Free Terminator Salvation: Trial by Fire by Timothy Zahn Page A

after sunrise.
    Apparently, news of the T-700 at the river had already leaked out.
    “Morning, everyone,” he said, nodding as he swept his eyes over the crowd. “Something I can help you with?”
    “We hear we’ve got a Terminator,” Duke Halverson said bluntly. As usual, he’d made sure to take up the most prominent position, right in the center of the group and two steps in front of everyone else. “That true?”
    “There’s one down by the river, yes,” Preston said. There was no point in denying it—chances were good that Halverson had already checked it out for himself. “It’s on the far side, by the ford.”
    “You have a plan for dealing with it?”
    “We’re working on one,” Preston told him. “For the moment, it doesn’t seem interested in the town.”
    “What happens when it does get interested in the town?” Halverson persisted. “What then?”
    Preston gave the crowd another, more careful look. Eight of them were hunters, Halverson’s allies, ready to back anything the big man said or proposed. Twelve of the others were Preston’s friends and normally his firm supporters in town disputes. Right now, though, they looked more apprehensive than supportive. The rest were just ordinary citizens of Baker’s Hollow who usually avoided town politics and concentrated on basic survival.
    All of them, Halverson included, were frightened. As well they should be.
    “If the Terminator decides to head this way,” Preston said, “I’m thinking the prudent thing might be to move out of town for a while.”
    “And go where?” Halverson demanded.
    “There are a few habitable cabins out there,” Preston reminded him, again looking around. No one seemed any happier than Halverson at the prospect of leaving. “We could split up into small groups, each centered around one of them, and wait until the Terminator leaves.”
    “Those cabins won’t hold even a tenth of us,” Halverson pointed out. “What about everyone else? We just going to sleep out on the ground with the coyotes and bears?”
    “At least bears don’t usually attack without a reason,” Preston said.
    “Yeah.” Halverson gestured, a quick flick of his fingers. “We need to talk.”
    “We are talking,” Preston said mildly. “But you’re right—it’s a bit brisk out here.” He half turned. “We’d all be more comfortable inside.”
    “Just you and me,” Halverson said, striding toward him.
    Preston felt his stomach tighten.
    “Halverson—”
    “Chris, go get my team together and send them over to Ned’s place,” Halverson cut him off, motioning to one of the hunters. “The rest of you, go back to work. We’ll let you know what we decide.”
    “Right,” Chris said briskly before anyone else could speak up. “Let’s go, everyone. Clothes and metalwork don’t repair themselves, you know.”
    A few troubled looks came Preston’s way as the group broke up. But no one said anything, and a minute later Preston and Halverson were alone.
    “Like you said, it’s brisk out here,” Halverson said.
    Silently, Preston gestured at the door. Halverson strode past him and went inside. Grimacing, Preston followed.
    “This isn’t right, you know,” he warned as Halverson planted himself in the center of the living room and turned to face him. “All decisions are supposed to be run past the council.”
    “Do I look like I care?” Halverson retorted, the thin mask of politeness he’d been wearing outside now gone completely. “The council is a bunch of fools. None of them would survive a week on their own.”
    “The work they do is important, too.”
    Halverson made a face. “Stoves. Clothes. Traps.”
    “Hey, Chucker’s bear traps saved your skin at least once,” Preston countered. “And don’t forget medical care, vegetable gardening, and replacement arrows for you and the rest of the hunters. You can sneer all you want, but you can’t deny that life in town is easier for you and Ginny than it would be if