Echoes: The Ten Sigma Series Book 3

by A W Wang

  Those bloody marks under her jaw weren’t an accident.

  I freeze mid-nod as a chill wraps over my bones. I imagine what I would have to be like to paint the blood of my victims over my face.

  The whole situation is wrong, and if I head down this path, there’s no return.

  Jet laughs and lowers herself back onto Block. “Not ready for our little secret?”

  “No.”

  “Try begging your girlfriend, Cat. But remember, she’ll never be like me.”

  I swivel and leave the garden.

  When I turn the corner, Block says in happiness, “Meat!”

  Jet’s moans of pleasure follow, exactly like that first night in the barracks.

  As I exit the shade, the sounds of a female orgasming echo between the futuristic buildings.

  I scrunch my lips and shake my head, ignoring the bare patch on my forearm begging to be cut.

  To avoid the clutches of Death, I have to accept Cat’s offer and forget my past.

  Come what may.

  I can only hope my optimism will allow me to once again find the path that leads to the girl with “RED HAIR.”

  Thirty-One

  As I gaze at the smooth skin of my forearm, the hazy letters I’ve left uncut flutter just beyond the reach of my memories.

  Only two days have passed, but I’m already fitting into this new life, the true existence required by the virtual overlords.

  As cautious Jake from my first team would say, “A new man like the military would want.”

  However, I’m disappointed my real life has expired without so much as a whimper.

  An uncapped rage rises, and I clench my jaw. Except for a single memory, which sits, oozing anger into the hollowed cavern of my forgotten past.

  “Hey,” Cat says, “we’re training.”

  The sunshine flooding through the glass of the exercise cube outlines her wavy hair.

  It reminds me of the image I’m trying to save, the one that’s faded into the smudge of a female standing in front of a bright window. Although I’m not sure, I think she must be associated with the words I was slicing into my forearm.

  The flat of Cat’s wooden sword snaps into my bicep, and I yelp from the stinging pain.

  “Training with me is what you wanted, right?”

  I nod, sighing.

  “Then stop daydreaming. We’ve got a lot to do.”

  I rub my arm, knowing I should be happier. “Okay, what’s next?”

  “Next? We haven’t even finished this. You have tons of room for improvement.” She slaps my arm again and raises her practice blade. “En garde.”

  Afraid of more physical gestures, which I worry she enjoys too much, I center my practice weapon in line with hers.

  “Go!” she says.

  This time, I use a new strategy. With a bloodthirsty yell, I charge and lunge at her midsection.

  She sidesteps and whacks my thigh as I pass.

  “What the hell was that?”

  With a grimace, I hobble to face her. “Just trying something different.”

  “Acting bat-shit crazy isn’t going to make you better.”

  “Jet always attacks like that, and it works pretty well for her.”

  Cat shakes her head in disdain. “Get that crap out of your mind. Reckless abandon is a flawed technique. Jet wins by having more audacity and because she’s meaner than the other person. Sure, lesser fighters can’t handle the unexpected stuff. But one day, mark my words, she’ll meet someone cooler-headed who has talent. Then it’ll be over.”

  “She’s got Block watching her back too.”

  “If you want to fight like them, you need to be like them. Is this where you want to go?”

  “No.”

  “Block’s has his flaws too. Don’t get me wrong. Those two are good, maybe even great. It’s like they’re here to weed out mediocrity. But, trust me, they will meet their match. Like that woman who saved us in the scenario where we first met.”

  I think of the seven sigma, who cut her daughters’ names into her arm.

  Melody and Melissa.

  “You’re right,” I say without emotion. “She could beat Jet and Block, and nobody I’ve met has been as good. And now she’s dead.”

  Cat returns a thoughtful stare.

  When she stays silent, I say, “I wonder who killed her. Even with everything we’re doing, I’m not sure I’ll ever be good enough to get to ten sigmas.”

  For an answer, Cat walks to the nearest practice mat and sits, patting the spot next to her.

  After I sink onto the soft surface, she says, “Remember, when we train, this isn’t about making another cog in the machine. You don’t receive points for teamwork. This program is about individuality. Methods of breaking you down into nothing and building you up into some monster warrior won’t work.

  “The talent is already inside you. Given how many battles you’ve been through and your skill level, you must have some innate ability that’s enabled you to survive.”

  “I know people,” I say, responding to the backhanded compliment.

  Cat smirks. “Your sense of humor is getting better at least. That joke was actually a little funny.”

  “I have more—”

  “Not now. Let’s get back to the point. Whatever it is, that’s what I’m going to bring out of you, and that’s what you’ll use to leave this program.”

  “Lan said resilience.”

  After snorting, Cat replies, “I take back everything I said about your humor getting better.”

  I frown. “What do you think I have that’s special?”

  “Something from your past?”

  My thoughts wander to the dim figure in front of the blinding sunlight, and I glance at my forearm.

  “Stop staring at it. Those words are gone, and you’re better for it. We’re not looking for your goal. Everyone has one. We need to pull out and hone whatever makes you special.”

  I smile. “So what is it that makes you special?”

  To my shock, she doesn’t yell at me for invading her privacy.

  “Fear?”

  “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

  “I think I’ve been in some abusive relationships and a failed marriage. The last fight might have been a horrible one. So horrible, it’s probably the reason I volunteered to be here.

  “So, aside from how quickly people die in the Ten Sigma Program, I’m distant because it’s a behavior leftover from my real life.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say in earnest. “There are some awful people in the world.”

  “But now, I can kick their asses.” She lets out a chuckle that fades into a serious expression. “Well, only if I get to ten sigmas.”

  “Maybe this training will pay off and both of us will get out of here. Wouldn’t that be great?” I say, drawing from my old optimism.

  She shakes her head. “Keep your fantasies out of the clouds and just think about surviving.” Her knee brushes against mine as she leans forward. “So what’s your big secret?”

  When I hesitate, she adds, “People come here because they have no other choice. Nobody comes here out of love.”

  I have no argument. If anything, removing the context of my memories has made my reason for being here even more clear.

  “So, what is it?” she says.

  Dark emotions surge as I recall my one intact memory, and I ball my hands hard enough to whiten the knuckles. Although I don’t remember what I shared with my original team, I know this story wasn’t a part of it. Even though I’ve forgotten everything else, this memory is where all that anger comes from and the thing that drives me. I need to make sure it’s never forgotten.

  I glance over the deserted area before saying, “I’ll tell you if you promise never to repeat it back to me. Unless I need a kick-start.”

  She nods. “When the time comes, I’ll remind you, so you can be whatever you need to be to get out of here.”

  I shiver.

 
Being that person is what I’m afraid of.

  A smile appears on her face. “Oh, and I’ll definitely give you a good kick in the pants too.”

  More than a little worried she’ll carry out the threat of physical violence, I say, “My first love was a girl I knew in elementary school. We started dating in high school.”

  “What color was her hair?”

  “Black and she added blue streaks,” I say. “Why is that important?”

  She shrugs. “Just idle curiosity. Keep going.”

  “This girl was from the other side of the tracks. Liked to dress in leather and wear chains—”

  “That’s a lot of detail for a last memory.”

  I shrug. “I’ve got a lot of hatred.”

  Although her eyes waver, she only returns a shallow nod.

  “Well, my parents hated those things…”

  Thirty-Two

  When I materialize in the prep room, ready for my first scenario since training with Cat, a surprise greets me. An avatar-sized Asian dragon floats past the open end of the semicircle. Gleaming accents of gold and silver run over the white jade scales covering its long, coiled body. The creature’s rectangular head rises, and glowing eyes made from round rubies stare at us.

  “Welcome, I am Chew,” a female voice says in an ethereal tone.

  “Where’s Lan?” I ask.

  “He is with another team.”

  A masochistic part of me misses the miniature knight and the drollness of his English accent. I tense my arm and refrain from slapping myself stupid for the notion.

  The ruby eyes redden, and she flicks a claw dismissively. “Such is the nature of the Ten Sigma Program. You should not grow attached to things in a place where everything is only temporary.”

  I frown at the truth of the statement.

  Cat nudges my elbow. “What’s the big deal? This is the fifth avatar I’ve had.”

  Because swapping out one droll AI construct full of bland innuendo for another more colorful AI construct full of bland innuendo ultimately means nothing, I shrug in agreement.

  “You don’t like them, anyway.”

  Jade scales clink as Chew rises and uncoils, stretching her short legs. “I am delighted to welcome you to my team. I am an artificial intelligence programmed to be your guide, friend, and confidant.”

  One of the new people straightens. The balding, older man with broad shoulders speaks in an authoritarian tone and reminds me of someone I dislike. “I’m Gil, and I’d like to welcome everyone too. I’ve got some ideas on how we should do things—”

  “Who put you in charge?” I say, infected by sudden anger.

  Gil’s cheeks tighten, and he struggles to control his annoyance. His piercing blue eyes bore through me as he says, “My knowledge is invaluable. I have a high score, and I’ve survived here for a long time.”

  “Meat!” Block announces as a counterpoint to the last statement.

  “What does the rest of your old team say?” I ask.

  Instead of glancing at any of the other newcomers, he glares.

  “Yeah, I thought so. Your advice didn’t help them too much, did it?”

  “Everyone has teammates who didn’t make it.”

  Cat whispers in my ear, “What’s wrong with you?” With a smile, she turns to Gil. “What my friend is trying to say is that we’ve been together for a while and tend to work together.”

  Red-faced, the older man raises his hands, saying, “I’m only offering my help.”

  Jet giggles, her demeanor full of innocence, and says to the center of the room, “You’ll like him better when you know him better.”

  Both Gil and I stare at the beautiful girl, unsure of who “him” means.

  Chew releases a smoke-laden huff, sending hints of cinnamon incense over the semicircle.

  “Please keep petty squabbles separate from the mission.”

  While the dragon jumps into our pre-scenario preparation, I roll my eyes, wondering why I have a dislike bordering on hatred for Gil, who hasn’t done anything wrong. I think back to the memory which won’t go away, the last one.

  With a start, I straighten.

  Only ash remains.

  But instead of relief at being unburdened from my past life, there is only anger misting from the river of unworthiness central to my being.

  As the words pour from the dragon’s square mouth, my anticipation builds.

  I grip the chair tighter, praying for the golden sparkles to take me before I explode with rage.

  The bayonet flashes in a patch of sunlight and rockets at my face.

  With a twist, I slip past the sharp edge and jab my rifle at my opponent. My bayonet drives into the man’s throat, and he goes limp. When I stomp kick him, blood spurts over the greenery as his body tumbles down the hillside and disappears into a crevasse.

  Winded and blinking from sweat, I gulp at the sweltering air as I swivel, searching for more things to kill.

  Only the blue-trimmed members from my team remain standing against the backdrop of jungle island scenery.

  My hand comes away smeared with dirt after I wipe my forehead. Despite the physical discomforts, the brutality afforded by this World War Two Pacific scenario matches the depths of my all-consuming anger.

  “Good job, people,” Gil says.

  I glare, and Cat grabs my arm. “Not now.”

  The older man continues, “Love not having any ammunition. Makes everything down and dirty. Only a few of them are left. If we—”

  Jet points down the slope. “There, more!”

  Before anyone responds, she charges, disappearing into the greenery.

  Cat shakes her head, but needing an outlet for my fury, I dash after my audacious teammate.

  “Meat,” Block yells as his ponderous steps struggle to keep pace.

  Sunbeams spearing through the jungle canopy whip past as I weave my way around squat plants and twisted trees. With each step, wide spade-shaped leaves grab at my sticky uniform while pebbles crunch under my heavy boots. I ignore the distractions, focusing on the helmet and purple-dusted hair bobbing down the trail below.

  She’ll get me to the next fight.

  Metal glints from a nearby grove of coconut trees.

  Jet sees it too and changes direction. Bellowing war cries, she brings up her rifle and plows between an inverted-V arch formed from two of the thin trunks.

  The ground levels, and I aim for the swirling forms battling in the grove.

  As I enter the shadows, Jet drives her bayonet into a red-trimmed enemy.

  The bordering underbrush rustles, and two opponents blast into her. Rifles clack as the tenacious girl defends herself against the fresh onslaught.

  Another two hostiles punch through the line of shrubs.

  With a snarl, I leap at the man and woman.

  They abandon their attack on Jet and concentrate on me. Wood and metal whip between the trees as we struggle to get an advantage over each other. The battle moves into a small clearing, where sunshine glints from our vicious slashes, thrusts, and stabs. Strikes leak past my parries and rip my uniform, cutting my arms and chest. The pain adds bubbles of fury to my anger, and I stand my ground, refusing to retreat a step further.

  To negate the positioning of my opponents, I shift closer to the tree line and sidle next to a thin trunk. With less area to defend, I tip up the nearest weapon and score a hit across the man’s thigh with a quick jab.

  He returns an angry thrust, and I let the bayonet glance against my shoulder as I bury mine into his chest.

  His companion hollers with rage and charges.

  I ignore the fresh wound and pivot, whipping my impaled opponent into her. Both tumble to the ground, and before she can roll away, I ram my bayonet through her ribs and into her heart.

  As she stills, my wild eyes search the area.

  Only an ocean breeze stirs the tall grasses of the clearing.

  I glance at my fallen enemies. The maroon leaking from their bodies is oddly beau
tiful. When I pull out my bayonet, the red fluid beckons. Surprised by the calling, I reach down and rest my fingers on the woman’s bloody chest, letting my palm settle into the warmth of the liquid.

  Red stripes would look great on my face.

  I raise my hand, studying the drips over my fingertips.

  As I bring one close to my cheek, internal me screams, “What the hell are you doing?”

  I blink and wipe myself clean on my trousers.

  Giggles come from nearby.

  A bit embarrassed, I turn and frown at Jet, who stands at the edge of the grove, her lips curled in amusement.

  While her eyes burn through me, she raises a bloody hand and dabs a fingertip under her jaw.

  My gaze never wavers as she paints the familiar pattern.

  After finishing, she breaks the moment, saying, “I’m glad you were here to help. I don’t know what I would have done against four of them.”

  Although my mind whirls with many potential responses, I tighten my lips, afraid to answer.

  She waggles a blood-covered finger and says with sultry undertones, “That’s why I need you, Vic.”

  I find my voice. “Anyone would have done it.”

  Before she answers, footsteps stomp from the foliage, and Cat skids to a stop next to me. Block hurries to Jet, saying “Meat.”

  Jet laughs and calms him with a hug.

  Blinking, I refocus and wipe my sweaty forehead.

  “You better slow down and be more careful, or you’ll get yourself killed,” Cat says.

  “I held my own.”

  She tugs at a tear in my uniform, revealing the blood underneath. “I can see that,” she says sarcastically. “Are you wounded anyplace seriously?”

  I brush her hand away. “No.”

  “Vic, pursuing your demons isn’t helping. You’re not doing anything we trained to do.”

  I glare, balling my tainted fingers in front of my chest.

  She returns a calm stare. “We’ll figure out a way to keep it under control. Just don’t take any more stupid chances.”

  When I don’t respond, she rests her hand on my fist. “Okay?”

  I blow out a breath. “Fine.”

  Gil wanders into the clearing with the rest of the team.