She had paused her feverish eating. Holding a sandwich halfway to her mouth, she had tensed visibly. Her eyes were wide. It was a posture and response Wright had seen before. Out of the corner of an eye he saw that Reese had noticed it too and was already racing for a far corner of the floor. He beat Wright to the spot by half a second.
A loud crack sounded. The bottle Len had been drinking from exploded in his hand. Startled, he gawked at the glass shards and the precious drink that was now dripping from his open palm. Blood oozed from his neck where some of the glass had struck.
The roof exploded.
The digits that plunged through the resultant opening were large, powerful, and metallic. Clamping around a stunned Virginia, they pulled her out through the newly made hole in the roof. Racing for the front door, one of the other survivors screamed at Wright in passing.
“Damn you! You brought them here!”
Bashing its way through the rapidly disintegrating ceiling, a second mechanical claw missed the accuser but snatched up another survivor.
Wright didn’t have to tell Reese and Star to run. They were already sprinting madly for the store front. Around them was chaos and confusion as the remaining survivors scattered in search of an exit, any exit, while the pair of probing claws sought additional prey.
As they burst free of the mini-mart’s confines, Reese and Wright looked back to see the attacker. Star did not—she just kept running.
“Harvester!” Reese exclaimed without breaking stride.
A mechanical marvel, the machine was many times the size of a human being. Powerful arms and legs sprouted from its body together with an assortment of sensors. Only some of these observed their surroundings by seeing via the normal visual spectrum. Others looked to be attuned to seeing in the infrared, still others in the ultraviolet. Gleaming limbs of dark metal held Virginia and the other snared survivor in an unyielding jointed grasp.
People were screaming and scattering in all directions. Many rushed toward a parking area packed with vehicles, some of which had been laboriously cleaned up and restored. Flanked by the children, Wright headed straight for the painstakingly repaired jeep. They did not reach it—which was fortunate. Looming over the crumpled roof of the store on girder-like legs, the towering Harvester let loose a massive discharge that turned the jeep into an eye-blinding fireball. Wright and his young companions were forced back toward the mini-mart.
While he easily shook off the effects of the blast, the concussion had been too much for Star. Dismissing an odd and unfamiliar surge of emotion, he bent and picked her up. With a curt nod in the direction of a slowly accelerating camper, he led Reese toward it in hopes of intercepting the departing vehicle.
Len cut them off, though not intentionally. A fleeing Saab sideswiped him. He must have hit the fender and hood just right, because he rolled clear with no apparent injury. Reaching the camper, he yanked open the passenger-side door and jumped inside.
The fleeing vehicle did not escape the attention of the Harvester. One shot reduced both the camper shell and the pickup on which it had been riding to flaming scrap. Having gained a head start, it looked to Wright as if the Saab and its occupants might make their escape. The Harvester’s range, however, was the equal of its precision. Blown high into the air, the Saab tumbled end over end to slam into the remnants of the metal canopy that partly shaded the single line of gas pumps.
Still carrying Star, he and Reese took cover behind an intact corner of the mini-mart’s auto service bay. Glancing inside, he spotted a pair of unoccupied and possibly functional vehicles: a tanker and a battered heavy-lift tow truck that had been kitted out to fight the machines. Loading the unmoving Star into the truck’s front seat, Wright pretzeled himself under the dash and began the process of hot-wiring the vehicle. A hand on his shoulder made him pause and look back.
Meeting the older man’s gaze, Reese shook his head and used both hands to diagram a mushroom shape in the air while blowing out his cheeks. While Wright knew he might not be the brightest man on the planet, neither was he stupid. The teen’s meaning was as clear as it was correct: based on the action they had just observed and had barely managed to avoid, climbing into a car and attempting to speed away might not be the best strategy for avoiding the Harvester’s attention.
Then what? he thought furiously.
The big machine saved him the pain of having to think. Short bursts from its secondary weapon began to collapse the walls of the service bay. Years of dust and accumulated grime blossomed out to form impenetrable clouds as the Harvester pondered how best to remove them from the truck.
Glancing sharply at Reese, Wright mouthed the words, “Trust me” and brought wires together beneath the truck’s dash. The engine growled, stalled, growled again, and rumbled to life. Throwing himself into the driver’s seat as Reese slid in on the other side and shielded Star, Wright slammed the truck in gear—into reverse.
Ramming the tanker, the heavy truck strained for traction. Looking back, with one hand on the wheel and a foot jamming the accelerator into the floor, Wright saw that two-thirds of his plan was working. Pushing back the tanker had slammed it into the legs of the Harvester and brought the collecting machine to a temporary stop. As a result of being smashed by the tow truck, the tanker was spilling gasoline from several ruptures in its steel body.
It might as well have been spilling milk. In the absence of the hoped-for sparks, the pungent fuel was simply pooling up on the floor of the service bay. The angle at which the Harvester had been pinned prevented it from bringing its weapons to bear, but that was unlikely to last forever. As he was trying to decide what to do next, a hand tapped him on the arm. A small hand.
Now awake, a silent Star was proffering an emergency highway flare.
Taking it, he ignited the warning device, took aim, tossed it back and out the door of the truck, and floored the accelerator. As the tow truck streaked out of the service bay, the flare landed in the nearest stream of gas and flared back in the direction of the tanker. Seeing the truck flee, the Harvester raised the muzzle of its main cannon and took aim.
The result when the line of fire reached the immobilized tanker was most satisfying.
The explosion was even bigger than Wright had hoped. As flames balled skyward behind him, he gunned the tow truck away from the mini-mart and headed for the highway. He didn’t smile at Reese, and the teen did not smile back, but the feeling of appreciation was clearly mutual.
Then the Harvester plowed through the wall of flames that had engulfed the service bay and started after them.
It fired—and missed. Since the beginning of the assault on the mini-mart this was the first shot unleashed from its primary weapon that had failed to strike its intended target. The failing might have been due to the machine having suffered some slight damage from the tanker explosion and the resulting flames. Or it could have been due to the hasty evasive action taken by Wright. More likely the miss was due to the fact that the Harvester’s legs were still locked, entwined, and in several spots melted to the remnants of the tanker.
But while the machine’s mobility and ability to follow were seriously compromised, that of its component parts were not.
Reese had seen them in action on the streets of greater Los Angeles, and for his new friend’s benefit he identified the two-wheeled machines that dropped clear of the larger machine’s body as Moto-Terminators. Capable of speeds far in excess of anything the Harvester could achieve, they hit the ground and shot after the fleeing tow truck.
Like the rest of the old highway, the section Wright was speeding along was littered with dead and abandoned cars. Now, instead of driving to avoid them, he deliberately slammed the truck’s reinforced steel front bumper into as many as he felt he could safely impact. As pieces of abandoned vehicle went flying and bouncing down the road in the truck’s wake, the noise inside the cab was deafening. Neither Reese nor Star complained.
It was a clever effort—and a useless one. Steered by se
nses far more responsive than those of any human driver, the pursuing Motos deftly maneuvered around the careening debris without ever slowing down. The distance between truck and hunters closed rapidly.
Wright grew aware that Reese was yelling at him, screaming to make himself heard above the metal carnage that was fueling the truck’s wake. He could have argued with the teen’s declared intent, but there were two reasons why he did not. One, someone had to drive the truck. And two, he didn’t have any better ideas.
Climbing out the rear window of the cab, Reese carefully made his way to the rear of the rocking, swaying vehicle. The first sizable object he saw that wasn’t bolted down was a barrel of oil. Several kicks with both feet sent it flying off the back of the truck. Bursting on contact with the road, it sent a wide spill of black liquid slashing across the highway. The first of the two Motos managed to avoid the rapidly spreading pool. The second did not. Striking the slick, it spun wildly out of control.
Continuing to accelerate, the other machine was working to try and cut off the truck’s line of flight. Frantically searching the vehicle’s bed, Reese found a toolbox, opened it, and began throwing everything he could find at the red-eyed machine. Screwdrivers, nails, a file—all bounced harmlessly off the machine’s outer shell, until a heavy mallet landed just ahead of the front wheel. Unable even with its superb mechanical reflexes to react in time, the Moto hit the bouncing mallet, skewed to the left, and disappeared beneath the heavy tow truck’s right front wheel. The truck bounced as first the front wheel and then the rear one ran over the machine.
Having recovered from its spin-out, the second Moto had rejoined the chase and was once more closing in on the fleeing vehicle and its fragile organic occupants. Righting itself, the one that had gone down and been run over by the truck quickly recovered to rejoin its companion as though nothing had happened.
Fresh out of everything that was easily heavable, a frustrated Reese rummaged through the truck bed until his attention was caught by the main cable release. Slamming both hands down on the appropriate lever, he sent the heavy towing hook airborne off the back of the rocking vehicle as the now unrestrained cable began to unspool. Sparks and shards of asphalt flew as the steel S-shape struck the road and began bouncing and jimmying wildly behind the truck.
Then the flying hook caught onto the frame of the nearest Moto and locked tight.
Finding itself fixed securely to the truck, which was sliding and shimmying unpredictably as Wright fought to avoid the pursuers, the Moto went fishtailing in all directions. Similarly, being forced to drag the unexpected weight made the task of controlling the truck increasingly difficult. As it lurched from side to side, skewing all over the road and occasionally onto the flanking dirt shoulders, Reese found it increasingly difficult to maintain his own balance. When one especially violent jolt sent him tumbling, he grabbed for balance onto the nearest projection.
This happened to be another of the tow control levers. A motor engaged and began to reel in the errant cable—as well as the homicidal machine to which it was presently affixed.
Struggling to bring its front weapons to bear on the source of this continuing annoyance, the Moto made repeated attempts to blast free from the restraining line.
Up in the cab, Wright had had about enough of trying to dodge the pursuing Motos. While he was perfectly willing to play defense when the situation required, after a while his natural instincts took over. It was time to go on the attack. Especially since they were now rocketing along a winding canyon road where room to maneuver was restricted by a steep slope on one side and a reinforced embankment on the other.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Star took it all in without mouthing a word.
Slowing slightly, he let the second Moto catch up until it was speeding along parallel to the truck. A hard wrench of the wheel trapped the Moto between the truck and the embankment, crushing it against the restraining wall. This untenable situation persisted until the barrier finally gave way. The hunting machine was fast and agile, but it could not fly. A brief fountaining of water showed where it struck the river that was churning through the canyon below.
Wright felt a lot better for about three seconds. That was the total amount of time that elapsed between his looking down at the river and returning his gaze to the road ahead. Looming immediately in front of them was a bridge spanning the river that had swallowed the Moto. Sitting in the center of the bridge and blocking the road completely was a hovering Hunter-Killer. As he was trying both to absorb what he was seeing and figure out a way to cope with it, the waiting HK fired.
Able to rely more on brutal force than precision, since its directive did not include trying to take humans alive, its aim was not as precise as that of the Harvester. As Wright slammed on the brakes and cranked the wheel, the blast blew apart the road directly in front of the tow truck. As it spun wildly, centrifugal force sent the still-hooked Moto swinging around in a wide arc. Smashing into the blockading Hunter-Killer, the smaller machine erupted in a burst of flame and ignited munitions.
The force of the explosion was strong enough to buckle the narrow bridge. As Wright fought for control, the truck started sliding into the gorge.
“Hold on!” he yelled.
Screaming, yelling, and unable to grab onto anything to halt their fall, first Star and then Reese were sent tumbling out of the truck. Their plunge was halted by a pair of hands. Unfortunately, they were hands of metal. Scorched and dented but far from incapacitated, the trailing Harvester had caught up to the confrontation in time to pluck both children out of the air. Unyielding digits deposited both of them into a waiting Transporter.
That was enough for Wright. Grabbing an axe, he took a short run, jumped, and managed to grab hold of the hovering Transport. Reese and Star were clearly visible within the human-proof enclosure. Bringing the axe up, he started to swing it around when the nearby Harvester swept him off the vehicle’s roof. Apparently deciding that this particular specimen was especially valuable, it prepared to deposit him into the Transport’s forward section.
“Marcus!” Reese yelled from inside the holding basket.
“Get back!” He raised the axe again.
A new presence marked by a double scream caused it to pause. The source of the sound was a pair of A-10 Warthogs that came roaring across the top of the river gorge. Recognizing the appearance of this greater threat, the Hunter-Killer ascended skyward on its impellers and immediately took off in pursuit of the two aircraft. Moments later another HK arrived on the scene, followed by a third.
“Williams—Harvester’s got a friendly pinned to that Transport. HK’s coming in to finish him off—get in there.” Connor barked into the radio. Kate and Barnes stood next to him in the control room, while the control operators worked with calm efficiency around them. Connor’s mission for his two A-10 pilots—Williams and Mihradi—helping a few civilians through a dead zone had in the past few minutes become deadly serious.
A female voice came through on the radio.
“Got it, sir. Closing in—2,000 meters. Locking on—”
Above the gorge, the sky was suddenly filled with bursts of cannon fire as the two pilots found themselves unexpectedly outnumbered and outgunned. That didn’t keep the second pilot from blasting apart the HK that was pursuing the Harvester.
“Good hit, Williams. You nailed it.”
Barnes clenched his fist in silent victory as Mihradi’s message came through. He glanced over at Connor who was already working through the next move. He leaned in toward the radio, speaking intently.
“Mihradi, take out the Transport’s main engine—”
“What about the prisoners?” As if anticipating the pilot’s concerns, Connor barely paused in his instructions.
“It’ll auto-land on passive thrusters—and we can get ’em out.”
The pilot’s voice was crisp and clear.
“Affirm, coming in 200 feet off the deck.”
The lead pilot banked sharply, dove,
and shredded the rear half of the Harvester that was holding a large human prisoner.
Hit multiple times and losing power, it still retained control of its captive. The towering machine reached toward the slowly accelerating Transport for support.
The effort came to naught as an internal blast destroyed the Harvester’s processing unit. Still holding tight to its prey, the machine plunged over the side of the canyon and toward the river below. The man fought his dying captor all the way down, when they landed in the river, and as they sunk toward the bottom of the fast-moving watercourse.
“HK’s on our six!”
As they heard Williams’ voice the three Resistance fighters watched the monitors intently as the red blip that represented the HK closed in on the two Resistance A-10s.
“It’s got a lock on you—break off!” Connor yelled into the radio.
“No! He’s down; he’s down.” Williams’ shout came through as one of the green blips disappeared from the monitor.
High above, caught in an unexpectedly ferocious crossfire, one A-10 disintegrated in a shower of metal and composite splinters. As the second plane banked and attempted to get away from the overwhelming firepower of the swarming HKs, it took a hit that blew away one engine.
***
“Evasive maneuvers—now!” Connor ordered and his knuckles turned white as they gripped the table. But his voice remained steady.
The same couldn’t be said of the pilot.
“It’s all over me. Can’t shake it.” Her words were taut as if Williams was gritting her teeth when she spoke. “Engine’s out! I got half speed only!”
Connor’s response was instant and his voice turned urgent.
“Eject, Williams! Eject!”
Swept away by the fast-moving river, the dead Harvester finally lost its grip on its single human prisoner. Kicking free, Wright struggled toward the surface. He broke through the white water overhead long after the average swimmer would have blacked out from lack of oxygen. Long, deep breaths filled his lungs—as he saw the second A-10, trailing flame, come plunging directly toward him.
Terminator Salvation Page 9
