Terminator Salvation - From the Ashes

“Fine,” he said, giving up. “Stay here a second. I’ll go find a couple of guns and we’ll go back to the Ashes and see what we can do to help.”

Steeling himself, he headed into the compound.

There were dozens of guns lying around the street among the dead bodies. Kyle chose a rifle with a nearly full clip, gingerly removing an extra clip from the body of the man whose fingers were still wrapped around the weapon. A pump shotgun was next, along with a small pouch full of extra shells. Additional ammo for his Colt wasn’t quite as simple, but it took only four tries to find someone carrying rounds of the right caliber.

He was stuffing the extra cartridges into his pockets when Star suddenly appeared at his side, her face taut. It’s coming back, she signed.

Kyle didn’t need to hear any more. “Let’s go,” he muttered, throwing a quick look behind him as he looped the shotgun over his shoulder and grabbed the rifle. Nudging Star ahead of him, he headed toward the line of cars at the southern end of the compound.

Star had ducked through the wide gap the other Terminators had made, and Kyle was starting to follow, when the roar of automatic fire split the night and a crackle of shots slammed across the car beside him.

Kyle threw himself behind the car as a second burst shredded the rusting metal. “Go!” he shouted at Star, looking around. “That building—there,” he added, pointing to a dilapidated four-story structure just to the west of them. “Go on—I’ll catch up.”

Star’s eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded and sprinted toward the building. Lifting the rifle to his shoulder, Kyle eased back to the end of the car and looked around it.

Fido was striding across the compound, its glowing red eyes sweeping the area as it looked for something to kill. Sighting carefully along the barrel of his rifle, Kyle squeezed off a shot.

The round slammed into the Terminator’s hip, and for a moment its stride faltered as it worked to regain its balance. Kyle fired another shot, this time at the machine’s knee. It again staggered slightly, then sent another burst from its minigun into Kyle’s shelter. Kyle fired twice more, then ducked back from the gap and headed after Star.

The girl had made good headway, but Kyle had longer legs and he caught up with her before she was more than halfway to their target building. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along with him. If they could get into the building before the Terminator made it through the line of cars, they had a chance.

If they couldn’t, they were both dead.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

John’s team slipped out into the night, and Kate was all alone.

For a few minutes she paced around the narrow building, pausing occasionally to arrange or rearrange the stacks of extra clothing, food, and weapons that the attack teams had left behind, just for something to do. Outside, she could hear Skynet’s slaughter working its way through the neighborhood, and she found herself wincing with each burst of minigun fire. Sooner or later, if they hadn’t already, the Terminators were going to reach the Moldavia building.

All those people. All those children….

She stopped by the door, glaring at it as if it was the door’s fault she was stuck in here. It isn’t fair, she groused to herself. The new recruits had gotten to go with the teams. Even Leon and Carol Iliaki, and she knew John was aware of his blatant hypocrisy on that one. Leon’s wife was allowed to fight alongside her husband, but Kate wasn’t allowed to fight alongside hers.

She took a deep, ragged breath. Stop it, she told herself firmly as guilt momentarily eclipsed her anger. This was ridiculous, and disgustingly out of character besides.

She didn’t much care for mood swings in others, and she liked them even less in herself.

But damn it, it wasn’t fair. She should have stood up to John. She should have done something about this.

And abruptly, she decided she would.

Slinging her medical bag over her shoulder, she picked up her rifle and cautiously opened the door. No one and nothing was moving out there. Listening to the deadly clatter of minigun fire and the pounding of her own heart, she headed out into the darkness.

The sounds of the distant explosions faded away, and as they did so another burst of minigun fire rattled across the cold night air. Balancing precariously on one of the skeletal seats in the overturned bus he and the others had moved into an hour ago, Barnes raised his head up through one of the glassless windows. Maybe this time there would be something out there to see.

Not yet. Wherever the Terminators were operating, whoever they were killing, they hadn’t yet made it to this part of the neighborhood. Lowering his head, he dropped back into the bus’ interior and looked at Dozer and Reynolds.

To find them looking right back at him.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

The two men glanced at each other. “Just wondering if us being here is really such a good idea,”

Dozer said.

Barnes grimaced. The man did have a point. When a team was as outnumbered and outgunned as theirs was, standard military doctrine was to stay together, taking advantage of mutual support and overlapping fields of fire. Connor had already gone out on a limb by sending David and Tunney out on their own, even if all three of those squads would eventually end up converging on the same target.

But to then split off Barnes’ squad this way, especially given how isolated they now were from everyone else, was pushing the doctrine to breaking point.

But he wasn’t going to tell Dozer that. You never second-guessed your commander in the middle of an operation. You especially didn’t second-guess John Connor. “Connor knows what he’s doing,” he told the men brusquely.

“Sounds like they’re getting closer,” Simmons murmured. He was crouched at the wide opening where the bus’ rear doors had once been, peering out into the night.

Barnes focused on the sound of the minigun bursts. Simmons was right. It wouldn’t be long now.

“We have a specific plan?” Reynolds asked.

Barnes shrugged.

“We wait till they get near Moldavia’s archway, then we blow ’em to splinters.”

“I like it,” Simmons commented dryly. “Simple, direct, and effective.”

There was a sudden sound of feet on gravel, and Pavlova ducked in beside Simmons.

“They’re coming,” she said, panting as she holstered her .45 and picked up her rifle. “I make it five T-600s, heading in from the west on the second cross street to the north.”

“Walking straight down Orozco’s throat,” Barnes growled. “Okay, take your—”

“Movement!” Simmons cut in. “Someone—human—coming around the first corner to the north.

Heading our way.”

Barnes cursed under his breath as he hurried toward the rear of the bus. One of Orozco’s people trying to make a run for it? Some lunatic ganger out for a stroll? He reached Simmons’ side—

Just as Kate Connor slipped past Simmons into the bus.

Barnes felt his mouth drop open in surprise. “What—?”

“John changed his mind,” she said, breathing a little heavily as she unslung the rifle from her shoulder. “He thought I’d be safer with you than back there alone.”

“Right,” Barnes said, gazing hard into her eyes.

But she returned his gaze steadily, and after a moment Barnes gave a little shrug. If you didn’t second-guess John Connor, you also didn’t second-guess John Connor’s wife.