Angela woke the following day as her stomach growled. After many years without food, she had forgotten the feeling of hunger, and now that her body remembered, she was sure it would be miserable. Silky black hair went everywhere as she shook her head, and it took several minutes of running it through her hands to get everything back in order. Once settled, the girl pushed her machine away from the rock face and stared at the empty mountain scene.

The metal machine walked through the terrain. Pounding from the feet shook the otherwise quiet scene. For a moment, the girl thought she might want to step lightly, but the thought was quickly pushed down. There’s no one around to disturb, so why do I care? Angela thought.

As the Reaper marched on, the terrain became rougher and harder to navigate. She stuck close to jagged rocks so there was something to grab on to if her footing failed.

The day stretched on, and Angela began to feel like the sun was heating the metal chassis more than usual. She poked the metal wall behind her, stretching some so that she could reach with the tip of her finger, and confirmed it was the same as always. She shook her head and gripped tightly at her empty stomach. The wires beneath her skin wriggled more than usual as they tried to shut down the new abdominal pain.

“Shut up already,” she grumbled to a growl.

The sun drifted across the sky until it found a seat between two mountain peaks in the west. A gentle breeze whistled by. Angela sighed and figured it was the best time to stop for the day. She was content with staying in one spot, but a passing deer caught her attention. The chase was swift, the poor creature not realizing what was happening until it had been thoroughly squashed under the Reaper’s foot. At once, the machine fed nutrients to Angela; she could feel the release from the cords imbedded under her skin, and the sensation of hunger finally faded. Things had returned to normal.

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With a heavy breath, Angela closed her eyes. She sat with her head pointed up to the ceiling until the machine stopped processing the animal. She moved the foot back and intended to leave. Every ounce of her wished she hadn’t looked at the spot. The machine would depress the ground under the foot but otherwise leave the spot clean—that was how it usually was—yet Angela saw bodies where her foot had crushed. Seven of them, all faces she knew despite being too mangled to make out.

“No, no,” she wailed while backing up.

The machine took off and bulldozed through a tree. A warning flashed in Angela’s vision for the left leg, the one clipped by the laser blast in her last fight. Synchronizing with the red flashes, the faces appeared at the hole's edge. They moved their hands in a synchronized pattern to beckon the girl out.

She clamped her eyes together and bent so low her head might have touched her knees if not for the cord that went taut. She held her hands to her head.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t do anything. I can’t do anything! Just go away!”

The forms, if they were still there when her eyes were closed, didn’t offer any words. Angela’s breathing grew heavier, and she felt like her blood had gone cold. After a few deep breaths, she opened one red eye and peered into the hole. The phantoms were gone; she could rest at ease.

The girl was familiar with the vision; she had seen it many times after getting trapped in the Reaper, but they had not shown up for a couple days, and she had got used to not seeing them. Angela knew what to blame in an instant. She would still be at peace if she had not traveled with the five in the jeep. Angela wanted to scream, but she found tears pouring from her eyes instead. She wept until she fell asleep.