Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled photograph of Kyle Reese—the man who had loved her across time, the man who had died so the future could have a chance. She felt the familiar, jagged ache in her chest. For years, she had traded her soul for steel, her warmth for tactical advantage. She was a mother, a commander, and a ghost.
She climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine turned over with a violent growl.
"Tactical sugar," Sarah said, her eyes softening just a fraction. "Eat up. We’re moving." "Where to?"
She looked at John’s small, dirt-streaked face in the rearview mirror. He was the Savior of Mankind, but tonight, he was just a boy who hadn't had a hot meal in three days. She reached into her pack and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped chocolate bar she’d scavenged from a gas station in El Paso. She laid it on his lap.
"Mom?" John stirred, rubbing his eyes. He saw the chocolate. "What’s this?"
"Somewhere with a tree, John," she said. "Just for tonight."
