Preston hissed out a sigh. “How many times are you going to do this, Duke?” he asked quietly. “How many times are you going to threaten to take your wife and your friends and walk out if the town doesn’t do what you want?”
“You don’t like me?” Halverson challenged, just as quietly. “Replace me. Until you do, I’ve got a right to speak up the same as anyone else.”
He leveled a finger at Preston.
“But we’re not talking about quotas or crop shares this time. We’re talking about survival. There’s a Terminator sitting on our doorstep, and we damn well have to do something about it.”
“What do you think we’ve just been talking about?”
“What you’ve been talking about is giving up,” Halverson said. “Giving up and running away.”
“Only temporarily.”
“Yeah, and isn’t it funny how easy temporary turns into permanent,” Halverson said with a sniff. “And I’m serious. If we have to give up this town and these buildings, there’s no reason for Ginny and me to stay with the group. I can hunt enough just fine for the two of us. And have enough spare time left over to make my own arrows.”
“And if you go, you’ll take Chris and Ned and Trounce with you?”
“Hey, we’re all free citizens,” Halverson said with a shrug. “I don’t speak for anyone except myself.”
But whether he spoke for them or not, Preston knew, most of the town’s best hunters looked up to Halverson. Many of them would follow the same logic he’d just laid out, and desert Baker’s Hollow right alongside him.
Without the hunters, the town was doomed. And when the town died, so would any chance for even a modest degree of civilization here in the mountains.
Preston couldn’t let that happen. No matter what it cost.
“So what’s your idea?” he asked, the words stinging in his throat.
“We take the damn thing out,” Halverson said flatly. “Right now.”
Preston winced. He’d been afraid that was where he was going.
“We can’t do that,” he said as calmly as he could. “At the moment it’s not coming after us. We attack it, and that’ll change.”
“Not if we kill it,” Halverson said. “Come on, Preston—I’ve killed full-grown grizzlies. How tough can a Terminator be?”
“For starters, your bear’s vitals weren’t encased in solid metal,” Preston pointed out, striving to maintain his calmness. Arguing with Halverson was an absolutely guaranteed way to solidify the man’s position. “Even if you found a way through that, Skynet’s not going to just sit back and watch you do it.”
“Ah,” Halverson said with the self-satisfied air of someone who’s been hoping for precisely that question. “It may in fact do exactly that. I talked with Lajard this morning. He says that with the San Francisco hub gone, the nearest Skynet long-range transmitter is on the east coast. If he’s right, it can only punch a signal through this far at night.”
“Unless Skynet has some kind of relay system between the east coast and here that it can use,” Preston warned. “Through smaller stations or even H-Ks.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Halverson said. “Lajard says multiple relays are too vulnerable to interception and signal something-or-other—signal degradation, I think it was. Anything big, including large downloads or major changes in mission profile, has to come directly from a Skynet hub.”
“Interesting theory, anyway,” Preston said. And obviously in Lajard’s exact words, too. Halverson’s vocabulary wasn’t nearly that extensive.
“It’s more than just a theory,” Halverson growled. “The point is that if this Terminator is at the river to catch someone coming in from the west, and we hit it during the day, Skynet won’t be able to send any new instructions about fighting back. Not until it’s too late.”
“Of course, that assumes T-700s don’t already come with a built-in set of contingency orders,” Preston pointed out. “Something as simple, say, as killing any human it comes across.”
“Well, we’ll just have to take our chances, won’t we?” Halverson said impatiently. “That machine has got to go, and we haven’t got time for a long debate. I say we hit it.”
“And if I say we don’t?” Preston asked, trying one last time.
“Then you’d better hope your daughter feels up to hunting enough to feed sixty or seventy people a day,” Halverson said. “I’ve got Ned going around collecting and checking all the large-caliber rifles in town. You can come with us, or we can do it by ourselves.”
Preston shook his head. This was madness. But he was mayor, and if he didn’t show up he might as well hand over the last scraps of his authority right now.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll meet you at Ned’s in fifteen minutes.”
“Good,” the other said with the grim-edged satisfaction he always showed when he got his way. “Bring plenty of ammo.” Striding past Preston, he opened the door and headed back out into the early-morning chill.
Preston waited until he’d closed the door behind him.
“You heard?” he asked.
“Yes,” Hope said, stepping into view from the hallway. Her face was pale. “Dad, you can’t let him do this. You can’t do this.”
“You feel up to hunting for seventy people?” Preston asked sourly as he headed for the closet where his Ruger 99/44 hunting rifle was stored. “Because unless you do, I don’t see anything we can do but go along with him.”
“And get everyone in town killed?” Hope countered. “We’d do better to let me take over the hunting.”
“Which would just be a slower form of death,” Preston said gently. “You’re good, Hope, but not that good.”
Hope wrinkled her nose in frustration.
“You still don’t have to go along with him,” she insisted. “Maybe if he fell flat on his face a few times people would stop listening to him.”
“I’d like nothing better than to watch him eat dirt,” Preston said as he pulled out the rifle and the box of shells. “Unfortunately, in this case, if he fails we end up with a Terminator walking through town. I’ll try one last time to talk them out of it—” he grimaced “—and if I can’t, then we really have no choice but to hit the thing just as hard and as fast as we can.”
“I suppose,” Hope said, still not sounding convinced. “Let me go get my bow and quiver.”
“Yes, do that,” Preston said. “But you’ll be heading the opposite direction. I want you and Susan to pick one of the clearings near Crescent Rock and start your hunt.”
Hope’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you just said we need everyone to hit the Terminator.”
“Everyone who has a gun,” Preston corrected. “Which you don’t. More importantly, whatever happens with the machine, some of us will still have to eat tonight.”
“Dad—”
“It’s not negotiable, Hope,” Preston said quietly. “And I’ve got enough fights on my hands right now. I really can’t handle another one.”
She sighed, then nodded. “Okay, I just... okay. If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” Preston assured her, giving her a quick hug. “And don’t come back to town. If things go all right, someone will come and get you. If no one’s there within two hours after the shooting stops, head over to Skink Pond. I’ll catch up with you there.”
“Okay.” Hope took a deep breath. “I love you, Dad.”
“Love you, Hope.” Releasing her from the hug, he caught her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll see you soon. Be careful, and don’t worry.”