Terminator Salvation: The Official Movie Novelization by Alan Dean Foster

Southern California megalopolis.
    “Someone’s here.”
    He had barely uttered the exclamation when half a dozen figures suddenly materialized from different corners of the store.
    Wright froze in his turn. They had guns. Not that this would stop him if he felt compelled to defend himself, but while the scruffy shapes wielding the weapons were clearly on edge, their trigger fingers were relaxed. Had their anxiety exceeded their curiosity, they would have fired without bothering to emerge from hiding. That they hadn’t done so indicated that their preference was to talk—at least initially.
    Of course they would , he told himself. In this world all human life was precious, because it meant one more individual alive to rage against the machine.
    That didn’t mean every survivor welcomed every other one with open arms. Survival still trumped friendship. Confirming this belief, the man Wright took to be the leader of the group kept his shotgun trained on the intruders.
    At the first appearance of weapons Reese had stepped in front of Star to shield her. He too had singled out the same man as the group leader.
    “We saw your sign,” the teen ventured by way of a hello.
    “The old lady put up the sign. Not me. We can’t help you.” The shotgun’s muzzle gestured toward the pump island outside where Wright had parked the jeep. “Wherever you’re headed, you need to keep on going.”
    Stepping forward, an elderly woman regarded the trio of arrivals a moment before finally nodding and turning to the much younger man holding the weapon.
    “Ease off, Len. They’re okay.” Her shoulder-length hair had turned white as marble.
    Licking his lips uncertainly, the shotgun wielder gestured with the end of the weapon again, this time singling out Reese and Star.
    “These two might be. Ain’t seen a machine yet that tried to imitate a kid.” Cagey and alert, his eyes flicked back to the silently staring Wright. “But what about him?”
    “We don’t want to cause trouble.” Wright kept his tone even and unthreatening. “We just need fuel.”
    The man laughed bitterly. “Don’t we all. How about some steak and ice cream while we’re wishing?” His gaze narrowed. “The dark season is coming. We only have enough for ourselves.”
    Wright stared back at him calmly. “Why? You planning on taking a long vacation some time soon?”
    Tensing, the other man took a step toward Wright, only to be stopped by the exasperated elder.
    “Len, put the gun down. You really think I’m going to let you send these children away starving?”
    He looked at her sharply. “Virginia, we’re running out of food.”
    Spreading his hands, Reese pleaded their case.
    “We’re not asking for much. Maybe one meal and some gas for our jeep, then we’ll leave. We don’t want to stay. We’re trying to reach the Resistance.”
    For the second time since they had entered the store, Len let out a burst of sharp, acrid laughter.
    “The Resistance ? What a joke! There is no ‘Resistance’. There’s only talk and wishful thinking. You can’t fight the machines. All anyone with any sense can do is try to stay out of their way.” He gestured at their teetering surroundings. “Why do you think this place is still standing?”
    “Because the machines haven’t gotten around to it yet,” Wright opined quietly.
    Len glared at him. “No! It’s because we don’t make trouble. We don’t shout our presence. We keep our heads down and they ignore us.”
    “You keep your head down,” Reese told him. “They’ll come for you eventually. I’ve seen this before. They don’t ignore you. They don’t ignore anybody. What they do is set priorities. Pick their targets according to the possible threat they might pose, starting with any they consider potentially dangerous to them. Once those’ve been wiped out they start working their way down their list. No one escapes notice. No one gets left alive. They want us all dead.” In spite of Reese’s