toy soldiers | zennie

act 4

John remembered the first time he realized that his mother could not protect him, the first time he realized that he had to save her. Sarkissian had them tied up and was taking most of his rage out on Sarah; the pistol across the face and the kicks to the stomach were just warm-ups before he tried to strangle the life out of her. John only remembered his own actions in those few, terrible seconds, the stark terror as he tried to free his hands, never giving a thought to how she must have been feeling. Now, he wondered if she felt as helpless as he did, if her mind had been empty and choked by fear as a foot hammered into his gut.

“Where is she?” Vaughn stood over him, his voice as cold as death. John gritted his teeth against the pain and shook his head. Another kick and he felt a rib crack.

“Get him up,” Vaughn commanded, and hands caught him under the arms and hefted him up, holding him in a standing position. He sucked in a breath, holding back a cry of pain. A hard hand caught his chin, forcing him to stare into the fevered eyes of man who had lead the commandos into their hideout. Danny had told him about Vaughn, and now John understood that he had been necessarily afraid. The eyes that stared at him were manic and cruel. 

A hard slap rattled John’s teeth, and he clamped them down hard. “I can do this all night,” Vaughn sneered.

“So can I,” John ground out.

A hard uppercut to his stomach felt like it was tearing him in two, and John doubled over, retching.

Vaughn grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to look him in the eyes. “You sure about that, sonny?” He laughed and released his hold on John’s head, and John collapsed to his knees, unable to do anything but breathe through the pain. “You’re lucky I want you to live,” Vaughn told him. “At least until I find that psycho bitch you call a mother.” John kept his eyes closed, sensing more than seeing as Vaughn knelt beside him.

“You know what’s left now, John? All that’s left is for me to decide which of you dies first. I’m thinking it’s going to be you. I think it would be fun watching your mother’s face when her baby boy’s brains are blown all over the wall.” John said nothing, and Vaughn laughed.

Everything hurt. John had thought he’d known physical pain but he’d never known agony like this. How many times had his mother endured this kind of pain? How many times had she’d taken the blows, the kicks to the gut, the pistol whips to the jaw? Now it was his turn to suffer for her.

“Savior of mankind, huh?”

“Go to hell,” John spit out, tasting blood on the back of his teeth. He grunted when a hand fisted in his hair and yanked his head back again.

“Your mother thinks you’re something special, doesn’t she? Worth dying for. Worth killing for. But look at you. You’re nothing. If you’re supposed to save us all, then the world would be better off burning.”

John tried to spit at him, the words affecting him more than he wanted to admit, but Vaughn shoved him face first onto the concrete floor.

Nausea rolled deep and thick in John’s stomach. He had to do something, but a sense of futility dragged at his limbs. He didn’t know how to get out of this, not this time. All his life, every time he had been in a tight situation, he had been rescued. His mother. Derek. Sierra. Someone had always arrived just at the nick of time, but he was on his own now. He had seen to that. But there was one thing he could do; he could do what his mother always did for him: put her life on the line to protect those she loved.

“Get up,” Vaughn ordered, his hand resting on the butt of the gun holstered at his hip.

John refused, staying on the ground and curling in on himself. He was waiting for the kick, expecting it. When it came, John wrapped his whole body around Vaughn’s foot, twisting for all he was worth and dragging the man down. Then he was on him, ignoring the pain as he crawled up Vaughn’s frame to punch him in the face. Vaughn just laughed at him.

He didn’t laugh for long.

Startled by John’s strength and rage and surprised by his training, Vaughn found himself tussling with the younger man. He waved his men off when they moved to intervene, welcoming the fight, savoring the rush of adrenaline as he got the upper hand with two heavy body blows that stunned the boy. He dragged John up on his feet.

“Nice try,” Vaughn sneered, his lip busted and bleeding. He got his arm around John’s neck and held the boy in a chokehold. “You’ve got fight, kid. I’ll give you that.” He tightened his grip as John spluttered. “Now tell me where that bitch you call a mother is.”

Bursts of light sprang up in John’s eyes as his brain was slowly deprived of oxygen. “You won’t touch her,” he gasped.

Vaughn’s chuckle next to his ear sent a shiver down his spine. “What, you think that metal bitch will protect her?” He loosened the chokehold and watched John gulp for air. The words drove all the fight from him in a rush. “You thought I didn’t know? You thought that I’m not ready to take her pet terminator down?” He laughed again, his fingers curling around John’s neck and digging in as the boy slumped in his grip. “Your mom doesn’t stand a chance. Any more than you do.”

He looked away from John to Danny, tied up in the corner and watching with horror and fear in his eyes. He smiled before turning his attention back to John. When he was finished with Sarah Connor’s bastard, Danny would tell him everything he wanted to know. He was sure of it.

****

“I should never have let him go,” Sarah murmured from the passenger seat, not for the first time, as the dark streets whizzed by. The quiet roads were empty, and they were making good time, but John and Danny’s hideout was almost 30 minutes away. Sarah felt each one go by with excruciating slowness, and she stifled the urge to tell Cameron to drive faster for the fifth time.

“He’ll be all right,” Cameron promised and meant it.

“You don’t know. You don’t know that,” Sarah replied, her head shaking emphatically. Her panic was barely restrained; the seatbelt across her chest the only thing that seemed to be holding it in. She gripped the gun in her hand as if it could help as buildings and streets whipped by, a blur of brick and asphalt as they raced toward John’s location. “I shouldn’t have let him go,” she whispered again, her mind back to the moment in the kitchen, the moment she’d set John free.

“Sarah...”

“I should have insisted that he stay, no matter what the price. He needs to be with us, where we can protect him.” Sarah turned her head and looked at Cameron, her expression faintly accusing. “You should have been with him...”

“Kaliba isn’t after John. They’re after you,” Cameron pointed out as she slowed just enough to make a hard right, tires squealing in protest. “They are using him to get to you.”

Sarah swallowed at the thought. “We never should have split up,” she repeated, her words like a mantra. “It wasn’t right, I knew it wasn’t right.” She met Cameron’s gaze squarely when the cyborg finally risked looking at her. “If he dies instead of me....”

The despair in those green eyes struck a chord, and Cameron focused her attention back on the road as their speed inched up.

“Cameron...” Sarah’s voice broke on the name, all her fears heard in the silence that came after.

“We’ll make it,” Cameron vowed. “We won’t lose him.”

Cameron’s jaw clenched in helpless frustration. The vehicle wouldn’t go any faster, and there was nothing she could do to help Sarah. Nothing she could do but drive like hell. Her grip on the wheel tightened. “He’ll be all right,” she stated again. She was already lying about one child to Sarah; she hoped she hadn’t just told another.

****

Sierra watched as Sarah and Cameron barrelled out of the house and raced to the truck. She wondered briefly at what would have caused them to leave the house unprotected as she slid down the tree trunk carefully. She crept onto the porch, the gun in her hand a reassuring heft. Not completely unprotected, she thought to herself with a smile, even if they didn’t know it. She glanced through the windows, noticing the unmoving terminator with a frown, before stationing herself so she could see the stairway and the street from her position.

Lights on the silent street alerted her, and Sierra hid as a long, low car pulled up and parked in front of the house. The muscles in her arm tensed and then relaxed as she recognized the young, pretty woman walking toward her. She could see the outlines of the person she would become drawn under the smooth skin stretched across her cheekbones. A trusted lieutenant, now and in the future.

Sabine let herself in and silenced the alarm with a memorized code. Her disinterested gaze took in the still figure of John Henry as she took a circuit around the ground floor before ending up in the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned with a cup of tea, and, sliding a handgun from the waistband of her jeans, she settled in on the couch with her drink and a magazine. A few minutes later, Walther padded down the stairs and leapt onto the couch to curl up in the circle of her legs, earning an indulgent petting for his troubles. The house once again lapsed into silence, guarded within and without.

****

Vaughn tightened his grip again, feeling John grow limp in his arms. “Last chance. Tell me where she is or-”

Before John could answer, he heard an innocuous sounding pop over the roaring in his ears. John struggled to process what it meant, even as one of Vaughn’s men was slammed back into the wall, a bloody hole in his chest. A second shot obliterated the half of another’s head. The third man turned to run, only to make it three steps before a bullet punched through his back and exploded out his heart.

Vaughn twitched with surprise. His gaze darted frantically around the room for the source of the shooter.

“Let him go.”

Vaughn spun around, dragging John with him. Cameron was standing there, Sarah Connor’s little metal bitch, a 9mm in each hand. He felt a flash of fear, but it didn’t show on his features. He put his pistol to John’s temple. “I don’t think so. Drop the guns.”

Cameron glanced at Danny. He was trembling in the corner, his face splattered with the blood of one of the men she’s just executed. Her dark gaze landed on Vaughn once more, and she cocked her head to the side, as if measuring the distance between them. The weapon trained on him never wavered.

“Let him go,” Cameron ordered again.

Sarah stepped into the room, the gun in her hands shaking for a second before it steadied on him. Vaughn knew her reputation, and their research had confirmed that she avoided killing humans when at all possible. For all her reputation, she was not a cold-blooded killer. Her cyborg companion, however...  He shifted to keep John between them, shielding himself with the boy’s body. Neither of them would risk hurting him.

“What happens if he dies, little robot?” Vaughn smiled, enjoying the way John was twitching against him as the boy struggled to breathe. “Doesn’t your precious future die with him?” He glanced over at Sarah, her face pale under a shock of dark hair that had fallen across her forehead. “Don’t all of your dreams for your son die?” He smiled as her eyes narrowed with impotent rage, enjoying the moment. “You’ve caused me all manner of grief, Sarah. It’s time for a little payback.”

She drew the hammer back on her gun and Vaughn laughed. “You don’t have the stones, Connor,” he taunted. “I know all about you. Your hang-ups, your kinks...” He glanced speculatively at Cameron.

“Do you have a shot?” Sarah asked the cyborg.

“No,” Cameron confessed, inching closer, waiting for an opportunity.

“You or him,” Vaughn told Sarah as his finger tensed on the trigger.

Sarah looked like she was about to come out of her skin as John sputtered and gasped, trying to draw a breath. She was watching him die, watching Vaughn choke the life out of him. “You son-of-a-bitch.”

“Choose!” Vaughn shouted.

For a second, he thought he had won. Sarah shifted her stance, and he felt the triumph wash over him in a warm wave.

A shot rang out and John jerked, distantly hearing Cameron’s shout as he went down. He hit the floor, his broken ribs screaming in protest, but suddenly he could breathe again. He raised his eyes to Cameron, watching as she lowered her weapons and turned her gaze to Sarah. The expression on her face was a mixture of surprise and regret, and she took a step toward his mother, her hand reaching out in a gesture of comfort.

“John, are you all right?” Sarah was already at John’s side, her hands pulling at his clothes and running over his arms, looking for blood and broken bones, her weapon discarded at her side.

“I’m okay,” John said weakly, his arms wrapped tightly over his stomach. “Broken rib maybe,” he lied.

“We have to get you to a hospital.”

“No, no hospital,” he replied, opening his eyes to meet his mother’s. She gave him a tight smile of acknowledgment of all the times she had said the same to him.

“Where else are you hurt?”

“Vaughn,” John murmured, his gaze shifting to the motionless body beside him. He swallowed when he saw the other man’s vacant stare. Looking away, John met his mother’s eyes once more. Adrenaline was making him shake, his injuries and the truth about what had just happened making him cold. “He was looking for you... he was going to...”

“I know.” Sarah kissed his temple, remembering the sight of a muzzle pressed there moments before. “It’s all right.”

“We need to go,” Cameron stated, approaching with an unsteady Danny in tow. “I’ll call Ellison. We’ll need to deal with the bodies.”
  
Sarah nodded wearily. “Can you stand?” she asked her son.

John nodded as well. “Yeah,” he murmured before looking at her again. There was no judgment in her eyes, just love and worry. “I’ll be okay,” he promised. He reached for her gun, intending to hand it to her. His hand grazed the muzzle and he yelped in surprise when it burned his fingers.

“John,” Sarah said gently as he turned his eyes on her once more, understanding clear in his gaze. “We need to go,” she said, repeating Cameron’s words.

“Mom, you...”

“I did what I had to do,” Sarah finally admitted. She reached for her gun, grabbing it by the grip before handing the weapon to a silent Cameron. “Let’s go.”

John searched her face, his pain momentarily forgotten. Their gazes met and held for a silent moment before John finally took a shallow breath and nodded. He reached for her hand, and she eased him onto his feet.

When he looked at Cameron again, John found the terminator’s eyes on his mother. Cameron looked... upset, he decided, and he faintly wondered if her emerging feels were anything like his own at the moment.

“Sarah...” Cameron began.

Sarah shook her head, refusing the worry and sympathy in her voice, in her son’s eyes. She helped John limp to the door, supporting him as he gained strength. She spared a single glance back over her shoulder at the carnage in the room, feeling nothing but a sense of vague satisfaction and intense relief.

Cameron’s hand reached out, but Sarah dismissed it with a look. Her lips twisted into a tight smile in hopes of providing some reassurance, and she was relieved when Cameron nodded in understanding.

But she was looking forward to whatever comfort Cameron wanted to offer as soon as they were alone, knowing that she wouldn’t stop shaking on the inside until that moment.

****

John gritted his teeth as he made his way down the stairs, each step jarring his taped ribs. It had been an exhausting night, but the adrenaline would not let him sleep, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one. Sarah started from the living room, reaching out to help him down the last few stairs before realizing what she was doing and pulling back with an apologetic look. He gave her a slight smile of understanding as he shuffled into the living room, finding himself the object of several curious gazes. The bruises on his face were nothing compared to the patchwork of purple that covered his stomach, but they were still prominent.

Everyone was there, even Savannah, clutching her giraffe and the arm of the couch with equal fervor. It appeared that the fight to send her back to bed had ended with Savannah triumphant, a fact confirmed by the sheepish grin on Sarah’s face when she noticed the object of his gaze.

“John,” Sarah’s voice was hoarse, as if strained by emotion. She was still reining in her impulse to help him, and she crossed her arms over her chest to keep them from reaching out again. Cameron stood at her side, like the permanent fixture she had become over the past few months, and he frowned.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re...” Sarah stopped abruptly, turning toward the more diplomatic Terissa with shrug of her shoulders.

“They are deciding what to do with us,” muttered Danny, sitting sullen, distant, and nearly forgotten in the chair in the corner, his body dwarfed by the bulk of the terminator sitting motionless beside him.

Turning away from Sarah and stepping more fully into the room, John addressed Danny to forestall any explanation from Terissa or Sarah. “What do you mean?” He was pleased that his voice was relatively calm.

“We’re not allowed out on our own anymore.” The scorn was evident in his voice, all of his terror already forgotten in his rush to anger.

“You were nearly killed,” Sarah retorted heatedly. “You were found and you could have been... could have been...” Cameron rested her hand on Sarah’s shoulder briefly as the other woman turned away, hugging herself. The years of fear that had seeped into everything she did, even her dreams, had not yet dissipated. To have them so nearly realized again was tearing at the frail composure she had managed to achieve.

Cameron stepped smoothly in front of Sarah, shielding her, as Savannah scampered past to give Sarah a hug. “You have not proven you can protect yourselves. Or follow basic security procedures.”

“That’s bullshit,” John yelled, feeling the effort in his ribs, and he sucked in a breath. “We were establishing the security system, hacking the cameras,” he explained.

“Kaliba found you.”

“We’ve been found before. Even when you were running the security,” he reminded her.

“That was because...” “John, you both...” The cacophony of voices blended together as Terissa joined in the fray, and Danny rushed to their defence. The clamor reached Sierra, watching from the shadows outside the window, as she scanned the area, waiting for her erstwhile mother to make an appearance. Leading them to John Henry had been only a first move for the terminator, and Sierra was determined to discern what she would do next.

Inside, the battle raged as Sarah strode into the middle of the fight, her voice ragged and raw as she tried to convince her son of the need for her protection, but outside was still, too still, and Sierra braced as the feeling of wrongness increased.

****

C.A.I.N. opened his eyes. The movement was so slight in a room full of anger and recriminations that it went unnoticed. A mere flicker as his eyelids fluttered open and his gaze swept and analyzed the room, marking the positions of the people arrayed around the space and locating the necessary hardware, a forgotten handgun on a side table.

The gun was in his palm before anyone noticed, but the weight was odd and surprising, the texture of the grip alien as he struggled to focus and control the jerky movements of his arm. Sabine saw him first, and she launched herself at him, only to be swept aside by his other arm, the force of his blow sending her careening into the table across the room. His fingers spasmed uncontrollably in the heat of the moment, and a random shot from the gun hit the wall behind the couch.

Everyone moved; Cameron made her decision in an instant, reaching out to grab Sarah’s arm and stepping in front of Savannah. Whether by luck or intent, Sarah eluded Cameron and dove for her son, roughly tackling him to the ground and covering his body with her own. Danny spun around, finding himself staring down the muzzle of the gun, but he stood his ground, positioning himself in front of his mother.

For a heartbeat they just watched as the gun swept the room in search of a target. The motion steadied as if John Henry was learning control and then singled out Cameron for a brief second, as if taunting her, before he aimed deliberately at Sarah, who realized too late that for the second time that day that she was the one targeted. Red blossomed in his eyes as he concentrated his effort on the small muscles of his finger to pull the trigger in a controlled, deliberate manner.

Cameron stepped toward Sarah, her mass an impediment for once, as she measured the space and knew she would never cross the room in time. She screamed Sarah’s name, barely processing the streak of moving color crossing the room in front of her as the gun went off in rapid succession, the clip emptying with a sickening click as the slide locked back in place.

For a moment, a shocked silence enveloped the room. Then the gun clattered on the floor and John Henry collapsed, his body thudding to the ground beside his victim.

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