And finally, Hope found her voice.
“No—don’t shoot,” she called, her voice trembling embarrassingly. “Anyone. Please.”
For a pair of thudding heartbeats no one moved or spoke. Then the woman stirred.
“Barnes?” she asked.
“She’s just a kid,” the man said, his voice still growly but maybe a little less brusque. “Yours?”
“Amateur,” the woman said.
“Hey!” Susan said, sounding offended.
“It’s all right, Susan,” Hope called. “Put the bow down. Please.”
“You heard her, Susan,” the woman seconded. “No one has to get hurt here.”
Hope looked over at Susan. The older woman’s lips were compressed into a tight line, but she nevertheless lowered the arrow to point at the ground and eased the bowstring back to unpulled position.
“Don’t shoot her,” she said, nodding toward Hope.
“No one’s shooting anyone,” the man growled, keeping his gun in hand but raising the muzzle to point over Hope’s head. “Not yet, anyway. Let’s try again. Who are you?”
“My name’s Hope Preston,” Hope told him. “That’s Susan Valentine.”
“I’m Blair,” the woman said. She was still holding her gun, but it was also no longer pointing at its original target. “He’s Barnes. Are you two from that village over there?”
“Yes,” Hope said. “Baker’s Hollow. We heard your vehicle, and thought someone should check it out.”
Barnes snorted. “And this is the best reception committee we could get?”
“Hardly,” Hope’s father’s voice came unexpectedly from the direction of town. “Both of you, drop your weapons. Now.”
“Dad, it’s all right,” Hope spoke up hastily. “We’re okay. They haven’t hurt us.”
“Good for them,” Preston said grimly. “They can put their guns down anyway.”
Hope focused on Barnes. His gun was still pointed away from her, but he had a look on his face that sent a fresh chill up her back.
“It’s all right,” she told him quietly. “That’s my father. He won’t hurt you. Please—do what he says.”
Barnes hesitated. Then, to Hope’s relief, he lowered his pistol and dropped it back into its holster. Behind him, Blair took the cue and also holstered her gun.
Not exactly what Preston had demanded. But it was close enough.
“Their guns are down,” she called.
There was a soft swishing of bushes, and six men walked cautiously into sight, rifles held ready.
“Hope?” Preston called.
“I’m here,” Hope said, standing up into view. “We’re okay. This is Barnes and Blair.”
Preston gave Hope a quick, measuring look, then turned back to Barnes.
“What are you doing here?”
“We were following—” Blair began.
“We saw your smoke,” Barnes interrupted her. “Thought you might need help.”
“You think we need help, yet you land way over here?”
“We didn’t want to scare you,” Blair said. “I see we didn’t have to worry about that.”
“So who are you?” Preston asked. “Not your names. I mean who are you?”
Hope saw Blair glance at Barnes’s back.
“We’re with the Resistance,” she said, nodding toward her armband.
“Yeah, we’ve heard of you,” Preston said. “You connected with any particular group?”
“You have a radio?” Barnes asked.
“We have a receiver, yes.”
“Then you might have heard our boss,” Barnes said. “We’re with John Connor.”
Hope exhaled in a quiet huff, a shivery thrill running through her. She’d hoped that the visitors would be from the Resistance, but she’d never dared to hope that they’d come from Connor himself.
Her father wasn’t nearly so impressed.
“Really,” he said, his tone neutral. “Can you prove that?”
“Like how?” Barnes countered. “You want a special tattoo or something?”
“I’m wondering about your convenient timing,” Preston said suspiciously. “We get a T-700 knocking on our door, and then suddenly you drop in—”
“There’s a T-700 here?” Barnes cut him off, his eyes darting around. “Where?”
“You claiming you didn’t know anything about that?”
“Damn it, Preston, where?” Barnes snarled.
“It’s by the ford across the Slate River, on the far side of town,” Hope told him hastily. That icy look was in his eye again. “But I don’t think it’s moved since we spotted it.”
“Show us,” Barnes said grimly, reaching down and picking up the big six-barreled gun and hoisting it up into his arms again.
“Hold it,” Preston snapped. “We’re not done here yet.”
“Yes, we are,” Blair said, starting forward again. “Like he said, show us.”
Beside Preston, Half-pint Swan raised his gun. Hope saw his finger start to tighten on the trigger—
Without even looking, Hope’s father tapped the other’s rifle barrel to the side.
“Easy,” he warned. “You too,” he added to Barnes. “We’ve got it under control.”
“With those?” Barnes snorted, nodding at the hunting rifles pointed at him and Blair. “I don’t think so.”
Hope caught her breath. In all the excitement she hadn’t really focused on which men her father had brought here with him. But now that she did—
“Dad, where’s Halverson?” she asked. “Is he still at the river?”
“Yes, along with the rest of the force,” Preston said. “I told them not to do anything until I get back.”
Hope felt her stomach tighten. If Halverson decided to take on the Terminator without her dad and the others, there could be trouble. Big trouble.
“Dad—”
“That’s enough, Hope,” Preston said, his voice quiet but firm. “I can’t be responsible for everything Halverson does. But I am responsible for the town. I can’t just let heavily armed strangers walk in without some idea of who and what they are.”
“So while you’re standing there wondering about us, there’s a machine ready to walk in,” Barnes growled. “Here’s the deal. You got a T-700, you need us. You need this.” He hefted the big gun.
“And your clock is running,” Blair added.
Preston’s eyes flicked to Barnes, to Blair, back to Barnes.
“I’ll lead,” he said, raising the muzzle of his rifle. “You’ll follow me, with Hope and my men behind you. You’ll keep your guns pointed up unless and until I say otherwise. Any action which might be interpreted as aggressive toward us or anyone in town will be dealt with accordingly. Clear?”
“Clear,” Barnes said, heaving his big gun up to rest half over his shoulder and striding toward the others. “How far?”
“To the river?” Preston asked as he waved the rest of the men back and started down the path leading back toward town. “Less than a mile. Let me know if I’m going too fast for you.”
“Don’t worry,” Barnes said. “We’ll keep up.”
CHAPTER TEN
Jik woke to the sound of gunfire.
For a moment he lay still, his hand groping for the Smith & Wesson lying beside his cot, his eyes and brain fogged by too little sleep. The gunfire was distant, probably a mile or two away. Normally, having some distance between you and gunfire was a good thing, and the more distance the better.
Only in this case, it wasn’t. A mile away meant it was coming from the ford over the Slate River.
The Terminators he’d seen heading that direction last night had launched their attack.
And here, a mile away, Jik was completely out of the fight.