After brushing her hair from her face, Sarah sat down next to Tyler and gently put an arm around his lower back. She had been here before, knew what was coming and knew how to handle it the best way possible. It had a soothing effect on him that she was this close and not scared of him.
“What are we to do with that girl?” He asked muffled, his face still buried in his hands.
She smiled sadly, feeling sorry that she had no answer ready to give to him. The Tyler before him had only told her bits and pieces of his timeline, yet she knew that this was not his future. It had been changed in the past, sometimes by accident, sometimes by the knowledge of things to come and the need to change it. With changes, the world had been set adrift once again at the mercy of history’s restless tides.
Each day was another step on a path into total darkness. Each night filled with battle was a new passage on a page of the world’s history, always writ in blood, signed with steel.
She rested her head against his shoulder, her cheek pressed firmly against his cotton-clad shoulder blade. He was shaking all over vehemently, this time no different from the other times he had to struggle with the demon lurking deep inside of him. Her heart ached for him; it looked bad but it wasn’t as bad as when he had returned home from Haven, covered in blood and gore. He had been violently ill for days after that, which had been difficult to hide from Wilder.
She didn’t want their daughter to see him like this, like he was a machine. He became unpredictable under the influence of the nanoattrioids with only one order on his mind: kill everyone in sight. It was dangerous to be sitting next to him like this, but so far he had never turned on her.
The beastly howl he let out no longer startled her. Used to episodes like this, she wrestled her other arm past his elbows, across his stomach until her fingertips of both hands touched. She heaved a deep sad sigh; she had seen the best of him but also the worst. His heroics on the battlefield, his shredded love for who were close to him versus the machine emerging from the depths of his being.
“Maybe,” she began, then paused and began again. “Maybe she should see who you really are, Ty? Maybe it’s time she knows? Maybe she’ll think twice about doing stupid thing like she did last night if she knows what consequences it can have?”

Wilder continued down the maze of tunnels and hallways. She wanted to talk to the one person who had not corrected her. Her brother was on another base, but if she could get to the communication room, she might be able to track him down and talk to him. He wouldn’t treat her like she was some goddamn four-year-old.
What had Bobbie meant with “And so it begins”? Why was she always the last to know?
She thought about her parents. They were an odd couple; a huge man built like the machines they were trying to junk and a small frail-looking woman. Her father was at least a foot taller than her mother but it never showed in the way her mother carried herself. Then again her mother was the legendary Sarah Connor, the mother of the future.
Sometimes, in the early mornings, she would hear them fight in word or action. She would be in bed, wide awake because there was no to do on base and she wasn’t allowed to go topside without supervision, and she would overhear them. Arguments about the course of actions. Arguments over her. Those always made her feel bad. She wasn’t the rebellious teen they thought her to be.
But of late she was starting to become restless and would sleepwalk, ending up in the strangest places on base. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t looking forward to spending six months away at the Rook Camp, and the thought of it kept her awake even more. Yet the sleepwalking had started around the time she had signed up for Rook Camp.

November 20th, 2024:
She looked up when there was a knock on the door: “Enter,” she called.
The door swung open slowly and a young man she knew as Private First Class Drake Kowalski came in her room. He was only two years older than she was and her father’s favorite errand boy.
“Major General Devlin has requested your presence,” he stated firmly.
She sighed again. What had she done now? Usually when her father would send someone to fetch her, it did not bode well for her. If he came to see her himself, it was because he wanted to spend time with her. Which had become less and less over the years. Like he was purposely distancing himself from her.
She heaved another sigh before she grabbed her Desert Eagle, checked if it was “Condition One” and put it in the right leg holster. Though the underground base was presumed to be safe, it was standard procedure to carry a small firearm in case the base was compromised.
After that she pulled the dog tag and the chain it was on from under her shirt so it was clearly visible for everyone. It only said W.S. Devlin, but soon it would be replaced with a new dog tag stating her name, rank and code. With her father waiting for her, going to Rook Camp suddenly looked appealing, especially if he would rip her a new one about something stupid she had done.
However she hadn’t done anything stupid, at least not for the past twenty-four hours: “Did he say why?” She asked hesitantly.
Private First Class Kowalski shook his head and turned around quickly when there was another knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, the person at the door opened it and entered the room.
“Dismissed, Kowalski,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes when Kowalski saluted her. “I’ll bring her to the Major General. But first I need to have a chat with her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled, leaving the room in a hurry and remembering last moment to close the door behind him.
She waited as her mother came up to her and placed a hand firmly on her shoulder. A faint but extremely sad smile spread across her mother’s face. It was a display of emotion uncommon to her mother, and it worried her. Her mother had become a cold and distant person, just like her father. She knew that their positions within the Resistance required such an attitude but did it also have to be towards her?
“I haven’t done anything,” she immediately started.
Her mother’s smile turned gentle, more relaxed: “I know, Wilder. He hasn’t asked for you because you’ve done something wrong but because he wants to show you something.”
“What?” She mumbled confused.
Her mother kept quiet for a while, obviously looking for the right words, and then said: “Whatever it is, don’t judge him for it.”
“Judge him for what?”
“It’s not for me to tell you,” her mother sighed.
“He’s not my father?” She exclaimed when she jumped to wild conclusions.
Now her mother’s smile broadened, accompanied by a distant look: “Don’t worry. He’s your father alright.”
“Then what?” She wanted to know, fear clutching her heart.
She wasn’t scared easily, but now she started to get scared. Her parents weren’t the most open people but if push came to shove, they could be brutally honest.
“Not for me to tell, Wilder. All I ask of you is not to judge him. He never had a choice.”

[ More to come soon ]

Prologue: Done Is Done