Alan Foster - Terminator Salvation

He started to say more, only to realize there was nothing more to say, and quietly put down the handset.

The contents of the base armory reflected the eclectic nature of the Resistance, but it was well stocked. Connor went shopping.

As he was making his selection he was joined by a second figure. After a brief glance in Kate’s direction he continued choosing his weapons. She watched him for a while as he worked, then moved closer. Her voice was calm, but tight.

“What do you think you’re doing, John?”

He replied without looking over at her as he checked a brace of heavy ammo.

“Skynet has Kyle.”

“We’ve discussed this. How can you be sure ?”

He pulled a heavy pistol, turned it over in his hands, put it back in its rack.

“A machine told me. A wind-up toy. A cuckoo clock with a conscience.” He smiled humorlessly. “It might be wrong but I think it’s Wright.”

He shook his head.

“This is how my mother must’ve felt in that nuthouse. She tried warning everyone. She knew the future and no one listened. I hope to God somebody out there is listening to me. Kate, you promise me that you’ll listen and that you’ll evacuate. That you’ll leave here and you’ll get to someplace safe.”

She had already put it all together.

“You’re going to try to save Kyle, aren’t you?”

He didn’t reply.

“John, this doesn’t make sense. It’s you Skynet wants. You just admitted that the only reason you’re sure it has Kyle is because a machine told you. They’re using him to bait you. This is a trap.”

Halting his work, he favored her with a sad smile.

“Maybe it is a trap. But we’ll use their traps against them.”

Reaching to a high shelf he pulled down a 25mm semi-automatic grenade launcher, then a box of thermobaric shells.

“If Kyle dies, Skynet wins.”

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. She moved closer, pleading now.

“John, you can’t go in there alone. Reese gave up his life for you. Throwing away your own like this, in a futile attempt to save him, would be the last thing he would want you to do.”

Connor’s expression was grim.

“That’s exactly why I’m going. Because he went. Because he saved my mother’s life and he gave me mine. Because I owe him that much. To at least make the attempt.”

“This is suicide, John. I will not stand by and watch you kill yourself.”

Looking away from her, he loaded a shotgun with sabot shells, then began packing grenades and plastic explosive into a waiting pack.

Kate watched him for a long moment. Then she picked up a handgun and very carefully placed it against her temple. Pausing in his work, he slowly turned to face her, his eyes flicking from her face to the handgun and back again.

“Look at me. How does this make you feel? This is what you’re doing to me.”

Connor’s expression softened. “Kate, please....”

Slowly, she lowered the gun. But not her gaze.

“What about our child?”

He took a deep breath. “If I don’t stand up for what I believe in, what kind of father am I going to make?”

She gestured slightly with the muzzle of the weapon.

“We said we would get through this together. That’s the only reason we’ve made it this far. If you die....”

Her voice trailed away, unable to complete the sentence, unable to countenance the thought. Her strength was wavering, as was her conviction. She had been fighting a long time, and she was tired. She knew he was too, but somehow he always managed to bounce back. Always managed to summon strength from depths unknown, find confidence even in the darkest moments. She was strong, but not that strong. Not as strong as John Connor. That was why he had to stay alive. For the Resistance. For everyone. For her.

He saw what she was going through even as he sensed her emotional exhaustion.

“You live—and that’s all that matters to me, Kate. You’re the reason I’ve kept fighting for all these years. You have my whole heart. You always have, and you always will. You’re what I live for.” As he moved toward her, she let go of the gun. It dropped to the floor beside her, silent and no longer threatening.

Tears were running down her face, streaking her cheeks. Smiling affectionately, he placed his scarred hands gently on her stomach. Reaching up with one hand she touched his face, let her fingers trace the side of his jaw.

“This is not ‘goodbye,’” she whispered to him.

“No.” They kissed.

She pulled away. Someone had to. “See you later—okay?”

“Yeah.”

She managed a smile. “Every time I look into your eyes I know we’re still headed in the right direction,” she murmured softly. “I know that, somehow, we’ll make it. And I’m not the only one.”

She gestured to her right, toward the armory door that stood slightly ajar.

“You have a responsibility to those people out there, John. They believe you’re going to lead them to victory. What am I going to tell them when they find out you’re gone?”

She paused, sniffling and swallowing, trying to keep from breaking down completely.

“What am I going to tell myself?”

Looking into her face, unable to avoid the naked longing and desperation on display, he wondered what he could possibly say in response. Then he smiled anew, reassuringly, and gently wiped at her tears.

“I’ll be back.”

He turned, picked up the pack, shouldered his methodically chosen weapons, kissed her long and deep, and headed purposefully toward the doorway. Silently, she watched him go. Though his words hung in the air, she doubted them. Then she gathered herself and headed out in his wake. By the time she exited the armory he was gone.

Realizing there was nothing to be gained from trying to follow him, she strode purposefully toward the infirmary. Unable to do more than internalize her own suffering, she could at least help to alleviate that of others.

For the pain and the ache she was feeling, there was no medicine.

Like all scavengers, the crow and its brethren had done well out of the war. Not every person could be accorded a fit burial, far less the thousands of domesticated animals who had been left to live and die on their own when their human masters had been murdered by the rampaging machines. In addition, there were the wild creatures who perished of natural causes whose corpses could no longer be neatly swept up and disposed of by park authorities, ranchers, and others now occupied with simply trying to survive.

The crow had no reason to avoid the huge wall it was approaching. Though abnormally stark and utilitarian, it did not differ (at least from a crow’s perspective) all that much from the urban ruins it and its cawing relatives had inherited. When the twin turrets began to whirr softly and alter their attitude, the crow simply dipped a wing and angled to its left.

Detecting the presence of an organic creature in the forbidden zone, the automated gun emplacements made no distinction between a small feathered avian and a trained member of the human Resistance. Programmed to destroy anything carbon-based that entered the zone designated as Skynet Central, they responded to the intrusion with typical machine overkill.

The relative still of the evening air was shattered as the weapons of both turrets let loose with a barrage of intersecting rounds that utterly obliterated the intruder. When seconds later they quieted, there was nothing left of the passing passerine. Not even a single black feather survived to reach the hardscrabble ground outside the wall.

The solitary figure that emerged from the stream advanced in silence through the surviving trees that lined its banks. Wright knew he did not have far to go to reach the outer limits of Skynet’s death zone. Assuming he succeeded in crossing that boundary in one piece, then things would really start to get interesting.