With a snort Ray said, "Well, unless you can carry it out of here on your back, I guess you'll have to. You wanna tell me what's goin' on?"
"Yes," John said. "But I've got to go, my mother's been in an accident. The cop didn't want to say much, so I think she might be hurt bad." He waved toward the parking lot. "Key in the ignition?"
"Yeah," Ray said, concerned. "You want me to come with?"
John hesitated to be polite, then said, "No, better not. I might have misinterpreted the cop; sometimes they can be so close-mouthed over nothing your imagination goes into overdrive. Thanks for the loan."
"Sure. Let me know how it turns out."
"You'll be hearing from me," John said over his shoulder. He'd check the Klondike first; if they weren't there they'd probably gone to the Junction. They had a couple of favorite restaurants there.
Enjoy it while you can, guys. I've got a bad feeling that restaurants are about to become a thing of the past.
CHAPTER FOUR
DELTA JUNCTION, ALASKA
John sat in the parking lot of the Longhouse for a good forty-five minutes staring at nothing—wet green trees, wet gray mud, wet pavement, and wet gray sky, all a blur. Dieter's truck was three cars over, but there was still no sign of him and Sarah.
Maybe I ought to tell them inside, John thought. Cowardly, sure, but probably a good way to ensure that Mom doesn't kill me outright.
Tightening his lips, he hung his head. She might never speak to him again—at least not as her son—but she probably wouldn't kill him, if only because Skynet would want her to. John opened the door and slid out, ignoring the chill and the spray of rain that struck his face and neck. Then he crossed the longest parking lot on earth…
But not long enough, he thought, dodging around a vastly bearded man in a bloodred mackinaw who looked like he'd done a summer's drinking with spring yet young. I wish it were somewhere about a light-year long. Or that I could just run away.
He pushed through the entrance door, through the hall, and through the inner doors—most places around here had that air-lock arrangement, for wintertime. Hot smoky air full of the smells of cooking and beer struck him, noisy with conversation.
The hostess beside the "Please Wait to Be Seated" sign waved him inside when he told her he was meeting someone already there. He stood at the entrance to a long and dimly lit room, amid a clatter of cutlery and more tobacco smoke than he liked.
Dieter and Sarah, wineglasses in hand, were laughing together at a table in the dim back corner of the restaurant.
Candle glow from a small, rustic lamp in the center of the table made his mother look thirty and very pretty.
It seemed selfish to force his news on them when they were enjoying themselves so much. But then, if they're feeling mellow, maybe Dieter won't kill me either. He walked toward them, forcing a vaguely pleasant expression onto his face. When he reached their table his mother gave him a knowing smile.
"I was wondering when you'd come over," she said. "But when I saw the look on your face, I wasn't about to invite you."
John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Can I sit?" he asked.
Sarah and Dieter exchanged glances and the big man made a gracious gesture of invitation; whereupon John sat, his hands clasped over his stomach. That was beginning to ache with the tension.
"You want to eat?" Sarah asked, glancing around for a waiter.
John waved her off. "No." He sat forward, closer to both of them, and his manner made them lean in, too. John looked them both in the eye. "I owe you an apology for my behavior," he said.
"Both of you, but mostly you, Mom. I have something to tell you."
He gritted his teeth. "And I swear, I'd rather cut my tongue out than say it."
Sarah leaned back, tapping the table with one finger, and studied her son. He looked… ashamed. Something curdled deep inside her, some warning of impending disaster. If John were just any young man, she'd think he was going to confess that he'd knocked up some girl and was planning a low-rent lifestyle with her. But John wasn't just any young man, and any disaster that could make him look so defeated and so conscience-stricken must be very, very bad.
"Do you want to wait until we get home?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "I don't think I can stand to wait." He shook his head again. "But I don't know how to tell you."
Dieter rolled his eyes. "Say it like it's a report," he snapped.
"Start at the beginning, go on to the end, and stop."
John gave him a brief smile, then looked down again. "I was reading Mom's report, and in spite of my resistance, I was seeing the sense of it when I asked myself why I was being such a jerk."
Dieter made a rumbling sound of protest and John stopped him with a look.
"I know how I've been behaving. So I thought about when it had started, and that brought me back to Red Seal Base." Sarah and Dieter automatically checked to see if anyone was listening, and John was briefly, sadly amused. "Just before the Terminator killed Wendy, she was trying to say something to me. I thought it was 'enter.' So I went to the computer and loaded the disk I found in the drawer. Then the Terminator killed her, we killed it, and we left."
John picked at a hangnail for a moment, then he looked directly at his mother. "But now I've thought it over and I think what she said… no, I'm sure that what she said was 'erase.' "
Sarah made a little grunt, as though she'd been punched, not hard but right in the solar plexus. She stared at her son, her mouth slightly open, and moved her hands awkwardly, as though she didn't know what to do with them.
"You?" she said, unbelieving. She shook her head, then gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Sarah stood, still looking at John. "I need to take a walk," she said, sounding hypnotized.
She slid out from behind the table. Dieter started to rise and she waved him back. Sarah stopped for a moment to look down at John, who could only bear to shoot brief glances at her. Then she walked away from them, briskly, and without looking back.
Silence reigned at the table.
"I'm glad we had dinner before you came in," Dieter said.
John looked at him, feeling sick. "I don't think I ever want to eat again," he mumbled.
"You will. You'd better." The big Austrian narrowed his eyes.
"We've got a mess to clean up."
That shocked an incredulous laugh out of John. "A mess?
That's putting it a bit mildly, wouldn't you say?"
"Yah, but I don't have my violin."
Genuinely shocked, the younger man stared at him. "I can understand if you don't wanna give me a hug, but I've just realized this whole thing is my fault. I'd appreciate it if you didn't make fun of me, okay?"
"You made a mistake," Dieter agreed. "But you weren't the only one. I knew you were upset, and hurt. I was the more experienced operative; I should have double-checked your work."
"It's good of you to want to shoulder some of the responsibility, Dieter," John began.
Dieter waved that off. "At this juncture assigning blame is meaningless. And in this case it's particularly pointless. We've been in this situation before, John." He nodded his head. "And we've discussed what's happening. Events want to happen a certain way. You and your mother and I have changed things three times. The first two times you had nothing to do with creating Skynet, yet you owe your very existence to it." He sighed. "I suppose it's only reasonable that fate would choose you to bring it into being."
"We have no fate but what we make for ourselves," Sarah said.