“Killer! Monster!” Tammi let loose on the Terminator with her M-16. Tears streamed down her face. She made no effort to escape from the oncoming machine. “I loved him, you motherfuckin’ machine!”
A satellite dish was bolted to the top of the mill, placed there to pick up encrypted messages from Command. Molly blasted it loose with her pistol, then wrenched it free. She hurled the heavy dish at the Terminator. It smashed harmlessly against the machine’s titanium skull, but got its attention for a moment.
It paused and looked back up at Molly.
“Run!” she hollered from atop the mill. She wanted Tammi to live, even if the young widow didn’t seem to; no way was Molly going to let the pregnant girl go the way of her husband.
“Save your baby! That’s an order!”
The reference to the baby hit a nerve, cutting through Tammi’s understandable lust for vengeance. Abandoning her crazed assault, the girl ran, leaving the decapitated body of her beloved behind.
The Terminator hesitated, torn between pursuing Tammi and keeping its eye on Molly.
She helped it make up its mind.
“John Connor!” Molly hurled a loose brick at the T-600. “You want John Connor’s address, right? Well, I’m the only human vermin here who knows where that is!” She was tempted to claim that Connor was her brother or something, but that might be pushing it. Skynet doubtless had a comprehensive dossier on his closest friends and associates.
His wife’s supposed to be a medic....
Tammi’s racing footsteps faded away as she disappeared from sight, moving in the direction of the other evacuees. Satisfied that the girl now had a fighting chance at living to see the sunrise, Molly looked to her own survival. When planning the layout of the camp, she had made certain that every key location offered multiple escape routes. Glancing around, she saw ropes and bungee cables stacked all along the catwalk. She tied one end of a cable to a sturdy post, then flung the rest of the rope over the railing.
Forget the fire escape, she thought. I’m in a hurry.
Her heart pounding, she rappelled down the side of the building, just around the corner from where she’d left the Terminator. As her feet touched down on the snowy gravel, she fired her pistol into the air.
“John Conner! Going, going, gone...!”
The T-600 wasted no time coming after her. She heard the chainsaw even before it rounded the corner. Its luciferous red gaze locked on her and didn’t let go.
Molly bolted for the river, taking care to head in a different direction than Tammi and the others. The heat from the burning camp made her sweat beneath her parka. The wind blew smoke in her face, stinging her eyes and throat. She was faster than the T-600, but a lot more tired. Adrenaline could only keep her going so long, especially after only a couple of hours sleep.
Fatigue poisons burned her leg muscles. She was breathing hard. Ragged exhalations puffed from her lips, misting in the frigid night air. The wind chill felt like it was at least fifty below.
I can’t keep this up much longer.
The frozen stream beckoned to her, looking like a winding white ribbon about twenty feet across. An icy glaze coated the rushing current underneath. A wooden footbridge crossed the river further upstream, but that wasn’t her destination. Crossing the bridge was the last thing on her mind.
The rough terrain pitched sharply downward in a perfect hill for sledding, as proven by the deep impressions carved into the snow. Another ancient ore cart rested at the top of the slope. The camp’s kids often used it as a fort during frenzied snowball fights. It offered little refuge against a Terminator.
Not wanting to risk a spill, Molly slid down the hill on her butt, all the way onto the frozen stream. Then she half-ran, half-crawled out to the middle of the river, where the ice was thickest, before clambering to her feet just in time to see the Terminator stomping down the incline after her. Its ponderous steel legs sank deeply into the snow, preventing it from slipping. Frozen blood caked its intimidating endoskeleton. The chainsaw whirred in its grip.
No more running.
She faced the Terminator across a glistening expanse of white. Her aching legs were grateful for the respite. Panting, she silently dared the machine to follow her out onto the river. A T-600 weighed over 800 pounds. Could the frozen river support that much weight? Molly was gambling her life that it couldn’t.
“Here I am!” she taunted. “Come and get me. No guts, no glory!”
The machine paused at the edge of the stream. T-600s couldn’t drown, but they couldn’t swim either. Its red sensor scanned the ice, calculating the risk factors. It stepped tentatively onto the frozen surface, which cracked loudly beneath its weight. Water seeped up through minute fissures. The Terminator withdrew its foot, retreating further back onto the shore.
Molly nearly screamed in frustration.
“What’s the matter? Chicken?” She couldn’t stand here all night, waiting for the machine to make its move. If she crossed the river, the Terminator would just take the bridge upstream and keep after her, maybe all the way to the rendezvous point. Should have had someone blow the bridge on the way out. She scanned the black and smoky sky. Still no sign of HKs, but it was only a matter of time. For all she knew, an entire battalion of Terminators was marching toward the camp at this very minute.
This was no time to dick around.
“C’mon, you’re just another damn T-600. A dime a dozen. Expendable!” She fired her pistol at the monster’s remaining optical sensor. The bullet bounced off its armored socket. “Take a risk, why don’t you? I’m worth it, I promise. John Connor!”
The Terminator had another idea. Putting down the chainsaw, it bent over and yanked a large boulder out of the muddy soil alongside the stream. It hurled the rock at the ice near Molly. She dived out of the way, skidding across the surface. The missile collided with the frozen surface, which cracked but did not shatter beneath the impact. Hairline fractures spider-webbed across the top of the river, only a few yards away from Molly.
Puddles formed atop the ice.
Molly grasped the Terminator’s strategy. It was trying to drive her off the river by leaving her no place to stand.
Not a bad plan, actually. There was no way she could make it to the opposite shore in time to avoid going for a swim.
“Fuck!”
The T-600 searched the shore for another boulder. Finding a suitable chunk of granite, it lifted the missile above its head. Servomotors whirred in its arms and shoulders. It took aim at the fractured ice. Another good hit would be enough to break the thick sheet apart in a big way. Molly shivered in anticipation. Ice water lapped against her boots. This was going to be cold...
The Terminator was about to hurl the boulder like a catapult when a high-pitched whoop came from the top of the hill.
“Heads up, one-eye!” Rusty wheels squeaked loudly as the old mining cart rolled down the incline toward the T-600. Picking up speed with every inch, the heavy iron conveyance slammed into the Terminator from behind, the momentum knocking the machine out onto the stream, only a few feet away from Molly. It slid across the ice on its mechanical hands and knees, scoring the frozen surface.
The ice cracked and split beneath it.
Sitka capered jubilantly atop the slope. Gloved hands gripped the sturdy piece of metal rebar she had used as a lever. Vic Folger stood behind her, wiping the sweat from his brow. Molly guessed that he had given the cart a good shove as well.
“Score!” the teenager crowed, as if she had just bowled a strike. She waved the rebar in the air. Her wild red mane blew across her face. “Sink or swim, metal!”