Terminator 3: Hunt

	She gripped the top edge of the driver’s-side window, contorted herself, and swung in through the window.
	Her foot smashed into the driver’s head, knocking loose the elaborate set of goggles he wore, snapping his neck, changing the shape of the skull. He slumped. She dropped into place on top of him, sitting in his lap.
	The cab’s other two passengers barely had time to look. The human female, in the center, reached for the submachine gun in her lap. The male, by the passenger-side door, reached for his lapel.
	She struck each with one arm. The T-X’s right hand penetrated the woman’s torso, shredding her heart and emerging through her spine, while her left hand seized the man’s neck, choking off anything he might have had to say. She squeezed and his neck snapped, causing his head to loll around.
	Time expended: two seconds. In that time, the truck had drifted to the right, toward the drop-off. Another few feet and its right-hand wheels would have lost purchase, sending the truck over the edge. But she seized the steering wheel and got the lumbering vehicle back toward the center of the lane.