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.”
“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?”
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.”