For another handful of seconds no one moved. Then, from the front row directly across from him, a young man took a step forward.
“I will.”
A quiet stir rippled through the crowd.
“Your name?” Tunney asked, gesturing him forward.
“Callahan, sir,” the young man said, circling the fountain and going up to Tunney. “I’m not very good at fighting. But I can learn.”
“Indeed you will,” Tunney promised, motioning the man over to stand beside him. “Anyone else?”
A young couple stepped out from the middle row, the woman clutching at the man’s arm like she was afraid to let it go.
“Leon and Carol Iliaki,” the man said. “I’m not much of a fighter, either, but I can also learn.
And Carol has some skills you might find useful.”
Barnes looked at Grimaldi. The boss man hadn’t looked happy when Callahan had deserted him, but that was nothing compared to the stiffness of his expression now as he watched the Iliakis cross the circle.
“She’s a master seamstress,” Sibanda told Barnes quietly. “Amazing woman. She can take nearly random bits of cloth or leather and fashion them into clothing that’s both warm and durable.”
Barnes nodded. No wonder Grimaldi didn’t want to lose her.
“Anyone else?” Tunney called.
“Can I come, too?” a familiar voice called from behind Barnes, and he turned to see the kid Zac Steiner hurrying down the stone staircase.
Apparently, that was the final straw.
“Hold it, Steiner,” Grimaldi called, stepping into the circle. “What are you doing down here?”
The boy faltered to a confused-looking halt.
“Mr. Barnes said I could—”
“You’re on sentry duty, boy,” Grimaldi cut him off. “You think these people want someone who deserts his post?”
Zac sent Barnes a look that was full of sudden guilt and fear.
“But I sent Amy Phao up—”
“You sent Phao up?” Grimaldi echoed. “Since when are you authorized to make changes in the duty roster?”
“It’s all right,” another voice put in, and Barnes turned in mild surprise to see Orozco step into the circle across from Grimaldi. Either the Marine had just arrived, or else he’d managed to blend into the crowd so well that Barnes hadn’t spotted him a minute ago from up on the balcony. “The sentries have permission to leave their posts under extraordinary circumstances.”
“This is not an extraordinary circumstance,” Grimaldi countered. He shot a glare at Tunney.
“This is a circus.”
Barnes’ mind flashed back to the gangs he’d locked horns with so many times when he was growing up. They’d all had the same kind of single-man rule he could see happening here…and with most of them, this kind of ridicule had been the next-to-the-last resort when they didn’t have any other way to counter someone’s argument or demand.
If ridicule didn’t work, it was always followed by violence.
Carefully, Barnes shifted his weight, picking the path he would take through the people in front of him on his way to telling Grimaldi up close and personal exactly what he thought of him—
A hand touched his arm.
“No,” Sibanda murmured. “Let him talk.”
“I’d hardly call matters of life and death a circus,” Tunney said mildly.
“I wasn’t referring to matters of life and death,” Grimaldi said. “I was referring to you. You and your little band of amateurs.”
“Amateurs?” Tunney asked, his voice still calm.
“Listen to me,” Grimaldi said, raising his voice as he looked around the circle. “We’ve been here, some of us, for over ten years now. We’ve kept ourselves and each other alive, and fed, and clothed.” He leveled a finger at Tunney. “And yet now these men come along promising the moon; and you’re actually listening to them? These men who were so eager to talk you out of here that they were foolish enough to give up their guns?”
And without warning, the three men alongside Grimaldi swung their weapons up, leveling the barrels at Tunney.
“This is the tactical brilliance these men have?” Grimaldi went on sarcastically. “And yet they promise to keep you alive while they pick and poke and prod at Skynet and the Terminators?” He snorted. “I don’t think so.”
Sibanda’s hand was still on Barnes’ arm. Gently but firmly, Barnes pushed the hand away.
“Please,” Sibanda pleaded. “They have guns. You don’t.”
“The man needs a lesson,” Barnes told him grimly. “It’s time he got one.”
CHAPTER
NINE
Orozco felt his heart seize up inside his chest. Suddenly, in a single instant, the whole thing had gone straight to hell.
“Put those down,” he said sharply, walking swiftly around the fountain toward Grimaldi. “Have you lost your minds?”
“Stay out of it, Sergeant,” Grimaldi ordered, raising his own shotgun now to point not quite at Orozco’s feet. “Our people need to see the hollow shell these men really are.”
Orozco looked through the stunned crowd toward the archway where Tunney’s other two men were guarding the group’s weapons. But they, too, were standing motionless, with Barney and Copeland now holding their rifles on them.
“This isn’t an object lesson,” Orozco ground out, shifting his glare back to Grimaldi, his body tingling with the adrenaline of impending combat. The man had drawn down on a Resistance group, for God’s sake. “This is mass suicide.”
“Is it?” Grimaldi countered. “Do you see anything to indicate that they aren’t helpless?”
“Chief, you’re playing with fire,” Orozco warned.
“Do you see anything to indicate that they aren’t helpless?” Grimaldi repeated.
Orozco clenched his hands into fists.
“Not at the moment,” he had to admit. “But—”
“But nothing,” Grimaldi said firmly. “As I said: these men—this John Connor they go on and on about—have the tactical skill of hamsters. They’ll be lucky to keep themselves alive, let alone anyone they con into going with them.”
And then, at Orozco’s left, the crowd abruptly parted and Barnes stepped into the circle.
“Maybe you need to run the odds again,” he said, his voice dark and menacing.
“No!” Orozco snapped as Grimaldi’s shotgun shifted to point at Barnes. “Grimaldi—”
“Relax, Sergeant,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “I’m not going to kill him. Not unless he insists on it.”
“You know, Grimaldi, you have a really big mouth,” Barnes said. He looked around the circle, his dark eyes touching each of the residents in turn as if he was memorizing their faces for future reference. “Is this the kind of leader you people want?” he went on. “A leader who uses guns to keep you here, instead of letting you make your own decisions?”
“I’m not keeping anyone here,” Grimaldi insisted.
“You’re the ones holding the guns,” Barnes countered. “You’re like a gang leader, Grimaldi. I hate gang leaders.”
“Hate me all you want,” Grimaldi said. “But the fact of the matter is that you and your group haven’t survived by any kind of skill. If you’ve really been together as long as you claim, it can only be because of sheer dumb luck. If my people want to go with you, that’s their business. But they have a right to know exactly what they’re getting themselves into.”