Read T2 - 01 - The New John Connor Chronicles - Dark Futures Online
Authors: Russell Blackford
wasn't finished yet. And there was still that other Terminator arm, left behind at the steel mill. John and Sarah had talked about it for the last few weeks, wondering how much it would help the Cyberdyne researchers follow Miles Dyson's work, if they ever got hold of it.
After a while, Parnell tried once more to talk to Sarah about the raid on Cyberdyne, but she gave the shortest answers she could, mostly just "Yes" or "No." She'd entered a new zone, John guessed, trying to work it all out. Then she said, "Willard?"
"Yeah?"
"You must think I'm crazy, like everyone else does."
"Maybe." He changed lanes to the left, to pass an empty cattle truck. "But maybe you know something the rest of us don't. Jesus, Sarah, who knows what that government of yours is up to? If you say that this company-"
"Cyberdyne."
"If you say it had a defense contract to make killer robots, or whatever, how can I argue with you?" He pulled back into the right lane. "We all know they're hiding things from us. What about those aliens they've got in
"They're certainly hiding things," Sarah said in a flat voice.
"So maybe you know more than you're telling us? Fair enough, too. You don't have to tell all your secrets to me. Raoul feels the same way, don't worry. We can keep our mouths shut about what you do tell us. And we won't pester you. It'll be cool. You'll see."
Sarah didn't say another word for the rest of the journey.
When the Terminators appeared from the future, John had worked out that his mom was not crazy, after all.
What was scary about some of their friends was that they didn't need too much convincing, they kind of reserved judgment anyway. That meant that they really were crazy.
Willard took another turn-off, and they soon arrived at Tejada's
estancia
, where they drove through a gate marked with the sign
no trespassing
in flaming red letters. They passed cattle, men on horseback, an orange tractor, then reached the homestead,
Salcedas
' camp, back in
They drove slowly past a guardhouse and a couple of workshops, then parked in a big round space, surfaced with pink gravel and surrounded by buildings.
Three vehicles were already here: another two Cherokees and a beautifully-cleaned 1960s Jaguar. The house itself-the
casco
-was an impressive two-story mansion of gray stone, maybe a couple of hundred years old, with beautiful gardens, a well-mown lawn, and groves of trees. Many of these were eucalyptus, so there was plenty of greenery, despite the winter. On the right of the
casco
were a dozen white-painted bungalows, set back in a row. Across the graveled area from these were workshops, a garage for Raoul's car collection, and a big sheet-metal hangar for his
Jetranger
helicopter. There were also stables, tool sheds, and a school area for the kids who lived on the
estancia
.
The Tejadas' workers were all sorts of nationalities.
The men and women they'd passed on the way in, and those trimming the lawn and gardens, looked like a mixture from all across Europe, yet John knew most of them—and knew they'd been born right here in Argentina. That was a cool thing about this country. Its people came from so many backgrounds that no one automatically looked or sounded like an outsider. In John's years of traveling round
Latin America
, he'd adapted almost perfectly, wherever he went, never having known anything different. But here it was especially easy to fit in, to camouflage yourself like a chameleon. Whatever color you were, however you talked or dressed, no one looked at you twice.
"Thanks for the lift,'' Sarah said as she slammed the door of the Jeep behind her. She sounded really tense now, maybe not sure of what reception they'd get. Still, Raoul
Tejada
had been friendly enough when they'd phoned him from
Mexico City
. As she walked to the house, on a tiled path through the garden, she still limped from the bullet wound she'd taken in LA. The last few weeks hadn't helped her get it better. John felt sorry for her—maybe she'd always feel it.
A woman waved from the garden. It was Rosa Suarez, calling out to them in Spanish. "Hello, Sarah. Hello, John. It's good to see you."
Rosa
had a couple of her kids with her: her daughter, Maria, and son, Angelo, both two or three years younger than John.
John waved back. "And you, too," he said, also in Spanish.
"Stay this time,"
Rosa
said, switching to English.
"Yeah,
Rosa
, that'd be cool."
Raoul
Tejada
came out of the front door onto the broad verandah. His German shepherd dog, Hercules, got out the door ahead of him, bounding down the steps to greet John and Sarah.
"Good boy," John said. He laughed as the dog licked him, ran excitedly from him to Sarah, then back, putting up his front paws on John's T-shirt. "Aw, c'mon, let's not get too mushy about this."
Raoul was a very tall man in his sixties, maybe six-foot-five, with a lean, snake-hipped figure, a deep, even tan like a ski instructor, and a mop of unruly white hair that was getting thin, but not actually balding anywhere. He wore corduroy jeans and a black turtleneck. "So, we have a pair of Connors," he said in faintly accented English. "You're not here to blow up my ranch, I hope?"
"It's good to see you, too, Raoul," Sarah said with a trace of sarcasm. She patted Hercules firmly. "Calm down, boy. We know you're glad to see us."
"Come here, Hercules," Raoul said. The dog hesitated, not knowing what it wanted-to keep up its welcome to John and Sarah, or return to its master. "Come on."
Sarah winced a bit, climbing the steps to the verandah. It was cold outdoors. John found himself shivering. Maybe that made his mom's leg hurt more.
As he crouched to pet his dog, Raoul glanced Willard's way. "No problems?"
"No, everything went smoothly. The drop-off was fine. I got the money okay."
"Right. Now what about this pair?" Raoul smiled to show he was kidding.
"It all went like a song, Raoul. And here they are, at your service." Willard gave a little bow. They were probably safe here. No one at the estancia was likely to betray them. Better still, the local cops had no reason to expect them to be in
Argentina
, let alone out here on the
Pampas
.
"Okay," Raoul said "Forget about the bags, Willard-you can worry about them later. Come on in, all of you." He looked at Sarah thoughtfully. "You and John are more than welcome. I hope you know that." He left Hercules to lie on the porch—panting happily, with his tongue out— and approached Sarah. Raoul towered over her. He reached down to give her a quick hug, draping one long arm over her shoulder. Then he slapped John on the back "You look like you're doing fine,
compañero
"
"Hey, Raoul, I'm okay," John said.
The front room of the
casco
was a huge entertaining area, lined with books. It had a wooden dining table that could seat about twenty people. To the left was a study crammed with computer equipment and more books. There was a kitchen on the right, through a stone archway.
Gabriela
Tejada
, Raoul's wife, came down the hallway from the back of the house. She was much younger than her husband, maybe in her forties-John still found it difficult being sure of adults' ages, but the Tejadas' kids were teenagers, so it all kind of figured. She was nearly six feet tall, with a square jaw, and an impressive smile that showed very white teeth. She wore a bright, multicolored dress, with a shawl around her shoulders. "It's so good to see you both," she said. There were more hugs all round. "Come, come." She led them down the hallway to a small dining room decorated with abstract sculptures.
They sat at the formal dining table and the adults drank
maté
.
John settled for a tall glass of Coke. "You know, Sarah," Raoul said, "I'm not sure you did the right thing blowing up that building. We've been watching the story on CNN. Then you rang me from
Mexico
with this story about military robots and all the rest of it. I don't know..."
Raoul probably had some really weird impression. Sarah had left a lot out in that quick call from
Mexico
. "You mean you don't believe me?" she said, then grunted. "Why should you? No one else does."
Raoul shrugged. "I didn't say that. It's not that I don't believe you. It just seems to me that your country might need those robots when the Russians attack."
Sarah caught John's eye for just a second, warning him not to take Raoul's theories too seriously. He was a smart guy, but with a truly paranoid view of the world. "I don't think I could begin to explain the ins and outs of it," she said. "I don't think you really want to know."
"This is all to do with that stuff about time travel or whatever it was?"
"Raoul, we're not the police," Gabriela said. "We don't have to interrogate our guests." She put her hand on her husband's. "All right?"
"Okay. Maybe I'm forgetting my manners. Still, this time travel thing. That might come in handy, too."
"Raoul!" Gabriela said warningly-but with a smile. She poured more mate for the adults. It was a couple of years since John last been here, and he'd grown up a lot since, enough to know about humoring people. It seemed that some people humored Raoul, while others went along with him. And some weren't sure. They thought he might be right, because he was so smart, but still thought he sounded kind of whacko. John could sense the different reactions, and he suddenly realized that Gabriela fitted in the third category. She seemed both proud of her husband and worried about him.
"There's still a chance that they could build Skynet and that it could start a nuclear war," Sarah said.
"She could be right you know," Willard said. "We don't know what they're hiding."
Raoul looked at him shrewdly. "That may not be such a bad thing, you know. The Big One's coming, one way or another." That was his way of referring to World War Three:
The Big One
. "Anyhow, people, we'll be okay here, whatever happens."
Sarah said, "Be careful what you wish for, Raoul."
"I'm not
wishing
for anything, Sarah, just facing facts. The Russians have been trying to convince
America
to disarm by pretending to be your friends-all that stuff about dismantling the U.S.S.R. The end of the evil empire ... What a joke! It's a confidence trick-you mark my words. I just hope your leaders see through it. If the
U.S.
disarms, it's goodbye. If they can maneuver that situation, do you think the Russians will hesitate to use their warheads? That's a joke, too. Ha
ha
, tell me another one."
"Let's not get into all that."
"No? Well, I realize the
U.S.
government is hiding all sorts of things." He nodded to Willard. "But I don't think people should interfere. Your government's only doing it because they know there's a war coming. Whatever you've found out just be careful how you react. You might not have the whole story-it might not be the way it looks to you."
"We'll be ready," Willard said. "When the war comes.
We'll be ready."
In fact, the place was stocked with weapons and enough food to last for years, even leaving aside the cattle herd. Raoul had an underground bunker, his own electricity supply, ponds and small lake on his property, and a huge cistern out back of the
casco
. It really wasn't too bad a place to hole up for "The Big One." John only prayed they'd never need to test it out.
Sarah laughed. "If that's the way you feel, maybe you should turn us over to the cops."
"Now, I didn't say that, either. But you just be careful, Sarah. That's all."
"Whatever you think, Raoul, this particular technology must not be used. It's too dangerous. If there's any chance it might still be built, I've got to stop it, however I can."
"Only you and God can judge that. I'm not standing in your way. Just think about what you're doing, that's all. I'll say no more on the subject. Consider it closed."
After that, the conversation got more sensible. Once you got Raoul off his favorite conspiracy theories, he was okay about stuff.
While Raoul talked with Sarah and Willard, one of the
Tejada
kids, Carlo, came in. He was about the same age as John, though a couple of inches taller. Perhaps he'd end up as tall as his dad.
"How you
doin
', Carlo?" John said.
"Hi, John," Carlo said, a bit shyly.
"You must all be starved," Gabriela said. "I'll make some sandwiches."