Terminator Salvation: Cold War by Greg Cox Read Free Book Online

limb as a crutch. Its fellow machines targeted the sentries, forcing them to retreat. Their limited supply of grenades was quickly exhausted.
    Molly cursed Command for not supplying them with more.
    The casualties continued to mount:
    Jake Nollner, a thirty-five year-old father of two, jumped onto his snowmobile and hit the throttle. He only got about fifteen yards before a Terminator’s bullets nailed the snowmobile’s gas tank. The ride exploded in a shower of blazing shrapnel, scattering pieces of Jake all over the landscape. The burning debris ignited pools of spilled oil, which erupted into flames. Choking black fumes added to the chaos.
    Trapped huskies, held in place by their harnesses, jerked spasmodically as they were terminated as well. Wounded men, women, and dogs contributed to an agonizing chorus of pain and fear.
    Monsters! Molly was tormented by the sight of her people dying all around her. She counted at least four Terminators left. Thank God Sitka isn’t here!
    She and Geir fired back at the T-600s, providing more cover for the fleeing guerillas. Their combined assault shredded the rubber faces, exposing the fearsome steel death’s-head expressions underneath. The machines’ winter garments were ripped apart as well, until gleaming steel endoskeletons could be glimpsed through the torn fabric. Round after round of automatic weapons fire jolted the oncoming machines, driving them back for moments at a time, but failing to stop the Terminators from advancing, and from picking off human targets with computerized precision.
    A targeting laser lit up the back of Kathy Seppala’s head a heartbeat before she toppled face-first into the snow, a crimson fountain spurting from her skull. She fell across the runners of her own sled, while another volley dropped her dogs.
    Molly bit down on her lip to keep from crying out in rage. Amidst the carnage, she couldn’t help noticing that not one of the Terminators’ shots had hit the pipeline by mistake. The T-600s were obviously taking care not to damage the vital conduit. Skynet valued oil, if not human life.
    They were waiting for us, damn it! She tried to figure out how Skynet could have known what they were planning. It was getting better and better at calculating probabilities and patterns where the Resistance was concerned. We must have gotten too predictable.
    That was something she’d have to work on, if she lived to see another day.
    “Head for the hills!” she ordered the survivors. “Regroup at the rendezvous point!” She kept firing to give the others a chance at escaping. “Don’t let them follow you back to the camp!”
    She spotted a party of Resistance fighters, who had survived the initial salvos by diving into a shallow ditch. Their refuge had become a trap, however, as enemy gunfire cut them off from their snowmobiles less than two yards away. A Terminator stomped across the snow toward the ditch, ready to turn it into a mass grave. Molly had only seconds to save her people.
    Switching the carbine to full automatic, she targeted the machine’s vulnerable shoulder joint. A barrage of 5.56-millimeter ammo crippled the T-600, causing its gun arm to go limp at its side. Its weapon fired uselessly into the ground. Misdirected bullets shredded its own snowshoe, throwing it off-balance.
    “Palmer! Johns! The rest of you!” Molly shouted at the humans in the ditch, while the Terminator clumsily attempted to shift its chain gun to its other arm. “Now’s your chance. Hustle!”
    She watched with relief as a handful of people scrambled to their feet and dashed for the snowmobiles and their attached cargo sleds. They threw themselves onto the vehicles and fired up their noisy, two-stroke engines. The machines accelerated across the snow, taking the humans with them. Exhaust fumes mingled in the air with the acrid smell of cordite. The roar of the snowmobiles was soon punctuated by gunfire from the Terminator, firing in vain at the retreating men