to counter someone’s argument or demand.

If ridicule didn’t work, it was always followed by violence.

Carefully, Barnes shifted his weight, picking the path he would take through the people in front of him on his way to telling Grimaldi up close and personal exactly what he thought of him—

A hand touched his arm.

“No,” Sibanda murmured. “Let him talk.”

“I’d hardly call matters of life and death a circus,” Tunney said mildly.

“I wasn’t referring to matters of life and death,” Grimaldi said. “I was referring to you. You and your little band of amateurs.”

“Amateurs?” Tunney asked, his voice still calm.

“Listen to me,” Grimaldi said, raising his voice as he looked around the circle. “We’ve been here, some of us, for over ten years now. We’ve kept ourselves and each other alive, and fed, and clothed.” He leveled a finger at Tunney. “And yet now these men come along promising the moon; and you’re actually listening to them? These men who were so eager to talk you out of here that they were foolish enough to give up their guns?”

And without warning, the three men alongside Grimaldi swung their weapons up, leveling the barrels at Tunney.

“This is the tactical brilliance these men have?” Grimaldi went on sarcastically. “And yet they promise to keep you alive while they pick and poke and prod at Skynet and the Terminators?” He snorted. “I don’t think so.”

Sibanda’s hand was still on Barnes’ arm. Gently but firmly, Barnes pushed the hand away.

“Please,” Sibanda pleaded. “They have guns. You don’t.”