And as the shockwave from the blast echoed through the lobby, all hell broke loose outside.
For the first few seconds all Orozco could do was stare in disbelief as the Terminators lurched and jerked under the withering fire coming at them from somewhere to the south. The two that had gone down attempted to get back up, but their efforts were stymied as they came under the same pummeling attack. All five Terminators were firing back now, their miniguns stuttering with an angry bull-hornet buzz, but the return fire didn’t seem to be having any effect on their attackers.
The hail of lead continued unabated, tearing away the machines’ rubber skin and sending clouds of metal splinters into the air. Another grenade exploded in their midst, and one of the Terminators twisted violently as its right arm was blown completely off its body.
And with that, Orozco abruptly unfroze.
“Grenadiers: follow me,” he shouted over the gunfire. Dropping the butt of his M16 onto the floor beside the fountain, he snatched up his lighter and two of the pipe bombs from beside him and sprinted for the archway.
His squad of bomb throwers were clearly even more befuddled by the sudden change in the situation than Orozco himself had been, and only two of them managed to unfuddle themselves fast enough to take him up on his invitation. But two were enough. With their full attention on the other attack, the beleaguered Terminators probably never even saw the three figures running toward them through the gloom.
Orozco lit one of his fuses as he ran, his peripheral vision confirming that his two companions were doing likewise. As he reached the archway he came to a halt and carefully lobbed his bomb directly beneath the feet of one of the machines. The others’ bombs were right behind his.
Shouting a warning, Orozco turned his back and threw himself flat on the floor.
The three bombs went off nearly simultaneously, the multiple shock waves lifting Orozco a couple of centimeters and slamming him back down again. Rolling over, he looked behind him.
The barrage and the bombs had done the trick. All five Terminators were down, with severed metallic body parts strewn every which way across the pavement.
Through the ringing in his ears, Orozco suddenly realized the other gunfire had ceased. Focusing hard, he was just able to hear some running footsteps coming toward the archway.
He shifted his second bomb to his left hand and got a grip on his holstered Beretta. Better to be cautious, even though he was pretty sure he already knew who it was who had just saved their bacon for them.
Sure enough, a few seconds later the running footsteps slowed to a more cautious walk, and Barnes and two other men came into view.
For a moment the big black man and the Hispanic Marine locked eyes in the mutual look of men who knew what had just gone down, and therefore had no need to actually mention it. Then Barnes jerked his head toward the mass of metallic body parts that had recently been five of Skynet’s killing machines.
“Don’t just stand there,” he growled to Orozco. “Split up the pieces before they try to put themselves back together.”
“Right,” Orozco said. Looking back at the fountain, he gestured to Grimaldi and the others to stay put, repeated the gesture to the two grenadiers beside him, then made a wide circle through the very northern edge of the archway and out into the street. A moment later he had joined Barnes and the others in their task of throwing chunks of smoking metal to the four winds.
He did note, though, that Barnes made a point of examining the Terminators’ five miniguns, putting aside the two that still seemed functional.
“I guess that’ll have to do,” Barnes said as he surveyed their handiwork. “Nice little bombs you got there.”
“They’re not bad,” Orozco said. “All things being equal, I’d rather have a few bricks of C4.
Thanks for the assist.”
“Glad to help,” Barnes said, his face hardening. “Yeah, a little C4 or thermite and we could do a real job on the damn things. Too bad. If Skynet can collect all the pieces, it can probably hammer one or two of ’em back together.”
“Does Skynet even bother with retrieval?” Orozco asked. “I thought it had automated factories putting these things out.”
“And we’re doing every damn thing we can to put those out of business, too,” Barnes said with grim satisfaction. “Yeah, it’s been picking up wrecked Terminators wherever it can. Especially these T-600s.”
“Nice to know Skynet has to scrabble for resources just like the rest of us,” Orozco said with a grunt. “Maybe we can keep it too busy to bother with this particular batch of parts.”
“We’ll get the busy part, anyway,” Barnes said, cocking his head to the side. “Hear that?”
Orozco frowned. As far as his still only half-functional ears could tell, the streets around them were completely silent.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“You got it,” Barnes agreed. “All the T-600s that were out killing people have stopped.”
Orozco’s stomach tightened. “And have all been retasked to us.”
“Yeah,” Barnes said. “Fact, that’s kind of what we had in mind.”
“Wonderful,” Orozco growled. “Does the bait get to hear more about this plan? Or do we just get to be bait?”
“Hey, pal, you were already dead,” Barnes pointed out. “If this batch hadn’t taken you out, the next wave would have.”
Orozco glared at him. But the man was right.
“Point taken,” he acknowledged reluctantly. “Let’s try it again: you mind sharing the plan with the rest of the class?”
“Better,” Barnes said, lowering his voice. “Here’s the deal. We think we know where Skynet’s staging area is for this operation. Most of our people have moved in and are ready to attack it.”
“Only you need to make sure no one’s home to spoil the surprise,” Orozco said, nodding as it all became clear. “So we make noise and trouble out here so that all the machines will come out to play.”
“Yeah, but don’t worry—we’ll be doing everything we can to help you,” Barnes promised.
“Thing is, if we can clear the staging area and then hold it so that the T-600s can’t get back in to reload, we should have enough breathing space to take them out permanently.”
“Until Skynet sends in more, anyway,” Orozco said.
“Shouldn’t be any,” Barnes said. “That’s what a staging area’s for. Skynet moves a bunch of Terminators in so it can mass them for a major op—”
He broke off as, without warning, a Hunter-Killer abruptly shot into view around the corner, its Gatling guns roaring.
Orozco dived for cover beneath the edge of the archway’s overhang, Barnes and the other two men right behind him. The HK angled itself upward, braking to a hovering halt in front of the building. It swiveled around, bringing its weapons to bear on the four sitting ducks.
And made a hard skid to the side as a shredding volley of automatic fire slammed up into it from down the street. The HK spun around, its quarry suddenly forgotten as it clawed madly for altitude and distance. It reached the end of the block and disappeared from sight, fire hammering it the whole way.
“Damn,” Barnes muttered as he and Orozco got cautiously to their feet again. “Thought we had that one for sure. Skynet’s usually smart enough not to send them down into city streets where someone with a high-power weapon can—”
“Barnes!” one of the other Resistance men snapped. He was kneeling over the other man, and in the dim starlight Orozco could see a dark stain spreading across the downed soldier’s chest.
Barnes stepped over to them, grabbing at his combo earphone/wire-mike. “One down,” he snapped. “Kate, Pavlova—get over here.”
Orozco looked south as two women appeared from the overturned bus and headed toward the Ashes at a dead run. “What can I do?” he asked.