Sarah dropped down behind the desk as the blond woman fired once more, then stopped. Connor pressed down on her shoulder, her eyes tearing, and sucked air between her teeth. She was dizzy and nauseous and black-and-white spots danced at the edges of her vision. Focus! she ordered herself. Focus!
the thing looked at one another. The thought of it touching him made him want to vomit, and he swallowed bile.
Then she scuttled backward until she reached the desk. Slowly she maneuvered herself from a kneeling into a sitting position, her feet tucked under in a way that should have been agonizing. She pushed herself up until she was standing on her two feet; then she froze.
The wound in her shoulder didn't seem to bother her at all. The bizarre manner in which she climbed to her feet had brought no change to her bland expression.
Somehow, although she was looking right at him, her eyes seemed blind.
Jordan noticed that she wasn't breathing. In shock, he tucked into himself as though someone had poked him in the stomach. I've got to get out of here, he thought, and he hopped forward, sliding along the wall once he was outside the elevator. He had to find Connor.
He risked a glance toward the office where Sarah had disappeared, and that's when the thing made its move. He brought up the gun, but it grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward. Once again his leg failed him and he began to fall. The thing struck him across the face hard enough to send him sprawling, then twisted the gun from his grip as he went down.
Sarah heard footsteps and looked around for the gun. It was under a desk, about twelve feet away from her. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to crawl; her right arm was almost useless, but she pushed herself forward with her feet.
Almost there… she reached forward and a bullet almost took off her fingers.
The T-950 continued to move forward, continued to work on readjusting its faltering visual equipment. It sensed that it had come very close that time, but the biological elements were failing and the implants could only compensate to a certain extent. When failure came, it would be an exponential process.
Sarah pushed herself backward on the smooth floor, back toward the receptionist's desk. The Terminator—it had to be a Terminator—had a gun in its hand, she was sure. She wished the damn laser would hurry up and recharge.
Finding its target gone the T-950 listened and heard slithering noises off toward the fallen Six. II couldn't run, at least not yet, but it moved inexorably toward its fallen companion. The human mustn't be allowed to obtain a weapon. This unit was vulnerable to guns.
Sarah stretched out her arm as far as it would go and grasped the barrel of the gun. She tugged and nothing happened; she couldn't even drag the arm closer to her. Whatever had happened to its internal circuits when she hit it with the laser had caused the machine lo freeze into a single immovable piece.
Goddammit! she though. Easing herself forward, Sarah brought her other hand into play, Trying lo wrestle the weapon out of the big hand as quietly as possible.
She didn't waste much lime on it; it took her a matter of seconds lo realize it was hopeless. Sarah pressed her hands lo The floor lo push herself backward.
The T-950 fired and wounded Connor's left forearm. The human cried out in pain. It had to be content with that. Enough wounds, even minor ones, would kill The human with cumulative damage. Soon she would be incapacitated enough that the Infiltrator could kill her with its hands. Perhaps that was best.
Sarah pushed herself backward frantically, aiming for one of The desks behind its beige partition. Maybe I can lure it into this maze and lose it long enough to get back to stairs or the elevators. She'd like lo gel Dyson out of here if she could. Assuming he was still alive, that is.
She got herself onto her hands and knees and launched herself toward the clerk's den of cubicles before her. The Terminator fired, and hit her, creating a searing line of fire along her ribs. Sarah caught her breath in a sob; grilling her teeth, she moved on. She dived into a cubicle, separated The wall, Then pushed Them back together again, hoping The Terminator wouldn't know how lo follow her.
The T-950 followed Connor into a cubicle but found her gone. Il heard sounds on the far side of the wall and considered shooting, but decided against it. Its supply of ammunition was limited, while the target's ability to escape seemed unlimited. The Infiltrator had no doubt of its eventual success; it merely conserved supplies in order to ensure it.
Sarah moved as quietly as she could, which was difficult. Her wounds were
relatively minor, but they all bled. She could feel herself growing weaker and she felt clumsy and disoriented. I should go back toward the front of the office, she thought. She could see the gun under that desk in her mind's eye. And she needed a weapon desperately.
The next turn brought her out onto a main corridor beside the wall. Left or right?
she wondered. She couldn't see very much difference from here between either end of the corridor. Left, she decided, and began to stumble in that direction. She was almost there when she looked up and saw that she was heading the wrong way.
There was a sound somewhere behind her and she ducked into the nearest cubicle. Hunkering down and pressing herself against the soft wall, she listened, breathing through her mouth to quiet her breathing.
Outside the T-950 stalked by with no attempt to hide itself. Its head swung like a gun turret from side to side. Its eyes didn't seem to be working right. Maybe it was listening. The thought bumped Sarah's heartbeat up a notch and she grimaced. If it can't hear that, it must be deaf.
After the Terminator passed, she slipped out and crept to the other cubicle, ducking in there. She waited a few heartbeats, then risked looking out into the corridor. It was empty; the Terminator must have turned the corner. Sarah slipped out and ran as fast as she could toward the elevators.
The T-950 stepped around the corner and fired. A good solid hit this time in the target's leg. The human went down and thrashed on the floor for a moment. Then she was gone.
Sarah limped as fast as she could down the cross-corridor toward the far wall, blinded by tears. With every step that pulsed out more of her blood, her mind swore and raged. I've got to bind this up, she thought. Her worry was the trail she was leaving rather than her probable collapse. Sarah refused to contemplate such an eventuality.
When she got around the next corner she went down on one knee, and for a moment couldn't get up. Surrendering to necessity, she sat, her back to the cubicle wall, and pulled off her belt. She stuffed the taser in her pocket; still five minutes left until it could be used. Unbelievable, she thought. It feels like I used it yesterday. With shaking hands she bound her belt tightly around her leg. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
The Infiltrator moved slowly down the corridor, expecting to find its target at any moment. Even the most slippery human was vulnerable to blood loss. Once again it tried to force more speed, only to find that slowed it more. The elevators were nonfunctional, it remembered, and with the wound in her leg climbing stairs would be slow going for Connor. Skynet would prevail.
Sarah struggled to her feet and found that it made her dizzy and brought a mouthful of bile; she spat it out on the floor and swallowed, the bitter fluid rasping at her throat. When she tried to take a step she found that her leg wouldn't bear her weight. Giving in, she allowed herself to collapse to the floor, and lying flat, crawled. It was easier.