Terminator Salvation: From the Ashes (15 page)

The footing was better here on the street, allowing them to pick up their speed a little. Kyle glanced over his shoulder as they ran, wondering if the two Terminators who had attacked Nguyen’s men had also joined in this new hunt. But to his relief, the street north of them was clear.

So far.

He turned back around, gripping Star’s hand and trying to come up with a plan. The minute that second Terminator made it through the alley he and Star would be back in its line of fire. And this time, it might decide it would be easier all around to simply shoot the two of them down.

Which meant Kyle had to find them a hiding place.

Or else he had to find someone more worthy of getting shot at.

Despite his fatigue and fear, he felt a tight grin touch his lips. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could do both at the same time.

82

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Connor was going over the approach plan with David’s group when he heard the faint sound of gunfire.

“Quiet!” he snapped.

The room went instantly silent. Everyone froze, all ears tuned toward the distant noise. It was coming from a single weapon, Connor decided, probably a large-caliber handgun. There was a pause, just long enough for the shooter to change clips, then more shots, then another pause.

And then, abruptly, the first gun’s reports were buried beneath a cacophony of new gunfire.

Connor listened intently, trying to sort out the types of weapons being fired. Most were handguns, but he could also hear the deeper roar of rifle fire in the mix, along with the distinctive boom of shotguns. Across the room, the sentry opened the door a few centimeters, bringing the sounds more sharply into focus.

And then, briefly overwhelming even the noise from the guns, came the thud of an explosion.

Connor looked at Kate, seeing his own tension mirrored in the tightness of her face. Gunfire—

even this much gunfire—could be gang warfare or even ordinary residents defending their property and lives.

But very few people, gangs included, threw bombs at each other these days. The people who knew how to make such devices usually saved them to use against the Terminators.

“Could they have started already?” Kate murmured tautly.

“God, I hope not,” David murmured back. “We’re not ready yet.”

The echoes of the explosion faded away, and as they did so the gunfire itself abruptly ceased.

Connor strained his ears, even though he knew that the brief battle had been too far away for them to hear any moans or screams from the wounded. If there were, in fact, any wounded still left to scream. Into the silence came the sound of a second explosion, followed a few seconds later by a third, this one louder than the first two had been.

And then, silence again returned.

“Anyone get a direction on that?” Connor asked, looking over at the sentry. “Vincennes?”

The other shook his head.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it was somewhere to the east,” he said. “But there’s so much echo off the buildings I couldn’t tell for sure.”

Connor looked back at Kate, then turned to David.

“Opinions?” he invited.

“It wasn’t Terminators,” Barnes put in before David could speak. “They weren’t the ones shooting, anyway.”

“I agree,” David said. “You can pick those miniguns of theirs out of a crowd any day of the week.”

“True,” Connor said. “But not shooting doesn’t necessarily mean not there.”

“It was a sentry line,” Kate said quietly, a look of understanding appearing on her face. “Skynet has closed off the neighborhood.”

Connor nodded heavily. Someone, maybe that group of men and burros who had passed them awhile back, had tried to get out of the neighborhood and had been stopped.

83

“Which means we don’t have until tomorrow night, like we’ve been assuming,” he said. “We have until tonight.”

He looked around the room, watching as their expressions went from stunned to overwhelmed, and then to hard and cold and determined. They were a good team, and a tough team. If anyone could pull this off, Connor knew, they could.

It was Tunney who officially put it into words.

“We’ll be ready,” he said.

“Then let’s get to it,” Connor said. “Tunney, David: get your teams and gear together. Leave any spare equipment or food you were saving for later—we’re traveling light. Final coordination run-through in ten minutes.”

He gestured to Barnes.

“As for you, your mission’s just been changed. Collect your team and meet me in the corner.”

Orozco was outside Moldering Lost Ashes, walking the building’s northern perimeter, when he heard the sound of distant gunfire.

And there was no doubt—none at all—as to what it meant.

Oh, God,
he pleaded silently.
Please, no. Not Kyle and Star.

He stood motionless, a cold breeze whipping dust through his hair, listening as the single gun became many, then none, then became three explosions that he knew had to be the bombs he’d given Kyle.

And then, silence.

Ninety seconds later, Orozco was back inside, hurrying across the lobby toward Grimaldi’s office.

Wadleigh and Killough were standing outside the door, talking together in low voices. They looked up as Orozco approached.

“The chief’s busy right now,” Wadleigh said, holding up a hand.

Without slowing down, Orozco strode between the two men, deflecting Wadleigh’s hand with his forearm as the other made a belated grab for him. Twisting the knob, he shoved open the door and stepped inside.

Grimaldi was busy, all right. He was talking very quietly, very earnestly, and
very
closely with Candace Tomlinson, the seventeen-year-old girl from the food dispute that morning. Both of their heads snapped around as Orozco stormed into the room, identical expressions of chagrin flashing across their faces.

Grimaldi, at least, had the grace to blush. Or maybe it was a flush of anger.

“What the
hell
do you think—?”

“Candace, get out of here,” Orozco cut him off. “The chief and I need to talk.”

The girl, incredibly stubborn when it came to her possessions and her rights, nevertheless knew when not to argue. She scrambled out of her chair, gingerly circled Orozco, and fled the room.

Orozco swung the door shut behind her.

“First of all, this wasn’t what you think,” Grimaldi growled, managing as usual to get in the first word. “I was talking to her about her habit of snooping into—”

“Forget Candace,” Orozco again cut him off. “Forget everything. The Terminators are coming.”

Grimaldi seemed to draw back a little.

“Really,” he said, his voice back on balance again. “And you know this how?”

“Nguyen and his men left earlier this afternoon,” Orozco said. “I was just outside, and I heard gunfire—a
lot
of gunfire—coming from the direction they would have taken.”

“Did you hear any T-600 miniguns?” Grimaldi asked.

Orozco blinked. It was an obvious question, but not one he would have expected to come from Grimaldi.

“No,” he conceded. “But they hardly need to use their guns to kill people.”

84

“Not exactly my point,” Grimaldi said. “But fine. My next question would have been who shot first. But if there wasn’t any T-600 gunfire I guess that one’s already been answered, hasn’t it?”

Orozco grimaced. It was obvious where Grimaldi was going with this.

“Chief, I know you believe the Terminators don’t attack unless someone attacks them first,” he said, fighting hard to keep his voice calm and reasonable. “But that’s just not true. I’ve seen it happen. They block off a neighborhood, then come in—”

“Yes, we’ve all heard your little horror stories,” Grimaldi interrupted. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember you ever showing us any actual proof.”

“What sort of proof do you want?” Orozco demanded. “A pile of bodies riddled with minigun rounds? I’ve already told you that Skynet usually sends in scavengers afterwards to collect the bodies, for God only knows what purpose.”

“And anything they miss becomes coyote and rat food, I suppose,” Grimaldi said with a maddeningly patient nod.

“It’s an interesting story. I, on the other hand, have ten years of experience that says if you leave the Terminators alone, they’ll leave you alone.”

“Your experience is worthless,” Orozco snapped.
t
“Skynet’s left us alone here because it was busy elsewhere. But now it’s our turn. The Terminators are coming.
We have got to get everyone
our.”

Grimaldi shook his head.

“No.”

Orozco took a step toward the desk.

“We’re getting everyone out,” he said, resting his hand on his holstered Beretta. “Give the order, or I’ll give it for you.”

To his credit, Grimaldi didn’t even flinch.

“Mutiny, Sergeant?”

“Replacing a superior who’s shown himself unfit for command,” Orozco countered. “Now give the order.”

“Suppose I do,” Grimaldi said. “How do we get all the food and plants and equipment out? More importantly, where do we all go?”

“South,” Orozco told him. “Fewer people that direction, which means we should be able to find shelter without having to fight for it.”

“And the food?”

“We take everything we can carry,” Orozco said. “After the Terminators leave, we may be able to come back and retrieve anything we had to leave behind.”

“Just abandon everything?” Grimaldi shook his head. “No.”

Orozco squeezed the grip on his Beretta. “Give the order,” he bit out.

Grimaldi gazed unblinkingly into his eyes. “And if I don’t?” he countered. “Are you going to shoot me?”

For a few seconds Orozco glared at him. But the chief was right. Orozco couldn’t just shoot him down. Not in cold blood. Not for this.

“In that case,” Grimaldi said calmly into the tense silence, “you’re invited to leave.”

Orozco hesitated another few heartbeats. Then, without a word, he turned and strode out of the room.

Wadleigh and Killough were still loitering outside the office. Wadleigh started to say something, got a look at Orozco’s face, and instead stepped back out of his way.

Only not far enough. As Orozco passed, he grabbed Wadleigh’s arm and half pulled, half dragged the man across the lobby, ignoring his protests until they were nearly to the fountain. Then, bringing them to a sudden halt, he swung Wadleigh around to face him.

“That drainage tunnel Kate Connor mentioned,” Orozco ground out. “Did you find it?”

85

Wadleigh’s eyes flicked to the office door, where Killough was standing slack-jawed as he watched their little drama.

“Yeah, we found it,” he said, lowering his voice. “And no, we didn’t seal it. Just covered it with a few bricks, like you said.”

“Good.” Orozco let go of his arm, giving him a little push as he did so. “Show me.”

Wadleigh gulped and shot one more look toward the office. Grimaldi, Orozco knew, wouldn’t be happy with either of them if word of this got back to him.

Orozco didn’t give a damn.

“Sure,” Wadleigh said. “Follow me.”

Kyle and Star had made it to within a block of the line of rusting cars that marked the northern edge of Death’s-Head territory when one of Kyle’s backward glances finally spotted the Terminator striding down the street toward them.

“It’s coming,” he panted to Star, gripping her hand tighter and trying to push a little more speed out of his legs. The Terminator still hadn’t opened fire, but it wouldn’t be long now. Not with the lead they had on it.

Unless it was counting on the Death’s-Head Gang not to let them through.

Kyle eyed the barrier looming ahead of them: ten cars turned up on their sides with their undersides facing him. They mostly formed a single solid line, but they’d been offset enough to create a single zigzag gap near the center, just big enough for one person at a time to get through.

There were no sentries on guard, or at least none that Kyle could see as he steered Star toward the gap. If the Terminator behind them was going to open fire, he knew tensely, this would be the time for it. They reached the car, and with a quick sideways two-step Kyle ducked around the hood of the front vehicle and then around the trunk of the rear one, pulling Star along behind him.

They skidded to a sudden stop. Facing them ten feet away was a line of men with rifles and shotguns, all of them pointed squarely at Kyle and Star.

“Freeze it!” one of the men snapped.

“Terminators!” Kyle gasped, fighting to catch his breath. “Terminators—coming.”

“He’s right, Rats,” someone called from his right. Kyle turned and saw another man with a shoulder-slung rifle peering up over the cars with a slender periscope. “Got one heading straight toward us.”

“Ah,
hell,”
Rats bit out, glaring at Kyle. “What the friggin’ hell did you do? Huh?” He stepped up to Kyle and pressed the barrel of his rifle into the center of his chest. “Huh? What the hell did you do?”

“We didn’t do anything,” Kyle protested. “It’s just after us, that’s all. Look, just let us go through and we’ll be gone.”

“Friggin’ hell with
that,”
Rats snarled. He shoved on the rifle, and Kyle winced as the muzzle dug into his skin. “Back out the way you came. Now.”

Kyle stared at him.

“But—you can’t. Please.”

“Back out on your own feet, or we shoot you and toss your carcasses out to the machine,” Rats said tightly. “Your choice.”

Kyle looked down at Star. She was watching him closely, her face calm with the assurance that he had some plan.

Only he didn’t.

“Can’t we at least talk about it?” he pleaded, looking back at Rats.

“Yeah, that’s a smart idea,” Rats said sarcastically. “You go out there and talk.” He jabbed with his rifle again. “Last chance to do it breathing.”

Kyle took a deep breath. It was clearly no use.

86

“Come on, Star—”

He broke off as a screech of metal on pavement came from
behind
Rats, from the upended cars that formed the compound’s southern barrier a hundred feet away. Rats and his men spun around at the noise, their weapons tracking in that direction. One of the cars near the middle of the barrier teetered and then toppled over, slamming to the pavement with a teeth-rattling crash.

And through the gap in the barrier strode three T-600s.

Rats’ men were nothing if not fast on the uptake. The Terminators had barely come into sight before a thunder of gunfire erupted from all across the compound, including the buildings on both sides of the blocked-off street. The Terminators twitched violently as round after round slammed into them.

But they kept coming.

Something arced across and down from one of the upper windows on the eastern building, and the machines were abruptly engulfed in a blazing wash of fire.

And then Star was tugging on Kyle’s arm, pulling him urgently backward toward the upended car they were standing in front of. Kyle glanced at the car, noting for the first time that all of the vehicle’s glass was gone. She tugged again, pointing toward the open gap where the windshield had once been.