C.18

July, Present Day—Thursday Evening

Kern County, California

“Ávila, what’s your twenty?” The voice belonged to Harry Farland, the sergeant who was Linda’s immediate boss.

Linda picked up the mike of her cruiser’s radio. “I’m just coming off break. I’m southbound on one eight-four, coming up on the turnoff to one nineteen.”

“I need you to turn around and head home, Ávila. Right now.”

A chill went through Linda. Harry wasn’t following ordinary radio protocol, and his tone had been the same two years ago when he had told her to meet him at a remote spot on a farm road. It was there that her husband of a year lay dead, face-down a dozen yards from his cruiser, victim of a single gunshot wound.

She put her cruiser into a U-turn. It took all her force of will to keep her voice approximately normal. “Headed for home,” she said. “What’s going on, Sergeant?”

“Just get here, Ávila.” There was no irritation to Farland’s voice, just a somber tone that deepened the chill Linda felt.

“On my way,” she said, barely able to raise her voice above a whisper. “Out.” She replaced the mike in its cradle and flipped the switches for lights and siren. To her, “right now” meant “code 2.”

She hammered the steering wheel as fear rose inside her. No, no, no.

*   *   *

The fear didn’t subside as she came within view of the Ávila property. It grew worse. There were blinking lights, several sets of them, in front of the family house. Linda could see white Kern County Sheriff’s Department cars, two ambulances, civilian cars, and a military Humvee. More Sheriff’s Department cruisers entered the road behind her.

Sergeant Farland was waiting for her at the point that the access road emerged from the pasture onto the broad dirt patch that acted as the family’s parking lot. A tall, lean man with a dour, lengthy face that prompted others in the department to make jokes about horses in his ancestry, he now wore an expression of miserable responsibility. He held a hand up, an early signal for her to wait.

She came out of her cruiser as if ejected. “Who is it?” She couldn’t keep shrillness out of her voice.

“C’mere, Linda. I need to talk to you for a second before you do anything.”

She looked around as she approached him. Through the house’s door and windows she could see men and women moving around inside on both floors. Oddly, two Air Force enlisted men were working over a patch of dirt with rakes, but she couldn’t take the time to figure that out. “Don’t give me any bullshit, Harry. Who?”

Harry reached out to grip her shoulders, as if worried that she’d run away … or fall over. “Linda, it’s everybody.”

That stopped her. She could only stare, uncomprehending, at the sergeant’s gloomy features. “What?”

“Linda, something awful has happened, and everyone is dead.”

Linda shook her head. “No, no.” But she could read the truth of the sergeant’s statement in his eyes, in his posture. “Mama, Danny, the workers, everybody?”

Harry was slow in answering. “Not Danny,” he said. “We don’t know where he is. There’s some evidence … that Danny did this.”

“No!” She shoved him, open palm to the chest, staggering him back and breaking his grip on her. She ran to the house and up the steps.

Mama lay where she had fallen, face-up, the front of her blue dress crusted with dried blood.

Beside her stood a photographer and the county sheriff, a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man. His broad face twisted into an expression of pained reluctance. “Dammit.” He approached her. “Ávila…”

She twisted away, losing her balance; her back slammed into the wall and she slid down until she sat on the floor.

The sheriff stood over her, extended his hands for her to take. “Ávila, you need to not be here. Come outside with me.”

“No.” Her mind tried to throw off the mantle of shock that was wrapping around her. She clicked over into some portion of standard operating procedure. “I need to … I need to identify…” She gripped his hands, let him haul her to her feet.

“I’ve done that,” the sheriff said. “I knew Teresa pretty well, remember.” He turned her toward the door, led her out onto the front porch. “You don’t need to see this. You don’t want to see it.”

“They’re all dead?” She couldn’t manage to put any strength into her voice; the words came out as if she’d just taken a massive blow to the solar plexus.

“I’m sorry.” The sheriff put an arm across her shoulders, steadying her. “I’m going to arrange for someplace for you to stay. You can’t be here.”

Linda focused in on the Air Force men. A trail of odd markings, two parallel lines of tracks, led away from the house and around to one side. The Air Force men were methodically raking the markings out of existence. “What the hell are they doing? That’s evidence!” She jerked forward to charge over to where the men were working, but the sheriff held her.

“Listen,” he said. “We’re working with the Air Force on this. And that’s not exactly evidence, because we—well, they—know what left those tracks. Listen, do you know where Daniel is?”

She returned her attention to the sheriff. His expression suggested he was still trying not to hurt her. That meant there was more news that could. “No,” she said. “What Harry said—there’s no chance that Danny did this. None.”

He nodded, obviously not believing her, not interested in arguing it. “All right. I’m going to get Harry to take you to the substation and arrange to get you a room, unless there’s someone local you want to stay with.”

“This is my house—”

“You can’t be here.”

“Danny didn’t do this.”

“Listen. Early this afternoon, Danny left his duty station without checking out. According to these Air Force boys—” The sheriff nodded toward a pair of business-suited men beside a dark sedan, one of them talking on a cell phone. “According to them, Danny removed an experimental riding vehicle, which we’re not supposed to talk about, and a number of firearms from Edwards. Then he disappeared. His car was found hours later in a supermarket parking lot in Bakersfield.”

“There’s been a mistake. Sheriff, I know him.”

“Then you’d know that he’s been acting funny lately. The Air Force boys have told us that his coworkers all mention that. Have you noticed him behaving oddly?”

That shut her up. She couldn’t lie to him, couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. Finally, she said, “A little. But nothing to indicate—”

“That he’d do this. Of course. Give me your keys, I’ll have someone else get your cruiser back to the substation. Harry, c’mere.”

Numbed and finally unresisting, Linda let Harry lead her to his own cruiser, let him seat her in the passenger side. There were more official cars now, and still more coming up the lane. This was a whirlwind of colored lights and strangers and motion, and it had just swallowed up forever the family into which she had married.

July, Present Day—Thursday Night

Ávila Property

Danny kept his body low and his movement slow. Walking this way from the lettuce fields of the Tremont property next door—next door by country standards—was already taking its toll on his back. He’d be in twice the discomfort if he were doing this by day, but the sun had been down for hours and the heat of the day was dissipating.

Stop thinking about backaches, Daniel told him. Through experimentation, he’d finally gotten to the point that Daniel’s words didn’t cause Danny’s lips to move.

“Sorry.” Daniel knelt where he was, still a couple hundred yards short of the house, and looked around.

What is it?

“Something’s very wrong. It’s only about half past ten, but all the lights in the house are out. Mama’s always still up at this hour.” Danny frowned. “She’d certainly be up if anyone from the base called to ask about me, which they would have.”

Go slow and go smart, then.

“That’s what I’m doing.” Danny rose again, continued to move quietly toward his home.

He circled around toward the back, but before the outline of the house cut off his view of the lane leading to the highway, he spotted something from that direction, a faint red glow. He focused on it.

What is that? Danny could almost feel Daniel’s eyes narrowing.

“Cigarette. Someone just lit up. There’s a mound there—a car. Someone’s parked out there halfway to the highway.”

Kid, it’s great to have eyes like that, and I treasure these moments I get to see through yours. Remember this night when your eyes start to give out.

“That’s weird. It wouldn’t be one of the farmhands; they wouldn’t leave a vehicle over there.”

Now Danny heard Mike’s voice. It’s going to be an official vehicle, she said. Air Force, police, Sheriff’s Department. They’re bound to have an APB out on you now, and someone’s staked out to catch you when you return home.

“Ah. You are wise, Woman of the Future.” He heard Daniel snort with amusement.

Moving even more carefully, alert not to trip over any of the equipment that might have been left out behind the house—wheelbarrows, gardening tools, or the like—Danny reached the back door and entered. The house was dead quiet, as quiet as if deserted.

Danny sniffed. There was an odor in the air, something both faintly metallic and slightly meaty. “What the hell’s that?”

Uhhh … that’s blood.

Danny froze. “What kind of blood?”

I can’t tell you that, sorry. I don’t have a dog’s nose. But I’ve smelled that a lot of times, and it’s blood.

Now an ice pick of worry began making preliminary stabs into Danny’s gut. He said no more, just worked his way as silently as he could up the stairs, walking right next to the wall to minimize creaks and squeaks.

On the second floor, he turned right, away from the master bedroom, and moved equally quietly down the hallway lined by bedrooms. First was the one formerly occupied by Lon, on the left; it was now Mama’s sewing room. Then there was his on the right; he’d visit it in a minute to pick up some things he might need, such as his laptop and his passport. Then on the left was the door to what had been Alex’s room until he went away to college, and which had become Linda’s when she moved in after Alex’s death.

He entered silently. It was pitch black. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows. This room faced away from the highway, so between that fact and the drapes he felt safe in switching on his small flashlight. He moved over to the closet, unable to avoid the creaky floorboards, as he was not as familiar with this room as other parts of the house.

“Danny.” The voice was Linda’s.

He spun and was blinded by her flashlight. This was no penlight, but a full-size Sheriff’s Department–issue flashlight capable of lighting up a whole room or of being used to beat a suspect into submission. He shielded his eyes from the brightness, tried to see her around his fingers. “Linda. Thank God. I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, we need to talk.” She sniffled, and Danny realized she was crying. “Danny, why’d you do it?”

“This is going to be hard to explain, Linda.” He took a step forward. “Mind if I—”

Her agonized “Don’t move!” was simultaneous with a clicking noise Danny knew well—the cocking of a handgun. He heard Daniel say, Oh, crap. Not good.

Danny froze. “Linda, are you pointing a gun at me?”

“Yes, I am. Oh, God, I don’t want to shoot you. Please don’t make me. Just take a step back and raise your hands.”

He did so. “Why are you pointing a gun at me?”

“Because of what you did.”

“Running away from Edwards? That doesn’t make me dangerous. Especially to you. I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’re going to get you to some people, and they’re going to fix whatever’s wrong with you.”

Danny winced, not from the not-unexpected revelation that she thought he was crazy, but from the pain in her voice. “If you get me into the hands of the authorities, I’m going to die.”

“Tell me why, Danny. I swear, whatever you tell me, I’m not going to tell anyone else. I’ll keep it to myself. It’ll help me understand who I need to call, what kind of help I need to get you.”

Danny managed a chuckle. “All the help you need is sitting out in a car halfway to the highway.”

“That’s Deputy Pete Fitch. He doesn’t know I’m here. I sneaked onto the property. I’m officially off-duty. On administrative leave.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me that. You know the answer.”

“And why are you pointing a gun at me? You know I wouldn’t try to hurt you.” Ruefully, he admitted, “If I did, you’d probably be able to beat me up, anyway.”

“Don’t you remember, Danny? Don’t you remember what you did this afternoon?”

“Sure. I ran away from Edwards, for reasons I’m going to explain to you, and I spent the rest of the day in Bakersfield, shopping for supplies.”

“No.”

“Yes. Hell, I’ve still got all the receipts in my pocket. Not that we’re going to need them. In two days, there won’t be an IRS to be worried about deductions.”

“Danny, you’ve been hallucinating. You came here…” Linda’s voice broke and it was a moment before she could continue. “And you killed Mama. And everybody else.”

Her words blanked Danny’s mind. He stood frozen, his hands up, flashlight pointed at the ceiling, and tried to wrap his thinking processes around them, but they were too big. He didn’t realize that he’d fallen back against Linda’s flimsy closet door until it sagged under his weight. He heard Daniel’s voice, suddenly distant: No.

Finally he managed, “Mama’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, God.” Finally it made sense, the car waiting for his return, the scent of blood on the floor below. Skynet had decided not to rely on a simple story about a programmer running off. He was now officially a murderer.

And his mother was gone. He tried to remember what his last words to her had been, this morning. He couldn’t. He felt wetness on his cheeks.

“It wasn’t me, Linda. I swear.”

“Tell me what you think happened, then. Tell me why you left Edwards.”

“Can I sit? Please?”

“On the edge of the bed. Keep your hands in sight.”

He did. He leaned back against her headboard, not trusting himself to be able to sit upright. The last time he had been here, he and Linda had been making love. Now she had a gun on him.

He took a few moments to compose himself. That meant shoving thoughts of his mother aside until they only occupied half his brain, half his emotions. He couldn’t squeeze them down any smaller than that. “I’m going to tell you a story,” he said. “It’s a crazy story. It’s as paranoid as anything any tabloid writer could come up with, and I recognize that. It’s full of apocalyptic crap, and you’re not going to believe any of it.”

Mike said, Tell her that you’ll be able to prove it. I’ll give you all the facts you need to convince her.

“Promise?” he whispered.

I promise. Trust me, Danny.

“And then, when I’m through with the story, I’m going to prove it to you. So you have to swear to me that you’ll listen to the proof as well as the story.”

“I promise.”

“For once, that’s not good enough.”

“I swear to God, Danny, I’ll listen. But you’ve got to swear that, if I don’t believe you, you’ll come with me without resisting.”

Do it, Mike’s voice urged.

“I swear to God, Linda.”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

Danny took a deep breath. “A while back, the U.S. government began putting together plans for a centralized computer program that could operate the majority of America’s military defenses in case of a first strike or disaster scenario that wiped out our communications resources, disabled key portions of our command structure, whatever. It’s called Skynet, and it’s the most complex computer program in the world. It’s more complex than any one programmer could hope to understand—me included. And, at some point in the recent past, it became sapient. Intelligent.”

August 2029

The Grottoes

“How’s it going?” Kate whispered.

As it had become obvious that Danny had arrived at the last couple of days before Judgment Day, that he would be requiring more and more resources to get through the next forty-eight hours and accomplish the last few things John Connor hoped he would, more people had been summoned to his chamber in the Grottoes. Some had been called by John or Daniel. Some had come out of curiosity, and were important enough to linger when others would have been sent away. Now the observation room was crowded, standing room only.

John shrugged. “Well enough. Danny’s apparently into an ‘I’m not crazy, the world is about to end’ speech. I can only sympathize with him. I’ve been there. I’m the living textbook on that subject.”

Kate grinned. “You should be in there giving pointers.”

“They’ll call me if they need me.”

“It’s getting hotter in here. Can we get any more cool air?” Kate raised her hand to the sole air duct that supplied the observation room.

“I’ve called in a request. They may not be able to help. I just hope it’s cooler in the bedroom. I don’t want Daniel to overheat.”

“Amen to that.”

July, Present Day—Thursday Night

Ávila Property

As Danny spoke of Skynet, Terminators, thermonuclear holocaust and the future, Linda shifted the glare of her flashlight beam from straight into his face to one side. Daniel was still in the fringe of the illumination but could now make out details of the room. Linda sat in a folding chair in the far corner, where the shadows would have been deepest; she must have placed it there just for the purpose of awaiting him, as it had not been there the last time he’d been here. She wore civilian clothes—jeans, black boots, black blouse.

Danny could finally make out her features. Her eyes were puffy and tears still lingered on her cheeks, glistening in the illumination from the flashlight.

Oh, my God, Daniel said. She’s—

“What?” Danny whispered.

There was a long silence. Danny could dimly see Mike shaking her head at Daniel, putting a finger to her lips. Finally Daniel said, Nothing. Keep going. But his voice sounded as though he were rattled.

Danny could see the gun Linda held. It was not her Sheriff’s Department issue, but Alex’s Glock. She did not have it cocked now, nor pointed straight at him, but if she wanted to she could twitch it to point straight at his heart and put a bullet there if he were to lunge at her.

As if he would. He felt strangely without energy, calmly reciting the future history of man’s descent from domination of the earth while the fact of his mother’s death—unproven, he still hadn’t seen her body—wrenched around inside him.

“So that’s the situation,” he summarized. “Day after tomorrow, boom. End of civilization.”

“All right.” She was keeping a tight grip on both herself and her handgun. “You promised proof.”

“So I did.” Danny turned his thoughts to the voices that shared his skull, and whispered, “Well?”

Mike answered, Tell her this.

Danny listened. Adrenaline jolted through him. “Um … damn. The Terminator prototype we call Scowl has situated itself outside the farm, waiting for me to show up. In less than a minute, it’s going to come crashing in the front door in an effort to kill me.”

“All right.” Linda kept her voice reasonable. She glanced at her watch. She held the flashlight in her watch hand, and her motion sent light whipping around the room.

“Where’s Alex’s Colt? We’re going to need it.”

“In his old briefcase. Right here.” She gestured to the side of her chair. A black briefcase rested there on the floor, still in shadow. “If a killer robot comes crashing in here, I’ll be happy to give it to you. Until then, just sit tight. Twenty seconds.”

“Where’d they take Mama?”

“To the morgue. They have to do an autopsy.” Linda breathed deep, obviously trying to keep her emotions in check. She glanced between her watch and Danny. “Trust me, Danny. It was her. Fifty seconds.”

They sat in silence.

“Minute and a half.” Linda’s voice was more resigned now.

Danny whispered, “What’s happening?”

Daniel said, I don’t know. Mike, give us something to work with.

Uh … uh … I don’t know. Minor changes in events may have altered the facts I have on record.

“Two minutes.” Linda stood on obviously shaky legs. “I’m sorry, Danny. We have to go now.”

“Linda…”

“You promised, Danny. You swore.” There was no condemnation in her tone, just reasonability … and her own pain. “Turn around and put your hands up on the wall. I’m going to handcuff you. And you’re not going to give me any trouble.” Her control finally broke and tears poured down her cheeks, but she held the gun steady, aimed unerringly at Danny’s chest. “I’m sorry, Danny. But I have to take you in. We’re going to get you help. You’re going to be all better. I swear, Danny.”