Terminator Salvation_ The Official Movie Novelization - Alan Dean Foster [51]
“What happened to your father? He crash out on the bike?”
She shook her head sadly.
“No. That would have made him happy, to go out that way. He was an airline mechanic. Jet engine specialist.” She smiled and a tear started from the corner of one eye. She wiped it away angrily, as if it was some kind of intruder into her private life. “He loved the noise engines made, but I guess you already figured that. All the big airports and related maintenance facilities were taken out in Skynet’s first strike.” Finding another tear forming, she hastened to change the subject.
“What about your brother? Was he killed on Judgment Day?”
“No.” Any hint of happiness vanished from Wright’s face as his mood darkened visibly. “He died—before.”
Intending to press him for details, she changed her mind fast when she saw his expression. The talk and the lateness of the hour were combining to shrink her span of attention. In spite of herself, she yawned.
“That other world, it’s all gone. All—gone.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Thanks for saving me back there. Don’t meet too many good guys these days.”
His tone did not change. “I’m not a good guy.”
“Sure you are. You just don’t know it yet. You know the only good thing about the end of the world? Whatever you were, whatever you did—doesn’t matter now. That world is gone.” Snuggling closer to his bulk, she dropped her head back onto his chest.
“You get to choose who you want to be.”
He looked down at her, not moving. Not wanting to disturb her. It was a strange feeling. He was used to disturbing people—often violently. Not this time. As she fell asleep against him he let his head ease back onto the ground.
It had stopped raining. Overhead, the sky was clearing, and the stars were coming out.
The Hunter-Killer had picked up movement and changed its course to pursue. Though the illumination from the stars above was feeble, the machine did not need daylight to track its quarry. Sighting via infrared, it had recognized the heat signatures of multiple human forms moving through the trees of the overgrown park below.
Dropping low, it activated its main batteries, preparatory to inaugurating extermination. The human shapes were moving fast as they crossed over a ridge. Reaching the far side, they slowed.
So did the HK. Programming flashed over reports, scanned histories. It halted, hovering just above the treetops.
***
Crouched down on the other side of the ridge, Barnes gripped his assault rifle tightly as he watched the shadow of the Hunter-Killer.
“It’s not following us.”
Raising a hand, Connor used a finger to trace the crest of the hill as it wandered across the edge of the old park.
“This ridgeline is the beginning of solidly defended Resistance territory. We still hold sway here. The HK won’t risk getting hit by a missile battery. Not for a low priority target like a couple of isolated humans out for an evening’s scavenging.”
Barnes managed to look offended.
“How do we become high priority targets?”
Connor extended a hand. “Give me your weapon.”
Barnes passed it across. Taking careful aim, Connor pointed it at the HK and fired off several rounds. Unless he managed a freakishly lucky hit the shells would do no damage to the big, heavily armored killing machine. But they would be enough to indicate that the humans it had been tracking were armed with more than angry words, and were therefore worthy of its continued attention.
A couple of his shots pinged off the Hunter-Killer’s smooth sides. It responded immediately, according to programming. Connor and his companion