“Not sure yet,” Kyle told her. “Let’s first just get some distance between us and it. Distance and buildings,” he added as he pulled her around the corner onto the next street heading north.
He took a deep breath, consciously settling his pumping legs into a steady rhythm, feeling a trickle of frustration run through him. He’d thought the terror of the night was over. He’d needed the terror of the night to be over.
But it wasn’t. Maybe it never would be.
But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he and Star were still alive.
And they would stay that way, too. No matter what happened, no matter what the universe and Skynet threw at them, they would get through it. If and when that Terminator back there found them, Kyle would find a way to destroy it. Then he’d do the same to the next one Skynet sent after them, and the next one, and the one after that.
Because Star was counting on him.
The street stretched far ahead of them, fading away into the darkness. Watching Star out of the corner of his eye, making sure she was keeping up, he began studying the ruined buildings they were passing. Somewhere along here, he knew, he’d find something he could use.
The quarters General Olsen’s aide took Connor and Kate to weren’t a lot bigger than some of the other places they’d called home over the years. They weren’t all that much better furnished, either.
But it wasn’t bitterly cold, there was space for them to stow their weapons and other gear, and the floor was mostly nice and flat. More importantly, it was safe.
And that was a far rarer and more precious commodity than anything else the Resistance could have offered them.
“Yes, I could live here,” Connor commented as he set down his MP5 and started taking off his gun belt.
Kate didn’t answer. Crossing the room to a table beside the bed, she began divesting herself of her own load of weapons and equipment.
She’d hadn’t said much on the helicopter ride out of Los Angeles, Connor had noticed. Virtually nothing, in fact, except for her brief assurance that she wasn’t injured.
“You hungry?” Connor asked. “There’s supposed to be a twenty-four-hour mess tucked away somewhere.”
“Not right now,” Kate said, her voice low.
Connor watched her, his own heart aching in sympathy. No matter how well an operation went, there never seemed to be any truly solid victories against Skynet. And even those partial victories always had to be paid for in human lives.
But seldom was the price as high as it had been tonight.
Kate finished unpacking her equipment and hung her jacket on top of her rifle. Then, not bothering to undress any farther, she climbed into the bed, rolling up onto her side and turning her face toward the wall. Setting down the rest of his own gear, Connor climbed into bed behind her.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked gently.
“Yes.” She hesitated. “But first I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have sneaked off against orders to join Barnes’ squad. Apart from the fact that you’re my husband, you’re also my commander. It was inexcusable, and it jeopardized the whole mission.”
Connor shrugged. “I don’t know about the jeopardized part. I gather the only person who knew I hadn’t actually sent you was me.”
“Which could have been more than enough to get everyone killed,” she reminded him soberly.
“No, I was right the first time. Anything that distracts you affects your judgment, and damages your ability to be who you need to be. And if my presence on a mission is that distraction, then I just have to stay home.”
“Or I need to adjust to you being who you need to be,” Connor pointed out, resting his hand on her shoulder. “And the fact remains that if you hadn’t been there, Reynolds would probably have died. You did good, Kate.”
Her shoulder seemed to tighten beneath his hand. “Not good enough,” she said in a low voice.
“All those people…Orozco…”
“I know,” Connor said. “I wish we could have saved them, too. But we don’t always get what we wish for. We gave it everything we could. It just wasn’t enough.”
“But Orozco,” Kate objected, some fire finally coming back into her voice. “Why would a strong, competent military man do something like that? Can someone really hate authority that much?”
“It’s possible.” Connor hesitated. “Or maybe it’s that he hates us that much.”
Kate rolled over to face him, her eyes wide.
“Us? But we tried to help.”
“But we’re part of the official Resistance now,” Connor reminded her. “The people who didn’t show up to help until it was too late.”
Kate’s face went rigid.
“You mean Orozco thinks—? Oh, John.”
Connor nodded, forcing back a surge of frustration of his own.
“I know,” he said. “And there’s nothing we can do about it, either. Except try to make sure it never happens again.”
He ran his fingers gently across her cheek. “But don’t worry about Orozco,” he added. “He’s a survivor. He’ll be okay.”
“I hope so,” Kate said, laying her hand on top of his. “And as long as I’m apologizing, I also need to apologize for the way I’ve been lately. I think I’m—well, I need to check, of course, but all the signs are that—I mean—”
“Hey, relax,” Connor said gently, smiling at her sudden babbling. He’d seen that a lot after missions, and it was a lot healthier than her earlier silent act. “Like I said, you did good out there.
Barnes and Simmons both told me that, and you know how hard it is to get those two to agree on anything.”
“I’m glad it worked out,” Kate said. “Since you probably aren’t going to take me on any more missions for awhile.”
Connor grinned. “Why? Because you get all dark and moody when it’s all over?”
She smiled, a hint of the old impish Kate peeking through.
“No,” she said, lifting her hand from his and resting it on his cheek. “Because I think I’m pregnant.”
And for the first time in years, John Connor couldn’t find a single thing to say.
EPILOGUE
For a long time after the sound of the helicopters faded away Orozco just stayed where he was, propped up against the remnants of the barricade that hadn’t done a damn bit of good, chewing on the ration bars Kate Connor had left him and sipping from the water bottle.
From time to time he thought about being responsible and saving some of the food for later. But it all tasted good, and he was ravenous, and he really needed to build back his strength. And anyway, later might never come.
After about an hour, though, he decided he was tired of sitting. His hip was still weak and tender where the Terminator slug had grazed it, but his M16 made a reasonably good walking stick.
Carefully, he levered his way back to his feet.
For a long minute he just stood there, balancing on his left leg and the M16, looking around at the wreckage of everything he’d known for the past two years. He knew he should be angry, or bitter, or at least sad. But all he felt was empty.
Maybe it was the morphine Kate had given him. Maybe once the pain came back, some emotion would, too.
But there was no point just standing around waiting for that to happen. He might as well do what he could to stay alive, if for no better reason than to keep Skynet’s victory tonight from being a complete hundred percent.
The first step—literally—would be to get a little more mobile. Three of Moldering Lost Ashes’