“Wait—you left the cutter up there,” Zac said, pointing urgently.
“I couldn’t get it out,” Kyle told him. “It’s wedged in too tight.”
“But—”
“It’s okay,” Callahan said. “It shouldn’t fall until the slab breaks. Once it’s mixed in with the rest of the rubble, there’ll be no way for Skynet to make a connection.”
“Assuming we’re not in the open at the time,” Kyle said. “Where are we going?”
“Over here,” Callahan said, picking his way quickly across the debris. “Watch your step.”
Callahan’s hiding place turned out to be all the way across the chamber, behind a heavy and nearly intact slab of concrete that was leaning up against another equally impressive piece. The angle between them wasn’t very big, but there was enough room for the three humans to squeeze in between them.
Kyle shivered as he wedged himself into place just inside the open end, sitting with his knees pressed up against his chest and Zac pressed against his side.
“It’s like cold storage in here,” he muttered.
“Cold is good,” Callahan murmured back from over on Zac’s other side. “Helps mask infrared signatures.”
“Shh!” Zac hissed. “Here they come.”
For a few seconds there was silence. Then, once again, Kyle heard the familiar rumble of metal feet overhead. He listened closely, wondering just how fragile the slab was. Wondering whether this line of T-700s would do the trick or whether they would have to wait here pressed against cold concrete until the next cycle before the floor gave way.
And then, abruptly, with a thunderous crash, it did.
A crash that was followed by utter silence.
Kyle froze, staring out at the underground chamber, wanting desperately to lean an eye far enough out of their shelter out to see what was going on.
He fought back the temptation. If any of the Terminators happened to be looking in his direction at the time, that would be the last mistake Kyle would ever make.
So he sat there quietly, listening to his thudding heart and waiting for something to happen. The silence stretched out...
And as Kyle strained his eyes, he spotted a small, subtle red glow out in the chamber. Not a stationary glow, but one that slowly swept across the walls and rubble.
The glow from a Terminator’s eyes as it carefully and systematically scanned the chamber.
Kyle’s reflexive impulse was to press closer to Zac and get as far away from the opening beside him as he could. Once again, he resisted the urge. The Terminator out there might pick up his heat if he stayed where he was, but it would certainly pick up any noise he made while trying to change position. The glow brightened as the Terminator’s sweep reached the slab in front of them, then disappeared as it passed by. Kyle held his breath...
And then, from the direction of the collapsed tunnel floor came the soft scrabbling of metal on concrete.
Kyle hesitated. But this time, risky or not, he had to look. If the Terminator had spotted them, and the scrabbling sound was more of the machines coming down from above, he and the others would need the next few crucial seconds to get clear of their hiding place and try to make it to an exit that was too small for the Terminators to chase them through.
Keeping his movements slow, he leaned his head out of cover.
His first, horrifying thought was that his fears had been right, that it was all over and he and the others were dead. A T-700 was dangling down through the hole in the tunnel floor, its arms held by two more of the machines standing on opposite sides of the gap. A fourth Terminator, obviously the one that had fallen through, was balancing on the remains of the broken slab, its back turned toward Kyle.
And then, to Kyle’s relief, the Terminator took hold of the hanging T-700’s ankles and climbed smoothly up its legs and torso to the hole in the ceiling. Shifting its grip to the edge, it pulled itself the rest of the way up and out. The two Terminators on top pulled up the one still dangling, and all four machines moved away out of Kyle’s view.
A few seconds later, what looked like a metal door was lowered across the opening, blocking off most of the dim light.
Most, but not all. As Kyle’s eyes once again adjusted to the relative darkness, he saw that there was still a gap between the ceiling and the wall. It was narrow, but it might be big enough to squeeze through.
The soft thud of footsteps resumed their familiar cadence as the Terminators headed back down the tunnel with their latest loads of debris.
“Reese?” Zac whispered anxiously.
“It’s okay,” Kyle whispered. “Quiet, now.”
The march seemed to take longer this time. Possibly the Terminators were avoiding walking on that section of presumably weakened concrete, which would affect the flow and efficiency of their passage. Possibly it was just Kyle’s imagination, driven by his impatience to get over there and see whether or not their gamble had paid off.
Finally, the vibrations faded away, and the Terminators were once again gone.
Kyle frowned, a shiver running up his back.
Or were they?
He held his breath, listening hard. He didn’t have Star’s hyper-sensitivity to Terminators’ presence, but years of dodging the machines had amplified and trained the small bit of that sensitivity that he did posses.
And right now, that sixth sense was screaming a silent warning.
On Zac’s other side, Callahan started to stir.
“Shh,” Kyle breathed, quickly reaching past Zac to touch Callahan warningly on the arm. The other froze in place, tapping Kyle’s hand twice in acknowledgment.
Kyle held still, counting off the seconds. Two minutes passed, then three, then four, then five.
And as his count reached its sixth minute, a sound finally drifted into the silence wrapped around them. The sound of Terminator footsteps.
Only they weren’t coming from somewhere in the distance, marking the return of the digging crew. These footsteps were coming from somewhere near the hole. As Kyle listened, he heard the Terminator head back down the tunnel in the direction the others had gone.
He looked across at Zac and Callahan, their faces just barely visible in the faint reflected light. Both expressions were tense, but Callahan’s lips were also twisted in a wry smirk. Cute, he mouthed silently.
Kyle nodded. We sit tight? he mouthed back.
We sit tight, Callahan confirmed. Let’s see if Skynet was smart enough to leave two of them.
Kyle nodded, resting his forearms on his knees and turning back to gaze out at the rubble of the chamber. And trying to ignore the cuts and bruises and hunger and weariness.
The already long afternoon was getting even longer...
From the kitchen came the sound of an opening door.
“Trounce?” Preston’s voice came.
“In here,” Trounce called back.
Barnes looked at Williams. She returned the look, a grim downward turn to her mouth. This was their last chance, and she knew it as well as he did. If they couldn’t convince Preston there was a Theta lurking under his nose, they were probably dead.
And not just him and Williams. Probably the whole town.
Preston walked into the room, his expression that mixture of satisfaction and weariness that Barnes had seen on dozens of Resistance fighters over the years.
“You get them?” he asked the mayor.
Preston nodded, glancing at Smith and Trounce as he dropped into the big overstuffed chair directly across from Barnes and Williams. He winced a little as the holstered Desert Eagle dug into his side, and reached down to adjust it.
“Two T-700s, freshly converted into pieces of junk, which Halverson and the others will soon be dumping into the ravine on the far side of the river,” he said. “The whole thing wasn’t nearly as bad as I was expecting, actually. I hope you managed to get some rest.”