Terminator Salvation: Trial by Fire (16 page)

“Here it comes,” he called, and lowered the packs down. “You need any help down there?”

“Yeah, and a lot of it,” Callahan called, his voice grim.

“I can’t get his leg free. It’s bleeding, too, pretty bad.” “We’ve got to get some help,” Zac breathed.

Kyle nodded. “Callahan, I’m sending Zac back for the medics,” he called into the conduit.

“There’s no time,” Callahan said. “We have to get him back up before we can treat him, and I’m going to need both of you down here for that. Once he’s up and we’ve got room to start bandaging,
then
Zac can go for help.”

Kyle grimaced. But if Yarrow really was bleeding badly, Callahan was probably right. The main part of the camp was a good mile away, which meant at least a fifteen-minute round trip, plus whatever time it took to find a medic.

“Hang on,” he said. “We’re coming.”

“I’ll go first,” Zac volunteered. Before Kyle could say anything, the younger teen grabbed the edges of the conduit, swung his legs inside, and slid out of sight.

Grimacing again, Kyle rested his shotgun against the side of the conduit and got his legs up inside. Holding on with one hand, he retrieved the weapon and shoved the barrel awkwardly down the waistband of his jeans. He shifted his grip to the sling and slid carefully down the pipe.

There wasn’t a lot of light down there, but as Kyle worked his way down the line of backpacks his eyes adjusted enough to see that he was heading into a relatively narrow area lined by more of the tangled debris that littered the surface. Callahan and Zac were crouched beside a hunched-over Yarrow, and Kyle had to splay his feet to either side as he came down to avoid landing on any of them.

“How is he?” he asked as he came to a halt on the uneven ground.

“I think he’s starting to come to,” Callahan said, his voice grim. “He’s moaned a couple of times. Come on, give me a hand with his leg.”

Kyle looked down. Yarrow’s leg was jammed up to his shin between a couple of blocks of broken concrete. Even in the dim light Kyle could see the man’s pant leg was soaked with blood.

“Right,” he said, gingerly getting a grip around Yarrow’s thigh. “I’ve got the leg. You two see if you can pry apart the blocks.”

“Shee—!” Yarrow hissed suddenly.

Kyle jerked in surprise, but managed to keep his grip on the leg.

“Yarrow?” Callahan asked anxiously. “You all right?”

“It
look
like I’m all right?” Yarrow bit back between clenched teeth. “What the hell are you doing to my leg?”

“Trying to get it free,” Kyle said. “Hold on to my shoulder.”

“Wait!” Zac said suddenly. “Shh.”

They all froze. Kyle kept his grip on Yarrow’s leg, trying to take some of the man’s weight onto himself. He looked around, wondering what Zac had heard.

And felt his blood run cold. He’d assumed Yarrow had crashed into some sort of chamber, some accidental gap randomly formed by the blast, shockwave, and collapse that had devastated Skynet Central. But this wasn’t simply a gap.

It was a tunnel. A twisty, meandering tunnel that wound its way haphazardly between huge slabs of concrete or around twisted tangles of metal or broken machinery. Its floor was littered with debris and pieces of broken concrete. Its roof was even more irregular, and at places there were pieces of girder or twisted nets of rebar that had been pressed into service to hold up sections of the ceiling.

This wasn’t something that had happened randomly in the explosion. This had been deliberately, carefully built.

And there was only one possibility as to who the builders were.

“Terminators,” Zac breathed. “I can hear their footsteps. They’re coming.”

“Get out of here,” Yarrow murmured. “All of you, get out. Now.”

Kyle looked up at the line of backpacks hanging down from the conduit. If the Terminators were close enough for Zac to hear...

Callahan had come to the same conclusion.

“There’s no time,” he murmured back. “Zac, find us a place to hide. Reese, give me a hand with Yarrow.”

“No,” Yarrow, said, pushing Kyle away. “No time.” He looked around. “There—that gap at the edge of the floor. See it?”

Kyle looked around. The gap was little more than a darker shadow at the side of the tunnel a dozen steps away.

“Yes.”

“See if it leads someplace where you can hide,” Yarrow ordered.
“Go.”

Clenching his teeth, Kyle headed toward the shadow, trying not to trip on the uneven ground. He reached the gap and looked down.

They were in luck. The hole opened into a deep dropoff, deep enough that the faint light trickling down from the broken pavement above them showed no sign of a bottom. He couldn’t see if there was any place for them to stand, or whether they would have to hold on to concrete or rebar until the Terminators went away. But at least they would be out of sight.

He hurried back to the others.

“It opens into some kind of pit,” he reported. “I can’t tell how deep.”

“You’ll have to chance it,” Yarrow said firmly, wincing in pain. “All of you—down the rabbit hole. Now.”

“Just as soon as we get you out,” Callahan insisted.

“It’s too late,” Yarrow said, his voice suddenly as cold as death. “Besides, they’ll see the backpacks. They’ll know someone’s here.”

“I can cut them down,” Kyle offered, reaching for his knife.

And froze. Yarrow had drawn a Colt from inside his jacket and was pointing it squarely at Kyle’s face.

“I gave you an order, Reese,” he said. “It’s too late for me. It’s not too late for you. Get your butts into hiding.”

“But—” Callahan began.

“Because you have to get back alive,” Yarrow cut him off. “The machines aren’t digging this damn tunnel for the fun of it. It’s heading straight for the camp. You’re the only ones who can warn Connor.”

“We can’t just leave you,” Callahan said, his voice pleading now.

“You have to,” Yarrow said. “Besides, it was my stupid mistake. I’m not going to have you paying for it.” He waved the gun. “Now go, before I have to die with your deaths on my conscience.”

Callahan’s face was screwed up like he was going to cry. But he jerked his head in a nod.

“Go,” he told Kyle.

A few seconds later, they were at the gap.

“I’ll go first,” Callahan said, sitting down on the edge of the hole and sliding his legs through the gap. “See if I can find some footing.” Half turning, he dropped down into darkness.

Kyle looked back along the tunnel, at Yarrow leaning against the wall, the Colt in his hand pointed down the tunnel toward the heavy footsteps Kyle could now hear coming toward them.

“There’s a ledge,” Callahan called softly from the hole.

Kyle tapped Zac on the shoulder.

“Go.”

The younger teen dropped and maneuvered himself into the opening. Again Kyle looked over at Yarrow, suddenly aware of the shotgun tucked into his waistband. If he and Yarrow together had enough firepower to disable the machine— “Reese?” Callahan whispered.

“Reese, move it,” Zac hissed. “They’re almost here.”

Kyle caught his breath.
They?

And then, abruptly, the approaching footsteps seemed to leap into focus. Zac was right—there wasn’t just one set there, but several.

Turning back to the gap, he hurriedly slipped his legs into it. One Terminator they might have been able to handle. But not a group. All Kyle could do from Yarrow’s side, with or without the shotgun, was put his death on Yarrow’s conscience.

His head was still above ground when he caught a distant glimpse of red Terminator eyes around a bend in the tunnel.

Flinching, he ducked down, nearly losing his balance as his feet hit the narrow ledge and almost slid off. For a second he fought for balance before Callahan and Zac grabbed his sleeves and steadied him. The edges of the hole itself were jagged and broken, with twisted pieces of exposed rebar on the underside of the slab. Kyle got a grip on one of them—

Just as the boom of Yarrow’s Colt thundered through the tunnel.

He tensed, squeezing the rebar hard. There were two more shots, then three more in rapid succession.

And then, silence.

Kyle looked beside him at Callahan. The other’s face was tight, his mouth working wordlessly. Zac, on Callahan’s other side, had his face pressed against his upper arm as he held tightly with both hands onto the rebar. The silence stretched like a piece of old cloth...

And then, Kyle heard the footsteps start up again.

He felt his throat tighten. Had the machine he’d glimpsed as he dropped into the hole spotted him, as well? Yarrow should have been blocking most of the Terminator’s view, but with Terminators you never knew. The footsteps came closer... closer... reached the hole...

And passed by without breaking stride.

Kyle stole another look at Callahan. He was facing up and over his shoulder, his eyes focused on something back there. Kyle followed his line of sight, and spotted the faint shadows passing across the hole as the Terminators filed by.

There was a long line of them. T-700s, Kyle guessed, from the clink of bare metal on the concrete above them. Several had gone by before it occurred to Kyle that he should probably be counting the shadows. Another eleven of the machines made it past after he started his count.

Finally, the last one passed, and the sound and vibration of their footsteps faded away. “Eighteen,” Zac breathed, his voice trembling. “There were
eighteen
of them.”

“Where do you think they were going?” Callahan asked.

“You heard Yarrow,” Kyle said. “The tunnel’s heading into the camp.”

Callahan muttered something under his breath.

“Come on,” he said, shifting his grip to the edge of the tunnel floor. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Hold it,” Zac said suddenly, grabbing his hand and pulling it back down out of sight. “There’s more coming.”

Kyle froze, holding his breath as he listened. A few seconds later, he heard the metallic footsteps again headed in their direction. He looked up at the wall, waiting for the shadows to appear.

A minute later they did.

Only this time they were heading the opposite direction.

Kyle peered up at the shadows, a risky plan starting to take shape in the back of his mind. He had no idea what kind of peripheral vision T-700s had, and sneaking a single eye out of cover to see what was going on could conceivably get all three of them killed.

But Zac had counted eighteen Terminators in the last pass. If he was right, and if this was the same group heading back again...

He waited, counting until the eighteenth came by. The footsteps changed tone—it was indeed the last one in line. Shifting his grip on the rebar, Kyle eased his head up for a quick look.

It was a T-700, all right. But instead of the usual submachinegun, it was carrying a huge, jagged chunk of concrete. Kyle threw a quick glance behind it, confirmed there weren’t any more machines, and craned his head up a little higher.

He was only able to see the last three Terminators in line. But that was enough. All three of the machines were lugging pieces of broken concrete or twisted metal.

Kyle lowered his head again. Callahan and Zac were looking at him questioningly, but he shook his head, nodding toward the retreating line of Terminators.

Once again, the sound and vibration of their footsteps faded away.

“They’re not attacking the base,” he murmured to the others. “At least, not yet. They were carrying pieces of debris.
Big
pieces.”

“Debris?” Zac asked.

“Debris, as in they’re still digging,” Callahan said. “That means we’ve still got time.”

“The big question is how far they have gotten,” Kyle whispered. “The front of the tunnel can’t be too far ahead, not with that quick a turnaround.”

“Unless this was a different group,” Callahan pointed out. “There could be two shifts running, with some place up there that’s wide enough for them to pass each other.”

“But this doesn’t make any sense,” Zac objected. “How can Skynet be running Terminators with all the radio interference blanketing everything out there? Skynet uses shortwave to communicate with the machines, right?”

“I guess that means the interference
isn’t
blanketing everything,” Kyle replied.

“Or the interference has been carefully designed so as to leave the right frequencies open,” Callahan said grimly. “That alone shows this plan’s been up and running for a while.”

“So what do we do?” Zac asked.

“Like Yarrow said, we get out of here and alert Connor,” Callahan told him. “Reese, could you see if the backpacks were still there?”

Kyle shook his head.

“The machines were in the way. I’ll try now.” Carefully, he again eased his head up through the hole.

Yarrow was lying on the tunnel floor, pressed up against the side wall as if he’d been shoved or kicked there. In the faint light coming through the conduit Kyle could see the bright red blood spreading out over the concrete.

Standing over the body, its metal skin shimmering in that same diffuse light, was a Terminator.

Instantly, Kyle ducked down again.

“Terminator,” he whispered urgently.

All three froze. Kyle strained his ears, trying to hear past the thudding of his heart. If the Terminator had seen him, it certainly wasn’t in a hurry to come and investigate.

Which, given that it
was
a Terminator, meant that it
hadn’t
seen him.

Callahan and Zac were staring at him, their expressions tense. Motioning them closer, Kyle leaned his lips close to their ears.

“It’s standing guard over Yarrow,” he whispered. “Right under the conduit.”

“But it didn’t spot you?” Callahan whispered back.

Kyle shook his head, playing back the memory of that quick glance. Now that he thought about it, he realized he hadn’t seen the glow of the machine’s eyes.

“It was facing the other direction.”

Callahan nodded, his lip twisted.

“Skynet’s not sure he was alone. But they don’t know who else, or how many, or which way. So it’s watching both directions for us to come back.”