Lazarus Protocol

Chapter 8: Alpine Ambush

The world came back to Alexander in fragments. First, the steady throb of pain in his shoulder. Then, voices - urgent but hushed - floating above him like leaves on a stream. The memories of his last conscious moments flooded back: the tunnel, Dravenko's smile, the gunfire. But there was something else - a hidden passage he'd activated in his desperation, a maintenance shaft that had allowed them to escape deeper into Paris' underground network.

Jack had half-carried, half-dragged him through those dark passages for hours, Dr. Petrova navigating with an old maintenance map they'd found on the wall. They'd emerged in an abandoned Metro station on the outskirts of Paris, where one of Jack's old contacts - a former DGSE agent - had been waiting with a medical kit and a van.

"...lost too much blood..."

"...got him out of Paris just in time..."

"...need a secure location... Switzerland's our best option..."

"...still no sign of Emily or Marcus."

"...they were right behind us in the tunnel...then... nothing, no sign, no response on the comms, I don't know if the collapse blocked their path, or if Chimera got to them first."

"...if they made it out... we'll find them."

He tried to open his eyes, but his lids felt weighted. A cool hand pressed against his forehead, and he caught the faint scent of antiseptic and something floral - lavender, maybe. They'd driven through the night, taking back roads and switching vehicles twice before reaching this safehouse just outside of Dijon. Every hospital in Paris would have been watched by Chimera.

"His fever's breaking," a woman's voice said. Dr. Petrova, his mind supplied hazily. She'd been the one to remove the bullet, her steady hands and medical training proving invaluable.

"Good," Jack's familiar growl. "Because we're out of time. Every intelligence agency in France is looking for us, and Chimera's got operatives at every border. The Swiss route is our only option - my contact in Geneva can get us new papers."

Alexander forced his eyes open, the world swimming into focus. He was lying on what felt like a medical cot, the walls around him stark white. Not a hospital - too small, too sparse. The safehouse had once been a doctor's country residence, Jack had explained during one of Alexander's brief moments of consciousness.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Jack said, moving into view. His face was haggard, dark circles under his eyes suggesting he hadn't slept in days. He'd kept watch while Dr. Petrova worked, gun in hand, jumping at every distant sound.

Alexander tried to sit up, wincing as pain lanced through his shoulder. "How long?" His voice was rough, his throat dry.

"Three days," Dr. Petrova answered, helping him into a sitting position. "The bullet missed anything vital, but you lost a lot of blood. And..." she hesitated, exchanging a glance with Jack.

"And what?" Alexander demanded.

"And something triggered during the firefight," Jack said, his expression grim. "Some kind of failsafe in the Lazarus Protocol. You started speaking in Russian, reciting strings of numbers. Dr. Petrova thinks it might be coordinates, locations of other Chimera facilities."

Alexander closed his eyes, trying to remember, but there was nothing - just another black hole in his Swiss cheese memory. The last thing he recalled was Dravenko's face in the tunnel, that cold smile, those triumphant words: "Welcome home, Alex." Everything after that was a blur of darkness, pain, and fragmentary images of underground passages.

"We need to move," Jack continued. "After Geneva, I've got another contact in Zermatt who might be able to help us make sense of what's in your head. Train leaves in thirty minutes."