Kyle stood at the edge of the light and watched his parents in wonder. He knew the soldier for his father, though with helmet and uniform he looked just like all the others. And yet… this was undeniably his father. It wasn't just the way his mother was kissing him. He'd have known him anywhere and his heart lifted.
He took a step toward them.
At the outer edge of the circle a shattered T-90 raised its rifle and fired. The flash of blue plasma shot through the two entwined human figures and they dropped to the ground so suddenly that for a moment the movement made no sense.
"Nooooo!" A child shot from out of the dark and raced toward the fallen couple. "Mom! Dad!" he screamed. He fell to his knees beside them, tugging at their bodies, weeping hysterically.
Behind him another child stopped, looking on in distress, but clearly not knowing what to do. Every plasma rifle in the place had taken a shot at the T-90 that had fired. It lay partially melted, the orange glow quickly cooling to gray. All around, the soldiers and freed prisoners shifted as their shock lifted, and they looked at one another, equally helpless.
Then, through the dim light and the shifting smoke, a man appeared. Eyes sought him, and a whisper went through the crowd: Connorjohnconnorconnorconnor.
"You people," he said as he moved among them. He stood looking down at the weeping boy until the child looked up at him. "Come with me if you want to live."
CHA
CHAPTER TWENTY
RESISTANCE: TEMPORARY HEADQUARTERS
John tossed himself onto the cot. It creaked and waggled alarmingly, despite the fact that he'd never weighed more than one-fifty in his life, and was a nickel short of that right now. That there was a cot made it luxury accommodations and he didn't want to get the reputation of trashing the presidential suite. He turned up the Coleman lantern on the tray table beside him and dug the letter out of his breast pocket, ignoring the flickering light and the fruity smell of the burning alcohol.
Getting a personal letter from an old friend was something of an event for him. He occasionally received notes from his mother or from Dieter, but mostly it was impersonal e-mails or reports.
This had come from Jack Brock in Missouri.
John Connor had asked Jack to keep him informed about his father, Kyle Reese. Of course, Jack has no idea of the relationship. No doubt he thought John was just doing the good commander thing.
He tore open the envelope and began to read.
Dear John,
Hope you don't mind me being so familiar, but I can't seem to help myself when I'm just writing a letter and not an official document. If you'll recall, you asked me to keep you informed about Kyle Reese and his little friend Jesse. Which I will. But what you may not know is that we've got ourselves quite a crop of orphans now and I thought I'd start by telling you something about the kids in general.
First off, there's not a lot of laughter in them. Not that they've got a lot to laugh about, but you know, you always like to say that kids are resilient. That they can get over anything given time. I guess maybe part of the problem is we can't give them that time. Or Skynet won't. Anyway, they're a grim little bunch. I got to thinking that maybe we were at least partially to blame. First thing we always do when we get a new kid is to start training 'im.
I know we have to and mostly they take to it very well. But we've kind of been treating them like short adults, if you know what I mean. So I've assigned Susie and some of her friends to show them some fun. I wish you could have seen my girl's face when I gave her the order. It was like, "Dad, you've given me some weird assignments in my time, but this one beats 'em all."
But she's doing a first rate-job and seems to be enjoying herself as well. The kids have begun to smile, while Susie and her friends are cracking up all over the place. My great fear now is that they'll start playing practical jokes. As you'll recall, that used to be one of Susie's specialties.
On the other hand, maybe that's just what these kids need.
Proof that even when they're naughty they won't be lined up against a wall and shot. There's been too many incidents like that in their lives. When I think about what they've been through, I admit it humbles me. And it makes me grateful for the life I've led so far.
It still seems to me that childhood is the longest part of life.
How will this affect them when they're adults and they have these memories to look back on? I can only hope we'll win this thing before they're adults. My God, John, think about it!
Having to teach kids to have fun.
John dropped the letter onto his chest and pinched the bridge of his nose. The scar the cyberseal had left all those years ago was hurting again, but then it did that when he was very tired. He sighed. His own upbringing had been unusually tough by the standards of the day. But he'd known how to laugh and having fun had been no problem. Even if he did resort to stealing to ensure maximum joy. Compared to today's kids, he'd had it cushy.
As to Kyle, I really like him. He's not a leader; I don't see him ever becoming an officer. But he's solid and he'll make a hell of a sergeant one day. He has an impulse to protect that I like to see and he accepts responsibility. He's smart, if no scholar, and he's honorable. If he agrees to do something, he'll do it, by God.
Yeah, John thought uncomfortably, he will. This was eerily like his mother's descriptions… but then, Kyle Reese was growing toward the moment they met. My head hurts. He turned back to the letter.
His little friend Jesse turns out to be a boy after all. Small as he is and dressed in that gray clothing, you't couldn't tell. He and Kyle watch each other's back. Which't is good to see. Not that we have much in the way of the kids mixing it up. Like I said they hardly know how to misbehave.
It's good that they have each other. Like the rest of the kids, they don't make new friends easily. And none of them have formed very close ties with the adults around them. They'd better get over it or Skynet may just have succeeded, if indirectly, in eliminating the human race.
And on that sour note I'll close. All our best to you, John.
John folded the letter and put in on the tray table. Kyle was a healthy young boy with a wounded psyche but a good heart. In other words, he was already much like the man who became his father. He wished he could do something to make it easier for him. But he didn't dare.
Jack and Susie will be good to him, John thought. They'll take care of him and train him well. Jack had certainly done a fine job with Susie. John wondered if Kyle and his mother had laughed— Don't go there! No, no, no! Think about a pink giraffe.
Hippopotamus, jelly beans, anything!
Then he forced his mind back to the last intelligence report he'd read. Finally he managed to distract himself enough that he thought he could sleep. Though when he closed his eyes, just before he drifted off into exhausted slumber, his mind flashed him a picture of Kyle's tear-stained face, and he sighed.
* * *
"John, I don't know what you expect me to do," Sarah said.
"We can't impose something like this from on high. For one thing, not everyone has the leisure, let alone the resources, to set up schools."