Project Alpha
Book 1
By R.A. Mejia
© 2017 Ramon Mejia
All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
From the Author
Dedication
For my beautiful, patient wife. Not only has she continued to be on the frontlines correcting my spelling mistakes but she’s been my greatest supporter on this crazy journey.
Prologue
A man wearing a shining breastplate runs through the dark. He can’t remember how he got there, his mind is foggy from whatever the man in the mask injected him with. He only knows that if he stops running he’ll die.
Laughter floats through the dark, taunting the older man. “Run, run, as fast as you can. You can’t escape me, I’m the evil masked man.”
Daniel knows that he’s being toyed with. In his youth he’d have turned and fought to the death, but he’s older now. Slower. He can’t compete with this masked man. Especially not now that he’s back at level one. It’ll only take one more death and he’ll be gone, permanently.
It all started out so simple. Meet with the corporate representative and negotiate a way for Lillian to compete in this year’s System Games. Instead he somehow found himself here. Running for his life, looking for a way out. Looking for a way to warn Lillian.
Daniel feels a prick in his thigh and he stumbles, then falls to the ground. Looking down at his leg he sees a feathered dart sticking out of it. Daniel feels the drugs from the tranquilizer dart spreading through his body.
The man in the mask appears next to him, his tranquilizer gun already put away, and a sharp knife in hand.
Daniel looks up at the masked figure with bleary, unfocused eyes and speaks through gritted teeth, “Even if you kill me, you haven’t won. She’s determined and resourceful.”
The masked figure looks down at the kneeling man, smiles, and whispers, “I know she’ll find someone else. I’m prepared to deal with them too if the corporation demands it.” The figure’s hand lashes out and there’s a flash of metal. The older man slumps over, his throat slashed. As the last of the older man’s life ebbs away, his body disappears in a flash of light, leaving a small, neatly tied bag behind.
The bag on the ground is picked up by the masked man. He taps the air once and then the bag in his hand disappears as neatly as the body of his latest victim.
He reaches a hand into his jacket pocket and takes out his cell phone. Dialing a number, he waits till his contact picks up. There’s a click and he knows that someone, somewhere is listening and he says, “It's done. He was sent for deletion. Who’s my next target?”
Chapter 1
A beautiful caramel skinned woman winks at me from across the room. Her raven hair is styled to accentuate her high cheekbones and big brown eyes. She smiles as I approach and I know that she’s interested. I introduce myself, and the two of us sit and talk. I try not to let my eyes roam her voluptuous body, but it’s a struggle. After a few minutes of small talk, she leans in and whispers in my ear, “Do you want to go back to my place I nod eagerly. Before I know it, we’re sitting at the edge of her bed kissing. Things are heating up when she looks seriously at me and screams in a different voice, “Anthony, wake up! You're going to be late.”
My eyes fly open, and I realize that it was all just a dream. My exquisite fantasy about a hot, young Latina lavishing me with attention was rudely interrupted by the sound of my mother’s voice. If you’ve never experienced it, it’s rather disturbing to hear your mom’s voice coming from some hot girl in your dream. I’ll admit, however, that it is an effective wake up call.
I roll out of bed and stand up to stretch. Then I turn around and quickly make my bed, knowing that if I don’t, I’ll hear an earful from my mom. My friends tease me about my mom still making me do chores around the house even though I’m eighteen. They don’t believe me when I tell them that she doesn’t yell at me to do it. Rather, she has some mysterious way of guilting me into it with a sad mom look. It’s worth the few minutes to make my bed if I can avoid that devastating look.
Still half asleep, I stumble out of my room into the hallway towards the single bathroom in the house. I try to open the door, but it’s locked. I bang on the door, and the familiar voice of my fourteen-year-old little sister yells, “I’m in here! Go away!” I curse myself for not setting the alarm last night. If Marie is in there, she’ll occupy it for at least another half hour. Instead of waiting around or going back to bed, I walk down the hallway to the kitchen where I can smell the delicious aroma of cooking food. As I enter our dining room/kitchen combo, I see my mom in front of the stove already wearing her uniform for work. I take a seat at our second-hand kitchen table and for the hundredth time wish we could afford something better than this wobbly, scratched piece of furniture.
My mom must have heard the scrape of the wooden chair on the white tile floor because just as I’m sitting, she turns and shouts warmly, “Good morning, mijo. Let me get you a plate of food. You shouldn’t start your first day of college on an empty stomach.” Before I can say good morning back, she’s somehow already putting a plate of food in front of me. Oh boy, that smells good too! Today’s breakfast is one of my favorites, chilaquiles. Which, if you’ve never had them, are fried corn tortillas cut into triangles that are cooked in a special mix of tomato sauce, salsa, cheese, and spices. Today, they’re served with two over medium eggs and a big glass of milk. I eagerly dig into the food and thank my mom for the meal between bites. She just smiles at me and goes back into the kitchen to get my sister’s breakfast ready.
As I’m enjoying the unique blend of crispy tortilla, gooey cheese, and spice, I wonder how my mom makes them taste so good. I once tried to make them myself but ended up with a pan full of mush that tasted like salty, thick tomato soup.
I’ve finished my breakfast by the time the bathroom door unlocks and my sister walks into the room. She’s dressed in a navy-blue skirt with a light blue dress shirt. Her shoulder length black hair is held back by a pink headband, and she already has her school backpack on her shoulder.