The Osiris Contingency

by Virginia Soenksen

  better not have been mine.”

  “No, sir,” stammered the Handler, shaking his head. “Of course not—we know full well—it was a man, older. We have reason to believe that yours was with them, however.”

  Damian turned towards the elevators, saying, “I want to see for myself.”

  The elevators carried them down from the lobby to the lower levels. The foundational level was already crawling with Agents, Handlers, and Supporters all engaged in nervous conversation. Damian strode through them, first going to the engineer Supporters examining the ruined column. He listened for several minutes, just long enough to confirm that the building wasn’t in danger of collapse, then headed over to the first of many bodies littering the cement floor. The Chief Handler followed, pointing to one of them and explaining, “We believe that one was the ringleader.”

  Damian glanced at the body of the massive man shot through the chest, realizing with surprise he recognized him. Fragments of memories arose, and Damian frowned as he tried to remember the former Agent’s name. Finally, he gave up and turned away; the man was dead, his name inconsequential.

  One by one, he walked from casualty to casualty, examining their faces just long enough to confirm that neither Liane nor Seth was amongst them. Then he headed through the doorway, moving past yet more Agents until he reached the first of the blast doors. It was open, the door retracted into the right-hand wall, as Supporters and Handlers discussed strategies for upping the security. Damian looked past them and into the darkened depths as he said to Maddox, “That tunnel ends near the old cathedral. Where did they go after that?”

  “They scattered when they reached the surface, but the street cameras and satellites allowed us to follow them.” Maddox tilted his tablet to Damian, where a red light pulsed over a map of the city. “They’re in an underground facility here. It’s one of the

  locations due to be searched on your orders.”

  Damian felt his pulse quicken; Liane and her friends were

  cornered, driven to ground like the wounded, desperate prey they were. He looked to the Chief Handler. “You have Agents heading after them, I presume.”

  “The first strike team has already been dispatched, sir, and we have several backups ready and waiting. Once the first team has secured the entrances, we’ll move in and finish them.”

  “Make certain that all Agents know what Liane looks like,” Damian ordered, his eyes on the darkened tunnel. “I want her neutralized and captured but unharmed.”

  “Of course,” nodded the Handler.

  From behind them, a hoarse, amused voice said, “Well this is unexpected, isn’t it?”

  Damian and the Handler both turned to see the Tracker walking out from the crowd of Agents behind them. In contrast to the armored Agents and suited Handlers, the Tracker was wearing loose pants and a thin t-shirt, though he didn’t seem bothered by the cold at all. He looked as if he hadn’t bothered to eat in the days since his release, his features even sharper and more shadowed than Damian remembered. The Tracker moved towards the tunnel as he said, “Hunting doesn’t usually bring me back home. Very exciting…”

  He knelt, reaching out a hand and brushing his fingertips across a dark stain on the cement floor. When he spoke, he sounded exhilarated, “She was here; fighting, bleeding. She headed down there…”

  The Tracker moved towards the blast door, eyes alight. Damian frowned, saying, “I want my Agents to handle the job from here on out.”

  The Tracker’s gaze narrowed, his voice lowering to a hiss. “The hunt ends when the target is found. Those are the rules.”

  “I’m changing them,” Damian retorted. “Return to the

  holding cells.”

  The Tracker let out a low growl of anger, glancing yet again down the tunnel. Then he seemed to relax, the tension draining out of him. Looking over his shoulder to Damian, he gave a

  sudden, nasty smile and said, “You know, I don’t think I will.

  Better to end it with one last, perfect hunt…”

  Damian understood a fraction of a second too late, letting out a shout and drawing his gun just after the Tracker darted into the tunnel. Damian aimed after him, firing into the darkness. But it was too late; the Tracker had vanished, well on his way to hunting down Liane.

  Damian whirled on the Chief Handler, shouting, “Get your other teams ready and follow that thing! And if he gets to her

  before we do, I’ll hand down your termination orders myself—now move!”

  CHAPTER 30

  In his cell, Seth paced. It was barely large enough for even that; just a cement square, a few meters longer than it was wide. They had given him a blanket, but the room was bare otherwise. He’d spent the first few hours pounding on the door and shouting out every single profanity known to man. After a while, when it was clear no one was listening, he had shifted to pacing around the perimeter of the room. His hands were jammed into his

  pockets, and he knew that all the worry and tension he felt was visible on his face. It wouldn’t be so bad if he knew what the hell was happening, but there was only a tiny food slot in the door that showed a nondescript cement hallway; no way for him to catch a glimpse of anyone.

  For the past hour, most of Seth’s thoughts alternated between wondering where Liane was and debating whether either of them would live through the night.

  Above him, the sounds of pounding footsteps echoed. Seth raised his head, frozen as he tried to make out the words being shouted. He was so focused on listening that he jumped when an alarm blared out overhead. Covering his ears against the

  deafening sound, he peered through the food slot in the door and saw that emergency lights were flashing in time with the alarm.

  Above the racket, a terrified, amplified voice echoed through the corridors. “Agents are on their way here! Begin immediate evacuations!”

  Seth felt his stomach drop. He banged on the door, shouting, “Hey! Someone let me out of here!”

  But there was no one to hear it, and the alarms were drowning out all other sounds.

  Seth stepped back, readying himself before he kicked at the lock on the door. It did nothing; the steel wasn’t budging. Seth still stood kicking it over and over, teeth gritted against the pain and dreading that any moment now it would be too late…

  “Seth—get back from the door!” came a voice from the hallway.

  Seth gave up his kick halfway through, stumbling as he called out, “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Neil,” said the mod. “Hold on; I’ll override the lock.”

  Seth waited anxiously, hands closing into fists and opening again as he heard Neil pushing buttons on the controls outside. After what seemed like an eternity the door buzzed and swung outwards. Seth was through it, turning to Neil. The mod was a wreck; blood caked the side of his face and hair, and his reptilian eyes looked exhausted.

  “What happened?” Seth demanded, having to shout over the continued alarm. “Where’s Liane?”

  “It was a bloodbath,” Neil said. “Owen’s dead and the Agents will be here any minute. Liane told me to get you out and—”

  Seth grasping a fistful of the mod’s shirt, shouting into his face. “Where is she?”

  Rattled, Neil gestured, “I left her in one of the corridors. This way.” The mod darted for the nearby stairs, and Seth wasted no time in running after him.

  The staircase led them to the main hangar. The entire room was in chaos, filled with mods scrambling to escape to the lower levels. Seth pushed through them all, no other thought but finding Liane and somehow getting out of there.

  Neil pointed him towards the staircase that led to the main

  entrance and Seth rounded the corner only to stop short when he saw her. Liane was sprawled along the edge of the landing, one arm outstretched, and face obscured by her white-blonde hair. The fabric covering her shoulder was stained with blood, despite the makeshift tourniquet. There was a horrible moment, as Seth ran and fell to his knees beside her, th
at he thought she was dead. But when he touched her feverish back, she gave a shudder and raised her head.

  Weak with relief, Seth eased a hand under her, pulling her up as he said, “Come on, gorgeous; get your feet under you…”

  Liane seemed shocked at the sight of him. Over the racket

  surrounding them, he heard her protest, “Agents are coming. Get out of here. Don’t wait for me.”

  Seth managed a smile, pulling her arm across his shoulders and supporting her weight. “No way I’m leaving my partner

  behind. Come on; Neil knows the way out.”

  Liane struggled to do what he asked, her hands clenched into his shirt and legs shaking as she took a few steps. Though fighting to keep her head upright, she was still aware enough to say, “The Strain...it’s in our room. We have to get it first.”

  Seth wanted to argue, but he nodded and supported her as they made their way towards the dorms. The hangar was even more chaotic as they stumbled through it; mods were panicking, fighting over weapons and supplies with one another. Seth had to shove several out of the way, and when it got bad Neil had to step in and help them fight their way through. Some of the mods stood in shock, screaming for someone to tell them what to do. Neil tried to shout out instructions, but no one seemed to listen to him. The reptile mod was so distracted that he ran head-long into Ox. The wolf mod turned, grasping Neil’s shoulder and shouting over the racket, “The front entrance is crammed full of mods trying to escape—no one can get out that way!”

  “Head down past the arena!” Neil shouted. “Get as many people out through the escape tunnels as you can.”

  Ox nodded, saying, “Be sure that you lot do the same while you still can.” The mod glanced past Neil to Seth and Liane, looking for a moment like he wanted to say something. Then, with a jerk of his head, he turned and was swallowed up by the crowds.

  They continued, Seth having to carry Liane. After what seemed like hours, they reached the tiny room. Seth rounded the corner with Liane only to stop short, demanding, “What are you doing here?”

  Paz turned, leveling her gun at them. The room had been

  completely ransacked, the bed overturned, and their belongings scattered everywhere. On top of the overturned bed was the empty duffel bag, and in Paz’s hand, tightly gripped, were the remaining vials of the Titan Strain.

  “Just taking what’s due,” she said, her voice taut. “Since Owen is dead thanks to your Agent girlfriend, it seems only fair she turns over what Black Sun has been searching for.”

  “You can’t take it,” Liane said weakly. “I need it; without that serum, I’ll die.”

  “You’re dying anyway,” Paz snapped, stowing the vials in her pocket. “And I’m not sorry you are, considering how many you’ve murdered in the past.”

  “Look, she’s not what she once was; she’s different now,” Seth said, struggling to stay calm. “Come on, Paz—there’s nowhere else we can get that stuff!”

  Paz’s determination seemed to waver slightly, but she still inched towards the door as she said, “Black Sun will reverse

  engineer it in time. The good of the mission is worth more than one life. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

  Neil stepped forward, pleading, “Paz, for God’s sake—”

  “Shut up!” she snapped, turning the gun on her fellow mod. “This is what needs to be done, what Owen would have done. Now get out of my way.”

  They stood there for a few moments, none of them willing to budge. Then from the hangar came a rapid burst of gunfire

  followed by screams. Liane twisted, listening.

  “Agents,” she whispered, her sallow face gone even whiter. “They’re here; we have to go.”

  Before they could stop her Paz darted past them, running from the corridor and heading deeper into the bunker. Seth shouted after her until Neil interrupted, saying, “Our only way out is through the tunnels on the lower level. Come on!”

  Seth tightened his grip on Liane, and she pushed herself into a stumbling run as they hurried after the mod.

  They hadn’t gotten very far when a figure darted out of an

  adjoining corridor to block the way. Seth thought at first it was another mod; with his shaved head and muscular build, he could have passed as one. A gun was tucked into the waistband of his pants along with several explosive devices. Slowly the man lifted his head and inhaled deeply. He let it out, shuddering as he opened his eyes and fixed them on Liane. He gave a leisured, crazed smile, then said, “There you are, Agent. I’ve been looking for you.”

  Liane went still, and she breathed out, “Tracker…”

  The man’s grin widened, and he started towards her.

  Seth brought his gun up and fired. One of the bullets hit the Tracker in the side, but he didn’t even blink. Instead, he dodged the other bullets, hurtling down the hallway towards them. Neil shouted for him to stop, swinging his empty rifle like a bat at the man’s head; the Tracker just knocked the gun aside and slammed into the mod with such force he went flying back ten meters. Liane let go of Seth, striking out at the Tracker. But he only grinned, dodging her blows carelessly as if to underline how slow and weak she was.

  Momentarily forgotten, Seth leaped onto the Tracker’s back, his arm clamped around the man’s windpipe. The Tracker let out an inhuman snarl that was cut short as Liane grabbed Neil’s

  abandoned rifle and brought the butt crashing down into the Tracker’s head. The man went limp, and Seth dropped him on the floor. Her mouth set into a grim line, Liane pointed the rifle at the Tracker’s head and pulled the trigger. But instead of a bang, there came a hollow click of an empty chamber.

  Tossing the gun aside, Liane drew out one of her knives, tightening her grip and going for his throat. Her blade had nearly reached his neck when a bullet ricocheted off the wall near her head. Seth looked up, his breath catching as he spotted Agents in black armor aiming down the hallway at them.

  Seth seized Liane’s arm, pulling her away from the fallen Tracker as he panted, “Leave him… Neil, which way?”

  The mod picked up the useless rifle, eyes fearful as he ran once more.

  The gunfire seemed to grow more distant as they ran down the stairs to the arena. Rather than heading right towards it, however, Neil turned left, taking them through a steel door that Seth had only been through once before.

  As they ran past the boiler room into the corridor that held the tunnels. Neil explained, “There are blast doors at each tunnel entrance. We can seal them after us; the glass is bulletproof, bombproof, you name it. Once we’re in there, we’re safe.”

  “We’re not safe,” Liane murmured, her eyes wide and dazed. “The Tracker will recover soon, and he’ll come after me. You’ll never be safe as long as I’m with you.”

  “Keep it together, Liane,” Seth said through gritted teeth, pulling her along as fast as he could. “You heard Neil; he won’t get through the blast doors.”

  They ducked through another doorway, past a thick steel hatch down a short flight of stairs. A transparent blast door stood at the bottom, and an escape tunnel beyond it, but the door was closed, the control panel blinking red. Neil turned with a frustrated growl, pushing past Seth and heading back up the stairs.

  “What is it? Why can’t we use it?” demanded Seth,

  struggling to follow and keep Liane on her feet.

  “It’s been sealed!” Neil shouted over his shoulder, darting towards another door. “Mods must have been worried about being followed. We need to find one that’s still open.”

  The three of them tried four more rooms; each blast door was blinking red. On the fifth room, though, the control panel glowed green. Neil let out a relieved sigh, pushing them through the doorway. This time the mod locked the heavy metal door behind them, hurrying down a short flight of stairs. Seth paused on the landing, looking around in the flashing lights of the evacuation alarms and taking in the thick metal walls. Beyond the glass door, the darkened escape tunnel leading into the unknow
n; that was the only way out.

  Neil busied himself at the control panel near it, tapping in

  commands. The door slid to the side with a hiss, but he lingered at the controls and murmured, “Just a few more minutes...I’ll rig the door to seal itself once we’re—”

  A deafening bang came from the door behind them; they all flinched as a roar of rage came from the other side, followed by rapid gunfire against the metal.

  “It’s the Tracker,” Liane murmured. “They don’t stop; they never stop…”

  “Hurry, will you?” shouted Seth over the racket.

  “I’m trying!” cried Neil.

  “He’ll keep coming until I’m dead,” she went on, her eyes on the door. The hinges were beginning to buckle; Seth stared with her as the metal deformed from the relentless pounding from the Tracker.

  He felt a gentle touch on his cheek. Startled, he looked down to find Liane looking up at him. Her mismatched eyes were thoughtful as she brushed back his curly hair, then tilted her face up and kissed him softly. He was too surprised to react, registering only her feverish lips shuddering against his for a few brief seconds. Then Liane pulled back, whispering, “Find me.”

  Before he could even form a coherent reply, she loosened her arm from his grip and shoved him hard through the tunnel

  entrance.

  As Seth went sprawling on the floor with a shout, she seized Neil and pushed him through as well. The mod fell heavily onto Seth, knocking the wind out of him. He scrambled to push Neil aside and stand up, but she was already at the controls, the door hissing closed once more. Seth launched himself up, calling out for her to stop as he threw himself towards the glass. But it locked into place just as he reached it, and he slammed into the barrier.

  There was another control panel on the wall nearest him, and he smashed every button on it, shouting over his shoulder at Neil, “Get it open!”

  Neil stumbled to his feet, coming over and hitting several commands before protesting, “I can’t—she overrode the code!”