Alan Foster - Terminator Salvation

Responding to the desperate assault, two of the other metal sentinels immediately zoned in on the rogue human and fired simultaneously. Both shots missed their automatonic comrade. Both struck the human who was fighting with it, killing him instantly. To make certain, the one with whom he had been grappling put the muzzle of its weapon against the front of the unconscious man’s head. Taking a long stride forward, Reese reached out and pulled Star’s face against his side just before the Terminator’s gun went off and blew its attacker’s head to bits.

Throughout the altercation, none of the three Terminator sentries had uttered a sound. They did not do so now as they returned their attention to the line of disconsolate, shambling humans. There was no need to issue a warning or offer commentary.

With the machines, actions always spoke louder than words.

CHAPTER TEN

Emerging from the edge of the forest, Williams led Wright toward a barbed wire fence that ran off in both directions as far as he could see. Directly ahead of them lay a section of fence that had been knocked or had fallen down. No one had bothered to replace the posts that had once kept the segment erect. An annoyed Williams paused to inspect the gap.

“How are we supposed to win this war if we can’t even maintain a fence?” She nodded at the other side. “Come on. This is us. Outlying sector. Main base is further on.” She stepped over the downed section of fence.

Wright stared at the twisted, crumpled wire.

“I don’t understand. From what I’ve seen, this enclosure couldn’t stop the smallest of the machines.”

She glanced back at him.

“It’s not designed to stop Terminators. It’s to keep unauthorized humans out of this area.”

“But why would your people want to....” Stopping before finishing, he hurried forward to grab her by the shoulder. With his other hand he pointed to a small metal tripod that pushed its head just above the ground. Its presence did not unsettle her. On the contrary, she seemed pleased that it was there.

“Landmine. Pretty advanced design. One of the simpler but more effective projects the Resistance’s tech people have come up with. Not much use against something airborne like a Hunter-Killer or an Aerostat, but it works pretty good against anything on the ground.” She made a sweeping gesture. “The terrain around the base is filled with ’em.”

Wright peered down at the simple tripodal projection.

“I figured it was something like that. Thought you might want to keep all your limbs.” He frowned at her. “Doesn’t seem to bother you that you almost stepped on the damn thing.”

“Their triggers are electronic sensors, not mechanical contacts. They’re programmed only to respond to the control signatures emitted by Terminators. Pretty slick piece of tech work. Humans can practically kick one around without worrying about it going off.”

A dubious Wright studied the innocent-looking exposed tip.

“This a theory or has someone actually tested it out?”

“You think I’d be on this side of the fence if it hadn’t been?” Smiling, she turned and started straight across the minefield, making no effort to avoid anything in her path. In fact, she deliberately made contact with a couple of mines along the way, just to demonstrate. Executing an impatient pirouette, she peered back at him.

“You coming? We’re gonna miss breakfast.”

Responding with a diffident shrug, he stepped through the gap in the fence. Though her exhibition had been more than convincing, he still found himself edging carefully around the first mine. He was barely a foot past the site when something went click. Williams heard it too. Whirling, she had barely a second to meet his startled gaze before the earth erupted beneath him.

He did not hear her shout.

It took four of them to carry him into the infirmary. A limping Williams was among them, moving at approximately two obscene adjectives per linear yard. All the while she was talking to him, trying to get a response, any kind of response. It didn’t matter whether she pleaded, cried, cursed, or cajoled: there was no reaction from the battered body.

“The damn mines...those damn techs,” she was muttering as she strained to hold up her portion of his weight. “They’re supposed to react only to the presence of Terminators!”

In front of her, Barnes growled a response.

“That was the plan. Doesn’t mean every one of the shithead engineers followed it. Maybe they got lazy with the programming on every tenth mine they turned out. Maybe someone forgot to insert the discrimination programming altogether and just built the thing to go off if a bird landed on it.”

On the other side of the body, a soldier named Lisa saw their burden’s lips move.

“Hey, he’s conscious! He’s trying to say something.”

Williams strained to hear. She would have switched positions with the other woman, but it was more important to get the injured man to where a doctor could work on him than to listen to what he had to say.

From the depths of Wright’s throat two words emerged, barely intelligible.

“What...happened?”

Nobody answered as they approached the nearest operating table. Turning toward her burden, Lisa struggled with the body. Wright was dead weight, but not dead.

“On three! One, two, three—lift!”

All four of them had to work in unison to get the body onto the table. Stepping back, the fourth soldier regarded the limp figure as he wiped at his brow.

“Son of a bitch is heavy! No fat on this guy.”

Williams was about to comment when the door burst open and Kate Connor strode purposefully into the operating theater, tying the string of her surgical mask behind her head as she came toward them. Studying the injured man, she moved purposefully around to Williams’ end of the table. Her eyes were roaming over the body; examining, appraising.

“Okay, what’ve we got here?”

A distraught Williams explained.

“He stepped on a mine. My fault. I told him it wouldn’t go off.”

“Not your fault.” Barnes hastened to correct her. “Fault of the bastard who improperly programmed the device.”

Kate spoke to her assistant. “Start a large bore intravenous. Keep it open. Push twenty ccs morphine.” Her gaze flicked back to the anxiously watching Williams. “What’s his name?”

“Marcus,” Williams managed to mumble.

Kate had returned her attention to the patient.

“He’s lucky to still have a leg. Both of them, no less.” Turning to a waiting tray of instruments, she selected one and began cutting away the shreds of Wright’s left pants leg. “Marcus—Marcus. I need you to keep talking to me.”

Still stunned, Wright tried to follow what was happening around him.

Kate spoke calmly as she worked.

“Just keep listening to my voice. Do you hear me? Concentrate on what I’m saying. You don’t have to reply; just try to understand. Keep your mind working.”

It was impossible to tell if he had heard and understood because he did not reply. Already working fast, she picked up her pace even more. Peeling away the last strips of shredded fabric revealed blackened flesh beneath. She scrutinized the damage coolly.

“He’s got a prosthetic leg?” Without waiting for a response from Williams, she raced on. “Okay; we’ve got burns—multiple lacerations. Can’t tell how bad until I get in deeper. I need gauze, disinfectant, antibiotic—methicillin for a start, keep some vancomycin handy.” She didn’t need the scissors to rip open Wright’s shirt. A large chunk of metal was embedded in his chest.

“Pulse is good. Okay—let’s see what we’ve got....”

Wright opened his eyes. At almost that exact moment she dropped the surgical instruments she had been wielding and stumbled backward. Compassion and professionalism gave way to a look of uncontrolled horror.