A long walk gave plenty of time to think, and Helmet hated every minute of his silent contemplation. He couldn’t help but ponder what awaited him at his destination. Was it possible a Worm had turned traitor? Did the machine act on its own? Was there a human inside the Reaper?

He played out each case in his mind while imagining his actions if they occurred. He gripped his gun tightly and hoped it was the last thing he would need for the upcoming encounter.

Standing close enough to touch the Reaper made it more imposing than the older man imagined. He and his group had not taken many chances and kept the killer mechs as far away as possible. Helmet imagined it must have been like trying to sneak through the bedroom of a giant while danger could wake at any second.

He shook the thoughts away and spun the clawed hook. It latched on to the hole in the machine’s chest with ease; moments later, Helmet was standing on the machine’s torso. He pulled out a flashlight and carefully aimed it into the hole.

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The light slipped from his hand and went out as it clanged inside the metal machine, but not because of clumsiness on Helmet’s part. Even with all the mental preparation he did for the possibility, he couldn’t contain his surprise at seeing a person sitting in the cockpit.

Setting his legs over the hole's edge, Helmet dropped into the Reaper. His feet hit an angled surface, and the older man quickly landed on his back. He let out a cry before fumbling in the dark for the dropped flashlight.

It took several minutes to get the light back on, even after he found it.

“Damn thing,” Helmet grunted as he banged the flashlight inside the cockpit. It instantly illuminated the space as Helmet looked at the person in the chair.

She was young, so much so that Helmet couldn’t help but imagine she was around the same age his daughter would have been. Long black hair flowed like a wild waterfall from her head and far enough to reach her legs.

Her thin body suggested she ate little but was getting just enough nutrients to get by, and she wore an old school uniform that had been unchanged for many years. She had clearly been smaller when first donning the uniform, which was clear where it ripped and was otherwise too small.

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The ripped fabric revealed more skin than the uniform would have shown otherwise, giving Helmet ample understanding of how the machine worked. A large cable from the rear of the cockpit had lodged itself in her back: presumably going up and down her spine—though Helmet could not see enough to be sure—and spread throughout her body. What looked like roots bulged from her skin and ran wherever they could—down her arms and legs and up to her neck. They moved and writhed around slowly, like parasites. The girl’s face was the only thing spared from the mechanical growth under her skin, but some movement around her neck suggested the machine was still trying to take it over.

Helmet looked away momentarily and did his best to rein in his emotions. His heart pounded, and his hand gripped his gun tightly. He desired to shoot a Worm, any Worm.

After a couple of deep breaths, he turned his attention back to the girl. Her right arm had a gash, and a mechanical appendage had lowered from the ceiling to solder the wound shut. Helmet pushed the arm away and pulled out stitches he kept at the ready.

Slowly and carefully, he closed her wound. The older man could not be sure he did enough to avoid giving a nasty scar. Slacks was really the one for such tasks, but a more relaxed face that came over the unconscious girl once he finished told him it was the best call.

He pushed some hair from the girl’s sleeping face like he often did for his daughter when she was small and climbed out of the machine’s cockpit. Carefully, he held up a green light to indicate that the others should close in. He imagined they let out a collective sigh of relief.

The jeep's engine roared across the empty hills, and the remaining men soon jumped out at the mech's side.

“Throw up a blanket!” Helmet shouted down. Once the cover was safely in his hands, he climbed back into the cockpit and draped it over the girl, leaving her head as the only thing exposed.

He waited a minute until the sounds of footsteps appeared over the chest of the Reaper.

“Helmet,” Glasses said as he poked his head over the open hole, “oh, she’s kind of cute…. ahem.” As Glasses coughed to cover his words, Helmet shook his head. His spectacled companion and the girl were about the same age, so he didn’t blame the boy. “Anyway, Coat is starting on some soup, says we have enough potatoes for something decent.”

“Very good; make sure you set up away from the feet and arms, just in case; I’ll stay here and greet her when she wakes. Get an extra bowl out and figure out the best way to get it up here.”

“You don’t think she will come down?”

“I’m afraid not,” Helmet replied as he lifted the blanket just enough for Glasses to see the cable going to her back and tendrils underneath the skin of her right arm. The younger man shuddered at the sight of it and looked away.

“I see, that’s not…. Anyway, I’ll let everyone know.”

Glasses made his way to the ground to relay everything. Smells of cooking eventually wafted up to Helmet, a strong smell of burning wood accompanied by faint hints of potatoes with some rosemary, thyme, and oregano. He wished very much to have meat or dairy; it had been months, but such goods expired too quickly for long journeys. They were lucky enough to have a decent stock of vegetables.

The older man could not tell if it was just good timing or if the food smells had alerted the girl, but she began to groan and move soon after the smells wafted in.