Realities

by Jose Rodriguez

  Terminator: Realities

  By Jose Rodriguez Jr

  Based on Terminator by James Cameron & Gale Anne Hurd

  Cover by Tatiana Villa at villatat@gmail.com

  Copyright 2021 Jose Rodriguez Jr

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ~~~~

  Table of Contents

  1. ‘FOOTBALL’

  2. LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION

  3. FNG (f****** new guy)

  4. ORDERS

  5. LI/ANG QIAN UNO

  6. LEGION & THE REV-9.i

  7. O/B/G (oldie but goldie or original gangster)

  8. WEAPONS OF WAR

  9. SPECTRUM

  10. PBJ (peanut butter & jelly)

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ~~~~

  1. ‘FOOTBALL’

  Everything was destroyed, and it was dark. The ground was littered with the bones of the fire's first victims. The only things left standing were the ruins of a once-great, world-spanning civilization.

  Now, a war raged between humans and machines. What was left of humanity formed what would be known as the Resistance. They fought against Skynet, the computer that now sought to wipe them out with Terminators.

  Once activated, Skynet had become self-aware, went rogue, and started a nuclear war that nearly annihilated humanity. Terminators were the AI robots created and lead by Skynet. They were just as numerous and varied as the human race.

  In one of the now rock-ridden cities; T-70s, T-500s, T-600s, and T-800s, skeletal machines, the Terminators, patrolled. They weren’t alone, however, two ground and two flying HKs patrolled the area as well. HK was just short for hunter-killer. They were just as deadly as any man-made military machine and maybe even worse, were completely automated. Ground HKs, basically tanks, were big and rolled around on treads. Flying Hks, as the name implies, were VTOL capable aircraft with a devasting array of weapons for carrying out their mission. All of them had been designed and developed by Skynet for one purpose: the extermination of the human race.

  Among the rubble, two humans, fully shrouded in dark-colored clothes, very quietly crawled against what was left of a wall. One carried a standard plasma rifle while the other carried a high-powered sniper rifle. Ahead of them was a small nook made from the surrounding debris. They made their way to it as silently as possible. The Terminators were just on the other side, so the least amount of noise was of paramount importance.

  Nearby was a small path leading to the building’s basement. One of the men used a hand signal for the other to follow him down and inside. They could have easily stood and walked the distance, but with the machines around, it was far too dangerous. Instead, they got back down on their stomachs and slowly crawled their way in.

  One of the men cautiously opened the basement’s door and checked the room before entering. It was intact, mostly just dust with paintings, chairs, and a small table lying about.

  The man removed his face covering, revealing himself to be John Connor. He waited for his partner to close the door before whispering. “Quin, make the call.”

  John Connor, a scrappy-looking man in his forties and a scar on the left side of his face, was the leader of the Resistance.

  “You think these walls will be a problem?” Quin whispered back. Quin Uno, son of a Chinese/Japanese man, Zhao Uno, and a Mexican/Taiwanese woman, Dulce Qi. His father wanted to name him Li Qian Uno, but a compromise with the mother led to Quin Uno. She wasn’t too fond of his name possibly being mistranslated to 2001. About the same height and a little thinner than John, he was in his mid-twenties, served as Connor’s personal protector and one of many good friends. He was the one carrying the sniper rifle. It took a lot of training, but he eventually became one of the Resistance’s top crack shooters.

  John shook his head. “Shouldn’t be a problem,” he said in a low voice. “We should be close enough.”

  Quin kneeled beside one of the walls, set his rifle down, and unpacked the radio transceiver he carried on his back. After a few quick adjustments, he was ready to go and whispered into it. “Coach, this is Quin.”

  ‘Coach’ was the codename for the man in charge of the Resistance HQ in the area. He was located underground with a few other members. “Coach here,” he said. “We’ve been expecting you, ”

  The volume on Quin’s portable radio was low but good enough for him to hear. “Coach, this is Quin,” he replied. “I am in the area and I have ‘Football’. Repeat. I am in the area and I have Football.”

  Coach rubbed his face with both hands and breathed a sigh of relief. “How’s Football?” he asked.

  “He’s alive and well at the moment,” Quin answered. “But we have Terminators all over the place. Can you help? We need at least a little distraction.”

  “For Football,” Coach said. “We’ll give you a lot more than a little distraction.” He then turned to a man sitting next to him and nodded for him to switch channels on his radio “This is Coach to all players in the field, Football is in play, engage the Terminators.” he said. “Repeat. Football is in play, engage the Terminators.”

  The next thing Jonh and Quin heard was the eruption of battle outside.

  “That must be our queue,” John said.

  Quin quickly packed the radio. “I know the way,” he said. “Let me go first.”

  The sound of battle slowly grew deafening as both men crept up the stairs. A glance of the field, in any direction, showed explosions now dotting the land and lasers flying everywhere.

  John and Quin crawled and quickly skipped from one hiding spot to another.

  Hanging from John’s belt was a regular handheld walkie-talkie modified by the Resistance to became active at a certain distance, with a green light turning on to act as an indicator. Almost as soon as it became active, John came to a rest against a wall.

  Quin peeked through a crack in the wall with the scope on his rifle. It was a special scope for detecting human body heat versus the heat given off by the Terminators, similar to a thermal scope. A human had a normal heat signature. Terminators showed up as varying shades of red. He held off on taking any shot. Shooting now would only give away his position, and with John in tow, that wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

  “Coach,” John called. “This is Football, I need you to lay down a strobe for the rendezvous,”

  “You got it,” Coach said and immediately jumped from his chair while grabbing a walkie-talkie and running to another part of the base. As he ran past a shelf, he grabbed a small metal ball and made a hard turn to go outside where others had taken up positions overlooking the battle. It was one story off the ground but secured with dozens of Resistance members in and around the area. All of the fighting was taking place in spots other than there. The guerilla-style of warfare the Resistance used was meant to confuse the enemy, with the shooting and moving coming rapidly from different spots.

  Coach twisted the ball then dropped it before speaking into the walkie-talkie. “Ok, the strobe is down.”

  John checked for any machines in the area before equipping a special pair of binoculars to see where the strobe was. An area flashed with light repeatedly through the binoculars. It wasn’t visible to the naked eye and, hopefully, from the intel they had, wasn’t visible to the machines either.

  Quin came around, kneeling beside John. The area ahead was clear, the machines were preoccupied.

  John checked with his binoculars again before pointing the way for Quin. “Twelve o’clock,” he said. “Dead ahead about fifty yards.”

  Quin took the lead. “Ok, stick close.” He said.


  John followed, moving from wall to wall, crawling through any ditch the entire time to the safety of the rendezvous point.

  Quin and several other members surrounded John like a herd of elephants and guided him inside the complex.

  John met up with Coach, Shawn O’Neil, a slender man with blue eyes and blond shoulder-length hair. A little older than Quin. “Shawn, thanks,” John said, shaking hands with his general. “I need a radio to talk to our men out there.”

  Shawn gave a quick salute before saying. “Sir, right this way.”

  John followed Shawn to the transceiver and wasted no time issuing orders. “Listen up men. This is Football. I want anyone with a SAM to focus on taking out those flying HKs immediately. Then, I want you all to concentrate on the ground HKs. Use your canister bombs. Snipers, take out any Terminator that comes into your crosshair…”

  Quin, along with another Resistance member crawled rapidly to a new spot out in the field. He peeked into his scope to find two Terminators moving away. He quickly aimed at one’s head and squeezed the trigger.

  The Terminator fell with a clean hole going straight through its head. Anything that had been in the bullet's path was blown outward like brain matter. Being so close, the second Terminator immediately noticed its fallen comrade. It barely had time to process the bullet’s trajectory before it too was taken out with another headshot from Quin.

  Several SAMs went up almost simultaneously, giving the flying HKs next to no room to dodge. One HK avoided being struck by the first missile, only to inadvertently move into the path of another. The second flying HK barely had a chance to move out of the way before it was struck by multiple missiles.

  Quin crawled rapidly with the other Resistance member to a barely-there corner of a building. Much of the building was gone, in ruins. Quin was nicely hidden with his shroud that blended in with the surroundings. The other Resistance member was also concealed by the rubble but exposed himself just enough to the HK when he attempted to toss a canister bomb. The ground HK instantly acquired a lock on its target and fired, blowing the Resistance member to pieces.

  Quin went wide-eyed at the sight of the canister bomb rolling in front of him. He quickly grabbed it and tossed it as he rolled over on his back, he wasn’t about to make the same mistake as his partner and expose himself.

  It was a lucky toss, as the canister bomb landed directly in the path of the HK, treads rolling over it. The following explosion tore through the HK, leaving it a burning pile of wreckage.

  Quin crawled to the other end of the ruined building and peeked through the rubble with his scope. At some distance, he spotted several other Resistance fighters taking out the other HK with their canister bombs.

  The only things in the field now were the Terminators. Each was then taken out by the guerrilla warfare common among the Resistance. They could be easily distracted by the sudden throwing of dozens of rocks and grenades that made it hard for the machines to determine what was a threat and what wasn’t. Much of the Resistance was able to slowly close in, encircling the enemy and eliminating it in a crossfire.

  Shawn came running. “Sir,” he called. “Looks good. We have just a few Terminators out in the field to take care of.”

  John looked at him before going back to the radio. “Regulars, all regulars, fall back into support positions for snipers. Snipers, don’t stray more than fifty yards from any support post and do not hesitate to call for backup if needed.”

  Quin was lying by several other members who had a radio. Upon hearing the message he began to crawl away to carry out John’s order. The Terminators were terrifying in most instances that found one unprepared to deal with such a threat, however, couldn’t put up much of a fight against a well-informed army waiting for them.

  In the end, daylight broke, and humans carefully scavaged through the remains of the enemy.

  Shawn approached John. “Sir,” he said. “Seems clear. Reports indicate we got them all.”

  Quin entered the room and stood by John. “I made it here in one piece,” he said. “I ran from across the field. Didn’t find anything.

  “Pack everything up,” John said. “Head back to base. We need to leave this area immediately. I wouldn’t want to be here when the machines come back.”

  Shawn nodded and saluted. “Right away, Sir.” He said before moving on.

  John looked over at Quin, patting him on the arm, and said “Let’s go.”

  2. LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION

  John and Quin jumped out of a truck to walk through a very large cluster of burned-out buildings that looked in serious need of maintenance. It was an old top-secret military base with several now empty surface-level buildings. In front and behind them marched other members of the Resistance.

  Any working vehicles parked inside what buildings they could or away from the base to hide the location of both.

  “I’m telling you,” Quin said chuckling. “We need to come up with better callsigns. Come on, the ones we got now are corny as hell; Coach, Football?”

  John found it somewhat humorous as well. “It works,” he replied. “Think of it as our version of the Enigma machine. As long as it confuses the Terminators and they can’t figure out what we’re saying, it’s fine with me. Besides, I’d rather be called Football as opposed to Cupcake.”

  “Good point,” Quin said. “I don’t know what an Enigma machine is, but I should get a callsign too.”

  John raised an eyebrow and looked at Quin. “Sure,” he said, expecting Quin to come up with something silly. “Do you have one in mind?”

  Both men entered the base through a set of huge, metal doors that lead deeper into the Earth. These doors were automated, blast-resistant, the only way in, and most importantly, hidden. It was large and mostly underground, leaving the desolate surface to appear to have been destroyed.

  “I got one,” Quin said. “I can be S.E.X.T. Sext. Which stands for sniper exterminator of Terminators.”

  John burst out laughing. “Don’t you know what sexting is?”

  Quin was too young before learning what such a thing was. Born after the war started, he never owned a cellphone and thus didn’t know what one was. “What?” he asked. “You don’t think it’s cool?”

  John continued laughing. “You don’t even know what a cellphone is, do you?”

  “Cellphone,” Quin wondered out loud. “What’s that?”

  John, still laughing, said. “Nothing! Keep that name. It’s perfect. In fact, as leader of the Resistance, I make it official right here, right now.”

  Quin suddenly felt self-conscious as John continued further into the base along the way on a different path. “Ok,” he said uneasily. “I guess that’s what I’ll use.”

  As John walked, he regained his composure and looked around to see survivors huddled against a Resistance member’s station, eating the little food they had while the soldier worked. On his other side, between two work stations was a small hall with a group of survivors, a family, getting comfortable. Right next to him as he walked by, was an older man and woman working diligently on repairs for some clothing items. The sad thing was that most everyone looked homeless except the soldiers wearing the appropriate attire, though even they looked like they could use a good cleaning.

  That was the norm throughout the base. Very few areas were now off-limits or designated top-secret. Aside from the few stragglers struggling for survival outside, most were now living in a place that was previously inaccessible to them.

  The militaries of the world couldn’t say ‘No’ to desperate survivors. What little was left of the world’s armies quickly realized that there was no such thing as an untrustworthy human when they found out it was the machines causing so much chaos.

  It would only take months before determining that all humans would have to band together to fight an enemy that made no distinction between race or creed. Suddenly all of the human’s differences had disappeared. It didn’t matter what your skin color was or if you h
ad socialist beliefs. Racism and political allegiance were among the first ideas to die. The very concept of communism and democracy were no more.

  It was a beautiful and sad thing at the same time. Beautiful because it was ideal: man caring deeply for his fellow man. Sad because it took such a horrible event to realize it.

  The machines were ruthless. They didn’t care about age or gender. Anything with two arms and two legs was fair game, and that included any primate. It wouldn’t even allow for the chance of evolution.

  The skies could hardly be contested as the machines tirelessly sent up more and more aircraft. Helicopters and some VTOL aircraft were all the Resistance had, in small numbers. They could safely fly short distances and hideaway in anything large enough to house them. The water was a little safer. It was the one place the machine had underestimated human influence. Water-based HKs were still rare in the hotly contested oceans of the world.

  Skynet found it difficult to set up a port for any ship before it was eventually found and destroyed. It knew this part of the war was an effort of attrition, it would only be a matter of time before the humans could no longer fuel its powerful navies. Already, it was beginning to notice a decline in fleet size during large-scale engagements. However, inland lakes and major rivers swam with HKs. It was a newly developed EMP that protected the hulls of the navy. If it weren’t for the size and energy requirements of the system, the Resistance would have a much better weapon.

  John rounded the corner to find his wife Kathrine “Kate” Brewster-Connor quickly approaching: a beautiful redhead with light green eyes, and also visibly a few months pregnant.

  Both embraced each other upon getting close enough.

  “Thank goodness you’re ok,” Kate said. “I was worried about you.”

  “It’s good to see you,” John said. “How are you?” he then asked, caressing the baby bump.

  “We’re doing fine,” Kate smiled and answered. She then joined John walking back to their quarters.