Trial By Fire

Terminator’s sweep reached the slab in front of them, then disappeared as it passed by. Kyle held his breath...

And then, from the direction of the collapsed tunnel floor came the soft scrabbling of metal on concrete.

Kyle hesitated. But this time, risky or not, he had to look. If the Terminator had spotted them, and the scrabbling sound was more of the machines coming down from above, he and the others would need the next few crucial seconds to get clear of their hiding place and try to make it to an exit that was too small for the Terminators to chase them through.

Keeping his movements slow, he leaned his head out of cover.

His first, horrifying thought was that his fears had been right, that it was all over and he and the others were dead. A T-700 was dangling down through the hole in the tunnel floor, its arms held by two more of the machines standing on opposite sides of the gap. A fourth Terminator, obviously the one that had fallen through, was balancing on the remains of the broken slab, its back turned toward Kyle.

And then, to Kyle’s relief, the Terminator took hold of the hanging T-700’s ankles and climbed smoothly up its legs and torso to the hole in the ceiling. Shifting its grip to the edge, it pulled itself the rest of the way up and out. The two Terminators on top pulled up the one still dangling, and all four machines moved away out of Kyle’s view.

A few seconds later, what looked like a metal door was lowered across the opening, blocking off most of the dim light.

Most, but not all. As Kyle’s eyes once again adjusted to the relative darkness, he saw that there was still a gap between the ceiling and the wall. It was narrow, but it might be big enough to squeeze through.

The soft thud of footsteps resumed their familiar cadence as the Terminators headed back down the tunnel with their latest loads of debris.

“Reese?” Zac whispered anxiously.

“It’s okay,” Kyle whispered. “Quiet, now.”

The march seemed to take longer this time. Possibly the Terminators were avoiding walking on that section of presumably weakened concrete, which would affect the flow and efficiency of their passage. Possibly it was just Kyle’s imagination, driven by his impatience to get over there and see whether or not their gamble had paid off.

Finally, the vibrations faded away, and the Terminators were once again gone.

Kyle frowned, a shiver running up his back.

Or were they?

He held his breath, listening hard. He didn’t have Star’s hyper-sensitivity to Terminators’ presence, but years of dodging the machines had amplified and trained the small bit of that sensitivity that he did posses.

And right now, that sixth sense was screaming a silent warning.

On Zac’s other side, Callahan started to stir.

“Shh,” Kyle breathed, quickly reaching past Zac to touch Callahan warningly on the arm. The other froze in place, tapping Kyle’s hand twice in acknowledgment.

Kyle held still, counting off the seconds. Two minutes passed, then three, then four, then five.

And as his count reached its sixth minute, a sound finally drifted into the silence wrapped around them. The sound of Terminator footsteps.

Only they weren’t coming from somewhere in the distance, marking the return of the digging crew. These footsteps were coming from somewhere near the hole. As Kyle listened, he heard the Terminator head back down the tunnel in the direction the others had gone.

He looked across at Zac and Callahan, their faces just barely visible in the faint reflected light. Both expressions were tense, but Callahan’s lips were also twisted in a wry smirk. Cute, he mouthed silently.

Kyle nodded. We sit tight? he mouthed back.

We sit tight, Callahan confirmed. Let’s see if Skynet was smart enough to leave two of them.

Kyle nodded, resting his forearms on his knees and turning back to gaze out at the rubble of the chamber. And trying to ignore the cuts and bruises and hunger and weariness.

The already long afternoon was getting even longer...

From the kitchen came the sound of an opening door.

“Trounce?” Preston’s voice came.

“In here,” Trounce called back.

Barnes looked at Williams. She returned the look, a grim downward turn to her mouth. This was their last chance, and she knew it as well as he did. If they couldn’t convince Preston there was a Theta lurking under his nose, they were probably dead.

And not just him and Williams. Probably the whole town.

Preston walked into the room, his expression that mixture of satisfaction and weariness that Barnes had seen on dozens of Resistance fighters over the years.

“You get them?” he asked the mayor.

Preston nodded, glancing at Smith and Trounce as he dropped into the big overstuffed chair directly across from Barnes and Williams. He winced a little as the holstered Desert Eagle dug into his side, and reached down to adjust it.

“Two T-700s, freshly converted into pieces of junk, which Halverson and the others will soon be dumping into the ravine on the far side of the river,” he said. “The whole thing wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting, actually. I hope you managed to get some rest.”

“Kind of hard to rest when there are Terminators nearby,” Barnes told him.

“I suppose,” Preston conceded.

“No resting, but they’ve been doing a lot of talking,” Trounce reported. “So Connor came through, huh?”

“He did indeed,” Preston said, his eyes on Barnes. “Two Terminators down, and we didn’t lose anyone.”

“Good,” Trounce said. “‘Cause these two have come up with the world’s craziest idea.” From the direction of the kitchen came the sound of a knock on the door. “They think—”

“Hold that thought,” Preston interrupted, frowning in the direction of the door. “Who is it?” he called.

“Oxley and Lajard,” a faint voice came back. “We need to talk.”

“Mayor, we need to talk, too,” Williams spoke up quickly. “In private.”

“Oh, no, you gotta let them in,” Trounce said before Preston could reply. “You gotta see their faces when Barnes drops his theory on them.”

“Mayor?” Williams repeated, her voice urgent. “Please.”

“Hello?” Lajard called again from outside. “Can we come in?”

Preston gazed hard at Williams.

“Make it quick,” he said.

And then, suddenly, it was too late. Across the room came the sound of an opening door, and Oxley and Lajard walked through the kitchen into the living room.

“I didn’t say you could come in,” Preston growled.

“Didn’t you?” Oxley asked innocently. “We thought we heard you.”

Preston’s lips compressed briefly. “What do you want?”

Oxley gestured toward Barnes and Williams.

“Now that Connor has proved himself, it occurred to us that our other guests might want to make some revisions in their story.”

“When exactly did this grand proof happen?” Williams asked.

Oxley snorted as he crossed to the window behind Trounce and Smith and took a quick look outside in both directions.

“Wrecking a pair of T-700s without losing anyone is all the proof I need,” he said.

“You’re remarkably easy to please,” Williams told him.

“You got any other theories, we’d love to hear them,” Lajard invited, walking over to Preston and coming to a halt behind the mayor’s chair. “But do try to keep them simple. We’ll have to explain it to Susan later, and twisted conspiracy theories always confuse me.”