Orozco turned back to the archway, a fresh wave of tightness knotting his stomach as he continued to pour fire against the attacking machines. Grimaldi and his men had sealed off the rear of the building years ago, and several teams had worked for hours earlier that day to inspect and reinforce those barriers. The building was as secure as they could make it, and Orozco himself had added a few booby traps to help keep out any unwelcome visitors.
But those explosions a minute ago had sounded a lot like two of his home-made pipe bombs.
The question was, had one of the guards back there accidentally set them off, probably killing him or herself in the process?
Or had Skynet created a way inside?
The Terminators in the street were starting to pull back, their rubber flesh tattered, their appearance now more akin to mummies than human beings. Orozco watched warily as they backed out of view and out of range, then shifted his attention to the street leading past the sniper’s nest.
There were two or three more Terminators down there, slowly disintegrating under an outpouring of fire from the rear of the nest. Barnes and Kate and their team, protecting all of them from what had obviously been Skynet’s idea of a flanking maneuver.
Meanwhile, the fire coming from the Ashes’ own defenders had stopped now that their primary targets had retreated.
“Right flank: new target,” Orozco called, pointing down the street at the other Terminators.
Rather than just sitting around, he and his people might as well give Barnes’ squad a hand. “All marksmen move to this side of the barricade.”
It was amazing, he reflected, what an hour and a couple of small victories could accomplish. The same men and women who’d been quaking in their shoes earlier now nearly fell over each other getting to the right-hand side of the barrier just for the chance to target a few more of their attackers.
They were firing away when Grimaldi skidded to Orozco’s side, his face white.
“They’re coming in!” he gasped, panting for breath.
“Where?” Orozco snapped, shooting a look over the other’s shoulder. The hallways, at least as far down as he could see, were still clear.
“Ventilation shaft beside the loading dock,” Grimaldi said. “They breached the wall back there and are working their way in.”
Orozco cursed. The two explosions he’d heard must have been the two pipe bombs he’d set inside that shaft, the first designed to blow up the intruder, the second to blow up the wall over the shaft and hopefully seal the gap.
“Did the bombs stop them?” he asked.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Grimaldi demanded. “I said they’re working their way in. I could see their eyes in the ducts. And not just the ducts—they’re hammering at the whole wall back there.”
“Damn.” Orozco spun around. With a ductwork breach, at least the machines would have to come in one at a time. But if they managed to take down the wall, the whole back of the building would be open to them. “Cease fire!” he shouted. “All teams, cease fire! We have a breach.”
The guns instantly stopped.
“Where?” Wadleigh demanded.
“Loading dock vent shaft and duct, and they’re working on the wall,” Grimaldi said. “Everyone, back there, on the double.”
He broke off, looking with sudden uncertainty at Orozco. “Everyone?” he repeated, making it a question.
“Yes, everyone,” Orozco confirmed, looking up at the fire teams on the balcony and gesturing them down to the lobby.
“Right,” Grimaldi said. “Come on.”
He sprinted back toward the hallway, his rifle bouncing across his back, the rest of the fire teams right behind him.
Orozco looked out through the archway, wondering belatedly if this was really the right decision. If the attack on the building’s rear was a feint, leaving the main entrance undefended this way could be the last mistake any of them ever made.
But he had no choice. If Skynet was hitting them in the rear with any significant force, it would take every gun and gunner Orozco had simply to stand against it. He would just have to hope that Barnes and his people could cover them up here.
The fire teams from the balcony were streaming down the stairway now, looking at Orozco for orders. Pointing them toward the building’s rear, he slung his Ml 6 over his shoulder, grabbed his last two pipe bombs, and hurried to join them.
Something was wrong.
Kate gazed out on the street below, trying to figure out what it was that had suddenly set off alarms in the back of her head. The two Terminators to the north were still retreating from their latest attack on the Moldavia, their miniguns silent and possibly dry. Simmons was encouraging their departure with deliberately placed shots, his rounds slamming into their heads and hip joints. A couple of T-600s a block farther north of the retreating machines were offering some cover fire, but their shots were sporadic and ineffective.
The gunfire coming from behind Kate, off to the west, was still going strong as Barnes and the others hammered the first wave of reserve T-600s that Skynet had sent into the battle. In contrast, the Terminators in the bus to the south hadn’t moved at all, and were only firing occasional shots, as if content with making sure there was no traffic on the street.
And then, suddenly, Kate had it. The Terminators to the west and north were firing, Barnes and Simmons were firing, and even farther to the west John and his squad were firing. Everyone who had a target to shoot at was doing so.
Except the people in the Moldavia.
And up until a minute ago they’d been firing down the street at Barnes’ target T-600s.
Why had they suddenly stopped?
“Hickabick, I need a sitrep at tee two and hole nine,” she said into her mike.
“Check,” Blair’s voice came back. “On my way.”
At the other end of the room, Simmons turned around, reaching up a hand to cover his mike.
“Trouble?” he asked.
“Orozco’s people have stopped firing,” Kate told him.
Simmons turned back to his peephole.
“Huh,” he said. “You’re right. I hadn’t even noticed.”
Overhead, the roar of an A-10 briefly drowned out the chattering of gunfire as Blair shot over the Moldavia.
“Tee two looks clear,” the pilot reported crisply. “Turning to hole nine.”
“Maybe they just ran out of ammo,” Simmons offered as he squeezed off a couple more rounds at the retreating T-600s.
“Maybe,” Kate said.
The front of the building looked all right, at least as far as Blair could see from the air. There were a couple of T-600s to the north firing at the building and Barnes’ squad, with two more retreating in that direction, plus the remnants of another group to the west that Barnes and Connor were hammering.
She also caught a glimpse of the foursome still hoping to sneak up on Connor from even farther to the west.
There was other movement, too, beside the staging area warehouse’s south wall. Shadowy figures—David and his demolition team—had come out of the drainage tunnel and were busily setting their explosives in preparation for the squad’s breach. From what Blair could see, it looked like Connor had decided to bring the whole wall down, and Blair made a mental note to try to get back in time for the show.
Massive explosions were always entertaining to watch, especially explosions involving Skynet property.
For another moment she held her course, studying the area. So far, the only T-600s that Skynet had sent against the Moldavia had been that first wave plus some reinforcements from the area around it, followed by the groups of six and four from the warehouse.