I shouldn't have pushed Hillary like that. She probably hated me now. And wasn't I supposed to be pretending I was on board with everything? Okay, I would from now on. That evening, after the noise of machinery finally died down and I tried to drift off into an unpleasant sleep, I told myself I would be a whole different person the next morning. I would be back to the Shilo so eager to get his legs back, he was willing to jump headfirst into an illegal military operation he had no prior knowledge of.

...

I startled awake when I heard the loud grating of metal against concrete. It was dark in the hangar. Thump. Thump... Thump. Then there was a whirr of servos and gears, much like my metal legs, or Hillary's robotic arm, but on a much larger, louder scale.

I threw the scratchy blanket off of me and rose, heading toward the curtain that curtailed my room from the rest of the hangar. I moved them apart as I went, leaving the group of curtained cubicles. I could feel the metal suit under me - I must have gone to sleep with it on - and took care to keep my footsteps quiet against the ground.

When I made it to the open part of the hangar, it was empty. Even the soldiers usually standing guard in their swat-gear were uncharacteristically absent. As unnerving as those guys were, with their eyes covered by those creepy black goggles, it was strange for them to be gone all of a sudden. I inched forward, looking around the open space of the hangar. It was eerily quiet, and the metallic thumping that woke me up was gone. I could only hear the sound of my own breathing as I forced myself to suck in the warm Nevada air slower and slower, telling myself I was just imagining things. I should head back to bed before I got caught.

Across the hangar, the large metal scaffolding still held the giant robot, its different parts in mixed stages of completion. It was a large, intimidating figure nearly as tall as the military hangar. I could even see what looked like a weapon barrel being installed on its arm. But at the same time, it was a lifeless husk. Surely it was meant for some grand design I was not aware of, but after staring into its dark optics for a minute or two, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

I turned back towards the curtained rooms and took two steps forward when suddenly bullets ripped through the air, tearing through the curtains. I ducked with my hands protecting my head, but nothing hit me. They weren't aiming at me. A piercing, grating screech of metal came from behind. I turned, peaking under my arm, and saw a giant metal foot.

It sure was a good thing that I'd already had the chance to get used to these metal legs, because now I was using them as I ran for my life, through the gunfire and whirs and crashes of machinery, out the hangar, and into the maze of buildings that comprised the rest of the base. My heart was pounding faster than my legs against the sand. I wove behind a dumpster and around the edge of a temporary building, pressed against the rough, rusting sheet metal wall as I tried to catch my breath.

What was that thing?

To my left, an explosion threw bits of shrapnel through the air. Some of it clambered just past the building I was hiding behind, coming to rest just a few feet away. Whatever that robot was, it sure was angry at MECH for whatever reason. It could probably tear this entire place to bits.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I eyed a couple of tactical trucks on my right. They were relatively out in the open, but those vehicles might just provide the escape I needed. I could drive far away from here and then get my bearings. I ran for them.

My legs were screaming. I looked down at them, and there was no longer a metal suit covering my legs. There were no metal nodules sticking out of my bones. It was just my plain, ordinary, useless legs. But I had to keep going. I had to run.

I made it a few paces before I collapsed. I told myself to keep moving but my legs had decided not to listen. God, why can't they work at least once when I needed them to? Thump. Thump. Thump. I scrambled across the sand instead, half-dragging my lower limbs behind me. I was mere feet from the truck.

Now inches away.

I reached up for the door handle when the truck was suddenly thrown high into the air, tumbling over a fence and crashing onto its side.

My throat cinched up and I was unable to breath. Everything had gone rigid and my fingers trembled. I slowly lifted my head, facing the creature that had thrown the truck and caused so much chaos. In front of me, leaning down towards me, was a dark figure. It was all metal, except for the windows that crossed its large chest. Plates of metal stuck up at its shoulders and at the sides of its strange face, and what looked like exhaust pipes pointed up from its back. Where its mouth would be, a metal mask covered it, revealing only its optics. Across its form, I could barely make out the faint tones of reds, and blues, but its eyes? They were a bright, piercing, sickly yellow.

...

I gasped, suddenly able to breathe. The creature was gone, and it was no longer dark. Instead, I was under the bright hangar lights, and the stiff weave of the cot beneath me was digging into the nodules on my tailbone. The loud ruckus of the machinery had returned, and the sound echoed off of the walls. It was a dream. Nothing but a dream.

I scrambled off the cot and shimmied to the edge of the curtains, peeking under them towards the open end of the hangar. Held upward by the metal scaffolding, the large robot was still just as lifeless as it always had been, and its eyes were dark. And right now, one of its legs was being torn apart and re-built by the perfectionistic team of scientists. Even if it somehow came to life, it was in no position to be rampaging through the base and causing terror.

Releasing a sigh, I dropped the curtain and crawled back to bed. There was no going back to sleep, so I drank half a bottle of water and got dressed. I changed out of the thin green t-shirt and pulled on a fresh one that someone had left in my crate the day before, and very carefully put on the loose pair of grey shorts over my legs. But as careful as I was to avoid touching the nodules, my legs did not ache nearly as much this morning. There were no open sores threatening to bleed. Instead, the skin was beginning to grow neatly around the nodules like they had always been there (I ignored the ugly scar tissue in a few sensitive places). The only bandage remaining was on my tailbone, but that spot had stopped bleeding as well. It was only there when I wasn't using the metal suit to keep the area from chafing against anything. The pain was ever-present, but it was less. I didn't even think to take any pain pills.

It was my fourth morning waking up here, and despite the nightmare, this was the first morning where I woke up comfortable with my surroundings. Not in the physical sense - the bed hardly qualified as one - but in a mental sense. When I opened my eyes, I didn't jump in fright that I wasn't in my bedroom. I wasn't surprised that I wasn't snuggled up in a mound of dark green and blue blankets with the fan running constantly. The simple cot with the blood-stained sheet and scratchy grey blanket was where I slept now.

Was it wrong that I barely thought about my parents?

I had lived with them 24/7 less than a week ago. My mom was always helping me do things, even when I insisted I could make it across the house on my own. She was constant tough love and good food and kisses on my cheek before she turned out the light. And my Dad? I couldn't go out and play catch with my old man, and he had no success teaching me how to fish. But on Saturday mornings, we would spend hours together in front of the Xbox. I was better than he was, but I used to let him win sometimes, just so he would stay and keep playing long after Mom called us for lunch.

But now, I rarely thought of them. Wasn't I supposed to miss them more? I asked for one phone call, and was denied. Should I have asked again? After spending so much time with my loved ones, a person like me was supposed to be homesick. Perhaps I didn't want to associate my parents any of this. I'd get home eventually, wouldn't I? I refused to consider the possibility of never seeing them again. But my life had changed so much in so little time. It was like a different Shilo had begun to exist when I got here, and somewhere, a version of myself still continued to mope around in my parents' care. I supposed they were looking for me. Maybe they had gotten the police involved. I hoped not. I didn't want them involved with any of this. It was my choice to come here, mine and mine alone, and I would deal with the consequences.

Hopefully MECH was just lying to them, feeding them fake letters from me or something like it. Then they would not go looking for me and keep themselves safe.

The curtains flew open, breaking me out of my thoughts. Lieutenant Bardin entered the room. "Good morning, Shilo." He was followed in by another soldier and the snippy female scientist who normally attached my metal components in the rudest way possible.

"Yeah, sure." I sat on the edge of my cot, flexing my toes against the concrete. Remember, I told myself: I only care about the legs. "Do I get to walk again today?"

"Why else would we be here? Lydia, let me help you with that."

They opened the case containing the shrunk, blocky metal components. I was told to take my pants off again, to my dismay, but I complied. The soldier helped me to stand while the scientist - Lydia - lined up the freaky prongs to the metal hole in my back. I tensed, holding my breath so I wouldn't shout until the metal was secured against my spine and the ugly, terrible feeling of it being inserted had passed. I vaguely remembered the movie The Matrix, where Neo had to endure the metal rod entering his brain every time he joined the simulation. I supposed our experiences were similar and was silently grateful nothing was going into my head at least.

The lieutenant hit the button in his remote and the robotics came to life, spreading down my legs until they were entirely covered. I could now support my weight on my own. "How much height does this thing add?"

"1.3 inches," Miss Lydia said quickly. I wasn't expecting an answer but I wasn't complaining.

Bardin crossed his arms behind his back. I couldn't see the remote, but I knew it was in one of his hands, ready to deactivate the device if I tried anything. All of my freedom and newfound ability would be gone in the press of a button. "Will we have another incident today, Shilo?" I could practically feel the condescension coming off of him.

"No sir. I was just excited. It had been a while since I was able to run."

They left me alone shortly afterward, though I knew there were always a few soldiers on the other side of the curtains, ready to act if there was any chaos. And after the stunt I pulled a couple of days ago, they were probably keeping an eye on the corners too. I wouldn't be sneaking out the same way again. But even if I could leave the hangar without being spotted and with no lasting consequences, I wouldn't have done so. I couldn't leave, at least not without that remote. My fate was tied here whether or not I liked it because I was not going back to being a cripple ever again.