I hate the month of May.

The young man's dislike of the month of May ran much deeper than his traumatic experiences he had in Mays past. At his core, John Conner hated time. John Connor had the curse of knowing the future in almost exact terms. He had been stripped of the blissful ignorance of the end of the world that billions of humans took for granted.

He sank deeper into the train's seat as he reflected on destiny and inevitability. John hadn't used public transportation in over three years. However, his motorcycle had been stolen. Though, he found himself admitting, it was nice to catch up on some sleep...

John blinked trying to clear his head. He was still sitting in his train seat. In a moment of horror he realized he was in a burnt out city.

"Judgment Day." John muttered to himself. This wasn't just a nightmare; it was a vision of things yet to be. He had this nightmare every time he arrived in a new city. John saw the death of the city, its murder at the hands of Skynet.

"Who are you?" A small, distant voice filled John's ears. He groaned as he looked ahead. There hadn't been another person in John's visions of Judgment Day since his mother died of Leukemia years ago. This time, however, there was a little girl no older than eight standing a few feet away.

"Are you alright?" John rose from the train seat. The girl didn't respond, but merely turned and walked away holding a doll loosely in her left hand. The future leader of the Resistance jogged to catch up to her, but she suddenly disappeared into what looked like a three dimensional ink blot. As the black expanse disappeared, a sound like the squeal of a broken speaker filled the air drowning out the crackle of the fires surrounding the area. John saw the inky disturbance in the distance. The girl emerged from the darkness and simply stared at John.

"Wait!" John ran after her, leaping over the debris of the ruins. As he passed a burning truck, the girl disappeared into a golden hemisphere. Inexplicably, there was a small tree with a swing over the light.

"It's a dream, what the hell?" John took a step into the light and his world went drab. It was the only word that could describe the complete loss of detail. He took a cautious step forward. As he continued to advance on the only vague shape he could see, detail and some color returned to the world. It was the same tree and swing that was above the lighted pool he had seen earlier. The girl was swing happily, higher and higher. In the distance, there were the cooling towers of a nuclear power plant. Strangely, there was a faint distant music in the air. He finally reached the top of the hill.

"Hello?" The girl finally acknowledged John as she turned slightly to face him. A sudden feeling of foreboding gripped John and without thinking he grabbed the girl off the swing.

There was an all too familiar flash of light. It was the herald of the coming terror. John knew intellectually that his attempts to shield the young girl were doomed to failure. The nuclear blast would incinerate them both.

But damn it, he was a human. He would not deny this innocent child the fleeting kindness of his futile attempt to protect her.

John Connor did not feel the young girl cling tightly to him as the heat wave burned them to ashes.

John cried out as he awoke. He looked quickly around and relaxed as he realized he was back in his train car. He was groggy from the nightmare. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and only then did he hear the music. He looked into the empty seat next to him and saw an old ornate music box. Immediately, John went into combat mode. The box wasn't there when he came into the room. Was it a bomb? A Skynet attempt on his life?

"John Connor" A deep, hollow voice called to him. He quickly turned away from the music box and barely registered the Terminator Endoskeleton as it throttled his neck.

John let out a ragged scream and drew his pistol. He nearly fired off a shot into the empty wall of the compartment. There was no metal hand around his neck, no gentle music. There was only his heavy breathing and his gun pointed into nothingness. He slipped the weapon into his jacket as the door opened. An elderly black man leaned in.

"You alright son? You screamed like you were trying to wake the dead."

John smiled weakly. "Just had an old nightmare."

The old man smiled and reached into his coat pocket. John tensed; he couldn't trust strangers, not after the T-1000. Instead of a weapon, the old man tossed a flask towards John. John tipped the flask at its owner and took a swig. The alcohol was strong and burned on the way down. It helped. John coughed and handed the flask back to the old man.

"Thanks. We in Fairport yet?"

The old man caught the flask. "We'll be arriving in a few minutes. Word of advice, son?"

John reached across the sleeper car and grabbed his only bag. "Always appreciated."

"Stay out of Auburn, place ain't natural."

The old man simply left. A few minutes passed just as the old man said and the train slid into Fairport Station. John took in the city. He hadn't been to this section of the country before. Most of his efforts centered on the Southwest. All reports from his future associates, enemies and even himself mentioned that he mainly focused on that region of the country. He had decided almost on a whim to head to this area. It certainly didn't hurt to be unpredictable. The Machines might find it harder to track him and he needed to assess the potential for future Resistance bases in the area.

He also had dozens of warrants in Los Angeles relating to his attack on Cyberdyne Systems facility when he was ten. He took a deep breath and started walking. He never turned to look back towards the train. He never saw the little girl in red watching him from his train compartment.