The Future War

SARAH'S JOURNAL

We'd sensed something coming. Even in the short time it had been operating, we'd come to know that Skynet's distilled malice would demand more death. Our early string of successes gave us pause, leaving us feeling vulnerable rather than flushed with victory. It turned out we didn't have long to wait.

There was a second Judgment Day. Skynet had held back at least a third of its missiles waiting to see how things developed.

It watched us from space—determining where the greatest concentration of humans were. Then it attacked. This time, in addition to murdering millions, it succeeded in bringing on a nuclear winter, or at least in extending it. Blizzards raged across the higher latitudes, and even at the equator temperatures were unusually cool.

Crops in Mexico and South America were poor, and not all that we'd paid for were delivered. Our own crops were gone in the first month. We went hungry, but we didn't starve. Despite Skynet's best efforts, the resistance survived.

OZARK BASE CAMP, MISSOURI

SEVEN YEARS LATER

"Paula, where's my stethoscope?" Mary Reese called.

She was ready to move out; everything else was packed and tied onto the mule's panniers, but they couldn't leave without such a basic item. The things didn't grow on trees these days.

Knowing nothing about missions and Skynet, the mule just didn't want to go out on such a cold raw day, and it was probably hungry, too—certainly so, from the gauntness of its ribs. It looked over its shoulder at her, and she thought she could catch calculation in its beady black eye; it had already tried to step on her foot once, accidentally on purpose, and she knew it would try something else if she had to empty the panniers and repack.

Mary thought unkind thoughts about mule stew. Not practical. Mules were valuable, too.

Her assistant pursed her lips and pointed downward. Sensing adult eyes on him, Kyle Reese looked up and grinned. Around his neck was the stethoscope, the earpieces in his ears, the diaphragm against his little friend Melinda's chest. She lay on the floor looking as dead as she could manage, which, for a five-year-old, wasn't very. He pulled out the earpieces.

"Hi, Mom." He gave her his most angelic smile.

Seven years old, she thought, and he already knows he's got a killer smile. She waggled her fingers in a give-me-that gesture, which earned her a protesting wail.

"Stop," she said. "If you're coming with me, we have to leave right now. And that, young man, is not a toy. It's a very valuable and completely irreplaceable medical instrument. So hand it over."

Looking sheepish, Kyle rose and went reluctantly to his mother. Melinda sat up, miraculously restored.

"You going now?" she bellowed.

"Shhh," Paula, her mother, said. There were two wounded soldiers behind the curtain that divided the clinic from the ward.

Doubtless they didn't appreciate sudden screams.

"Yes, we're going," Mary said. "Are you going to help your mother by being good?"

"I'm always good," Melinda said, offended.

She was always a handful and it was a toss-up as to whether she or Kyle was the most mischievous.

"Hug," Mary said, opening her arms.

The little girl rushed to her and threw her arms around Mary's hips. "Hug, hug, hug, hug, hug!" she said. Then she turned and rushed to Kyle, wrapping her skinny arms around him and giving him a kiss on the cheek, to his great disgust. He wiped the kiss off with his wrist and even Mary could see that his face was wet.

She and Paula exchanged amused glances. Then they moved to embrace.

"You be careful," Mary said.

"Me! You be careful out there," Paula said. "When you get back, your sweetie should be here."

"Something to look forward to," Mary said with a grin.

"C'mon, sport, let's roll."

* * *

Mary's task was to oversee the health and well-being of those resistance workers who lived outside the cave system that housed the majority of the women and children. Many of these outworkers had jobs like foraging for wood, something that often took them far afield. Others collected nuts, herbs, and other wild foods to expand everyone's diet. All of them also worked reconnaissance.

Originally they had been required to report to the base for medical treatment, but it had been found that most people simply lived with a condition or wound until things became so serious that a field visit became necessary. Mary had argued that since she was going to have to visit the camps anyway, why not make it a regular thing? Now, twice a month, she loaded up a mule and traveled from camp to camp.

At least I don't have to fill out forms for HMOs, she thought as the mules clopped along the rocky trail—they took different routes every time, to make things difficult for any HKs working ambush. HKs hated unpredictability, and didn't deal well with it.

Dennis hated it. And though Mary appreciated his protective-Hess, she knew herself to be a capable person, well able to take care of herself. Not that she took chances; she didn't.

But she knew the woods and she knew the people she'd be seeing.

Knew as well that no Skynet/Luddite activity had been reported for months in this area. Otherwise she'd never have taken Kyle with her.

Mary would have left him behind now but for a staff sadly overburdened because of the number of teams out in the field.

And at seven he'd been driving her up the wall with his begging to come. Besides, she didn't like leaving him when Dennis was away. Yet the scavengers relied on her visits, so there was no postponing it.

"Can we sing?" Kyle asked, clearly bored.

"If we sing, how will we hear the Terminators sneaking up on us?"

No answer. Mary glanced back, smiling, and stopped her mule to wait for him to catch up. "There are other things we can do that are quiet," she said. "Count how many oak trees you see, and at the end of the ride, if our counts agree, we'll have a treat."

He looked at her dubiously. To be fair, it didn't sound like much fun to her, either. But it would keep him both quiet and alert.

"C'mon, we'll start now."

"What if we don't count the same?" he asked.

She shrugged, "No treat?"

He shrugged, too. "O-kay." And they rode on.

* * *

It was a several hours' ride to their first destination, a rendezvous with their guide. The place had been arranged during her last visit to their camp. If no one there needed medical attention, Mary would dispense whatever supplies they required and move on to the next meeting place. If no one was there, she'd linger for two hours, then leave.

Carl Vega was waiting for them, hunkered down on his hams beneath an earth-and-rock overhang, where part of a hillside had fallen away in heavy rain a year before.

"Hey!" he said, delighted to see Kyle. "How you doin', chico?"

He nodded and grinned at Mary.

"Hi," Kyle said. He looked at the scavenger suspiciously.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" Carl said. Kyle shook his head. "Well, you got a lot bigger since I last seen you." He held his hand about a foot off the ground. "You were only this tall then, but you were sitting down."

Kyle laughed and Carl grinned, pleased. He turned to Mary. "I miss kids," he said. "Thought I'd have, like, five of my own by now."

"Hostages to fortune," Mary reminded him. "Kyle might be your age before this thing is finished."

The scavenger threw up his hands. "God forbid. Whatcha got for us?"

"Whatcha need?" she countered. "Nobody needs a look-see?"

"Thank God, no. We've done pretty well this month. Just minor scrapes and bruises. We need some aspirin, some antibiotic cream, some of that anti-itch stuff, the diarrhea stuff, and stomach powder."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Cook took a chance on some bacon. Oh boy, was she sorry."

"Everyone's fine now?"

"Yeah, that was two weeks ago."

"Glad I wasn't there for that meal," Mary said fervently. She'd had a couple of interesting reactions to camp food. She efficiently dispensed what he needed, got his signature, and went on her way.

"Mummy," Kyle said, moving his mule up toward her. "What was Carl talking about? What did he mean about the bacon?"

"Sometimes food goes bad, hon, but people don't know it, so they eat it anyway and then they get sick."

"Do they die?"

Mary turned to smile reassuringly at him. Kids both relished and feared hearing about such things. Of course, they never really thought that they could die; it was their parents they worried about, or their friends. She decided to be honest. You're never too young to start learning, she thought.

"Sometimes," she said. "Which is why people should cook their food thoroughly."

"What happens?"

"They get sick to their stomachs and they get diarrhea and then they lose too many fluids and they die."

His face knotted in confusion. "What's dia, dia… ?"

"Diarrhea?" She pursed her lips, then decided to be honest.

"The squirts."

Kyle gave an evil little chuckle. "The squirts," he said, knowing very well what she meant.

Mary rolled her eyes. My God, she thought, what have I done

?

For the next several miles he entertained himself by periodically emitting an amazing range of rude noises. At first she ignored him, which might have worked if he hadn't been so bored. She put up with it for a while, then pulled up the mule and turned to glare at him. Kyle subsided with a cherubic smile, only to start up again before they'd gone fifty feet. Mary stopped, and so did her son.

"If you don't cut it out, Kyle, you not only won't get a treat tonight, you'll get hardtack and nothing but."

Under that threat, Kyle's lower lip came out, but his mouth stayed shut and Mary had to endure, an offended silence every bit as aggravating as the noises that occasioned it.

An hour later they were at the next meeting spot, but their guide hadn't yet appeared. Mary dismounted and helped her son down from the tall animal; they were on the edge of a rocky clearing, but there was a good boulder with a big pignut hickory leaning over it, excellent overhead cover.

"Well," she said, looking around. "I guess we might as well have lunch now while we wait."

Kyle began dashing around; Mary pointed a silent finger upward, and he veered in to make sure that he couldn't be seen.

Not very likely—it was partly overcast—but Skynet might be doing a scan with IR sensors.

* * *

Kyle wasn't speaking to her, but he was a good little kid and he led his mule over to a tiny brook that flowed down the slight hill they were on. Mary took out the box with their lunch in it and led her riding mule and the pack mule over to drink beside their fellow. When she thought they'd had enough, she led them to a row of bushes whose tender green leaves would, no doubt, appeal to them and tied them there.

Then she sat down, offered Kyle a choice of sandwiches, and ate, sipping from her canteen from time to time. "It's nice here,"

she said at last. "Peaceful."

Kyle looked around, his face scrunched up. Birds sang, squirrels leaped from branch to branch, chirruping, sunlight dappled through the leaves. "It's okay. I guess."

Mary grinned. At least she'd gotten an answer. "Someday we'll be able to live anywhere we want," she said. "This would be a nice place. Don't you think?"

He looked around again and shrugged, then took a bite of his sandwich. Okay, Mary thought. Have it your way. Sometimes when Kyle was in a mood there was nothing you could do but wait it out.

"I wanna live in the Big Apple," he suddenly said.

She turned to stare at him. "Where did you hear about that?"

"One of the soldiers said he was born there." He took another bite of his sandwich and spoke unattractively around it. "Is it like James and the Giant Peach?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full. And no, it's not. James and the Giant Peach is a story; the Big Apple is a nickname for New York City. That was a big city full of tall buildings."

"Why did they call it an apple, then?" His face wore the perfect expression of "boy meets wacky adult nonsense."

Mary thought about it. She knew, she'd just never had to explain it. "Well, a lot of people used to go to New York to seek their fortunes. And there were so many of them that New York kind of became identified with the sort of self-confidence that sends someone out seeking success in a new and challenging place. Aaaaand, I guess their attitude might be summed up by saying that they saw the city as a great big apple that they were gonna take a bite out of and make it their own."

Kyle considered that. "Huh," he said.

"It's not there anymore," she said. "Well, its ruins are. Quiet!"

Kyle got quiet in a hurry as his mother rolled behind a bush and brought her carbine up; even then, her heart gave a little wrench as she saw him freeze like a rabbit, motionless. That was something kids had to learn in a hurry these days.

A woman came into sight, rifle held up over her head. "Sorry I'm late," she called.

"Hey," Mary said, standing up. "Hi, Gerri." She bundled up the sandwich wrappings. "No problem, it gave us a chance to eat."

"Where were you talking about?" Gerri asked. She was a dark-haired woman of medium height, thin as they all were, but heavy-boned.

"The Big Apple," Kyle said importantly.

" 'New York, New York, it's a hell of a town,' " Gerri sang.

" 'The Bronx is up and the Battery's down,' " Mary joined in.

"You said no singing!" Kyle said, considerably offended.

"Oops," Mary said. "You're right, sport. Sorry."

"No singing?" Gerri asked.

"Well, not while we're riding along. It's probably not a good idea in general," she said, blushing. "Distracting."

"Yeah, I guess there's a time and place for everything," Gerri agreed.

"Ahem. So, how're you doing?"

"/am fine. But Charley may have broken his ankle."

"Ooh. Okay, then. Let's get going."

* * *

Gerri's group had an excellent setup; a disused road tunnel nearly a quarter of a mile long, giving onto a ravine, making it easy to get in and out without leaving traces. The inside was smoky and chilly at the same time, and the inhabited part had a smell like old socks—partly actual old socks, partly just unwashed human and unlaundered clothes—combined with horse. Dinner smelled a lot better.

There was a resistance joke: When the sun rises in the east, it means we will probably have stew for dinner.

By the scent, this one had squirrel and rabbit; she'd become a connoisseur of field cooking, and thought she detected Jerusalem artichoke as well. It smelled savory, in fact—which meant thick and brown, usually.

Charley was another skinny man of indeterminate age with heavy stubble and weathered skin; she'd have pegged him as homeless, back before Judgment Day. His ankle was well and truly broken; the amount of swelling and the tense way he lay on a pine-bough bed near one of the hearths told her that.

She knelt and did a hands-on anyway; there were a lot of bones in the ankle. The talus ground together under her fingertips, the accident having happened only hours before. Her patient grunted and wheezed in lieu of screaming and gave her a wild-eyed, "what the hell are you doing?" look, while his flesh went cool and sweaty from the shock of pain. She gave him a shot of morphine, quickly set it, and wrapped the ankle in plaster.

"He's got to go back to base," she told Gerri. "That's going to take weeks to heal and he won't be any use out here while it does." Mary didn't have to mention that he would be an outright liability "out here." Even he knew that.

"Can you take him with you?"

Mary just looked at her, one eyebrow raised. Gerri refused to back down. So Mary broke it down for her. "I have two more stops today and four tomorrow. It's going to be agonizing enough for him to ride to base directly; a day and a half on horseback is something that hasn't even got a name. Not to mention it will set him back on healing."

"Short two people and two horses…" Gerri began, and followed them out. Then she smacked the heel of her hand into her forehead. "I'll ride to the ford with you."

Mary looked at her, and the unit leader went on, speaking a little louder to cut through the purl of water over rock—the white noise was good camouflage. "I needed to do a restocking run anyway, pretty soon—we're short on explosives and gun oil.

That's on the way, and we'll take Charley along on a horse stretcher; the horses can carry freight on the way back. The sooner we get him back to headquarters, the sooner we can get things back to normal."

* * *

"It is inconvenient," Mary said, .after a moment's uncomfortable silence.

The ford was where the creek ran out from the gully into flatter country, and an old graveled road ran down into it and then eastward; weeds were growing over the old ruts, bushes in some spots, and even saplings.

" Damned inconvenient."

"But accidents are inconvenient. And they'll send a replacement back with you. Don't roll your eyes at me, Gerri. I know you've got a tight group and you know each other's moves, but they won't send you a novice and there's just no way around it. Unless you plan to shoot him like a horse."

"And then we'd still need a replacement." Gerri rolled her eyes again.

"Yup." Mary gave Gerri a consoling smile. "It's not like you're light-years away from base, y'know."

Gerri grumbled something inaudible in response. Mary handed her a container of pills.

"Give him one every four hours for pain. Guard them with your life; those are hard to come by. I gave him enough morphine to make him comfortable for a while, but it's not going to last forever."

She looked at Gerri. "So how are things out here anyway?"

"Quiet." Gerri's eyes squinted as she looked around at the forested hills. Water purled around the hooves of her horse where it stood with its head down, lips slurping at the shallow rills that ran over gravel and rock.

"Way too quiet if you ask me. Nothing's moving out there but squirrels, and even they're quieter than usual." Her mouth twisted. "Makes me feel all twitchy."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Mary said. "I thought you might have an infestation. Gotta watch the personal hygiene; typhus, you know."

"Bitch," Gerri said pleasantly.

"That's Nurse Bitch to you, soldier."

Gerri grinned and opened her mouth to respond just as a rifle barked. Her face took on a distracted expression and then she slowly crumpled out of the saddle; the horse turned and pounded up the creek again, eyes wild and stirrups thumping its ribs. The more phlegmatic mules carrying the injured man merely tossed their heads and snorted.

Mary fought off her shock; she slipped to the ground and slapped the mule's rump.

"Run!" she said. "Go home!"

She turned for Kyle's mule and a bullet spanged into the ground at her feet, causing the creature to shy away, then break into a trot. She jerked toward cover and another bullet hit the ground at her feet. Mary's heartbeat was almost choking her; she looked desperately toward her son only to see a man burst from cover at the mule's feet, scaring the normally placid creature into shying.

Kyle cried out as the man grabbed his leg and shoved, causing him to lose his balance and fall hard. Mary headed toward him, and again, a bullet hit the ground before her.

Her eyes filled with tears of frustration and fear. Okay, somebody's playing a game. Be calm. Calm down. Easier thought than done. Her nerves jangled with adrenaline and her mouth was desert dry. If she headed for Kyle again, they might shoot him. She stood still, waiting for what was to come.

She watched Kyle roll around desperately on the dirt; apparently the breath had been knocked out of him and she wanted with all that was in her to be at his side. She stood still.

From out of the woods a man came in the gray camouflage that matched the winter-killed woods. He was a big man, his rifle cradled in his arms hunter-style. His face was bearded and he wore sunglasses. It wasn't bright enough to require them, but they were intimidating. Mary guessed he'd put them on for that purpose.

"Well, well," he said in a deep and pleasant voice, accented with the South. "A medic. That's somethin' that's always on our wish list, darlin'."

She looked at him. Then she swallowed, hard, and asked, "Can I see to the boy?"

"The boy? That what you call him at home? Boy?" He walked toward her a few paces and stopped. It looked, from the tilt of his head, as though he might be studying the woods around them.

"If he's no relation to you, I'm just gonna go ahead and shoot him." The gun was in his hands and aimed as if by magic.

"No!" she shouted, stepping in his way. "Don't!"

He spat, then stared at her. Mary knew that she'd never been as frightened in her life as she was this moment—not when the bombs came down, not when that first Hunter-Killer came out of the woods, not the first time Dennis had come home wounded.

This was a whole new level of terror. And this man knew it, and he knew how to use it.

"Sure," he said now. "You go ahead."

She turned, and a bullet hit the dirt at her feet. Mary spun back toward him, the shock on her face.

"Only a fool turns their back on the enemy, darlin'."

She backed away, glancing over her shoulder so she knew where to go. She was looking at the man when a bullet hit the ground just behind her heels, surprising a cry from her.

'"Course, you're at a disadvantage, bein' surrounded. Jeff, get that boy on his feet."

Mary looked over her shoulder to see the man who'd frightened the mule go over to Kyle and lift him by one arm. Her son fell to his knees, clutching his ribs, and the man cuffed him and dragged him up by his collar. "Stop," she said, reaching toward him.

The big man cuffed her himself, sending her sprawling. Mary was startled as much as hurt; she'd had no idea he was so close to her.

"Get up," he growled, and she scrambled to her feet. He stepped close to her. "From now on, everything in the world comes from me. To you, I am now God, and honey, you'd better become a religious fanatic 'cause I've got my eye on you and my eye never closes. The water you drink, the food you eat, even the air you breathe comes from me. You understand?" She nodded, eyes down. "You don't say 'stop,' you don't say 'don't,' you don't say 'no.' You can say 'please,' but don't overdo it. Do you understand?"

She nodded, shaking. "Yes," she whispered.

"You have to say, 'yes, sir.'"

"Yes, sir."

"If I tell you to eat a handful of shit, you will do it or the next sound you hear will be Jeff putting a bullet through that kid's head. Do you understand?"

She looked up at him, her eyes large with fear. "Yes, sir." Oh, Kyle, what have I gotten you into?

"If you try to escape I will kill the boy, slowly, and I will hamstring you. Do you understand?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir."

"If I ask you a question and you do not answer honestly, I will cut him. Now. Where did you get these supplies?"

"I stole them from the hospital I worked at," she said. "Most of them. Some I got in trade." The medicines she had were fresh, but for this duty they were put into old containers, many with expiration dates long past.

"Where did they get their medicine?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "Other hospitals or pharmacies, I guess. Sometimes that's where I get mine, old pharmacies.

There's a lot of good stuff left if you know what it's for."

"Cut him," the man said.

'"No! Please!" Mary cried. The big man hit her. She heard Kyle scream, and when she looked up he was bleeding from a cut on his chin. Blood was pouring through his fingers and he was crying. "Why?" she asked.

He kicked her in the stomach and she went down, gasping. He stepped close to her and put his foot on her hip, forcing her onto her back, then he put his foot on her stomach.

"I don't answer 'why?'" he said. "And you don't ask it. You also don't give me more information than I ask for, and most especially, you don't lie to me!"

"I didn't," she said, weeping. "I swear!"

He looked down at her, then applied pressure with his foot until she gasped. She resisted the urge to grab his foot and after a moment he smiled.

"You learn fast. That's good. Now, where did you come from?"

"Another camp of scavengers like these," she said.

"Can you take us to 'em?"

"I can show you where they were," Mary said. "But these people move around, they might not be there."

"Do you want me to have Jeff cut that boy again?" he asked.

"What did I tell you about givin' me more information than I asked for?"

"I'm's-sorry, sir." He raised his hand and she flinched. There was no way to know how much he would choose to consider too much. She knew that it was a technique. That he was breaking her down and would continue to bark unreasonable demands and deliver arbitrary punishment as long as he thought necessary. There was nothing personal in it; he genuinely didn't care. It was just the way these things were done. Knowing this didn't seem to make it less effective.

"You told the kid to go home," he said. "Where's home?"

They'd prepared for this, an old farmhouse, ramshackle but livable, was the default location for home base. It was designed to look abandoned, but not totally so. She described it and gave its location.

"I know that place," the big man answered. "It's deserted.

Nobody lives there." When she made no comment he kicked her, hard enough to hurt without causing injury. "Well?"

"We couldn't stay, not permanently. When the snow killed our garden, I knew we had to go look for food. So we travel a circle and come home once a year."

He looked at Kyle. "And that little sprat knows the way?"

"I guess so; we've been doing it almost as long as he's been alive. He's never had to go alone, though."

Apparently he decided to believe her. Or maybe he was just too lazy to kick her again. "How do you get paid?"

"Food, mostly. Sometimes goods. Once they gave us two mules."

He snorted. "Musta done somethin' pretty good that time."

"An epidemic," she said.

"Stupid bitch," he said mildly. "That mighta been some of our work you undone." He looked at her. "Get up. Go lengthen those stirrups for me and one of my men."

She did so, walking by Kyle with but a glance, not daring to chance more. He was crying as if his heart was broken and Mary hated the fact that the only thing she could do to help was to ignore him.

"Hey! Sam! Whadda we do about this one?" a woman called.

Mary glanced up; a tall, gangling woman was standing by the horse litter that held the sleeping Charley. She'd thrown the cover open and he lay snoring in plain sight. The woman tipped him out onto the ground and he lay in an ungraceful heap, the fresh plaster of his cast standing out against the brown dirt.

"Please," Mary called out. She finished buckling the strap and took a few steps in that direction.

"Please what?" the big man, Sam, asked. "Please don't kill the fucker?" He pushed at the unconscious man with his foot. "Why the hell not?"

"Because—" Mary's voice broke on a sob. "I just fixed his foot!"

She broke down completely, falling to her knees sobbing. The marauders stared at her for a moment, then Sam broke out laughing and the others followed suit.

"I can see that," Sam said, slapping his thigh. "Sure, that's reasonable." He gave a high-pitched giggle. "You don't mind if we take the tent and blanket, do ya?"

Mary shook her head, daring to let hope bloom.

"You're not really gonna leave him alive, are ya?" the woman asked.

"Hey, Mona, he's got a cast on his foot. He's in the middle of the wilderness with no food, no supplies, no weapons, and no friends. I am killin' him."

The woman grinned, showing missing teeth. "I guess so, fearless leader."

"Hey, don't you be so sassy," Sam advised. He walked over to Mary and stroked her hair. "We got another woman with us now, girl. If you ain't nice you won't be gettin' any."

Oh, shit! Mary thought. I am so gonna get raped.

"I know what you're thinkin'," Sam said quietly. She looked up at him. "But it ain't rape if it's consensual. And it will be consensual, or that little boy is gonna pay the price. You hear me?"

Mary nodded. "Yes, sir." You dirt-eating bastard!

"All right, then." Sam mounted the mule. "Pass me up that kid," he said to Jeff. Kyle struggled a little and Sam cuffed him lightly. "You want me to hit your mama again?" he asked. Kyle shook his head. "Then you behave. I don't even want to know you're there. You hear me?" Kyle nodded. "All right." He looked down at Mary and smiled. "Let's move out."

If I ever see Dennis again he's going to kill me, Mary thought.

Jeff shoved her from behind and she started walking. And I won't blame him a bit because I want to kill myself.

* * *

Sam grunted one last time and rolled off her with a sigh. Mary swallowed hard, fighting nausea. She'd tried her best to cooperate, but he stank and she hated him more than she'd ever hated anyone in her life.

"That was pretty good," he said. He glanced aside at her.

"'Course it'll be better once you get to know what I like." He grinned. "And you get to like me."

After a moment she looked at him. "Can I see to my son now?"

she asked.

"No." He sounded annoyed.

"Please, he's just a little boy."

He rolled over onto her; quick as a striking snake his hand was on her throat, choking her. "Listen," Sam hissed. "I think kids are vermin. I think anyone who would have a kid after Judgment Day is a criminal." He squeezed harder. "Am I clear?"

She nodded as well as she could, forming "yes" with her lips.

He let her go and rolled onto his back.

"Now you spoiled my good mood," he said. "Get the fuck away from me."

Mary rose and picked up her clothes, then paused, wondering if she could get away with dressing before she left.

"And stay away from that kid, hear? Now get out!"

She ducked out of the tent and dressed quickly. As she was tugging down her shirt, Jeff sauntered over.

"Hey, sugar, don't get all dressed yet," he said, grinning.

"Jeff!" Sam bellowed from inside the tent. "Go fuck yourself, or Mona. Leave 'er alone."

Jeff glared at Mary in a way that made her feel that from now on, if he could do her a bad turn, he would. Then he walked away.

Shit, she thought wearily. Shit, shit, shit.

* * *

They'd been walking east for five days now, passing the occasional cluster of deserted farms, a number of small towns falling apart in slow motion, and once, in the distance, the charred ruins of a city. Most of the people they saw had been dead a long time. But once they crossed the path of some gypsies.

That was what they were called anyway. Just people who took to the road hoping to find a place better than the one they were in, and kept on going since there was no such place.

They were mostly harmless, though criminals of opportunity; thieves and traders. They were welcome everywhere for a day or two, then they were welcome to leave. The resistance left them alone, or on occasion lent them a hand. For which the gypsies sometimes gave them intel at a cut rate.

This group had two wagons, three broken-down horses, and a mule. It looked like they were a single extended family with four older people, six adults in all, and seven children of various ages.

They seemed like the kind of people who had survived rather than thrived even before Judgment Day.

The instant he saw them Sam lifted his assault rifle and began firing. Jeff and Mona joined in with cries of glee. The mules made their displeasure known by dancing and, in the case of the one Sam was riding, essaying a buck or two. He whacked it on the side of its head with the stock of his gun. Mary was too stunned at first to move, and it wasn't until the mule bumped her that she got out of its way.

She watched the gypsies fall. They'd barely had time to scream, let alone be afraid. Mary started forward a step when the children began to drop, then forced herself to stop. There was nothing she could do, except hope that Sam hadn't noticed that one step. Suddenly she became aware that someone was firing from a small copse of trees to the southeast. Retreating behind the mule, she tried to tell Sam.

A rocket, immediately followed by another, roared from the trees, striking the two wagons and turning them and the animals into flaming debris. The smell of burning flesh frightened the mules, and the Luddites had all they could do to keep them under control for a few minutes. Leo held on to the pack mules'

reins for dear life, but he never took his eyes off the copse for a moment.

"What's your problem, asshole?" Mona bellowed. She skipped back from Jeff's mule and swatted it on the rump.

"Shut up!" Sam said, in a stage whisper. "It's one of them."

"Has to be," Jeff said, looking as white as paste.

Mona looked toward the copse and went still, swallowing hard.

Watching them, Mary became even more afraid. If these vicious killers were frightened of whoever hid in the trees, there was even more reason for her to be afraid. She looked up into Kyle's terrified eyes and wanted nothing more than to grab him and run. But she knew she wouldn't get two paces before they killed her. If she waited to see what happened, she might live. A slim chance at survival was better than none. Especially since her death assured Kyle's.

The trees began to thrash, and then to lean forward, as a massive machine lurched out of the copse on caterpillar treads.

It was at least sixteen feet high, and from a distance looked narrow. Its entire front was a wall of gun ports and to either side were missile launchers, the missiles themselves racked on its sides. There were spotlights atop its turret and no doubt its body was packed with ammunition. It trundled toward them with surprisingly little sound. It crushed some of the gypsy children's bodies as it came on, causing Mary to wince, but she kept silent.

Finally it stopped.

"Luddite Patrol A-36," Sam barked. "Sam Marshall, AS-783490 commanding."

The machine was silent. All of the humans remained silent and immobile, waiting for its response.

"Patrol A-36," the machine said in a slight Austrian accent. A red laser spot appeared on Mary's chest. "What is this?"

"This prisoner is a medic," Sam explained. "Standing orders are to acquire such persons and convey them to the camp."

"And this?" The red spot appeared on Kyle's forehead.

"This is the prisoner's offspring," Sam said. "By retaining him, she becomes more tractable and less inclined to suicide."

Mary stared at him. What had happened to the good ol' boy she knew and loathed?

The machine was quiet and still for so long it might have been turned off. None of them made that assumption, though. Mary had the impression that if the machine didn't answer until the following morning, then sunrise would find the humans in exactly these positions.

"Acceptable," the machine said at last. "Carry on, A-36." It backed up slightly, turned, and moved back down the road.

Sam motioned them forward, riding the mule carefully around the flaming wreckage. No one spoke; no one but Mary and Kyle watched the killing machine trundle away.

They'd been walking for at least half an hour before Mary got up the courage to ask Sam, "What was that?"

He didn't answer for a long time, riding on without even looking down at her. They rode and walked on for a mile or more before he spoke. "That was a Hunter-Killer machine," he said at last. "Its job is to seek out humans and destroy them."

Mary looked at him. "I thought, from the way you were all acting, that it was going to kill you."

Sam's lips thinned. "Sometimes they do. But we're all good Luddites," he said. "We've had ourselves fixed. So there's no need to kill us; we won't be breedin' anytime soon and we're good at our jobs. That's what makes this patrol an A unit."

"Oh," she said.

They walked on for several more miles before she began to notice a definite industrial tang in the air.

"We're almost there," Mona called out.

Sam called a halt and pulled an instrument out of his pocket.

He tapped a code into it and they waited. After five minutes there was a chime from the unit and they started forward again.

Shortly thereafter they walked up a hill, and when Mary came panting to the top, she stopped breathing altogether in shock.

Before her, in what once must have been a small valley, was a single one-story building. It must have been two miles square by three. Smoking chimneys appeared every five hundred feet or so and there were towers at each corner and a small satellite dish every thousand feet. The whole structure was surrounded by a wire fence, which had guard towers every fifty feet. It was ugly and had a thrown-together look, common to all completely utilitarian buildings. She hated it on sight.

"It's a lot worse inside," Sam said.

She looked up at him and could have sworn she saw pity on his face. Maybe that's why he wears those glasses, she thought.