Kyle turned his head slightly and she watched his expression go from flat to intense when he saw her. "They're going to send me home today," Sarah said anxiously, seated in the doctor-mandated wheelchair in the hospital room doorway. The metal fragment from the hellish cyborg had smashed into her body with such force it had snapped her thigh bone. The surgeons had inserted a surgical pin into the femur and told her it would probably heal up stronger than before.


"The human body is an amazing machine," her orthopedist had said. In fact he was very fond of this phrase and said it often. You have no idea, Sarah thought as she looked at Kyle's semi-conscious form lying supine on the bed. Sheets and blankets covered all but one arm. IVs and oxygen tubes snaked around his upper body. Monitors on steel poles blinked at her silently. She propelled herself forward in the chair, not because she truly required it, but because it was the rule and the more she obeyed the rules here, the less the nurses bothered them. Their welcome had gone quickly from sought-after celebrity to annoyance with their nutty story, lack of insurance and disruptions by police, various hangers on and media types. Since she was inexperienced in maneuvering the chair and because she was in a rush, she whanged the foot rest against the bed. Kyle's face registered a flicker of pain. "Sorry." Sarah noted the morphine pump read no dose available. She knew that meant he had just given in and taken a hit of pain meds. Kyle's shattered jaw was wired shut and he had two horrific black eyes. Each time Sarah saw him, she relived hearing the sound of that first punch from the terminator as it snapped four ribs and knocked the metal rod, Kyle's makeshift weapon out of his hand. She remembered the wave of despair realizing that Kyle had known he was in a fight to the death for her and he would most certainly lose. Even though they had both survived, the sensation of helplessness and grief in that moment still overwhelmed her. She knew some day somewhere, they would be in that battle again. Now, when she considered the incident, she felt inexpressible hatred for the machine. She now realized it was being coldly efficient by injuring Kyle methodically, hurting him precisely enough to prevent any further interference with its programmed mission to kill her. It knew the male human had sustained two gunshot wounds minutes before the two fled into the factory. It had calculated that statistically, further threat from the male and especially the female was now minor. Fortunately, that calculation had been in error.


Sarah picked up Kyle's hand, squeezed it gently and enclosed it between her own. She watched his chest rise and fall, wondering what it was like trying to breathe, encased in broken bones.


"Have to go," he said through his clenched teeth.


"I know. I'll be careful." She had no idea what that meant or what, specifically she should do to be careful. She was in many ways more afraid now than a week ago when the terminator and Kyle had first appeared. Instead of one identifiable, relentless killer there now were infinite, unknowable threats.


"Get a car, money. Pay attention!!" She couldn't tell if he was instructing her or talking to himself.


"I will, I promise." Sarah pulled herself up to stand on her one good leg and lean over him. She very softly kissed the bandages covering his forehead, his now closed eyes, then his bruised lips.


"I love you Sarah, I always will." The words were distorted by the surgical appliances, but they sounded alarmingly like a goodbye. She chose to dismiss it, knowing the drugs were causing some drift in lucidity. An orderly appeared to retrieve her. She obediently sat down and they disappeared into the hallway.

Sarah's leg began to ache with an unexpected fierceness almost as soon as the cab started moving, so she stretched it across the back seat. That wasn't much better. She also worried that returning to her apartment was somehow an unsafe behavior. Tactically wrong. That felt like something Kyle would say, anyway.

She paid the driver and awkwardly exited the cab. He helped her put on the small backpack that had served as her overnight bag from the hospital then watched from the street as she attempted and then gave up on scaling the stairs on crutches. She hobbled stiffly up the four cement steps, only then realizing with a rush of embarrassment and shock that her front door was still wreathed in crime scene tape, and that she had no key. The cabbie had gotten back into his car, but was still watching her curiously. Take a deep breath. Think. Making a show of digging through her purse she turned and waved him on with a smile. He turned in the seat and drove off. Relieved, she now thought of Ginger's key-hiding place under a flower pot on the back patio.

Her self-congratulation turned to chagrin as she rounded the corner of the building. The sliding glass door was gone. Someone had swept up most of the shards, but more yellow police tape was the only barrier. All she had to do was step inside.

Sarah was not prepared for the scene before her. The wadded bedding from the last few moments of Matt and Ginger's lives, the smashed furniture or the broken interior door. It was still closed, but most of it had been punched out into the hallway. She limped past the splintered shelves and stained floor. The living room carpet was shredded where bullets had smacked into it. Dried blood was everywhere, so much it did not look real. An enormous hand of fear closed over her.

Kyle's thoughts waded through the morphine. Where are you, Sarah? Are you safe? Pain sliced through his body when he tried to move, but it cleared his head slightly. He took inventory. Both hands were stiff as if he had jammed all of his fingers or they had been smashed under something heavy. One arm, encased in thick surgical dressings was painfully sore, but otherwise seemed OK. He could feel the tape holding the IV in the other. His face, however, felt like it was peeling off his skull. His entire jaw and neck were one giant hurt which jolted up several notches higher as he tried testing his legs, shifting them a bit, trying to locate any possible injuries. Controlling his breathing became an instant priority as well. The sharp reflex of sucking in more air with each new hurt hit a wall of agony from the broken ribs and the gun shot wound in his chest. His body tensed in response and now the sore arm felt like it was on fire, every shredded or bruised muscle protesting. He forced himself to unclench his hands, to breathe shallowly. Ease back down, don't go rigid. Pain can be controlled.

Tears of despair and fear spilled out of Sarah. Her breath was caught somewhere but not going in or out as she backed against one of the barstools by the apartment kitchen and sat there grieving, unable to think. Panic and blind urgency overwhelmed her. Sadness for Ginger and Matt, Mom and all the others the Terminator had killed. Fear for her self and Kyle. So many things she needed to accomplish and no idea how to begin. She was alone, for now at least, and for a long time she just stared at the floor.

At some point, Sarah realized it was getting dark and unease with her surroundings snapped her back into focus. She thought of the contempt in Kyle's voice as he had described the miserable scavengers from his time that did nothing but thieve and complain about their lot. She imagined his reaction if he could see her at this moment, cringing at the memory of things she had said to him in the car when she was afraid and certain he would kill her.

She made her way to the kitchen sink and washed her face not daring to turn on the light. She was hungry, starving actually, but the refrigerator only contained spoiled milk and part of a weeks-old take-out salad. The pantry didn't have much to offer either. Finally, she settled on a box of Cheerios, gathered up her crutches and hobbled down the hall.

Her room seemed undisturbed, although she now saw it through different eyes. Gratefully, she crawled into bed and munched on the cereal. She thought about how people of the future survived on scavenged food, and savored every handful of the crunchy Cheerios. Kyle and she needed safe shelter and a way to get there. Money was the first priority, then transportation. What was in her checking account? Certainly not enough to buy a car and they couldn't just steal one as they had before. Kyle would instinctively know how to do this type of planning and already Sarah was out of ideas. He was depending on her and he would be disappointed. Terrified as she had been, it was easier to trust him than to move forward on her own. She craved his physical presence. Eventually she drifted off, her last conscious thought an image of Kyle holding her while she slept, the same way he had held her that night in the culvert.

The nurses switched his IV cocktail every few hours. Clear-headed now, Kyle remained outwardly stoic during the painful ordeal of changing the original surgical dressings. Dr. Kowen, the orthognathic surgeon, checked Kyle's jaw during morning rounds and informed him the wires and appliances could be removed in six to eight weeks. Someone took his temperature and drew blood into a little vial with a blue colored label. The orthopedist came in and examined his arm and hands, telling him he was lucky his ribs and jaw were the only bones broken, and that given time and rest they would heal up, probably stronger than before. "The human body is an amazing machine," he said. Where are you Sarah?

 

 

After a few hours of stone-dead sleep, Sarah woke up both thirsty and disoriented. The cheap art print of a lizard on a rock in the Chihuahuan Desert was familiar, she was in her room, and for a moment, she was going to work and later, classes. Then the memories of the past week or so rushed back in, crowding out everything normal in her world. Kyle. She needed to see and touch him. Then she remembered she had no car, no scooter or much cash. Thoughts and questions piled up, overloading her brain. O.K. she thought, O.K., nothing's going to get solved if you lock up. She listened to the muffled sounds of cars on the street in front of the apartment complex for a while, looked at the time on her bedside clock which said 3:37. Sighing, she climbed out of bed and limped to the bathroom.

Once she had closed the door, Sarah flicked on the light and noted with shock that the hair dryers, makeup and toothbrushes were just as Ginger and she had left them. Get over it, she thought, and reached for her glass. Her own reflection was not of the same person she was a week ago. Kyle was with her now. There was the fact they had been in a fight for their lives and Sarah had been introduced to a world that came with a level of ruthlessness and violence beyond anything she could have imagined existed. She filled the glass and drank it down three times until her stomach began to ache. She refilled the glass once more. After locating the backpack and washing down two Percodan, Sarah went to the kitchen. It occurred to her while consuming a last resort breakfast of canned green beans and tuna, that she actually had quite a few resources. Her mother, Jeanette Conner owned a house in San Bernardino and there was the cabin and the truck.

Cruising along the mountain highway to Big Bear Lake Sarah steeled herself for what she might find at the cabin. She was getting used to seeing the trail of destruction left by the Terminator, but actually looking at where it had killed her mother would be different. It had taken Sarah quite a while to locate Matt's car keys, but eventually she found them under the sofa cushions where he usually sat when he came over. Matt's Civic was relatively new and well maintained, and Matt had even loaned it to her a couple of times, but Sarah would feel better when she switched it for her Mom's truck. It was odd to think how her mother had disliked that Silverado. It had originally been her dad's, but when he left, he literally walked away, leaving his truck, his job and his family.

The little orange fuel light blinked on so she concentrated on finding a gas station. Thank God she had the credit card her mom insisted she keep for emergencies. Sarah had actually refrained from using it so it had quite a bit of available credit-- and this was certainly an emergency. 

Back in the car after filling up, she smiled to herself thinking about Kyle. She really should work on the money situation, but surely it wouldn't hurt to go see him first. His feelings for her were confirmed in the way he looked at her and every time she touched him was a reassurance that the bizarre events of her life were real; she needed both of those things. Sarah was reaching for her purse to replace the card, grateful for the cool air from the AC vents when the driver's side door opened. She barely had time to register a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt before a hand grabbed her hair from behind and pulled her into the passenger seat. The man in the t-shirt slid into the driver's seat and put the car in gear while the second one squeezed in next to her. Less than 30 seconds after she had ripped the gas receipt from the pump, Sarah found herself sitting between two strangers in a now-stolen car heading rapidly back down the mountain. At first she was too shocked to react, but then she thought, these guys have picked the wrong girl to mess with. Sarah reached over the guy in the seat next to her, punched the door release and tried to shove him out.

"Hey! What the fuck!" He slammed the door shut aiming a fist at the side of her head. It ended up colliding with her hip as she climbed up out of the seat, grabbing the steering wheel, bracing her feet on his leg and arm. The Civic swerved, but only slightly as T-shirt Guy slapped her hard. Her eye felt like it was going to explode. She reached for the ignition key a second too late as the man from the passenger seat clamped a hand around the back of her neck and jerked her back against him. There was a gun pointed at her face.

"Bitch," said T-shirt Guy.

"Man, what the fuck you trying to do?" The man holding the gun said this in a fairly calm voice. "You ain't goin' anywhere."

Gun Guy slipped his arm around her shoulders, releasing his grip on her neck. This bitch was a lot better than the disagreeable hag on their last boost. She was actually young and pretty. Staring at her legs encased in the tight jeans and those full lips, he began to imagine all the possibilities. Sarah watched his hand thumb the safety back on the semi-automatic and rest it on his thigh. This was a different type of gun than the one Kyle had given her back in the motel. She forced herself to focus and think through what was happening even though she could feel the man's hand resting against her collar bone. Maybe they just wanted the car and would let her out somewhere with no one around. Yeah, right.

There was the terrifying possibility they were simply driving to somewhere they could kill her, or maybe rape and then kill her. Sarah figured her only chance of survival was to wait for the right moment and escape. The fact they seemed unconcerned she was able to see where they were going was a bad sign. T-shirt drove conservatively, not speeding or otherwise attracting attention as they wound their way back toward San Bernardino. He slowed to turn at an unmarked dirt track leading up into the woods.

In spite of herself, Sarah tensed. "Don't worry," said Gun Guy. "We just gonna have some fun."

"Shut up," said T-shirt navigating carefully over the potholes and weeds. The little road widened and she saw a cabin. At first her mind jumped into even higher panic mode, imagining being imprisoned with these two, held captive for weeks while they used her as they pleased. Then she saw the cabin had been gutted by fire a long time ago. No, whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon and quickly.

T-shirt stopped the car, turned off the ignition, got out and stretched. "Can we hurry this up?" he said to Gun Guy. He walked toward the woods.

Gun Guy thumbed off the safety again, pointing the pistol at Sarah. He climbed out of the car, never taking his eyes off her. He had blond hair, waxed into a bed-head style. She saw he had on a leather jacket and black cowboy boots.

"Get out." Sarah considered what would happen if she tried to run. She slowly stood up, not knowing what to do with her hands. Should she raise them or keep them at her sides? The thought was cut off as Gun Guy's hand whipped out and slapped her hard enough to split her lip. She had no time to scream before he brought the pistol down on top of her head. "Y' goddamn bitch!" he yelled as she collapsed to the ground. "Tryin' to push me outta the fucking car!!"

She had no memory of how she got there, but Sarah found herself in the back seat of the Civic, her body hurting so much, her eyes barely focused. This is it, she thought. This is how I'm going to die. "Yeah, that's better," a now familiar voice said. She realized she was naked just before Gun Guy punched her in the belly and just as she felt his weight on top of her. He had taken off the leather jacket, but the boots were evidently still there; she gasped in pain as one raked over her shin and his belt buckle jabbed and cut her. He laughed as he rammed his tongue into her mouth, one hand painfully squeezing her left breast. He was crawling all over her, slamming a knee between her legs, raising one arm to knock away her hand which she hadn't realized she was using to push at his face. "Ah, fuck!" Gun Guy heaved on top of her, trying to undo his belt and hold the gun and open his fly all at the same time. He elbowed her in the chest, levering himself up, now looking down at himself, kneeling half in and half out of the car and Sarah realized he had set the gun on the top of the back seat, just under the glass of the rear window. She grabbed it, felt for the safety and pulled the trigger. "Hey, wha-" The explosion was like the world's biggest period. Gun Guy collapsed on top of her. Bang. You're gone. Immediately she started screaming, hoping T-shirt would think the gun had gone off by accident. Where was T-shirt? Was Gun Guy dead? Where did I get you, you bastard? Hope it hurt. She pulled the gun between them and kept screaming.

T-shirt was just finishing a comfortable piss in the woods when he heard the shot and screaming. He thought, what the hell are you doing, you stupid fuck? Someone's going to hear all that. He ran back to the car in time to see what looked like his partner still busy with Sarah. Was he shooting her as part of his twisted shit? Enough was enough, though and he grabbed the back of Gun Guy's collar, pulling him off the hysterical girl. Too late, he saw the pistol she held and felt the bullet punch into his chest. A split second later she had raised the gun an inch or two, aimed and fired again. Finally, it was quiet.

Sarah tried to breathe, but there was so much adrenaline pumping through she felt light-headed. First, she pushed disgusting Gun Guy off of her and out onto the ground. She tried to sit up, holding the pistol ready in case anyone was playing possum, and she was trembling so hard her teeth were chattering, but she felt good. She was alive.

A week later, Sarah was helping Kyle into the passenger seat of the Silverado. He was so weak his whole body trembled and she was appalled at the stiffness of his limbs and the effort it seemed to require to move. When they were underway, she stole a glance and noted he was surveying the passing scenery with a familiar intensity. He would always be watching, always on guard. In contrast, she had been driving around for days, afraid and anxious, but unable to focus on her surroundings even though she now knew the cost of a moment's inattention. Kyle had sacrificed so much to protect her and she had taken it for granted. She felt an overwhelming sense of failure. Sarah looked down, trying to hide without moving her head, but her eyes brimmed and the tears squeezed out when she shut them.

"What is it?"

"I'm O.K. I'm just relieved you're here." He was silent for a moment.
.
"What's our situation?"

"Well, like you said, we'll need money so I'm selling my mom's house, my scooter, and the cabin. She had a little savings too. It's going into a trust Jeff set up so I can get cash when we need it."

"Jeff?"

"A shark lawyer I found."

"Shark?" he repeated, puzzled.

"This guy is ruthless, as in he does what he's hired to do, without too many questions, greedy, as in he's not a rich, corporate type so he needs the money." Sarah saw the distrust in Kyle's expression. "Don't worry, I think it'll be O.K." He looked skeptical, but decided to let it pass for now.

"What about supplies?"

"I have food and water and medical supplies, flashlights, bandages, stuff like that." She turned to watch his reaction. "And I bought a shotgun." A small laugh and there it was, that smile, constricted by the wires, but spontaneous and amused. "I hope we don't have to use it!" she said a little defensively.

"Me too."

The cabin was private, but not particularly remote. It too had been surrounded with strips of crime scene tape which Sarah had removed. Kyle insisted on surveying the woods and noted the positions of doors and windows. She worried about the unsteady way he walked afraid he would pass out before she could get him inside. There was electricity, running water, a fireplace, a bed, a fold-out sofa and a small kitchen. "Are you hungry?" she asked, watching him carefully. Having to subsist on a liquid diet was slow starvation.

"No," he said. Sarah curled against him on the sofa.

"Are you O.K.?" she reached up, touching his face. He closed his eyes.

"Yes." He pulled her closer with his one good arm, tucking her head under his chin. Tomorrow he would ask about the bruises and the two pistols. He was holding Sarah again and for now he didn't want to think about anything else.

 

After an uncomfortable night of nightmares and very little sleep, Sarah woke to a quiet cabin. The fact that Kyle was gone, no doubt checking for security weaknesses didn't surprise her, the fact that he had slipped out without waking her was unnerving. She looked out the window. Both vehicles were there, so at least he hadn't driven anywhere. She made smoothies for both of them, drank hers, set Kyle's in the fridge, and decided she needed only one Percodan before heading to the shower.

Kyle had lain awake most of the night, euphoric with Sarah sleeping in his arms, yet worried. Something had happened and she hadn't yet told him. His senses were on high alert in the unfamiliar surroundings as well. At first light, he went outside. When he had satisfied himself everything was as it should be, he allowed himself the luxury of watching the sun rise. Sitting on a rock in the clearing, he could hear Sarah moving around inside the cabin and a new and unfamiliar feeling of contentment washed over him. By the time it was quiet again, the sun was well up and he was hungry.

He came in just as she had finished drying off, the warm, moist air seeping out the open bathroom door. He stood motionless in the middle of the living room, heart suddenly rocketing to redline, and watched as Sarah ran a comb through her wet hair. She was turned away from him, leaning to the side so the water dripped to the towel on the floor. The small curve of one breast was visible as well as her form from neck to waist, the swell of hips to thighs, to her toes which still sported tiny flecks of pink nail polish. Sarah was aware Kyle was behind her, but finished her task without considering the absence of sound or movement. They had few if any personal boundaries between them at this point. Standing naked in the bathroom was a non-issue.

Sarah turned to look for some clothes which lay folded in a little pile on the edge of the sink and collided with Kyle's eyes. Instantly, her body went from relaxed, humming in pleasant neutral, to a jolt of sexual heat that whipsawed her mind back to their first night together. The past two weeks snapped out in an instant. She set the comb down on top of the clothes and walked toward him. At some level, she felt vulnerable approaching this man, tall, imposing in his jeans and heavy shoes and oversized jacket, but his expression, the love in his eyes, how much he wanted her, every emotion he was feeling was burned into her leaving no place for self consciousness.. She came to him and kissed him slowly and deliberately with none of the hesitation or entreaty as before. She felt tiny, reaching up, her skin pressed against the cool fabric of his clothes, her bare feet tucked between his boots. She opened his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, burrowing inside, skin to skin, caressing the hurt places, touching the bandage covering a wound. Then her arms were around him and she could feel the muscles of his back sliding under her fingers and the beating of his heart against her lips and mouth as she pressed against him.

As before, he was a gentle and attentive lover. She felt cherished under his touch, her flesh coming to high-tension life. He was learning her secrets, her love sounds teaching him and enflaming him. Kyle was drowning in her taste and scent as her body responded to his. He was rock hard and the wet heat of her felt so good as he slide inside her. Sarah cried out in relief and contentment as well as pleasure. So much of the past fourteen days simply faded out at this moment. He completely consumed her senses and she reveled in the pure animal passion of their bodies while his eyes locked onto hers, his soul laid bare. She felt as if his heart was being placed carefully in her hands. It was intense and she had been craving it every moment since Kyle had first touched her.

 

Sarah got up from the bed and brought him the smoothie she had made earlier. She could tell he was again a mass of hurts as she watched him gingerly try to arrange the pillows to sit. "Are you O.K.? That probably wasn't such a good idea for you," she said as she curled back up under the covers.

He gave a short laugh. "I'll live."

They sat in silence for a long while. Kyle set the empty glass on the floor, wincing as he resettled himself against the pillows. Sarah lay with her head against his shoulder, her hand resting in the middle of his chest, her fingers tracing little caresses against his skin. He remembered how she had first touched him like this, how good it had felt that night in the motel room, while he was afraid for him self and terrified that he would not be able to protect her. He looked down at her, at the discolored skin on her belly. He had seen the marks and bruises on her legs and arms too, but the welts and scratches on her sweet breast and the fading bruises on her face was more that he could stand. Sarah felt Kyle's body tense and knew what was coming. "What happened?" he asked quietly. She drew one huge shuddering breath and began to cry. Kyle forced himself to be patient, afraid of what he would have to hear when she could speak.

"Some carjackers tried to rape me," she said, finally beginning his nightmare, and told him everything she could remember. Sarah left nothing out, especially her frustration after she had struggled to drag the two dead thieves far into the woods, returned to the car and realized there were no keys. She had gone back to the bodies and found the keys in T-shirt's pocket and then decided to lift all their cash. Then she had driven Matt's Civic to the cabin, cleaned it out, cleaned herself up, and gotten back to the business of preparing for their lives together. She had been in shock, her brain and body running on some sort of detour for days, but now all the ragged fear, helpless terror, and savage pain invaded her senses again.

Kyle drew his precious Sarah to him, his brain seething, but he said nothing. He was a patient man by nature, his training for dispassionate, efficient death, but images of two faceless car thieves suffering lingering termination at his hands flooded through him. This was his fault and his responsibility. He was failing in his mission and he began to realize how seductive pre-war life could be. He was letting himself be distracted by his love for her. The physical and emotional need were insatiable now that she had blasted through his self control and knowing that she loved him back simply wiped out any resistance.

"I'm sorry I messed this up," she was saying. "I wasn't paying attention like you said, like you always do and now I've murdered two people. I was stupid and careless. It's like I thought I was playing dress-up soldier, trying to be like you and I just went back to that night, only this time it wasn't a machine and I just blew those guys away without even thinking. No, I actually was thinking. I was thinking I have to make sure no one finds out so we can run off somewhere together. It sounds like some stupid made-up game. It sounds insane even to me."

"All that matters is your survival, Sarah. You have to survive or nobody else does. You're strong; you're a fighter and always have been. You just didn't know it."

"I was so scared."

"I know. Everyone is." Kyle couldn't remember a time when he wasn't afraid. In his world, if you stayed afraid, you stayed alive.

"Not now and not here, they're not."

After a protracted process involving five different liability waivers, the wires and plates in Kyle's jaw were to be removed much sooner than planned. The surgeon came in and examined his work from weeks before, comparing two sets of x-rays. "It looks good," he said. "I think you'll be fine. You still don't remember how this happened?"

"No." Kyle's voice was impassive.

"You're certain this move is necessary? That you can't postpone it?"

"Yes."

"Hmm, alright then, let's go ahead." Dr. Kowen nodded toward the nurse.

Sarah propped her self and the crutches out of the way, leaning against the wall during the procedure. It was upsetting watching someone work with wire cutters and pliers in this fashion, especially as the bits of metal piled up on the surgical tray. She could see blood on Kyle's teeth.

"I think we're ready for the lidocaine." The nurse handed him a startlingly long-needled syringe. Kowen moved around the table blocking Sarah's view, but she could still see Kyle's fingers tense at the edge of the sheet. "Let's let that work for a few minutes," he said. As the door closed behind Kowen and the nurse, Sarah moved closer. Kyle looked up at her biting her lip and sat up slowly.

"Ow," she said.

"Yeah." She carefully kissed the side of his mouth. How different it was here with Sarah in pre-war time, having someone who loved him and cared whether he hurt or was afraid.

Each of the surgical plates came out with a tiny, but audible snap. There were four. "All done," Kowen said. "Mia will get you cleaned up. Just rinse several times a day with warm salt water until those little cuts heal." Kyle said nothing. "Alright then, no carrot sticks, no steaks. Soft stuff only, for the next week or so. Then work you way back into it, O.K.?"

"Sure." Kyle was impatient, but outwardly passive as the hygienist carefully cleaned his teeth and had him rinse with a solution of something to stop any bleeding. He was thinking about the carjackers' guns and where to get some ammunition. He was also wondering how those two motherfuckers happened to be at that particular gas station.

Riding in the Silverado with Kyle on the way to her mom's house Sarah thought how everything in her life now felt like part of a mission. Before seeing Dr. Kowen, they had returned to her apartment, Sarah driving the Civic, leaving it and Matt's keys where she'd found them. There were a few clothes, but not much else she wanted or needed to bring, but while she packed, Kyle looked around musing over the furniture, the books, even the carpet. Exploring the kitchen, he found the little bowl of mini Hershey bars. He came in her room working his way through a handful. "Where is that?" he asked, seeing the desert poster.

"What?" she looked up, "Oh, New Mexico."

"It's pretty."

"Yeah, it's a lot different than here, that's for sure."

Andy Shepherd was coming down from his meth high, making yet another phone call, checking more contacts for word on his brother, Ron. He needed money and he was resentful that none of his "friends" would give him a loan. It had been a week since he'd last seen Eric and Ron getting into the white Civic at the gas station, everything a picture perfect boost until they didn't show up at the garage three hours later. As usual, he had waited a few minutes after they left in the stolen car and drove the Camry back alone. They generally made some effort to stay separated by distance and time and often Ron and Eric took awhile getting rid of the car owner, but now Andy was frantic. Where were they? Ron always drove-if they'd been arrested, he would have heard days ago, in fact he probably would have seen them pulled over since the one mountain road was the only way in or out. If they'd been in an accident or crashed the car they would have either abandoned the vehicle or been caught. Somehow they had just dropped off the face of the earth. As he saw it, there were only two things to check out. One was simply to look for the Civic somewhere along the route, and there were hundreds of little dirt tracks leading to cabins and lake properties. The other possibility was the girl driving the Civic. Since she evidently wasn't missing-no news stories of unaccounted for tourists or residents, he was beginning to wonder if there wasn't something off about her. It seemed unlikely something had happened to Ron and Eric without it happening to her too.

Watching Kyle as he picked up cues from the surrounding traffic, matching speed, seamlessly adapting to the environment, Sarah thought about the first night they were running from the Terminator, about how Kyle's arm had been clamped protectively across her body while he drove one-handed, at ninety miles an hour, evading police cars through unfamiliar streets and alleys. He looked over at her, surprised at the smile on her face. His usual sphinx-like expression softened. "What?"

"I was thinking you should open a franchise of defensive driving schools."

"If you're saying you think I'm good at what I do, you're wrong. I've let all this distract me," he gestured at their surroundings, "and I've failed in my duty to protect you." He paused, "twice."

"Why do you think that? I'm still here with you and I think some of these things have happened for a reason. Maybe ripping my former life apart was all part of the plan, you know?"

"Like fate?"

"Yes."

Andy had no idea so many cabins and vacation homes existed. He had driven up dozens of dirt tracks only to encounter curious families or retirees or college kids at play or relaxing. He had located two white Civics. One he saw parked at a camp site with two mountain bike enthusiasts, and the other appeared to be owned by a middle-aged couple and the woman looked nothing like the girl from the gas station. After four days, Andy was out of patience and getting more and more pissed off.

Making a u-turn in front of a fire-gutted cabin he noticed two gaps that could have been old tracks and decided to check back into the trees. They were overgrown, but wide enough to drive a car through. He got out of the car and suddenly knew he would find the Civic back there and most likely his brother and Eric. Andy picked his way through the waist high brush for fifty yards or so before he realized none of it was crushed or bent the way it would be if a car had been driven over it. The other gap was a little less overgrown, but ended a very few feet into the woods. Nothing. He walked back to the Camry both relieved and disappointed. There were patches of smashed grass, tire tracks and foot prints around where he had parked, but the empty beer cans and other trash were just leftovers from partying kids so at first he thought the little ring was just another pull tab. Actually, it was way bigger than that. Andy stared at the ring a long time before he picked it up. It was Ron's.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sarah had been washing her hands in the Dairy Queen restroom.  She glanced at the Tampax dispenser while reaching for a paper towel and it suddenly occurred to her she had no idea what day of her cycle it was.  Or even today’s date for that matter.  Sarah rushed out of the restroom past Kyle, to the DQ employee busing their table.  She reached for the receipt, but the little scrap of paper was pasted to the tray under a wet drink cup.  The moisture had soaked through and rendered it illegible.  Kyle followed her out the door where she found the newspaper boxes.  Looking down she read the date, June 4, 1984. Her eyes flicked to a second publication to make sure.  “What is it, Sarah?”

 

“I’ll tell you in the car.” 

 

She forced herself to wait while he pulled out of the parking lot and accelerated to highway speed, but then found it difficult to say the words, “Kyle, I think I’m pregnant. I don’t have a calendar, but I’m about ten days late.”  She stared at his profile while the information sank in.  She wondered what he was thinking, what any man would be thinking about after receiving this news. 

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“No, but I’ve never been late before and our first time together was three and a half weeks ago.”  Completely distracted now, Kyle pulled over onto the shoulder and stopped.  A whole lot of things suddenly began to make sense.  Why John had picked him for the mission over other more experienced or qualified soldiers, and why John had seemed sad watching Kyle step into the time displacement chamber became clear.  Also, the vague stories of how John’s father had died before the war.  Was that a convenient lie or was it his fate or were events happening differently this time? 

 

“I don’t believe it,” he finally said.

 

“Believe it.  In eight and a half months, you’re going to be a father.”

 

“I mean, I don’t believe it, I’m John Connor’s father.” Sarah stared at him in shock, her mind racing, the terrifying inevitability of the future suddenly confronting her again. After a few minutes she regained a small shred of composure and tried to get a handle on things. She thought about the times she had felt most afraid, when Kyle had left her alone at the Tiki Motel with a .38 when he went for supplies, when he was defending her against the Terminator and so badly injured she was afraid he would die, watching him sink to his knees in the street surrendering to the police, and after the carjacking when she had to deal with that situation alone. Now she was afraid for a new reason.  She was pregnant with the person who would lead the human race in a war for its very survival and her lover was both her protector and the future leader’s father. And he was fated to die long before 1997.

 

                                    ---------------------

 

Andy was coming down off a meth bender that had lasted most of a day. The hooker from the truck stop had been a disappointment, but the crystal meth had been of excellent quality. As he cruised east-bound along I-10, jagged fatigue magnifying his fear, he kept looking at Ron’s ring on his middle finger and thinking about his brother. He hoped whoever had killed him would not show up on his own doorstep one day. When he found the ring Andy had run back to Ron’s apartment knowing his brother was dead somewhere, just not how or who might have done it.  He found a little cash and two watches, but not much else worth taking.  The important thing was to get moving out of town and that was all he had planned at the moment. He would think about the rest of it later.

                                    -----------------

 

For Sarah, these two past days had been a time for reflection. Kyle and she now had a plan of sorts, heading to southwest New Mexico, somewhere with a low population density and close to the border. Sarah suspected he also just liked the picture of the Chihuahuan desert he had seen in her apartment bedroom. The little motel in Lordsburg where they were staying had cable TV and Kyle was alternately fascinated and appalled at what he saw.  People in pre-war time had such shallow concerns—he was baffled by commercials for toothpaste and frozen foods, beer and clothing.  TV shows in general disgusted him.  They all seemed to be stories of deceitful people who cared more for possessions or their own comfort than their mates and children.  He did find travel and nature programs of some interest as a window on the pre-war world.  Sports were a mystery.  Car ads were astonishing. 

 

Each day they explored the area, searching for a place to live, and a means of getting through the next few years, but it was difficult for Sarah to stay focused and easy to forget the world and the possible future, especially when every night she and Kyle could lose themselves in each other and she would fall asleep in Kyle’s arms. At the same time, she could not stop thinking about being pregnant and she missed her mom.  She was an only child and had very little experience with babies or children. It was difficult to imagine how she would have explained the situation to her or how her mom would react to hearing, “Mom, I’m pregnant and running off with a man everyone thinks is crazy.  He deals in violence and death, but he loves me so much he would die to protect me.” 

 

 For Kyle, staying focused was simply part of his constitution, like breathing, but in spite of his duty and his mission, the experience of living in pre-war brought an unfamiliar feeling of joy.  The mountains were something Kyle had only contemplated from a distance and in his time were bare rocks and piles of the ashes of vaporized trees.  Countless green living things dozens of feet high, the scent of water, leaves and soil had overloaded his senses as they traversed the Rockies.  Once when they stopped to stretch their legs, Kyle walked across the road and simply lay down in the grass and wildflowers of a mountain meadow. Sarah followed slowly, careful of her leg, and sat beside him.  At first she thought his eyes were screwed shut against the sun. When she realized he was silently weeping she moved over and rested his head in her lap. “What is it?”

 

“Everything. All this will be gone in a few years and the only things left will be cold and burnt and dead.” He turned and shifted so he could look across the field.

 

“Maybe it won’t.  Maybe we can stop it.  What about the message for me that the future’s not set?”

 

“Maybe that’s a lie.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I’ve seen death up close so many times and it was nothing more than a fact of life.  Now that I’m here, it’s different. There are losses involved.” His fingers tightened around her knee as she caressed the side of his face, tracing along his ear, down the side of his neck. “I don’t want this to end.”

 

Sarah was tired of thinking about duty and the possible future. “I don’t either, but nobody ever knows how long they have, Kyle. I plan to make the most of every day we have together.  I am going to love you so hard and so much you’ll scream for mercy.”  That elicited a smile from him and they were both silent for a moment.

 

He finally said, “I have a high pain threshold,” and that made Sarah laugh.

 

                                    -----------------

 

“Order’s up, Lanie.” Susan scooted the plates across the shelf toward her and turned back to the griddle.  She could hear Lanie setting the order in front of the guy in the leather jacket and ask, “Now do you need anything else?”  Lanie was eighteen, recently free of living with her over-protective and conservative parents, and had a habit of asking questions meant to be taken the wrong way.  Without looking, Susan knew she was leaning over the counter so the customer had plenty to see.  Lanie was a train-wreck waiting to happen.

 

She was a decent waitress, though, energetic, as the novelty of being a single girl living on her own had not yet worn off.  Susan was also pragmatic enough to appreciate the extra business Lanie attracted to the Waffle House. Mano and several other local workers and ranch hands now showed up on a regular basis. Lanie was by any standard, easy on the eyes with dark brown hair, blue eyes with almost black lashes and porcelain skin.  Her long legs and tiny waist drove Mano crazy.  He made sure to have breakfast when Lanie was working and that would be six mornings a week, slowly savoring what was sure to be a worthwhile seduction. Today, however, she was paying a lot of attention to the guy seated at the counter.  He was pale with spiky hair, had three days’ growth of beard, hollow eyes and an expensive looking jacket.  Perfect. The mystery man with money and that edgy look that women seemed to want to soothe away.  Mano hoped he was on his way somewhere else.

  

                                    ---------------------------

 

Sarah turned off the faucet in the motel bathroom.  A few last drops plinked into the soft mounds of bubbles.  “Go ahead, get in and face that way.”  Kyle just looked at her, matter-of-factly removed his clothes and slid carefully into the steaming tub. She never got used to seeing his lean, strong body and knowing that this was her mate and protector and friend.

 

“What now?”

 

“Nothing now. It’s a bubble bath, you just enjoy.”  She slipped out of her robe, stood for a moment so he could look at her, then placing a hand on his shoulder to steady her self, she climbed in behind him.  The bubbles squeezed up between their bodies and over the edge of the tub. Her legs encircled him; her arms enfolded him at belly and chest. Kyle covered her hands with his, lifting one to kiss it.  She rested her chin on his shoulder, watching as one by one he took each wet finger into his mouth sucking on it, drawing them slowly out then moving to the next.

 

“You know, Roman soldiers used to bathe before going into battle.”  She spoke into his ear, nuzzling it playfully. “They didn’t know about germs, but they somehow figured out that wounds didn’t get infected as often when people were relatively clean.”

 

“Hmm.” He started on her other hand. With one hand thus occupied, she picked up a sponge and squeezed warm soapy water over his skin, her own face and arms.  When he finished the second hand, she massaged shampoo through his hair, then more warm water, rinsing his face and head. “How do you know all that?”

 

“High school world history. Didn’t you have school or education of any kind in your time?”

 

“Not really, but most kids learned to read from each other.  It was a status kind of thing. If you couldn’t read, you were left out.  And that’s how you got to see into the pre-war world.  Half-books, random pictures, stories passed down from survivors, things like that.”

 

“What did you wish you could have from pre-war?”

 

“Chocolate,” he said without hesitation.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Well, we’ll have to get you some of that,” she said, playing a little with the bubbles, going back to pouring warm water over her own face, Kyle’s shoulders, letting it trickle down between their bodies.

 

 “I never really associated hot water and soap with anything other than cleaning injuries. No one cared whether it felt good or not.”

 

“Hmm.” She felt so good pressed against his back, her lips caressing his neck her hands sliding down his chest and over his ribs.

 

“I do remember when they found the underground reservoir.  The water was ice cold, but clear and we’d play in it when we were kids.  Swimming and drinking it at the same time. That was good.” Her hands were still moving under the water, touching, exploring, and gently teasing.  A groan of pleasure now as he turned toward her, sloshing half the water on the floor, kissing her slippery mouth, then cupping one breast, the other hand curving possessively over the wet hair pasted to the back of her head.  Her mouth curled into a smile against his while her hand traveled across his thigh to softly grasp him, her thumb moving against the tip. Her other hand went lower. He kissed her harder, trapping her mouth under his and shifting his hand from her breast to pull her closer, his fingers spreading across the small of her back. Slowly, gently, he sucked on her tongue. He felt her shiver and a soft moan escaped her. Her love sounds, this one in particular, always provoked a rush of desire in him, a sensation of falling and losing him self in the taste and scent of her.

 

Kyle scooped her out of the tub, their bodies streaming water and carried her to the bed where he gathered her underneath him and slowly, slowly slid inside her.  He went only so far, stopped, pulled back a little bit then went deeper.  Sarah lay motionless, almost not breathing, looking up into those intense green eyes until she couldn’t stand it any longer.  “Oh, god!!” she gasped, pulling him closer.  “You make me crazy when you do that!”

 

“I know,” he said with a little smile.

 

                        -----------------------

 

The little trailer was oven hot at least until Sarah opened the windows and switched on the window AC unit.  While it aired out, they walked up the path that wound over the boulders and wind-carved wall of sandstone behind it.  Near the top of the trail there was a large flat area.  Sitting against the wall, they were looking east with a view of nothing but rolling desert, scrub brush, and the line of foothills running off to the north and south. The only man-made structure was the highway curving from the east, passing two hundred yards south of the little camp and then obscured by the cliffs behind them.

 

“Kyle, what happened to places like this in your time?” 

 

“I don’t really know.  Once or twice I met people who came from some isolated location, looking for food or protection or to trade something.  Not too often though.  I think a lot of them stayed away from the cities—less competition.”

 

The previous day Kyle had been hired by a ranch owner, Dennis Klein. “You need a place to stay?” Klein had offered when he saw Sarah and accurately sized up the situation.  “Most of my hires stay in the bunk house, but you two can have the trailer down by the west fence line.”

 

Sarah and Kyle drove the two miles along a dirt track from the main house and after looking it over, Kyle had said, “I like it, but we’ll need a better shelter.  Something with cinder-block walls.  And I’ll have to see about the water supply.” 

 

“I guess this is about as good as it gets from here on out, huh?” 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, for the rest of our lives we’ll be finding shelter, not finding a home. It’s depressing.” There was nothing to say to that.

 

                                                ---------------

  

Kyle took his shirt off and hung it on the fence post before he picked up the hammer.  As he stuck half a dozen nails in his mouth and started working on the long siding board, he saw Menardo’s expression out of the corner of his eye.  “Shit Reese, man you need to learn how to duck.”

 

“I did,” Kyle mumbled around the nails.

 

“Shit.”

 

They finished the siding and roof of the feed shelter and drove back to the tractor shed.  Mano and Frank were heading toward the horse barn so Kyle grabbed a sandwich and followed.  He never got enough of watching those two working with Klein’s saddle ponies.  Cleaning the hooves, currying and brushing of manes and tails all fascinated him.  Sometimes he would stand for an hour or more just watching the horses graze or walking quietly among them.  Frank wondered what was going on in that guy’s head.  He had seen the scars; as a rodeo veteran of forty years he had a pile of them himself and so did every other man he knew, but Reese was a class by himself. Frank could not imagine what war experiences Reese must have suffered to now be carrying some of those insignia. Reese was also the most patient man he had ever met.  Broken down equipment or late nights in bad weather or any of the countless other frustrations of a ranch hand’s job caused no more than a flicker of acknowledgment, no more, no less.  Mano, who lived his life between his legs and rarely thought about anything beyond long legged, dark-eyed beauties, opined that Reese’s wife, Sarah, had a lot to do with it.  “She’s one o’ them lamb in the living room, lioness in the bed types, you know?” he had said on more than one occasion.  Although Frank tended to agree she had that look about her, he knew there was something more.  Those two had some connection he just couldn’t fathom.

 

They were obviously starting over, having left behind everything in their previous life. Kyle and Sarah’s lifestyle had a definite survivalist flavor, although no one blamed them after hearing their invented back story.  Kyle was a war veteran.  Sarah’s family had died violently, caught in the cross-fire of a Los Angeles gang war.  It all fit because it was essentially true. At Kyle’s insistence, the now obviously pregnant Sarah spent most of her time up at the house, helping with general office work. She couldn’t convince the over-protective Kyle it was all right to leave her at home, even with the jeep.

 

Soon after their arrival, Sarah had confided to Klein’s wife, Gen that she was pregnant and needed some help.  Gen had suggested a midwife named Marta. “I bet you two would feel more comfortable with her than a hospital.” Sarah contacted Marta and now after weeks and months of planning felt reasonably confident about the upcoming home birth.  “You’re young and healthy and have everything to look forward to,” Gen said.

 

“You have no idea,” thought Sarah.

 

Klein had arranged a forged birth certificate and then a driver’s license for Kyle since a good employee who could not legally drive was a problem. When he was not working for Klein, Kyle was building a cottage next to the trailer.  Most of his salary went for materials and Klein allowed them to borrow equipment as needed.  Occasionally Mano came out to help for the price of supper and a few beers. All that remained unfinished was a shed for the jeep and truck.

 

Like everyone else in town or from the nearby ranches, Kyle and Sarah often stopped at the Waffle House on their way to or from work or home or various errands.  Lanie had developed an instant crush on Kyle, despite Sarah’s presence.  “I’d cool it if I were you,” Susan had advised to deaf ears. “Those two are so into each other, the rest of the world is background noise.  Besides, why do you want to waste your time on him?  You’ve got your pick of Mano and half the other guys coming in here.”

 

“Mano? God, what would I want with him?” 

 

“He’s a good guy and I think he really likes you.”

 

“Yeah, me and any other female, probably including the four-legged kind.”

 

“I’m just saying you’re wasting your time on the one guy who’s obviously not interested.” Lanie saw the situation differently. To her way of thinking, Sarah was getting bigger by the day and at some point Kyle had to be disgusted with her.  Lanie planned to be conveniently available to comfort him in his time of need.

 

It was getting dark, but Sarah was still listening to the nail gun and air compressor outside as Kyle worked on the roof for the truck shed.  She was starting to wonder what he was going to do with himself after all that was finished.  Perhaps as soon as John was born they would begin more preparation for Judgement Day and the normal life they now lived would come to an end. She was filled with both anticipation and foreboding, but she had absolutely no motivation for anything except waiting, and starting any project more ambitious than making the bed seemed pointless. 

 

At least there had been good news from California. She had just gotten off the phone with the attorney Jeff Yates and not only had her mom’s house and cabin sold, but Sarah’s scooter as well.  That was a hell of a thing.  The scooter had actually sold for more than she had paid for it, because it had gotten around that it was the biggest souvenir remaining from the infamous slaughter of all those police officers and nightclub patrons. The publicity Jeff described made her uneasy, but he assured her all was well and he would Fax the paperwork to the ranch for her signature.

 

Andy got back into town from Las Cruces late on a Tuesday night.  He had three auto parts deliveries to make the next day and decided to go back to the Waffle House for breakfast.  Maybe that pretty waitress would be there again.  Life was decent at the moment.  He made enough money from his job at the car dealership plus the parts delivery thing from Louetta Motors, a car repair place, for an apartment with working appliances and enough left over to keep him self entertained.  Also, now that it was January, the weather was no longer so relentlessly hot. 

 

The next day, making his third delivery, Andy walked around the corner as he had been directed by one of the ranch employees, and saw the open doorway.  The girl at the desk was busy filling out a work order form so at first all he could see was the top of her head.  He was holding the paperwork out to her when she looked up, “Can I help—?”  Startled at the look on his face, she did not complete the question. The recognition was so unexpected he stood frozen with his mouth open, preparing to speak.  She said, “Yes?”  It was she, the girl at the gas station in the white Civic. He saw her register something, perhaps merely curiosity, but it was obvious she had no idea who he was.  Finally he managed a semblance of conversation.

 

“I, uh, please sign the yellow copies.  The pink ones are yours.”  His hand was shaking as he took the papers from her. Only shock prevented him from action since every instinct urged him to leap over the desk and choke her, to scream in her face, “where is my brother, you bitch?”  Somehow he had walked back down the hall, out on the front porch past the two ranch hands that had unloaded the delivery, and across the drive.  He was out on the two lane road back into town, his brain seething with rage and confusion before he had his first coherent thought.  She knows who killed Ron.  She knows.  She has to know.   He was too jumped up to think clearly and stopped at a county line liquor store for some Jack Daniels.  At a remote crossroads he peeled off the seal and started in.  At first he felt better as the alcohol spread through his system and headed back to the motel room, but by the time he got there he had had enough where his thoughts were now confused again.  Frustrated, he smoked some more meth to clear his head and wondered what he was going to do about this girl.

  

For the next month Andy was obsessed with finding out all he could about Sarah and her life. Fortunately, she seemed to have a very limited routine, probably because of her advanced pregnancy and the shear lack of activities available in this typical little town. Most every day she went to the ranch with her husband/boyfriend. Andy was not sure which Kyle was since neither of them seemed to wear a ring; and they usually went straight home afterward.  Occasionally, they did something different like grocery shop in the middle of the week or they would go to the bank or something like that.  Often, they ate supper at the Waffle House and Lanie, the pretty waitress was full of information about them. Lanie volunteered that Kyle and Sarah were originally from Los Angeles and had arrived in June.  

  

Sarah put all the folders back in the cabinet and rolled the chair back under the desk.  She found Kyle waiting on the front porch, talking to Menardo. “Sure, man, just bring it back by next week, that’s when the shingles for the west barn’ll be in” Menardo was saying.

 

“Hi,” Kyle said, standing.  He had a way of placing one hand on her now large belly and the other at the small of her back whenever he kissed her hello or good bye. Menardo noticed he never just bussed her perfunctorily. 

 

“Man, get a room you guys, you just saw her at lunch.”

 

Sarah smiled around Kyle’s shoulder, “See you tomorrow Menardo.”

  

Sarah was trying to decide on SpaghettiOs or Beefaroni and feeling guilty about both.  The first time Kyle had seen them in the shopping cart he had made a sound like “yaugh” and just stared.  When she asked about it he had explained, “Sarah, I remember that stuff from the future.  It’ll still be here in forty years,” which had been a very unappetizing thought, but she could not help it. 

 

“I’m pregnant, Kyle.  Tomorrow I may want grape jelly and salmon.  Try to understand.” He had been grimly accepting.  At this moment, the Beefaroni won out and Sarah headed to the back cooler.  As she was reaching for a gallon of milk a hand clamped over her wrist and yanked her back through the large plastic strips across the doorway into the refrigerated storage area in the back of the store.  The man seemed familiar, but what shocked her was the man’s ring.  She saw it clearly as he pushed open the door to the alley.  She remembered it from the carjacker with the black t-shirt. It had been on the hand that began to yank Gun Guy off of her in the back of the Civic.  Her breath caught for a second before she began to fight and scream for Kyle.  In that second, the ring hand clamped over her mouth.

 

“Huh-uh. No. This conversation is between you and me.”  Her eyes went wide.  She now realized this was the man from the ranch office.  “I think you know what happened to my brother.  In fact, I think you killed my brother.” Sarah could only stare, horrified at this man’s words. Fear of exposure, of her life unraveling flooded through her.

 

“What, exactly, is going on here?” Andy froze as Kyle’s hand closed over his wrist, the pressure causing his fingers to spring open releasing Sarah and the leverage spinning him around.  Without waiting for an answer, Kyle slammed Andy against the brick wall of the alley. Hard. Sarah heard him grunt and his teeth clack together as the breath was flattened out of his lungs.  He remained pinned solidly as Kyle’s other hand shifted to his throat. The man’s leather coat scraped against the rough surface as he tried to move and Sarah flashed back to her last day as a waitress and a customer’s leather coat she had ruined with a spilled drink.  We are murder on leather, she thought crazily.

 

“I don’t know you.”  Andy was trying to sound assertive.  “This is between her and me.”  Both of his hands were now defensively grasping Kyle’s wrist, mindlessly trying to pry it loose.

 

“This is my wife.” Sarah saw Andy’s eyes narrow. “Do not touch her, do not talk to her.” Kyle was speaking in slow, clipped tones. “Do not go near her.  Do you understand?” When Andy did not respond instantly, “Do you understand??”

 

Yes, thought Sarah, remembering that first night when Kyle had screamed the same question at her in the gray LTD. Yes. That was the only answer possible at the moment, but Andy, trying to salvage some dignity said, “Fuck you, man! Let me go!” She saw Kyle’s fingers tighten.

 

“Kyle,” she said quietly, placing her hand deliberately on Kyle’s arm, feeling the muscles contract. “I’m O.K. Let’s go.”  His eyes flicked sideways at her. He shoved Andy to the ground in a heap.  Only then did she realize several people had stopped to watch.  Some were employees from the store.  She recognized Derek and Rob snickering a few steps away.  Those two had their pictures next to “slacker” in the dictionary. Others were simply people who had been walking by the alley.  Kyle was already holding her hand, but she grasped his upper arm possessively and pulled him close as they walked away.  “That guy was with the carjackers, “she said. “He’s wearing the same ring as the guy I shot outside the car.”  He looked grim, but said nothing and Sarah was left to wonder what he was thinking.

 

In bed that night, she shifted and twisted and fretted trying to get comfortable.  “Aaugh!” she complained disgustedly.  “How am I supposed to sleep with this baby?  It’s impossible!”  Kyle smiled into the back of her hair, curling around her as she settled on her side. His hand absently touched the scar on her thigh. “Uff, now John’s kicking me.”  Kyle moved his hand over her belly, feeling the lumps and mounds sliding and poking.  He knew better than to comment, but he was silently amused. 

 

Hours later, she cried out in her sleep and he rolled to her, one hand smoothing her hair out of her face, the other reaching to clasp her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. When she jerked awake he embraced her more closely.  He felt her relax as he held her.  “Oh,” she breathed.  “Oh, you have no idea what it’s like to wake up from a nightmare and have you here.” 

 

“What were you dreaming about?”

 

“The carjackers.  I’m never going to get over that.  It won’t go away.  I keep dreaming I’m going to jail for life for murder.  Then I dream they don’t die and they’re all chasing me and telling everyone about John and they take John away from me—“ her voice caught, “and I dream, I dream you’re dead. I can’t stand it!”

 

“It’s just a dream.”

 

“I can’t get past the feeling that killing those two carjackers was a mistake, that it somehow changed the future. And that guy today. What if he shows up again?  He knows I killed his brother or whoever.  What if he calls the police?”

 

“He won’t. What’s he going to say? He has to be the third person.  Have you ever thought how those two men got to the gas station in the first place?  He had to have been there.  He might as well have been one of the ones that hurt you.” Sarah turned over to face him.

 

“I can’t just run away from this any more.”

 

“I don’t see that there’s anything to run away from. You have to protect yourself and now John, too.”

 

“I can’t just go around killing people—“

 

“I didn’t say that.  I said protect your self.”  Sarah could see his eyes indistinctly in the darkness. “What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t killed them?”  It was a question she had not considered.  She tried to analyze the situation, but her brain was tired, her body was tired and she could not think clearly.  Gun Guy would have raped her for sure.  One or the other would have killed her and left her pretty much where she had left them, in the woods.  That was the whole problem of carjacking—it was by definition a robbery, not a theft and that meant there was the problem of a victim. Ideally, the victim was left in the middle of the road or a parking lot somewhere sans car, but if he went along for the ride, his chances for survival were slim.

 

Sarah sighed.  “I just don’t want John to grow up with a warped value on human life.”

 

“He doesn’t, I mean, he won’t.  He’ll be a very wise man, thanks mostly to you.” Kyle kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep.”  She turned back to her other side and he went back to running his fingers over her hair, along her shoulder, over a breast which now more than filled his hand.  Eventually, feeling her breathe more deeply and assured she was sleeping, he drifted off as well.

 

                                    ---------------------------------

 

“Happy birthday.  It’s yours to drive for a week.”  Sarah had to lift Kyle’s hand to drop the keys into it.  The expression on his face told her she had made the right choice renting the red Corvette.  He was standing motionless, a starving man surveying a feast.  She turned to him, putting her lips against his ear. “Come on,” she said in a seductive tone. “Let’s go for a ride.” She gently bit his earlobe.

 

“Yeah,” he said and helped her into the passenger seat.  Less than five minutes later they had cleared the edge of town and were blasting down the highway toward the mountains.

  

Mano and Frank were in the back of the barn counting the new puppies, seven in all.  No one was sure who Dixie had made the puppies with, but they all seemed healthy and the German shepherd bitch certainly looked pleased with herself curled up in the back of the stall.  “Hey,” said Frank. “Let’s give one to Kyle.  He really loves dogs.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anyone talk to the animals like that guy can.”

  

Kyle was dead in Andy’s book.  He just had to figure out how to do it.  Nobody could make a fool of him like that without paying for it.  He could tell people on the street were looking at him with no respect, having seen him shoved to the ground like some ninety-eight pound weakling getting sand kicked in his face.

  

Two hours into the drive, Sarah put her hand on Kyle’s right arm. “Pull into the next lookout.”

 

“All right,” he said.  The turnout could hold three or four cars, but on this February day, there were no tourists and no traffic just an incredible view of the mountains and trees and no sound save a few birds and the ticking of the cooling engine.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.  Sarah looked at him a moment.  They only had a week or so before John’s arrival and Sarah was now uncomfortably huge, but she managed to lean over the gear shift.

 

“Welcome to the open road,” she said as she unzipped his fly.

  

After pacing for hours and trying every possible position they had practiced, Sarah was tired and hurting more and more with each contraction.  At least she was not stuck in a hospital.  Kyle was wearing the sweats Marta had suggested, because they would feel soft while Sarah was leaning on him.  Finally her water broke and Marta had them step onto the sheets spread on the floor next to the wall.  With Kyle behind her, Sarah stood on his feet and he eased down into a crouch.  Sarah settled her weight on to his thighs, so that his body supported hers.  This position felt reassuring and comfortable.  Cradled against his strong body like this with his face beside hers, she could lean her head back on his shoulder when she rested and he was able to see everything during the contractions. “I like this,” she said and Kyle squeezed her hand.  Her body tensed and he spread his fingers over her belly.  She groaned, breathing hard. He could feel the muscles tighten and bunch under his hands and her whole body straining and trembling with effort.  He was amazed and afraid for her.  There seemed to be so much pain. He had seen several births up close, but found it was different now that it was his wife and his son. As her fingers dug into his wrists and then relaxed, he reached for the cloth and gently wiped her face.

 

Marta was kneeling in front of them and continually encouraged Sarah and instructed Kyle in a quiet voice. Her fingers probed against Sarah’s abdomen.  “Baby’s almost here,” she said. Sarah felt a stinging sensation as well as pressure this time and the baby’s head was visible.  “Push again.”  Sarah could only take a few rapid breaths before the next contraction.  This time she cried out with exertion and pain and Kyle could see the head in Marta’s hands.  First one shoulder eased out and the other and the baby was born.  Sarah looked down at him while Marta gently blew on the baby’s face.  It cried a bit and she began to clean the little face and wash the baby’s body, examining it carefully.  Then she laid him on Sarah’s tummy.

 

“Hello, John,” Sarah said. Kyle tightened his arms around her and touched the baby’s cheek. His fingers looked huge next to the tiny face.

 

Marta tied off the cord and cut it.  In only a few minutes the afterbirth was delivered and Marta had Kyle help Sarah to the bed and into dry clothing.  She placed John in Kyle’s arms while she pulled up the sheets and arranged pillows. Sarah watched Kyle’s face as he looked down at his son, kissed the small forehead, feeling John grasp his finger with his impossibly small hand.  I’m watching two people fall in love, she thought. “Hey, you guys, come over here,” she said. Kyle handed John to her and then leaned over to kiss her softly. He was looking at her with that familiar intensity.

 

“I love you, Sarah.”

 

When he stood up he realized his clothing was soaked.  “You go change,” Marta said to him as she rolled up the soiled bedding on the floor, “and then I’ll leave you all to get acquainted.” Marta spent a few minutes helping Sarah get started nursing and when all was going well, she gathered up her things and went home. As Kyle stood watching over them, Sarah and John almost immediately fell into exhausted sleep.

  

“You need a change of scenery.  Kyle needs a breather.  Let’s go spoil you a little,” Gen Klein had said two weeks later.  So now she and Sarah and John were on their way to Las Cruces for two days of shopping and relaxing.  Although Kyle had become a competent cook, he decided to eat at the Waffle House on his way home from work.  It had been a long day and he was not looking forward to the empty cottage. Lanie was finishing her shift as Kyle paid the check. She almost skipped out the door, rolling up her uniform apron.

 

She reappeared almost immediately though, announcing she had a dead battery and asking if anyone had jumper cables.  Kyle got up and went outside with her. After a few minutes, Susan saw both vehicles drive off.  She had looked away before seeing Kyle’s truck following the Mustang. 

 

Yes! thought Lanie.  She had put on her best helpless act, asking Kyle to follow her home in case the car died again.  Now she watched him in the rear view mirror as he drove at a steady distance behind.  Had she left the apartment tidy?  He probably wouldn’t notice or care.  Ten minutes later they pulled up next to the stairway leading to her door.  She parked and popped out of the driver’s seat.  Quickly she walked up to the truck cab.  “Can you look at this?”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s just making a funny noise, is all.”  Kyle got out of the truck and walked around to the Mustang’s hood as Lanie pretended to work the release.  As soon as he was in front of the car she turned toward him and said, “You know, actually it’s fine.” She paused carefully, “I just thought you might like to come inside.”  Realizing her manipulation he stopped, but not before she had put her arms around his neck and kissed him awkwardly.  He calmly removed her arms and held them at her sides for a moment, then simply walked away and got into the truck.

 

“Hey, Lanie, I’d like to come inside!”  It was Derek and Rob.  They were sitting under the next set of stairs and had seen the whole thing. 

 

“Me too! Can I come in wit’ you?”  Saying nothing, Lanie walked up the stairs with as much distain as possible.  She waited until the door was closed and locked before she began to cry.

  

Lanie squirmed.  Pacing around her apartment, trying to wear down the feeling of embarrassment, was only magnifying the feeling of regret. Derek and Rob would probably tell everyone they knew about how she had made a fool of herself with Kyle.   She could not talk to Susan since Susan had been the one who had tried to tell her she was making a mistake. There was nothing worse than being proved wrong in such a public way.  She tried to concentrate on the customers at breakfast the next day and pretend nothing had happened.  “And what can I get for you, sweetie?” she asked Mano.

 

“Same thing as always, Lanie, with you on top.” 

 

“Uh-huh. Where’s the rest of the crew?”

 

“You’re changing the subject. Where’s your boyfriend with the weird hair?”

 

“How should I know?” she said, but it gave her an idea.

   

“What’s the matter with you, Reese?  Sarah not givin’ you any now that she’s got a new man in her life?”  Menardo tossed up another square of shingles.  Kyle, kneeling on the new barn roof, ripped them open and started slapping the asphalt down on the decking, attaching them with the nail gun.  The air compressor motor putted into life to maintain pressure. 

 

He was angry, but not with Menardo and certainly not with Sarah.  In fact, that was part of the problem.  Now that John was three months old and they had hired Necia to help out a lot of the time on most days, Sarah had turned into this intense, insatiable fanatic.  She was obsessed with becoming fit, running and lifting weights and being particular about what she ate. At least there were no more SpaghettiOs around.

 

Sarah was a quick study.  The rifle, the pistols, the shot gun all became familiar tools in her hands.  Although there was no way to replicate the conditions of post-war life, Kyle had her out practicing in a variety of made-up situations.  He reviewed with her how to make pipe bombs and various other explosives.  She performed endless target practice. He was pleased to see she was not worried about the occasional bruise or scraped elbow.

 

But now she was talking about getting a job in Deming at the new computer plant and getting a computer science degree.  The more she worked and planned, the more he worried.  Getting into tech stuff with an eye to Cyberdynamic Systems made him profoundly uneasy.  It was not part of his mission, in fact, it flew in the face of the mission objective of keeping a low profile, hiding Sarah and John until after the war.

 

Kyle was absurdly proud of his little son. He loved holding John and feeling the soft hair on his head and looking at the perfect fingers and toes.  One thing he had neglected to describe to Sarah in any detail was the state of infant mortality in the post-war world.  There were a lot of babies born with ultimately fatal defects and a lot that died of malnutrition.  Many men and women were sterile.  Thousands of children as well as adults were killed by H-Ks, Terminators and simple neglect.  But now here he was, blessed with a beautiful wife and a healthy boy, both of whom he was fiercely protective.  All that remained was to keep them safe for the next two decades or so.  He had to find a way.

   

Lanie was kind of funny and stunningly beautiful.  She kept smiling at everything Andy said.  It had been a long time since he had come across a girl like her, someone he could talk to, so he hung around the Waffle House longer than usual, drinking way more coffee than he really wanted and when Lanie’s shift was over he asked her if she would like to take a drive. 

 

“Sure. Where are we going?”

 

“Well, let’s take a look at the mountains.” She laughed a little.

 

“O.K.,” Andy smiled at her as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Would you mind if we went by my apartment so I could change?” she asked. “I hate this uniform.”

 

“Sure.”  He waited in the car and she soon appeared in a very tight little t-shirt and jeans, achingly lovely.  “You look pretty tempting,” he said.  She appeared pleased.

 “Thank you. Tempting for what?”  Oh, why did her mouth keep moving without her brain?  Andy was looking at her with those gray eyes, trying to gauge just how much was serious and what was for real.  “Are you going back to Las Cruces soon?” she heard herself ask. O.K., I am just not going to say anything, anything else.   

“Well, I just don’t know.  I haven’t decided.”  Lanie was left to worry what he meant, but as they drove through the foothills and the trees it was impossible not to relax, at least a little. 

 

“So, you drive that red Mustang?” he asked.

 

“Yes.  I got it for graduation,” God, that sounded so conventional.

 

“You like it?” 

 

“Yeah, I always wanted one. And I try to take care of it; my dad likes to work on cars and stuff and he taught me a lot of things about them.  He didn’t want me to get stuck somewhere and have some bent mechanic try to cheat me.”  Andy laughed a little at the stricken look on her face as she realized her slip, charmed by her embarrassment.

 

“Well, I guess it’s important to know what you’re up against.”  Now she was staring into her lap, her face glowing pink.  He picked up one of her hands and held it.  “Are you hungry?  You want to get something to eat?” For a moment she looked confused and then relieved.

 

“Yes, sure,” her voice was slightly uneven.

  

Sarah was gasping for air after the effort of sprinting up the hillside, but now it was important to control her breathing if she wanted to hit the target.  Holding her breath for a couple of seconds, she aimed and fired off two quick shots.  The first was reasonably close to the Coke can, but the second missed by several feet. 

 

Kyle, lying flat across the top of the outcrop, could see the frustration in her face as she jumped up and ran on.  Several minutes later she appeared next to him, dusty and sweaty.  “I feel ridiculous,” she was breathing hard as she sat down next to him, but he noted she automatically checked how many rounds were left as she spoke.  “This isn’t like running from that terminator.  I’m just running around in the dirt out here,” she said, gulping air.  Where’s my motivation?”  She gestured to the valley in the distance. “That’s a joke.” she said, seeing Kyle’s grimly closed expression.

  

Andy selected a good steak house.  When they pulled into a shaded parking spot he took his time getting out of the car.  He reached over and touched Lanie’s cheek and then her hair and slowly leaned over and kissed her, softly, no big deal, just catching her lips with his.  He pulled away and gave her a little smile, came around to open her door and catch her hand, clasping it firmly as they walked inside. She tried to keep her knees from shaking.

 

Lanie was used to looking at the prices and making sure they fit into her budget—or her parents’ or her high school date’s.  Andy ordered for both of them, though and Lanie started to relax.  He was so self assured.  All during dinner he often held her hand across the table, running his thumb gently over the top of her fingers.  At one point he was caressing the inside of her wrist.

 

When he escorted her back to the car, she was buoyant. Andy had made sure she had no more than a glass and a half of wine, guessing she was not used to drinking much of anything beyond iced tea.  He drove directly back to her apartment.  She forgot the Mustang was still parked at the Waffle House.

  

Kyle watched Sarah move from boulder to boulder evaluating, shifting position, selecting the best vantage point. “I’m done,” she said, securing the weapon she held. He came up behind her, reaching around her for the pistol with one hand, the other resting on her hip.  Instantly her fingers clamped down on his as she spun around.  His thumb was bent back painfully against his arm, his hand already going numb as she yanked him toward her, sweeping his legs out from underneath him.  It only partially worked as they both went down in an awkward heap. She rolled away quickly, then turned squatting down in front of him and said, “Watch it. You know what happened to the last would be rapist.” Smiling, he snatched the gun out of her hand and pinned her to the ground before she could react.

 

“You’re getting too good at that.” 

 

“Not good enough,” she grunted in frustration, struggling to free herself.  He was surprised at the effort required to keep her restrained, and slowly released her.  As he smiled down at her dirt-streaked face she smiled too. Truce.  She reached up, gently tracing the scar on his temple, her fingers remembering the history and reliving the hurt in intimate contemplation. She could open herself to him with complete trust, allowing him to see into her heart and soul with no fear, just as he had to her. He watched the light in her eyes rise from gentle affection to fire as Sarah pulled his mouth to hers.

 

For a while they lay there savoring each other, a lazy caress of lips and fingers, but gradually, he got to his feet, bundling her up in his arms, blindly half carrying her, backing her up so that they collided with one wall of stone and then rebounded until they settled against a thick clump of silver sage growing out of the cracks in the rock.  She unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it open, her tongue traveling across his neck, tracing a collarbone, teasing a nipple, caressing the hard muscles of his belly.  He stood with one hand braced against the wall above her head; the other buried in her hair as she unbuttoned his jeans and opened his fly. 

 

Before she got any further, he reached down drawing her up by her shoulders, kissing her hard, their hands all over each other. He could feel the muscles in her lower back flexing, her spine a row of stones below the t-shirt she had knotted above her ribs. He sank to his knees slowly in front of her, pulling off first one of her boots, then the other, peeling off her jeans and lifting one knee across his shoulder.  He buried his face between her thighs tasting her, hearing the quiet moan of pleasure as his tongue parted her soft folds. With both hands fisted in his hair, feeling his warm breath against her skin, his lips and tongue tugging gently on the hypersensitive parts of her, she could barely breathe. Her body as always, curled hard against him as she came, as if instead of sweet release she were fighting to preserve every shred of love shared between them.

 

Immediately, he stood and pulled himself free of his jeans, taking her standing, both of her legs now wrapped around him, her arms stretched above her head, her hands buried, fingers grasping, among the silver-green branches as she was pressed back into the sage, the crushed, aromatic leaves, releasing their scent. Watching her face as he thrust into her, both of his hands filled under her t-shirt, he could let go of everything except this moment with this woman.  The way she looked at him, the naked emotion, the relinquishment of her self made him feel powerful.  The sound she offered as she came again was a long animal cry of ecstasy, igniting his own climax. He shifted his hands to her back to support her as he lunged against her, breathless, burying himself deeply inside her until he was completely spent.

 

They slid to the ground, the tautness of their bodies draining away. Lying crumpled there, entwined, dusted with little bits of leaves and purple flowers, as Kyle kissed her, never able to have enough.  Her arms drew him into a tight embrace. “I love you, Kyle,” she breathed into his ear.  “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“I’ll always be with you,” he said, with her arms crushing his face against her neck.

Several minutes passed before he said, “We still have time to prepare for the future.”

  

 

Andy took his time.  He carefully noted her reactions when he touched her, his hands moving unhurriedly, tenderly.  It was obvious Lanie was inexperienced and terribly nervous so he did his best to reassure her, not with words, but with patience. She was so sweet, he was in an agony of want and anticipation.  He spoke to her softly as he entered her.  “Are you all right?” 

 

“Yes.”  She still sounded a little scared.

 

“I won’t hurt you.”  She said nothing, but the expression on her face told him everything.  She was willing, but anxious.  He was trying to be a considerate lover, but it was torture to hold back.

 

“I’m O.K. Andy,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

 

The next morning dressing for work Lanie gazed at herself in the mirror trying to ascertain if she looked any different. Maybe her lips looked a little more bee-stung, they did feel a little bruised, but that was all. She then realized her car was still at the Waffle House and Andy was going to have to drive her there.

 Lanie slipped in the door as coolly as possible, but she saw both Mano and Frank already in the corner booth.  Mano was looking down, stirring his coffee.  So everybody knows.  Fine, just deal with it.  

Andy drove back to Las Cruces with the radio turned up, the windows open and a smile he could not stop.  In two days he would be back.

 

Three jobs were waiting for him when he arrived at the garage.  As soon as he finished the oil change and two inspections he went to the apartment and changed. He watched TV, killing time for a few hours and then drove to the Western Swing Club, a huge dance hall on the edge of town. 

 

Andy parked a long way from the door and went inside.  They stamped his hand as he paid the cover charge.  He drank one beer and slipped back outside where he pretended to be looking for his car and ambled up and down the lines of vehicles.  Lots of Ford pickups.  He used his Slim Jim to pop the lock on a four year old model and slid into the driver’s seat.  Less than two minutes later he was cruising sedately out of the lot and down the road.  Less than two hours later, Gary dropped him back at the parking lot.

 

This time Andy selected a relatively new Impala.  Someone had left the windows cracked open.  That boost took less than a minute. When Gary brought him back a second time, Andy went into the club and had two beers. He asked a girl to dance then excused himself to the men’s room and left.  He returned to the apartment $1000.00 richer.  He spent the next 48 hours smoking crystal meth to celebrate.

  

“You look tired,” Lanie said as they left the restaurant bar. 

 

“I’m O.K.” he said tersely.  Lanie was not sure what to make of his mood and walked silently beside him.  As they turned the corner she spotted Derek and Rob giggling, coming out of the alley behind the grocery store.  Rob saw her and nudged Derek. He said something to his friend and then the two stood smiling like idiots as Lanie and Andy approached. 

 

“Looks like you got somebody to come inside,” said Rob.  Lanie flushed pink.  Derek looked surprised, but amused at the comment. 

 

“What the fuck did you say?”  Andy shoved Rob backward with two open palms. “You got something to say to me about my girlfriend?” His eyes were heated stones.  Derek watched Andy’s hands roll into fists.  Rob was now regretting opening his mouth as Andy leaned into his face and he heard rather than saw the knife blade snap up beside his eye. 

 

“Nuh—no. Sorry man.” For several seconds no one moved, and then Andy stood back, folding the knife and glancing sideways at Derek.  He turned to Lanie, taking her arm and leading her down the street.

 

“No one’s going to talk to you like that,” he said.  When they got back to her apartment, she ripped off his clothing in a fever of lust.

  

Andy was staring at the TV, trying to come down off the methamphetamine.  He had been so tired when he got back from a four-boost night he decided to smoke a little to push the fatigue away.  He had felt better, but then could not sleep.  Now he was watching the morning news, hoping it would bore him into unconsciousness.

 

“—they were found Saturday near Highway 330—reported missing since June 30th of last year—two bodies have been identified as Ron Shepherd and Eric Johns of Los Angeles—Andy Shepherd is wanted in connection with their disappearance—police considering this a homicide investigation—“ Andy snapped into confused alertness.  “No!” his mind screamed, “All this time they’ve been rotting in some hole while that bitch and her boyfriend live happily every after.” Andy got cleaned up and headed back to Lordsburg, the loaded Glock on the seat beside him.

 

At first, Lanie was simply appalled with his story and shocked to learn he was a car thief.  Her mind reeled, fascinated about what he had done, the money involved and the risks.  The idea that Kyle and Sarah were murderers was actually easier to believe—she had always known they were hiding something. She just didn’t know what. They acted so differently than other people she knew.

 

“Oh Andy, I’m so sorry about Ron.  What are we going to do?”  She was holding him as they lay sprawled across the couch in her apartment.  Lanie ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead. 

 

He did not respond except to ask, “Are you saying you’ll help me?”

 

“Help you what?”  He still had enough shreds of common sense to know she was not ready to hear all he had to say.  Instead, he made love to her and he felt good for a while. Then he confided more of his pain.

    

The truck came barreling down the dirt road, leaving a plume of dust; Menardo was a little early. Kyle gratefully turned off the nail gun, carefully lowering it off the edge of the roof by the air hose. He had been working by himself most of the day, having to haul the bales of shingles up the two story ladder as well as attach them to the roof and after twelve hours, he was more than ready to go home. 

 

Kyle was focused on walking to the top of the ladder, but he could see the truck pulled up with the passenger door facing him in his peripheral vision.  He had less than a second to recognize the face turned up to him under the hat brim as Andy opened the driver’s side door, steadied his hands on the truck roof and fired three quick rounds. 

 

Instantly, Kyle moved sideways, avoiding the first two shots, but the third smacked into his thigh just above his knee throwing him off balance. He crashed hard against the asphalt surface, his hands reflexively clamped around the pain in his leg and with no time to react or get his footing, he fell off the roof.

  

“What the hell happened to all the trucks?” Mano and Frank stood in the doorway of the not quite empty equipment shed.  “Whose car is that?”  Frank asked puzzling over the Camry parked there.

 

“It’s that guy, Lanie’s boyfriend’s car,” said Mano disgustedly and then, “What’s it doin’ here?”

  

Andy cautiously moved from behind the truck, keeping the gun aimed at the unmoving form on the ground.  If Kyle was dead, maybe he could just leave him here and it would look like an accident until someone realized the bullet hole was not from a roofing nail. Andy rolled him over with his boot, tensed to fire, but Kyle seemed to be out cold.  He tucked the gun into his waistband and took hold of Kyle’s wrists.  He could feel a pulse so he dragged him into the barn, then went back outside.  He collapsed the extension ladder and stowed it on the ground, rolled up the air hose with the nail gun still attached and pulled the whole kit inside. He was contemplating where to place the fatal bullet and reaching for the pistol when he had an idea.  Andy picked up the nail gun and flipped on the air compressor. 

  

Ce and Nap began barking as soon as Lanie turned down the last stretch of road.  She was careful to drive at moderate speed, just someone coming home from work, and pulled into the truck shed.  Her heart was revved up so fast her hands were shaking, but she kept to the plan.  Quickly, she opened the hood of the truck and used a pair of tin snips to cut the fan belt.  Then she did the same on the jeep. 

 

Sarah looked out the window in time to see the truck pull into the shed.  Kyle must have brought someone with him.  Napoleon and Caesar never barked at anyone they knew. That thought barely had time to form before Lanie started pounding on the door.  “Sarah?  It’s Lanie,” she yelled.  “Andy went crazy and he’s coming after me.”  Sarah’s mind slid from confusion to alarm.  Where was Kyle and why had Lanie driven into the shed?  It did not make sense.  She reached for the Glock, made sure to chamber a round and opened the door.  She stepped back and pointed the gun at Lanie.

 

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, all business.  Lanie looked surprised, but continued to babble.

 

“Andy’s crazy,” she said again, flapping her hands nervously.  “He’s going to kill me. I need you to drive me into town.”

 

“Where’s Kyle?  What are you doing with the truck?”

 

“I don’t know where he is.  I—I found it up at the house.  The keys were in it.”

 

“Huh-uh. Tell me what’s really going on, Lanie.” 

  

Kyle drifted back into semi-consciousness.  His leg hurt and his whole body ached from slamming into the ground.  An especially sharp twinge in his wrist levered him the rest of the way into awareness—that someone was stepping on his lower arm.  He opened his eyes at the same moment the nail gun pressed into his upturned palm and Andy pulled the trigger. 

 

The two and a half inch long nail shot through his hand, impaling it against the floor.  Disoriented, Kyle stifled a cry of pain. “Hurt’s don’t it?”  Andy’s voice was full of contempt.  “Like it hurts to get slammed into a wall. Like it feels to get humiliated.”  He was standing next to Kyle, one boot still propped on his left arm.  The boot toe shifted just as Kyle reached up with his right hand, lunging for the hem of Andy’s jacket, putting his weight into it, yanking him off balance. The second nail missed the hand, but punched into Kyle’s wrist. He tried not to scream. Andy straightened and ripped the jacket from Kyle’s grip. “Do you think it hurt when you shot my brother?” he asked, watching the blood start to pool under Kyle’s fingers.  “Do you think it hurt and do you think it’s right he got left to rot in the woods?” Enraged, he aimed a kick directly into Kyle’s ribs, hard enough to guillotine his breath and to stretch his arm and his hand against the nail.  “That’s right,” Andy’s voice was now a shriek.  “It hurts!!” He kicked him again and placed the nail gun down on the bleeding palm, aligning the third nail carefully next to the first. 

 

Andy pulled the trigger.  Kyle winced, but managed to remain silent. Satisfied for the moment, Andy paced around Kyle’s body, careful to stay out of his reach. The sound of Kyle’s uneven breaths as he tried not to gray out pleased him, adding a little voltage to his high.  “It hurts and it’s not right,” he repeated.  “It hurts and it’s not right.”   Kyle’s eyes tracked him warily watching him pause and turn.  “You want me to stop?” he asked in a completely different tone.  Kyle was struggling to follow the bizarre words and said nothing. Andy looked at him, his expression suddenly dissolving to disinterest. “Heh,” he said, “I think I will. I think I’ll go visit your girlfriend now.”  Kyle clamped down, his expression dispassionate and grim, but he could not hide all the fear. Like a snake, Andy quickly moved forward and backhanded him hard across the mouth.  “Yeah,” he said, squatting next to Kyle, resting his hands on his knees. “Yeah, that felt good. I think I’ll do that to her first.” He jumped up, but spun around before he was completely out the door. “You got a kid too, right? Don’t worry, I won’t leave him behind.”

 

Kyle heard the truck start back down the dirt track, the pain in his body only a secondary concern compared to the fear in his heart for Sarah and John.  He closed his eyes, gathering himself for a minute or two and then heaved himself into a half sitting position.  He forced himself to take deep regular breaths, getting control.  He surveyed the wounds in his wrist and hand.  The second nail had merely punched into the flesh of his wrist.  It was a small matter to grasp the wide nail head with the fingernails of his free hand and quickly pull it out although he worried about the amount of blood now flowing from the severed vein. 

 

The hand was another matter.  It hurt like hell and he could not budge it.  He could not pull hard enough on the slick nail heads to wrench them out of the wood floor.  He tried working them back and forth to loosen them, sending jolts of agony that radiated all the way up his arm.  “Come on, motherfuckers!!” he whispered in frustration. He got back on his feet, ignoring the pain at having to bend his leg, braced himself and heaved as hard as he could.  They didn’t come loose the first try. He had to kneel, his forehead resting on the floor, trying to breathe, sucking in air, his mind raging “Come on!!”   How long had Andy been gone?  Sarah and John were only a mile or so away. He took a few more ragged breaths and then pulled hard and quickly. There was a sound he didn’t want to define.  He was free.

  

“I found out you murdered Andy’s brother.”

 

“What?” Sarah’s mind reeled.

 

“You heard me.  You killed Andy’s brother and another guy just because they were stealing your car.  Now Andy’s getting blamed for it,” Lanie’s voice was rising. “And he didn’t do anything!”

 

The two women stood staring at each other, Sarah’s thoughts racing.  Finally she said, “Lanie, I don’t know what Andy told you, but those men were going to kill me.  And they were going to rape me first.  Your friend Andy was in on it.”  Sarah could see the confusion in Lanie’s eyes and then with despair she saw the anger as well.  She knew the debate was over. 

  

Kyle felt light-headed as he wrapped strips of his shirt around his hand.  He was having trouble keeping track of things, of his injuries.  The hand.  He had wrapped it tightly.  The wrist was a worry; it was still bleeding no matter how much pressure he applied.  He tested the leg.  He had to get back to Sarah and John.

  

Lanie and Sarah heard the truck approaching at the same time.  Sarah saw the flat expression in Lanie’s eyes and knew it was Andy even before Lanie turned to the door and opened it.  Sarah backed up so that her body was between John and the two unwanted visitors. 

 

“Stop right there,” Sarah said as Andy came through the door.  He snapped up his own weapon. 

 

“You’re not gonna shoot,” he said.  Sarah immediately fired a round into the ceiling.  Andy blinked. 

 

“Put the gun down and get out.” 

 

“Nah, you know what?  I think that gun belongs to me.”  He walked directly toward her and fired in the general direction of John.  Sarah and Lanie gasped, shocked.  She froze in the split second of disorientation and Andy grabbed her hand.  She clawed at his fingers, struggling to control the gun.  Shear strength and venom won out as he pulled the weapon away. 

 

“Lanie, take the baby out to the truck.”  Lanie obeyed, taking John carefully from the crib and glancing back one last time before she stepped outside. Sarah immediately lunged for the Glock still in Andy’s hand but he reacted faster than she expected, dropping the gun and using both hands to slam her against the wall so hard she heard something snap and felt a stab of pain radiate from her neck to her left shoulder that made her eyes water. The world went gray for a moment, but she grabbed the small iron skillet from the nail on the wall to score a glancing bow off his head.  “Ow! Bitch, that hurt!”  He lunged toward her; she staggered back, groping for the next available object which happened to be the broom. She swung it awkwardly, unable to hold it firmly because her left arm wasn’t working normally.  It hurt just to move.  She swung and missed, he laughed, “What? Are we playing baseball now?”  He grabbed the end of the wood pole and wrenched it free of her hands.  He whipped it around against the side of her head knocking her to the floor. Andy dropped the broom and rained punches to her face, her entire body, long after she lost consciousness.

 

“Andy!” He was dimly aware of Lanie screaming in the background.  “Andy, stop!! She’s dead! Let’s just go!”  Gradually he got control and sat back on his heels looking down at Sarah. He was breathing hard from the meth and the rage and the physical effort, but it all began to trickle down, draining out, and leaving uneven threads of confusion.

 

“We have to get her out of here,” he finally said.  “Take the baby out to the truck.”

 

“I already did.” He snapped his head toward her and the look in his eyes told her to say as little as possible in the future. Andy lifted Sarah and carried her to the truck.  He considered dumping her in the truck bed, but thought better of it.  He laid her across the back seat, thinking that if they were stopped, he would just say they found her like this and were taking her to the hospital. It would be hard to explain if she were in the back. 

 

A few minutes into the ride John began to fret and Sarah became dazedly aware that she was alive and in extreme pain. She could also hear John and that he sounded O.K. for the moment.  Eventually, Andy and Lanie exchanged a few words so she knew who was in the truck with her. 

 

The ride got bumpier; they were driving off-road now.  She could hear the whisk and scrape of brush against the truck body.  The jarring made knives of pain slice across her shoulder and neck which already hurt with the slightest movement.  Lolling around on the bench seat pretending to be unconscious was agony.  After a particularly hard jounce, John started crying.  Sarah’s whole body tensed in involuntary response.  She heard Lanie say something and the truck stopped abruptly.  Andy got out and looked around in the darkness.  The baby was making such a racket, he could not hear if there were any close ambient noises.  He closed the door and walked a little way into the night. He heard nothing, saw no movement, no lights. 

 

Lanie had been rapidly turning over the possible outcomes of the situation and was deciding she would either end up dead, in jail or living in a Mexican slum with a strung-out Andy.  Her new priority was to escape.  She gasped as Andy wrenched her door open.  “Let’s get her out,” he said, but did not wait for her to move or respond.  He opened the back door to the truck cab, grabbed Sarah’s legs and began to drag her limp body out. 

 

The screaming baby was making his nerves feel shredded; he was beginning to think how much trouble it was going to be taking care of it long enough to find a buyer down in Mexico when Sarah unexpectedly grabbed his gun he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans and shoved one of her hands right into his nose.  It did not really hurt since she could not get much force behind it with her injured shoulder, but it made him mad.  He looked at the gun which was now pointed directly at his left eye.  He watched her fingers move over the gun and realized she had no idea if there was a round in the chamber. 

 

Andy grabbed her by the shoulders and heaved her the rest of the way out of the cab.  Sarah pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.  She tried taking a swing at the side of his head with the gun, but missed.  Instead of trying a second time, she threw the gun as far as she could and heard it make a gravelly chink against a rock somewhere in the darkness.

 

“Goddamn bitch!!”  Andy screamed, trying to decide whether to look for it or kill Sarah with his bare hands.  He thought he had already done that back at the cabin.  During the second or so his fried brain was processing this decision Sarah aimed her boot at his kneecap. She put all her 120 pounds behind a kick that sent him down in a heap, yelling, with her landing awkwardly half on top. He grabbed for her, but she twisted away, out of her coat.  She lunged for John, scooping him out of Lanie’s arms while she surveyed the dash board.  No keys in the ignition.  Andy was staggering back up. “Lanie, damn it!  Get her!” Lanie did not move.

 

“She’s got the keys,” Lanie said and Andy in his confused rage went charging into the blackness after Sarah’s rapidly disappearing figure.  As soon as he was a safe distance away, Lanie slid over to the driver’s seat, and jammed the keys she had palmed back into the ignition. 

 

Even running and stumbling through the dark, desperately trying to move quietly, but swiftly, Sarah heard the truck start and roar away, the sweep of the headlights pinpointing Andy behind her in silhouette. She had the briefest impression of his surprise and outrage and allowed herself a tiny smile of satisfaction. 

 

Good for you, Lanie, she thought.  She cut sharply to the left, correctly assuming Andy had spotted her in the split second of the wash of headlight illumination.  John was making small anxious sounds now, but no longer crying.  She stopped for a second and rewrapped the blanket around him, carefully folding his little arms snuggly inside.  She tried to slow her breathing and listen.  Andy sounded very close. Less than twenty yards away she could hear him gasping for air, but he was not moving.  It sounded like he was shifting around in place, trying to get a fix on her. 

 

Sarah moved as quickly as she could, stumbling and tripping in the dark.  Her foot caught on something and she went down hard her injured arm cushioning the fall as she held John with her good arm.  The pain slammed from her hand directly to the broken collar bone. An involuntary yelp of pain escaped her.  She heard Andy pivot and tried to not move, not to breathe.

 

Sarah dropped softly to the ground, tucking John beside and partially under the curve of her body.  She knew he would be quickly relaxed by the warmth and smell of her, but worried he would need to be fed soon.  Andy seemed rooted to the spot. 

 

Sarah waited.  She felt the baby’s hands and head moving under the blanket and knew she was out of time.  She felt around for a medium sized stone and slowly stood back up.  She listened again to determine Andy’s position and heaved the rock as far and hard as she could slightly to the side of where she thought he was.  She heard it land with a faint thud. Nothing happened.  Instead of Andy tearing off after the sound, he had not apparently heard a thing.  Fucking idiot, she thought hysterically, He’s fucking deaf! 

 

This time, she picked up a bigger rock and heaved it directly at him, already moving away.  He had been looking in the other direction or it would have smashed into his nose. As it was, it connected solidly with the back of his skull causing him to stumble forward and see stars.  Sarah knew she had made a fatal mistake when she heard his grunt of pain and surprise, but she clamped down on the panic and continued to move carefully away.  He did not seem to be coming after her. 

 

Did I knock him out? She wondered, is he so fried he forgot why he’s out here?  As she put more and more distance between them, Sarah began to walk more deliberately.  Now that her night vision was working she could discern the foothills ahead of her and began to navigate around larger rocks and boulders and climb over some outcrops.  She paused every few yards to listen, but she could not detect Andy’s presence anymore.  As she focused on picking her way up into the hills, fatigue fell heavily on her mind as well as her body. Her shoulder ached mercilessly with every step and now that the adrenaline was gone she was cold.  Not freezing really, because of the effort spent climbing and clambering over unseen objects, but the air temperature was in the thirties.  John began to squirm and fret so she stopped one last time to listen for Andy and heard nothing but wind moving through the few tufts of plants life nearby. 

 

The large shadow of an especially big rock formation was directly ahead.  She knelt down, grasping for a handful or two of sand and gravel.  She threw it at the base of the stone wall, hoping it would startle any snakes or other creatures.  She tossed another handful of pebbles and detecting no movement or sound she wrapped the blanket around John and her upper body, tucking him against the stone and once again curving her self protectively around him.  She opened her shirt, her breasts painfully full and was relieved when he immediately began to feed.  The small flush of warmth soon faded when he fell into sated sleep.  Sarah adjusted the little blanket and curled up as tightly as she could, but it was still miserably cold.

  

Kyle could manage only a limping run as he started back to the house.  After a few hundred yards he had to walk, every step a painful ordeal.  The strip of shirt around his wrist was soaked.  He pressed the fingers of his right hand against the wound, hoping it would slow the bleeding. 

 

It was very quiet and he strained to hear the sound of any vehicle or voice.  He thought he heard dogs barking hoping it were not Ce and Nap. There was the unmistakable pop of a gunshot and then one more.  He stumbled along the track, his head swimming.

 

Mano and Frank took the only truck left and set out toward the new barn to pick up Kyle.  Tomorrow they would have to report the two missing trucks and the Camry.  Halfway to construction site, they passed Kyle just off the track, concealed in the brush.  There was no way to tell who was driving until the truck passed, but seeing it was safe Kyle heaved a small rock at the back window to get their attention.

 

“What the hell was that?”  Frank jumped at the sharp bang near his head.  Mano looked in the rear view mirror and saw the figure staggering into the road.

 

“It’s Reese,” Mano said, surprised.  “You’re gonna have to help him.”  Frank barely had time to get his hand on the door handle before Kyle yanked it open.

 

“Shit, Reese,” Frank recoiled a little as Kyle crawled up into the cab, his bloody hand a red mess, his leg positioned stiffly with a stained shirt knotted around it. “What the fuck happened?”

 

“Drive to my house!”  Reese ordered.  “That motherfucker from the car place is there. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have to get to Sarah and John—I said drive!!”  Mano lurched the truck through a three point turn and stomped on the accelerator. 

 

Ce and Nap were bounding around the yard in confusion, but switched their attention to the truck as it pulled into the drive.  Kyle was out the door before the truck completely slowed, stumbling as his leg connected with the ground. 

 

“Sarah!” he knew as soon as he saw the open door that he was too late.  The disarray made him frantic, concrete proof of a violent fight.  He checked the empty crib and ran out to the shed. 

 

“Look at this,” Frank pointed to the severed fan belts.

 

“The shot gun’s still here, but the hand guns are gone,” Kyle said.  “Let’s go.”

 

Mano reached out to restrain Kyle as he headed back to their truck.  “Man, you cannot go looking for them like this. If you bleed to death out there it’s no help to Sarah.”

 

“Let’s get you inside and call the Sheriff. They can get a helicopter and dogs and stuff and we’ll find ‘em a lot faster,” said Frank.

 

“No.”

 

“What is with you and the cops, man?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Look, Joseph’s a good guy, he—“

 

“I said no!”

 

“No way, man.  I ain’t getting’ back into the truck with that.”  Mano pointed to Kyle’s wrapped hand.  A teardrop of blood hung from each of three fingers.  Frank stared and swallowed.

 

“All right” said Kyle tightly. 

 

He sat at the table, placing a folded sheet under his arm as Mano opened the emergency kit.  Frank was amazed at the array of equipment revealed.  Kyle unwound the strips of shirt then dropped the soaking mess on the floor.  Frank stepped back as it splatted by his feet. He and Mano stared, open mouthed as Kyle began to clean the blood out of the wounds.  He worked quickly.  Mano snapped out of his inertia and took over.  The wrist worried him. He could see the blood still oozing through the torn skin.  Kyle held two thick squares of gauze in place as Mano wrapped a bandage around the arm.  Kyle remembered the first night he had spent with Sarah, his back pressed against the concrete wall under the highway.  She had wrapped the flimsy roll of gauze dressing around his bicep, her fingers uncertain, worried about causing more pain.  “Come on,” he urged Mano impatiently as they started the same process on his hand.

 

Kyle pulled off his jeans and selected a syringe from the medical box.  Frank had to look away as Kyle dispassionately jabbed the Lidocaine into three places surrounding the bullet hole.  He cleaned the wound and then reached for a small pair of forceps.  “I’m going out for some air,” Frank said before he could see any more.

 

“You need any help?” Mano asked uncertainly.

 

“I got it,” said Kyle, probing into the wound.  Mano could see beads of sweat collecting and beginning to stream down his face. 

 

“Here,” he grabbed a towel and swabbed it across Kyle’s eyes.

 

“Thanks.” Kyle said in a strained voice.  He held up the forceps and dropped the slug on top of the discarded strips of shirt. Quickly he and Mano wrapped the leg and Kyle stood up stiffly to pull his jeans back on.  He reached for the shot gun and led the way outside. 

 

“What are we doing?” asked Frank, grateful there were no more open wounds visible.  Kyle started the truck before he answered. Mano slid into the passenger seat.  Frank barely got the door slammed shut before they were moving.

 

“I’m going after Sarah and John.” 

 

“It’s dark.  We don’t even know where they went.”

 

“Call the house,” said Mano.  “See if they’ve heard anything.”  He picked up the heavy black walkie talkie then dropped it disgust. “Battery’s dead.”  Kyle drove faster.

  

Gen had to ask Lanie four times to calm down before she could make out what the girl was screaming into the phone.  “Andy’s got Sarah and John.  He’s gonna kill her!”

 

“What?  Who’s Andy?  Who is this?”  Gen gradually extracted a few coherent threads of information.  “Where are they?”

 

“Andy’s gonna kill Sarah because she killed his brother.  Then he’s going to sell the baby in Mexico.”

 

“Where are they?” Gen tried to keep her tone reasonably calm.  For a minute or two there were no identifiable sounds and then the weepy voice said, “somewhere off Five Mile Road,” then there was only a dial tone.  Gen tried to call the truck radio, but got only static.  She was starting to call the sheriff when Kyle slammed in the door with Mano and Frank. 

 

“Is Sarah here?”  Gen barely had time to register that he was holding a shot gun.

 “No.  Someone just called saying somebody named Andy was going to kill her—What is going on?!”   

“That guy from the car parts place.”

 

“What?  What does he want with Sarah?”  She picked up the phone again, but Kyle closed his hand over hers, replacing the receiver. 

 

“Don’t call the police.”

 

“Why not?”  Gen guessed this all had something to do with Kyle and Sarah’s deliberately vague history.  She stood calmly, waiting for an answer.  Mano and Frank edged into the room behind him.  Kyle looked at all of them.  Trust was not an emotion he gave into easily. 

 

“All right.  Back in Los Angeles two guys tried to rape Sarah.  They were going to kill her for the fucking car she was driving, but she fought back.” Kyle’s body was tensed with rage.  “She killed one of them while he was taking his pants off. This guy out there was the third man.  He dropped those two off at the gas station where it happened.”

 

“I don’t understand.  How could they do all that in a gas station?” 

 

“They took the car and Sarah off into the woods.  She left them where they were going to leave her.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Kyle. That poor child.  You and she have been through a lot,” said Gen, “But why not call the police?”  Kyle sorted through his mind for a possible response.

 

“It’s me.  I did some things in the war.  If they find out where we are they’ll take me away from Sarah and John.”  Gen noticed he did not say, ‘they’ll put me in jail.’

 

“I see.” She looked at Frank and Mano standing uneasily by the door.  “All right.  This person on the phone, a girl, said they were on Five Mile Road, or off of it.  ‘Off of Five Mile Road,’ is what she said.” Kyle spun toward the door.  “Wait. Frank, take this with you.”  Gen unlocked the gun cabinet and handed two pistols to them.  “As soon as Dennis gets back, we’ll have another truck to help.  Keep the radios on channel three.”  Mano grabbed two handsets from an equipment closet and they hustled outside.

  

“Shit. Reese, man, slow down! We ain’t goin’ nowhere if we break an axle.”  No answer from Kyle. He drove fast, but deftly through the rocks and scrub.  He skidded to a stop at the base of the first major cluster of boulders and leapt out of the cab.  Mano watched him climb up to a large outcrop and begin to scan methodically with the binoculars. He was trying to imagine how much that leg must hurt.  Mano fervently hoped they would find John and Sarah or even better that they had somehow made it back safely, but he was worried.  He got out of the cab and joined Kyle on the outcrop. 

 

“I don’t see them.” Kyle said under his breath, stepping down off the small ledge and heading uphill.

 Many hours ago they had come across a disoriented Andy who had been wandering through the brush and rocks long enough to decide to sit down and wait for it to get light when he saw the headlights.  It occurred to him the truck might not represent rescue when he was slammed savagely to the ground, a fist hammering over and over into his face while a voice screamed “where are they??”  

 “I don’t know,” he rasped with Kyle’s weight crushing him into the stones and gravel, knees bruising his chest and hands hooked into his collar.

 

“What happened to them??  What did you do?!?” The hand smashed across his mouth again before he could form any coherent sound. His thoughts spun crazily. 

 

“Don’ know.” 

 

“Come on you motherfucker.  You tell me now!!”  Frank and Mano managed to pull Kyle off and wrestle him down, but not before he had clipped Mano’s jaw, punched a shoulder into Frank’s ribs and somehow rammed his knee into his kidney.  Kyle sat sprawled heaving between them, staring at Andy who was lying a few feet away, groaning.  Kyle tensed and Mano clapped a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Reese,” Mano panted, “this ain’t helping find them. You’re wasting your time.” 

 

Frank was trying not to take it personally even though he thought maybe he’d be pissing blood tomorrow. “Look,” he said, “I’ll stay here with him. Give me one of the radios.  Klein can come get us and if our friend says anything I’ll call it in.” 

 

For a second or two Mano thought they were not getting through. “Come on, man.  Don’t do it.  You kill him, your cover’s blown.” He could feel the rage crawling under the hand still on Kyle’s shoulder.  Finally, Kyle wrenched away and stood up.  He stalked back to the truck and tossed a radio at Frank. 

 “Let’s go,” he said to Mano.   

The two had been searching since leaving Andy with Frank.  Kyle chose another vantage point and carefully scanned again.  Mano could tell pieces of Kyle’s soldier’s life were snapping back into place.  This was going to be bad, really bad if they did not find his wife and son or worse, maybe if they did find them and something had happened to them. Mano knew better than to say anything.  Kyle looked like he could shred rocks. 

 

They continued on this way for another hour or so as the light got stronger.  Mano glanced at his watch 6:15.  He was comfortable, though not particularly warm in his thermal top, long sleeved flannel shirt and jacket.  Sarah and John had been out here for almost ten hours now.  His sense of dread grew.  The two men were surveying the valley and the entire visible hillside when they both heard a high-pitched bark.  There was an answering bark and then the very distinct sound of a baby’s cry.  Mano thought he moved fast, but Kyle was off the boulder and heading downhill in a transverse direction at a dead run before he took a step. He scrambled to catch up.  They edged around the side of a pile of boulders and froze.

 

They were in a somewhat sheltered area surrounded on three sides by stone outcrops.  Mano could see Sarah’s body lying against the base of the rocks.  He could even see a little corner of the blanket flap as John wriggled and cried more vigorously.  There were five Mexican gray wolves sitting in a half circle around Sarah and John.  Their large heads and silver-gray eyes were all turned to stare at Mano and Kyle.  They did not look particularly aggressive, just mildly curious as if puzzled by this sudden influx of humans.  Kyle moved forward fluidly, careful to not make eye contact or any sudden gestures.  Mano watched in amazement as he walked right past some and approached the largest wolf, offering his hand. 

 

“Reese, man! Those ain’t no German Shepherd dogs!!” he said in a carefully neutral tone of voice.  Kyle stopped a few feet away from the large male.  He did not advance toward it directly, but moved across its line of vision, again offering his hand.  Mano watched the wolf survey Kyle’s posture and demeanor.  He obviously did not feel threatened, but he did not look particularly friendly either.  Sarah made a small sound and Mano saw Kyle stiffen, but remain motionless.  He watched his eye flick sideways from the ground in front of the wolf to Sarah.  Two or three minutes went by then casually, with a low cough, the wolf stood and trotted off followed in orderly fashion by the other four.  Mano stood frozen as the animals filed past him, Kyle already on his knees reaching for Sarah, gently easing her back from the stone, pulling her into his arms.

 

“Sarah?”  He touched her face anxiously.  Her skin was so cold as he pressed his cheek against hers. Mano rushed over and scooped up John, flipping back the blanket to take a look.  He was greeted by an angry little face, annoyed at the sudden rush of cold and outraged at being both wet and hungry. 

 

“Is he O.K.?” asked Kyle.

 

“Yeah, man, he’s full of spit and vinegar.  How’s she?”  Kyle was looking grimly at the bruises and cuts, the blood on her clothes and hands.  He could see the swelling and felt certain her collarbone was broken.

 

“Sarah?” A moan of pain. 

 

“Oh,” she breathed, “It hurts.” Her eyes would not focus. 

 

“I have to get you back to the truck.  I’ll try to keep you warm.” Mano noted he did not say, ‘everything’s gonna be O.K.’ or whatever most people would say.  Kyle took off his coat and laid it over her and then he wrapped his shirt around her legs and feet.

 

“Where’s John?” Sarah asked as Kyle folded her arms across her chest.

 

“He’s fine. Mano’s got him.”  Kyle carried Sarah as gently as possible, but the long hike down hill was excruciating.  She buried her face against the waffled fabric of his thermal shirt.  When they finally reached the truck, Mano climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.  John was a fussing bundle on the seat beside him. Kyle lifted Sarah into the back, trying to make her comfortable.  “Turn up the heater,” he said, rearranging the coat and flannel shirt over her and gingerly lifting her left arm and positioning it tightly against her so it would move as little as possible during the ride.  She was shivering uncontrollably and could barely speak through her chattering teeth. 

 

“I need to feed John.  He’s hungry.”  Mano handed the baby over the seat and Kyle unwrapped the blanket and took off the wet clothing and diaper.  John’s cries went from wails to shrieks, but Kyle peeled off his thermal shirt and wrapped the still warm garment around his son, swaddling the little arms and legs and tucking him against Sarah under the coat.  It became quiet quickly.

 

“Let’s go,” said Kyle, grimacing as he stretched his legs stretched across the floorboards, resting his bandaged hand in his lap for a moment. Mano got the truck moving, but shrugged out of his coat and handed it to Kyle.

 

“Here, man.”

 

“Thanks.”  Mano glanced back over the seat to see Kyle reaching over to gently brush back Sarah’s tangled hair. He caught the expression on Sarah’s face and in her eyes as her face turned toward the caress and a rush of embarrassment shot through him.  His face felt hot as he looked away.

      

 

 

The little cottage was long finished and John was getting into everything.  Mano tended to allow more than Kyle and Sarah would approve, but never anything remotely unsafe.  At the moment, Mano was seated at the kitchen table, stirring his coffee, watching John pull books off the bottom shelf across the room.  Pretty soon he would start pulling clothing from drawers in the bedroom, first something of Sarah’s then Kyle’s, then Sarah’s until he had created two flat people on the floor. 

 

Mano was waiting for Sarah to get back from her night shift in Deming so that he and Kyle could go to work.  Lanie would come over to help after she woke up, but that was getting later and later these days now that she was four months pregnant.  She and Mano lived in the little trailer, now moved to a slightly nicer spot near some trees a few hundred yards away.  He looked down at the gold band on his finger.  Never thought I’d want that, he mused as John finished one flat person. 

 

Soon after Andy was picked up, the police had figured out he was responsible for two murders back in Los Angeles.  The guy had killed his own brother, taken things from his apartment and then was dumb enough to keep some of the jewelry and stuff around.

 

Sarah came in, hugged John, frowned at Mano’s lack of discipline and disappeared into the bedroom.  A moment later she was heading out the door, “Back in a minute.”  Yeah, yeah, you always say that, he thought.

 

New Mexico was beautiful. Two days ago a rain storm had spurred the entire desert flora into spectacular, though fleeting bloom. This morning, light from the purple-orange sun sliced across where Kyle sat near the top of the trail resting his back against the red sandstone. He never tired of watching the sun come up, the strengthening light on his face, the warmth over his body. He aimlessly traced his fingers across the ancient surface of the rock as he stared into the light. Contemplating the sunrise was an activity no one had dared attempt in post-war Los Angeles. Although the machines recognized little difference between night and day in their own functioning, Skynet made sure the humans had as little access to sun and regular sleep as possible. Disrupting their circadian rhythms was an effective tactic.   

 

His eyes picked up the distant movement of a white jeep curving down the highway.  It approached rapidly along the otherwise empty road then disappeared behind the base of the rocks.

 

Some minutes later, Sarah popped up over the edge of the trail wearing her favorite after-work blue jean dress and walked to Kyle. He now sat in the line of her shadow and she tossed the blanket down beside him, smiling as he gazed up at her. She tilted her head to one side standing there as her hair lifted and blew in a cloud around her face and neck, one lean arm on her hip, all of her backlit by the sun.  He was thinking this was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  “You look like an angel.”

 

“Thank you.”  She smoothed the blanket and tossed off her shoes as he gratefully moved over onto the cushion of fabric. Sarah sank into his lap and into his arms, straddling him in a fierce embrace. Eagerly, her fingers drew his face closer and she kissed him with unrestrained passion, her love for him unmistakable.  His body craved the heat of her through the thin denim. She laughed against his mouth as he began to unbutton the soft fabric, drawing it down off her shoulders, along her arms until it lay in a pool around her waist.  She pulled off his t-shirt, went to work on his jeans, pulling him free, drawing them down just enough. Sarah was bare underneath the skirt of her sweet dress and eased herself down onto the hard length of him. “I missed you,” she breathed into his mouth. “All ten hours.”

THE END