Ten Sigma

by A W Wang

  “Ally was hit. We had to do something.”

  While I understand the need for action, Rick never had a chance against the seven sigma.

  “I counted three of them,” she says.

  “Two. I got one.”

  “One.” A huge man with streaks of blood and dust covering his rough face steps over the low stone wall with five others in tow.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  “Blue,” he responds with the tainted air reverberating from his deep voice.

  Despite the dire situation, his stare lingers on me.

  Ugh.

  I break the awkward moment, glancing to Walt and Suri as they arrive in wary crouches.

  When the teen sees Rick, tears moisten his eyes.

  Pebbles spill as Simon stumbles into the rubble-strewn enclosure. His wild gaze roams over Rick and then to the nearest buildings. “The last one’s a six,” he breathlessly says.

  “The last one’s a seven,” I announce.

  Everyone looks around in panic.

  “What do we do now?” Vela says as she moves to help Jock.

  Walt answers, “We go on and win.”

  Blue draws his huge hand across his chest. “A rah-rah attitude isn’t going to cut it.”

  While Suri slides over to take care of Ally, I ask, “What do you suggest?”

  “We do a building-by-building search for this last one and kill her,” Blue replies.

  With a finger bloodied from staunching Ally’s wound, Suri indicates the wounded. “In this visibility? Ally and Jock need us to win and win quickly.”

  Blue shrugs his massive shoulders. “That’s not my problem. I need to do what’s best for my people.”

  My anger flashes, but he’s only saying what I’m guilty of doing in every single scenario. I can’t allow Jock and Ally to die from a methodical solution. “We’ll get destroyed in a town-wide search.”

  With that dissension, everyone offers their opinions to the point where the seven sigma won’t need to do anything, we are on the verge of slaughtering each other.

  My gaze strays to Rick, who tried to coach me to be his next in command. Although I can’t remember why, I’m frightened of the responsibility. And in this crap-fest, no matter what we decide, quite a few of us won’t return. However, with the wrong choices, everyone dies.

  Jock coughs blood. Without immediate action, he and Ally are finished.

  I slam my hands onto the rubble to cut through the chaos. Controlling my own nervous feelings and the throbbing pain shooting up my wounded arm, I say in a level tone, “I’m in charge.”

  “Says whom?” Blue asks with disdain.

  A coldness pools inside me. Rick is gone. Ally and Jock are dying. And while everyone is sinking into raw emotion, the scenario still needs to be won.

  And bring as many people back to Home as possible.

  “Says me. I was the chief of staff to Rick and now I’m in charge.”

  “I’m the next in command,” says Simon. “And I say we hunt this last one down.”

  Although thinking ill of the deceased isn’t polite, part of me is furious with Rick for leaving Simon as the second. A little bit of heartbreak would have avoided this issue.

  Suri says, “Rick listened to Brin and we should too.”

  “Look where that got Rick!” Simon screeches, the politician in him working overtime.

  Before anyone answers, Syd jumps next to me, appearing as if by magic, and says in a confident tone, “If you’re smart, you’ll listen to her. She’s got more battle sense than any of us or any seven sigma.”

  Even though he was missing, I’m not surprised Syd is alive. I blow a misty breath into my hand and wait for Blue and Simon to weigh their options.

  Finally, the large man responds, “I’m going to watch out for my own.”

  As he gathers his remaining people, I reply in a loud voice, “We’re going to die if we don’t handle this situation correctly. Panic won’t help and being on different pages won’t either.”

  Blue stops.

  Despite my distaste for being the center of attention, I force myself to straighten against his withering gaze. “We can win this scenario by killing this last opponent or capturing the fountain in the middle of the town square. If we let this get personal, and try to kill a seven sigma in this mess, we’ll lose. So we probe in force to the town center and push to the fountain.”

  “Then that seven will know where we’re heading and pick us off,” Simon argues.

  Not helping.

  “We dictate the action. If we threaten the mission objective, the seven will have to stay in front of us.”

  “You think you can force a seven sigma to do anything?” Blue says.

  “Yes,” I reply with more conviction than I feel.

  Blue shakes his head. “Good luck.”

  I watch helplessly as he leaves with his people.

  Simon rises. “That’s the plan. We take our time and hunt with the safety of numbers. Who’s coming?”

  The rest of the group looks to me with expectant stares.

  “Great,” the ex-politician says. “You’ll get yourselves killed.” Pebbles fall down the slope when he crosses the remaining shreds of the broken wall.

  “Simon,” I say.

  “I’m second in command, and that means I'm in charge now. You’re the one disobeying my orders,” he says before sprinting after Blue’s bigger group.

  Syd steps over a rubble pile. “Well, that didn’t go so well.”

  “Are you coming with us?”

  “No. I work alone. See ya.”

  After he disappears, my muscles tense with frustration, and I blast out a curse. We have three different groups running three different plans.

  So be it.

  As I speak, I look to the people placing themselves in my care, Vela, Suri, and Walt. “Fine. We’ll work on their left and use them to protect our flank. First one to reach the fountain, just touch it.”

  “What about Jock and Ally?” asks Vela.

  “We’ve done everything we can. If we don’t succeed, they’ll die anyway.”

  Although not a democracy, everyone nods in approval.

  “Okay, stay alert and we’ll win this thing,” I say, almost grimacing at the over-confident white lie.

  I lead my friends onto the street, careful to avoid looking at Rick’s face as the others disappear into the haze.

  Like a group of medieval hunters, we head off to defeat the mythical seven sigma dragon. I’ve never envisioned anyone getting that far. Nothing comes as I try to conceive of what it would take to reach that level. And now we’re looking to end that person’s life. It’s a pity.

  “You know what would be a bigger pity?” asks General Optimism with what I imagine is a broad smile.

  “What?”

  “Getting yourself killed!”

  Not helping…

  The tension in my group rises with each step toward certain doom. We’ve never fought anyone of this caliber before, and I’m pretty sure none of them have a “General Optimism” rooting them onward.

  Twenty-Three

  As the four of us turn onto a curving lane bordered by broken storefronts, I refrain from thinking of Jock and Ally bleeding out. Worrying about matters out of my control will only cloud my judgment.

  We cautiously push forward, paralleling Blue’s team on the adjacent street and letting them inadvertently protect our flank. Considering the quality of our opponent, I don’t give them much of a chance.

  Also, Syd and Simon are roaming around, but I can’t waste precious time thinking about them either. They made their decisions.

  Four blocks away, through the oily swirls of smoke, a glimpse of the town square comes into view.

  Icicles hanging from a second-floor balcony drip water onto my shoulder as I signal a halt near a smoldering townhouse. While the distance to our objective seems short, a quick stroll on a lazy summer day, moving through the low visibility with our enemy possibly locate
d behind every fractured facade or mound of broken stone is daunting at best.

  Aware of the heightened danger, the others stay alert, searching for any clue in the haze-filled environment.

  Unsurprisingly, nobody sees anything out of the ordinary, and even if anyone did notice something, part of me thinks that something would be a trap.

  I frown at the ridiculous conundrum.

  Time’s running out for the wounded.

  As we renew the advance, my boots splash through slushy puddles, and the first block passes without incident. That is a cause for concern. Three blocks left. Why is the enemy waiting? While we edge past a narrow cross street, I catch one of Blue’s group moving into a tailor shop on my right.

  We are going to get hit where we least expect it.

  But where could that be?

  A crawling sensation covers my neck as I scan the surroundings. I motion to Walt. “Cover the rear.”

  “What?”

  “Behind us. Move slow, I think the attack is coming from there.”

  He doesn’t believe me but does as I ask.

  Searching to my right for a gap in the wall of alpine structures, I try to signal someone from the other group. Waiting for the next cross street will be too late for them.

  A single shot echoes. Panicked return fire peppers the neighboring buildings. Because Blue and his people aren’t prepared to be the hunted, it’s a terrifyingly logical tactic.

  When Walt steps to help, I grab his shoulder, resisting my own urge to run to the fighting. “Suri, Vela, stop,” I say loud enough to get their attention. “Move to the square.”

  The words are cold, but realistically, getting mired in a firefight only helps our enemy. Forcing the seven sigma to react is the best way to save Blue’s team as well as Simon and Syd. My guess is anyone winning enough battles to reach that level won’t allow herself to lose and restart the program as a zero.

  Suri leads at a faster pace, adjusting her movements to avoid piles of debris while twisting her head and searching for likely points of ambush. Vela follows, her eyes wide, pushing ahead despite her fears.

  And she’s right to be worried—the seven sigma is taking full advantage of the disorganized attack. I motion for Walt to stay close for protection, then take quicker steps to catch Suri.

  The gunshot staccato rises to a climax then stops. No time to tell if the lull is because Blue’s group and Simon are dead, or the seven sigma had to disengage to stop us.

  We hit the adjoining intersection at a decent clip. Two blocks left. The gunfire opera starts again. I wince, expecting the next burst to be at my head. It’s the major problem with everyone having the threads—given a clean, unobstructed shot, we never miss.

  My fingers tighten on the trigger because I want to fire randomly at the surrounding structures on the slim chance of flushing out our opponent. I force myself to relax with a deep breath. Besides being impatient, the shooting will only alert the enemy to my location, and with only one reload left, I can’t waste any bullets.

  Walt’s broken shuffle on the cobblestones stops and he fires.

  Not sure if he’s sighted the seven sigma or a shadow, I duck behind a concrete staircase.

  Shots come from the second floor to our right.

  Not wanting to die in a narrow, exposed passageway, I signal the others to enter the husks of the busted buildings across the cobblestones.

  Although I don’t have a clear handle on the situation, we have to keep advancing because we can’t allow the seven sigma to dictate the action.

  And we have to save Ally and Jock.

  As soon as we plow into a store with empty glass counters, I slide forward on a heap of bricks and gesture for Suri to continue in the lead with Vela and Walt guarding the rear. We proceed with halting progress between oddly shaped gaps in the adjoining walls and pass beyond the main line of smoldering fires.

  While the air clears, an eerie quiet again falls over everything—something that sets the tingly spiders trampling over my neck. The seven sigma is getting ahead of us and into a superior position.

  Bullets splinter molding in front of Suri. She dives behind a cornerstone. Walt and Vela rush to the open windows to provide support. Suspicious, I watch for tripwires and other traps. There is nothing, but it’s obvious we are being funneled into this location.

  I rush next to Walt and peer past the jagged edges of a shell hole. Opposite, through windows and gaps in the wounded facades, I catch movement, but the seven sigma isn’t waiting or trying to find a firing position. I tap Walt, and we pull back, maintaining pace with our adversary by moving through a hallway and toward the center of town. Although constantly watching, nothing happens, and at the next intersection, we stop, anticipating an attack if we try to cross the open space of the street.

  A shadow darts past a second-story window of the building opposite our position.

  We fire, splintering wood and murdering bricks.

  The seven sigma reappears on the first floor. She aims high and away from any meaningful target.

  Before anyone can react, a bullet flies into a ledge above us and a grenade tumbles into our midst.

  “Trap, get out!” I yell.

  Walt and Vela look up in surprise. Suri dives to the side.

  I crash through the front window with my injured arm flaring in pain as I shoulder roll down a heap of broken bricks and into the freezing wetness of a slush puddle.

  The explosion flattens an unstable wall and the building collapses with a deafening crunch.

  Rising as a cloud of dust rolls past me, I fire blindly at the last location of the opponent and nearby storefront, emptying the rifle. Then, loading my final magazine, I run for the next bit of protection: the remains of the corner house.

  Beyond the shell of the buildings, Simon stumbles into the intersection, eyes wide in shock. Before I can wave him into cover, blood spurts from his neck then as he twirls, a second bullet zips into his face. And with that, the ex-politician I detested is gone.

  However, he was one of my team. I let out a futile curse and move. Although nothing can be done for him, I can help everyone else by ending the scenario.

  Suri is thankfully uninjured and has reached the same conclusion. She dashes to the intersection.

  I scan the sniper points for movement and signal her to get across the street to the last block before the town square. We need to keep the pressure up by attacking the goal and forcing our opponent into a space with limited mobility.

  Another fusillade rises in the distance.

  Not understanding how the seven sigma could change locations so quickly, I rise from hiding and run. Suri covers me until I slam into the wall next to her.

  “Simon’s gone,” I say.

  “Walt? Vela?”

  “Not sure. They got caught in the grenade trap. The seven sigma has the entire area mapped out. Speed is important but be careful.”

  Suri sets her jaw. We have to finish the battle—and soon—to have any chance of saving the wounded. But we need to avoid the foolishness that comes with desperation.

  Rather than running through the thinning haze to the fountain, an obvious trap, we head to the nearest building, a blown-out cafe with dust covering a hatched tile pattern.

  After we clear the first floor, the square remains quiet, and once again, we’ve lost track of our enemy.

  General Optimism announces with a gratingly cheery voice, “But she’s lost track of you too.”

  “If I survive this, you are getting demoted.”

  “Only if you survive!”

  Really, really, not helping…

  I motion Suri to get past a rustic table and upstairs to the surprisingly intact second floor. The staircase is skinny and decorated with flowery wallpaper. Suri climbs the stairs lightly, carefully advancing in a combat crouch. At a cone of light coming from a bullet hole, she stops. When nothing happens, she takes a step. The wooden floorboard squeaks.

  Just as the stairs shred, I shove her for
ward. Wood splinters and bullets rocket past my face.

  Suri screams from sharp debris slicing through her legs.

  I fall and tumble down the narrow steps. When I hit the floor, I fire into the bottom of the staircase. The impacts produce loud sounds and make impressive holes but strike nothing of substance. Footsteps pound into the square and I rise and smash through the front door, alone and matched against a tougher, shrewder, and meaner opponent.

  Twenty-Four

  The mission objective; a frost-covered fountain consisting of a dry concrete basin circling a sculpture of three leaping dolphins, sits in the middle of the town square. Barriers formed from rows of alpine buildings with red and white facades, paneled windows, and peaked roofs surround the wide space. Gashes ripping through several of the storefronts leak shallow veins of debris over the stone tiles layering the ground. The rest of the place is quiet, and except for trailing wisps of smoke, desolate.

  The dolphins beckon with playful grins and mischievous eyes. All I need to do is run forward and touch any part of their bodies. But it’s an obvious setup for an ambush. The seven sigma won’t miss an open shot. As a matter of fact, the seven sigma is better than me in every facet of warfare and has been one step ahead for the entire battle. Given the lack of gunfire, I can only assume all my allies have been neutralized.

  My panicked breaths fog in the icy air as the prospect of single combat with the monster seven sigma causes shivers to run up my spine.

  “Remember, you’re just as good. The only difference is that this person has had more opportunities to earn a higher score,” General Optimism chirps.

  “That easy for you to say, you aren’t the one getting killed.”

  “If she kills you, then imaginary me dies too. So that means we’re partners.”

  Imaginary husband receives an imaginary eye roll.

  “Did you want to live forever?” he says quoting a line from something I’ve forgotten.

  “If you don’t shut up, I’m demoting you from General Optimism straight to Captain Cliché.”