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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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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.