The Lazarus Protocol

Chapter 8– The Shattered Veil

The fire at the Ashcroft Plaza burned into the night, orange tongues licking the sky like a warning flare to the city’s underbelly. Ethan and Mara had escaped, but barely. Smoke clung to their clothes, and adrenaline surged like an aftershock through their veins as they raced through the deserted backstreets of Grafton District.

Ethan pressed a hand to his side, blood seeping between his fingers. The bullet had grazed him during the shootout with Marcus’s men, and though the wound wasn’t fatal, the pain was sharpening.

Mara noticed. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ve had worse.” He winced. “But we’re exposed now. Rayburn knows I’m alive. He won’t just send men next time—he’ll send hell.”

Mara yanked open a steel door hidden in a graffiti-covered alley and waved him in. “Then let’s not be here when it arrives.”

They descended into a forgotten subway maintenance tunnel—one of the Resistance’s dead zones where surveillance tech failed to function. The door shut behind them with a hiss of sealed air, locking out the city’s noise and heat. The place smelled of oil and dust, but Ethan welcomed it. Safety, for now, came in rust and concrete.

Inside, a man with silver-rimmed glasses and a datapad greeted them.

“Cassian,” Mara said, “this is Ethan. Or what’s left of him.”

Cassian’s eyes widened. “You weren’t supposed to exist. They said you were dead.”

Ethan gave a tight nod. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Cassian motioned for him to sit. “Let’s fix that wound, then we’ll talk about what’s next.”

As Cassian stitched Ethan up with clinical precision, he asked the question Ethan hadn’t dared vocalize.

“What exactly is the Lazarus Protocol?”

Cassian paused. “It was never just a recovery project. It’s an override. They didn’t just resurrect you. They programmed you—layered synthetic memory shells over real ones. That’s why your recollections come in flashes. You’re fighting with versions of yourself.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “And the boy I see?”

Cassian looked away. “That’s your son. Lucas. They erased your ties to him to keep you compliant. But his file’s sealed deep in Rayburn’s core archives.”

Mara added, “We’re going to steal it back.”

Cassian unfurled a holographic projection of Rayburn’s tower. Its architecture rose like a monolith over the digital city—a fortress of surveillance, weaponry, and secrets.

“There’s an access node beneath the river, abandoned from when the tower was built,” he said. “Most don’t even know it exists.”

“Let me guess,” Ethan muttered. “It’s a suicide route.”

Cassian didn’t blink. “Not if you’re already dead.”

Elsewhere in the city, Marcus paced the marble floor of Rayburn’s penthouse. Screens flickered across the walls—news of the fire, distorted images of Ethan, fear whispered through digital veins.

Rayburn entered, his face like stone. “He’s alive.”

“I’ll handle it,” Marcus said.

“You were supposed to kill him in Prague. And in Montreal. And last night.”

Marcus stiffened. “He’s unstable. He’ll make mistakes.”

Rayburn leaned in, voice cold. “Or he’ll remember. And if he does, we’re all dead men.”

Back at the safehouse, Ethan lay on a cot, eyes closed but mind whirring.

He drifted into a memory—not a hallucination, but a real thread now pulling him in.

He was in a lab, strapped down. A man in a white coat whispered, “We can build perfection if we cut out the soul.”

Then he saw her again—Mara, screaming through glass. And Lucas, ripped from her arms.

Ethan shot upright, chest heaving.

Mara was at his side. “What did you see?”

Ethan’s eyes burned. “The day they took everything from me.”

The next morning, the Resistance prepared for infiltration.

Ethan was handed a sleek black suit woven with anti-thermal fibers, designed to trick Rayburn’s internal scanners.

Cassian handed him a device. “EMP pulse. Use it once you’re inside. It’ll knock out the surveillance for ten seconds. All you’ll get.”

Ethan nodded.

Mara gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Bring him home.”

Ethan tightened the gloves on his hands. “I’ll bring all of us home.”

Night fell again. Ethan swam through pitch-black waters beneath the city, reaching a narrow, rusted hatch embedded in the base of the tower. Just as Cassian said. Forgotten. Rotten.

He pried it open, entered, and climbed silently upward into the machine’s belly.

The deeper Ethan moved into the tower, the less human it felt. Cold lights, automated drones, hallways humming with electricity.

He reached the server core—massive and glowing like a living brain. He approached a console and plugged in Cassian’s decryptor.

The screen flickered—then Lucas’s profile appeared. Age: 7. Location: Off-grid.

Then a voice: “I hoped you’d come.”

Ethan spun around.

Marcus stepped out of the shadows, gun in hand.

“You were never meant to remember,” Marcus said. “But maybe you were always stronger than we thought.”

Ethan stared him down. “Why lie? Why erase me?”

Marcus lowered the gun. “Because you became inconvenient. You had something to lose.”

“You mean my family.”

Marcus hesitated. “Rayburn didn’t just erase your memories, Ethan. He used your DNA to build something new. Your son is… different.”

Ethan’s heart pounded. “Where is he?”

Marcus pulled a chip from his pocket and tossed it to the ground. “Follow that if you want answers. But know this—Rayburn will burn this city to the ground before he lets you leave.”

Then he vanished.

Ethan downloaded the files, grabbed the chip, and activated the EMP.

Alarms exploded through the tower.

Ethan bolted through corridors, leapt from one level to the next, narrowly avoiding security drones.

He reached the river hatch just as the tower began to seal.

He swam into the black, lungs screaming, clutching the chip to his chest.

At the surface, Mara pulled him from the water.

Ethan coughed, then held up the chip.

“I know where he is.”

Mara’s eyes widened. “Then we go.”