Terminator Salvation_ The Official Movie Novelization - Alan Dean Foster [37]
Like the rest of the old highway, the section Wright was speeding along was littered with dead and abandoned cars. Now, instead of driving to avoid them, he deliberately slammed the truck’s reinforced steel front bumper into as many as he felt he could safely impact. As pieces of abandoned vehicle went flying and bouncing down the road in the truck’s wake, the noise inside the cab was deafening. Neither Reese nor Star complained.
It was a clever effort—and a useless one. Steered by senses far more responsive than those of any human driver, the pursuing Motos deftly maneuvered around the careening debris without ever slowing down. The distance between truck and hunters closed rapidly.
Wright grew aware that Reese was yelling at him, screaming to make himself heard above the metal carnage that was fueling the truck’s wake. He could have argued with the teen’s declared intent, but there were two reasons why he did not. One, someone had to drive the truck. And two, he didn’t have any better ideas.
Climbing out the rear window of the cab, Reese carefully made his way to the rear of the rocking, swaying vehicle. The first sizable object he saw that wasn’t bolted down was a barrel of oil. Several kicks with both feet sent it flying off the back of the truck. Bursting on contact with the road, it sent a wide spill of black liquid slashing across the highway. The first of the two Motos managed to avoid the rapidly spreading pool. The second did not. Striking the slick, it spun wildly out of control.
Continuing to accelerate, the other machine was working to try and cut off the truck’s line of flight. Frantically searching the vehicle’s bed, Reese found a toolbox, opened it, and began throwing everything he could find at the red-eyed machine. Screwdrivers, nails, a file—all bounced harmlessly off the machine’s outer shell, until a heavy mallet landed just ahead of the front wheel. Unable even with its superb mechanical reflexes to react in time, the Moto hit the bouncing mallet, skewed to the left, and disappeared beneath the heavy tow truck’s right front wheel. The truck bounced as first the front wheel and then the rear one ran over the machine.
Having recovered from its spin-out, the second Moto had rejoined the chase and was once more closing in on the fleeing vehicle and its fragile organic occupants. Righting itself, the one that had gone down and been run over by the truck quickly recovered to rejoin its companion as though nothing had happened.
Fresh out of everything that was easily heavable, a frustrated Reese rummaged through the truck bed until his attention was caught by the main cable release. Slamming both hands down on the appropriate lever, he sent the heavy towing hook airborne off the back of the rocking vehicle as the now unrestrained cable began to unspool. Sparks and shards of asphalt flew as the steel S-shape struck the road and began bouncing and jimmying wildly behind the truck.
Then the flying hook caught onto the frame of the nearest Moto and locked tight.
Finding itself fixed securely to the truck, which was sliding and shimmying unpredictably as Wright fought to avoid the pursuers, the Moto went fishtailing in all directions. Similarly, being forced to drag the unexpected weight made the task of controlling the truck increasingly difficult. As it lurched from side to side, skewing all over the road and occasionally onto the flanking dirt shoulders, Reese found it increasingly difficult to maintain his own balance. When one especially violent jolt sent him tumbling, he grabbed for balance onto the nearest projection.
This happened to be another of the tow control levers. A motor engaged and began to reel in the errant cable—as well as the homicidal machine to which it was presently affixed.
Struggling to bring its front weapons to bear on the source of this continuing annoyance, the Moto made repeated attempts to blast free from the restraining line.
Up in the cab,