Terminator Salvation: Cold War

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

2018

“Any questions?”

Molly gestured at the dry-erase board propped up on an easel beside her. Her plans for Operation Ravenwing were sketched out in marker pen upon the board.

Over a dozen Resistance veterans had squeezed into the leaky shack for this briefing. Molly had kept the details of the train heist on a need-to-know basis for as long as possible, but it was finally time to bring more of her people into the loop. Folding metal chairs and wooden benches had been dragged inside to accommodate the crowd. Reindeer sausages, smoked salmon, and boiled whale blubber served as refreshments, along with a pot of black coffee, but the atmosphere was anything but festive. This was serious business.

Deadly serious.

“Yeah, I got a question.” Tom Jensen lumbered to his feet. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?” The lumberjack’s beard was still singed from the fire. His arm was in a sling. “The bodies of our dead ain’t even cold yet, and you wanna get more of us killed?”

A chorus of angry muttering revealed that Jensen wasn’t the only survivor who had reservations about the plan—and maybe Molly’s leadership, as well. She glanced over at Geir, who was standing guard by the front door. I told you so was written all over his face, but, thankfully, he kept his mouth shut. She appreciated his restraint.

“We’re at war,” she reminded Jensen and his supporters. “Casualties are inevitable, but that doesn’t mean we quit fighting.” She tapped the battle plans with her marker. “Skynet won’t even see us coming.”

“That’s what you said about the pipeline.” Jensen’s harsh tone hit her like a slap across the face. “That was supposed to be a milk run, but the machines slaughtered our friends. Now you expect us to take on a Terminator train and an HK? Why not just paint targets on us while you’re at it?”

Before Molly could reply, Doc Rathbone rose unsteadily to his feet.

“Into the valley of death rode the six hundred,” he recited, slurring his words. Obviously, he had been drinking. “Into the jaws of death, into the mouth of Hell....”

This isn’t helping, Molly thought. She shot an accusing glance at Sitka, who shrugged as though to say that she couldn’t keep watch over the old sot all the time. The girl grabbed onto Doc’s arm and dragged him back down onto his seat. She handed him a wad of blubber to keep his mouth busy.

“Look,” Molly said, “nobody has to take part in this mission who isn’t up to it. I’m just looking for volunteers. But every time that train completes its run, Skynet gets a little bit stronger. We need to cut off its supply line now.”

“What about Command?” Lucille Johns asked. The ice road trucker had served in the Alaskan National Guard before Judgment Day, which had given her a lasting appreciation for the chain of command. “Have they approved this operation? Will they be providing air support?”

Molly didn’t lie to her. “Maybe, but I can’t make any promises.”

“Hah!” Jensen crossed his arms defiantly. “We all know what that means. We’re screwed. Or will be if we try this on our own.”

“So what are you suggesting, Tom?” she challenged him. “That we let Skynet get away with assaulting our friends and loved ones?” Ernie Wisetongue’s crippling accident flashed through her brain. The old sculptor had not been able to attend the briefing; he was still recuperating from his injuries. “I don’t know about you, but I want payback... with interest!”

“Easy for you to say.” He nodded at the drafty walls of the shack. “You’re not living in a tent like some of us. I lost everything I owned in the fire!”

Another voice sounded, low and firm, from the back of the room.

“And I lost my husband.”

Tammi Muckerheide rose at the rear of the audience. The teenage widow had insisted on attending the meeting, despite her recent bereavement and swelling belly. A black armband had joined the red one on her sleeve. She seemed to have aged five years since her hellish wedding night several days ago. She continued, “But I know that Roger would want me to keep on fighting— for our baby’s sake.” She patted her abdomen. “What kind of future will he or she have if we don’t stop Skynet now?”

Molly felt a lump in her throat, and even Jensen backed off a little.

“Gee, Tammi, I’m not talking about giving up, you know that. I wanna send the damn machines to the scrap yard as much as anybody. But I’m not sure Molly’s got the right idea here. I’m afraid she’s going to get us all terminated.”

“Molly saved my life back at the camp,” Tammi shot back. “And she’s kept us alive longer than anybody else could.” Her voice cracked. She wiped a tear from her eye. “What’s more, she drowned the metal that killed my Roger.” She glared at the others, as though daring them to dispute her. “That’s good enough for me.”

Murmurs of assent seconded her vote of confidence. Molly felt the room turning back in her favor. She wanted to hug Tammi, protruding stomach and all.

“Aw, hell.” Jensen conceded defeat. He plopped back down onto his seat. “What more have I got to lose anyway?”

Doc lurched to his feet, shaking off Sitka’s best attempts to keep him quiet.

“Volley’d and thunder’d,” he declaimed, seemingly determined to get to the end of the verses. “Stormed at with shot and shell....”

Molly didn’t recognize the poem, but it sounded like a pretty good description of what they were in for. She couldn’t tell if he was in favor of Operation Ravenwing or not.

“Into the valley of death....”