Trial By Fire

“Hope?” Preston called.

“I’m here,” Hope said, standing up into view. “We’re okay. This is Barnes and Blair.”

Preston gave Hope a quick, measuring look, then turned back to Barnes.

“What are you doing here?”

“We were following—” Blair began.

“We saw your smoke,” Barnes interrupted her. “Thought you might need help.”

“You think we need help, yet you land way over here?”

“We didn’t want to scare you,” Blair said. “I see we didn’t have to worry about that.”

“So who are you?” Preston asked. “Not your names. I mean who are you?”

Hope saw Blair glance at Barnes’s back.

“We’re with the Resistance,” she said, nodding toward her armband.

“Yeah, we’ve heard of you,” Preston said. “You connected with any particular group?”

“You have a radio?” Barnes asked.

“We have a receiver, yes.”

“Then you might have heard our boss,” Barnes said. “We’re with John Connor.”

Hope exhaled in a quiet huff, a shivery thrill running through her. She’d hoped that the visitors would be from the Resistance, but she’d never dared to hope that they’d come from Connor himself.

Her father wasn’t nearly so impressed.

“Really,” he said, his tone neutral. “Can you prove that?”

“Like how?” Barnes countered. “You want a special tattoo or something?”

“I’m wondering about your convenient timing,” Preston said suspiciously. “We get a T-700 knocking on our door, and then suddenly you drop in—”

“There’s a T-700 here?” Barnes cut him off, his eyes darting around. “Where?”

“You claiming you didn’t know anything about that?”

“Damn it, Preston, where?” Barnes snarled.

“It’s by the ford across the Slate River, on the far side of town,” Hope told him hastily. That icy look was in his eye again. “But I don’t think it’s moved since we spotted it.”

“Show us,” Barnes said grimly, reaching down and picking up the big six-barreled gun and hoisting it up into his arms again.

“Hold it,” Preston snapped. “We’re not done here yet.”

“Yes, we are,” Blair said, starting forward again. “Like he said, show us.”

Beside Preston, Half-pint Swan raised his gun. Hope saw his finger start to tighten on the trigger—

Without even looking, Hope’s father tapped the other’s rifle barrel to the side.

“Easy,” he warned. “You too,” he added to Barnes. “We’ve got it under control.”

“With those?” Barnes snorted, nodding at the hunting rifles pointed at him and Blair. “I don’t think so.”

Hope caught her breath. In all the excitement she hadn’t really focused on which men her father had brought here with him. But now that she did—

“Dad, where’s Halverson?” she asked. “Is he still at the river?”

“Yes, along with the rest of the force,” Preston said. “I told them not to do anything until I get back.”

Hope felt her stomach tighten. If Halverson decided to take on the Terminator without her dad and the others, there could be trouble. Big trouble.

“Dad—”

“That’s enough, Hope,” Preston said, his voice quiet but firm. “I can’t be responsible for everything Halverson does. But I am responsible for the town. I can’t just let heavily armed strangers walk in without some idea of who and what they are.”

“So while you’re standing there wondering about us, there’s a machine ready to walk in,” Barnes growled. “Here’s the deal. You got a T-700, you need us. You need this.” He hefted the big gun.

“And your clock is running,” Blair added.

Preston’s eyes flicked to Barnes, to Blair, back to Barnes.

“I’ll lead,” he said, raising the muzzle of his rifle. “You’ll follow me, with Hope and my men behind you. You’ll keep your guns pointed up unless and until I say otherwise. Any action which might be interpreted as aggressive toward us or anyone in town will be dealt with accordingly. Clear?”

“Clear,” Barnes said, heaving his big gun up to rest half over his shoulder and striding toward the others. “How far?”

“To the river?” Preston asked as he waved the rest of the men back and started down the path leading back toward town. “Less than a mile. Let me know if I’m going too fast for you.”

“Don’t worry,” Barnes said. “We’ll keep up.”

CHAPTER TEN

Jik woke to the sound of gunfire.

For a moment he lay still, his hand groping for the Smith & Wesson lying beside his cot, his eyes and brain fogged by too little sleep. The gunfire was distant, probably a mile or two away. Normally, having some distance between you and gunfire was a good thing, and the more distance the better.

Only in this case, it wasn’t. A mile away meant it was coming from the ford over the Slate River.

The Terminators he’d seen heading that direction last night had launched their attack.

And here, a mile away, Jik was completely out of the fight.

He sat up on the cot, wiggling his toes a couple of times inside his boots to get his circulation going, listening closely to the distant cracks. So far all the gunfire seemed to be of the single-shot variety instead of coming in machinegun bursts. That implied that the townspeople were doing most of the shooting, which in turn implied that the machines were low on ammo and had to be careful how they spent it.

It could also mean that the town’s opposition was so weak that the Terminators weren’t even bothering to shoot back. That they were simply killing the people with their bare hands.

Swearing under his breath, Jik squeezed himself through the door. There was no way he could get to the ford in time to help. But maybe there was something he could do from right here.

The Terminators were trying to find him. It was time they succeeded.

The distant gunfire was still going on as he slipped around the final tree and came into sight of the bridge. He’d wondered if the T-700 he’d seen there earlier might have been called to the ford, but Skynet apparently hadn’t seen any need for reinforcements down there. The Terminator was still standing its silent guard, right where Jik had left it.

And then, as Jik hesitated, wondering if this was really the best plan he could come up with, the distant sounds from the ford changed as a new weapon joined in the battle.

Only this one wasn’t any single-shot hunting rifle. It was the terrifying, lethal stutter of a T-600 minigun.

And Jik no longer had a choice. If the Terminators were bringing that kind of firepower to bear, the people standing against them had literally only minutes left to live. Their only chance was for Jik to give the machines a better, more important target.

The secret of man’s being, the old quote ran through his mind, is not only to live but to have something to live for.

Gripping his Smith & Wesson in both hands, he stepped into the T-700’s view.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Over here!”

The machine turned its glowing red eyes toward him.

“Yes, here,” Jik called. “Here I am. Take a good look.”

He raised his gun.

“And get terminated.”

Aiming between the machine’s eyes, he squeezed the trigger.