Chapter Text
Being friends with Sarah Connor was easy. Waiting on tables, chatting up nonsense – making plans for a bright, exiting future. I spent many Friday nights with Sarah. Unlike Ginger, we both tried to date men that canceled at the last minute. I joked about my fate; I was turning into a crazy cat lady, and Sarah countered me by getting a lizard. We both seemed to have terrible luck when it came to boyfriends, but can’t choose the same gimmick when it comes to life as a spinster, she explained. I thought it hilarious, especially the name she chose: I always asked her about Pugsley, talking as if the iguana was her baby. Ginger didn’t find it funny. It’s easy for you to laugh, you don’t have to live with that hideous thing, she complained. You have a terrible influence on Sarah!
If I knew how quickly things could change, I would have relished the boring normality of life.
It started with the phone book killer. Work was a busy nightmare, as usual. Weekends are the worst. Some kid stuck ice cream in Sarah’s apron, and I joked about it being Friday the 13th. Nancy dragged us to the TV, cheerfully declaring Sarah was dead. It was a stupid joke to make, but worked as a warning. It stuck in the back of my mind. When I got home to get ready for another date that would end up canceling on me, I hadn’t forgotten her words. You’re dead, honey.
Pondering my remaining options for the evening, I turned on the news. It was almost like fate.
“...this just in: police have announced the name of the victim in the second of two execution-style murders which took place today. Incredibly the names of the two victims are virtually identical...”
That off-handed comment I made about Friday the 13th wasn’t funny at all; it felt like a foreboding warning now. It was no coincidence, there was no freak accident; a new serial killer was on the loose. He was stalking the streets of LA, making his way down the phonebook – and I couldn’t get a hold of Sarah. She was out on a date, or so I thought. The news speculated about the situation on every other channel. When Ginger wouldn’t pick up the phone either, I did something very stupid. I wanted to make sure she was alright, and find Sarah. Ginger might know where she went and we had to get her to the police station.
I found the bodies. I missed the killer, but only barely. The blood was still fresh. Things only got worse from there. Sarah was involved in the shooting at Tech Noir. Before the police had a chance to pick her up, she was kidnapped by a crazy man. Everything turned into hectic chaos, so quickly I could hardly keep up. That Friday felt like a never-ending fever dream, a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
I talked with the police. I called everyone who might have seen her. I talked with her mother. I was relieved to tears when they finally found her. I couldn’t believe Sarah was alive! After calling around in circles, everyone was on the same page. The nightmare should have ended there, but it didn’t.
I had a strange conversation with the police. It left me rattled, nervous in a way I couldn’t explain. I didn’t have time to make an official statement yet, but I still tried to warn them. If Reese wasn’t the killer, he was probably in on it – how else would he have known someone was coming to shoot her? He was lying to the detectives, playing them like a flute; that man was dangerous. They wouldn’t listen. Sarah was surrounded by cops and they assured me she was safe. I was meant to go over there after I dealt with Ginger’s parents.
I missed certain death for the second time that night. I stared at the wreck of a police station in total disbelief. Sarah was abducted again, straight from the station and I was promptly arrested. Me! Because I had ‘suspicious’ luck and foresight of the night’s events – it should have been common sense! You can’t make this shit up; if you wrote a story like this no one would believe it.
To me, the massacre confirmed that the phone book killer was working with Reese. Why else would he drive through the wall and shoot their way out? Of course the men knew each other. They probably sat in the same prison or mental institution, egging each other on, building up delusions until they began this murder spree! The cops were just too stupid to see it in time. The whole thing revolved around some obsession they both had with Sarah.
I was certain she would die now, especially when the police was busy wasting time with me instead of looking for her. Her mother was killed – another shining example of great police work. After some excruciating days, Sarah saved herself. Factory workers found her in the morning, half-dead and raving mad. Kyle Reese was dead, but succeeded ruining her life all the same. He changed everything. Sarah bought the conspiracy, all those delusions; it was like talking to another person.
The big guy disappeared into thin air. Sarah claimed he had been terminated, and when the investigation came up empty, she flew into a frenzied rage – telling everyone the factory is trying to cover it up. According to her, the phone book killer wasn’t a man at all. He was actually a killer cyborg; a series 800 Model 101 infiltrator unit. It was sent back in time by Skynet to assassinate her, because she was the mother of the future savior of mankind. Kyle Reese was a human. He was sent back in time by the resistance, to save Sarah – sounds awfully convenient, doesn’t it? Here is the kicker: Sarah was pregnant. Kyle Reese, the magician weaving these insane stories just happened to be the father of John Connor. It was creepy.
I thought her stories about time travel and terminators were just a coping mechanism, brought on by extreme stress. It wasn’t her delusion; she caught it from Reese and with time, things would right themselves out. How wrong I was.
Sarah refused to see the harrowing facts. It was as if she was unable to pause and think about it critically. Sarah couldn’t face reality, or even entertain the possibility that Kyle played her for a fool. I started to read up on psychology, hoping to find something useful to help her get through this trauma. Falling in love with your kidnapper isn’t as crazy as it sounds. It’s a survival mechanism. There was no Skynet, no cyborg assassins; Sarah was traumatized. The ‘infiltrator unit’ was a crazy guy on steroids and PCP.
She wouldn’t hear a word of it. Sarah kept talking about the judgment day like it was a certain fact, about Kyle, John and how important it was to prepare; disappearing into her dark world. His dark world. The madman was dead, but his dark world had become her dark world, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I cursed the day she met Kyle Reese. The man tore through her life like a hurricane, leaving nothing but total chaos in his wake.
Sarah changed, almost overnight. She had fire in her eyes. Sometimes she spoke about the future and her delusions so convincingly I got swept away with her; dreadfully afraid before my brain had a chance to catch up to what was happening. Our friendship was becoming dangerous for my sanity. I began to have nightmares about the apocalypse. Sarah wouldn’t let up, talking about going off grid, acting more paranoid by the day, making herself disappear – while doing everything under the sun to convince me to do the same. She was trying to drag me into that black bunker of horror with her.
It was hard to be her friend after that. We began to drift apart. I tried to get her professional help she wouldn’t accept. Things were headed for certain collision but I couldn’t turn my back on her, especially when she had no one left. I worried I would begin to resent her if I didn’t save myself, but couldn’t find a solution. Sarah resolved the issue for me; by leaving the iguana behind and disappearing with the baby. I was the crazy lizard lady now. If I didn’t have Pugsley, there wouldn’t have been any proof that Sarah Connor had ever existed.
I didn’t hear from her in years, but thought of her often. I still had my apocalypse nightmares and they kept me from even attempting to reach out. I thought I made a good decision, especially after Sarah was arrested. She tried to destroy the headquarters of a computer company. Sarah was imprisoned at Pescadero State Hospital. It’s a maximum security facility for the criminally insane.
I didn’t expect a phone call.