“Miss Stevens!” Came a frantic voice,”Are you alright?”
It was the nurse from before. She was standing just inside the door, which was standing open. The young dark-haired nurse had a frightened expression on her face as she rushed over to Delilah’s bedside. Her eyebrows were arched upward and her forehead mottled in lines of worry. She clasped Delilah’s shoulder gently with both hands. The room was the same as before, the nightstand, the small end table with the assorted gifts, the single burning light above. Then there was the overhead clock, which stated the time as 8:05 A.M.

“Are you alright?” Repeated the nurse still grasping Delilah’s shoulder, her voice was calmer but her concern lingered. “Excuse me.” Came a lower pitched male voice. Standing in the open doorway was a doctor, an older man with a Snow White beard and hair, which was receding back across his head. He held a clipboard before him and a black pen perched on his right ear. He was initially looking at the nurse, then his gaze drifted toward Delilah. His face lit up and he lowered the clipboard to his right side. “Miss Stevens,” He chirped, pushing the door shut behind him,”welcome back!”

He briskly crossed the room, taking long, broad steps. “How are you feeling?” He asked as he approached her bedside.

It took a moment before Delilah really started to calm down. Even when she did, the heart monitor was still beeping rather quick, and her breaths were uneven and shakey. She groaned softly and closed her eyes, her hand reaching up to cover them. It was just a dream. It had all been a dream. Even the nurse, who was standing at her side, trying to calm her, had been a dream. She wasn't now, obviously, but she had been there.

When she heard another voice, a deeper, male voice, she finally lifted her hand and opens her eyes. They searched the room until she found the source of the voice. It had come from the door. An older man with white hair stood there, and just his presence there, seemed to help her calm down that much more. She watched as he walked across the room and around the bed, coming up to the opposite side of the nurse. He had asked how she was feeling. The same thing the nurse had asked in her dream. The answer was still the same.

"Alright, I suppose," she responded as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she offered a small smile. "How long have I been here?" In the dream, it had been 4 weeks, or close to it.

The doctor glanced at his clipboard briefly, then looked back up to Delilah,”Twenty-eight days.” He said flatly. The nurse released hold of Delilah and stepped back, turning to the doctor,”I heard her scream just as I was coming into the room Doctor Phillips.” The doctor stepped closer to the end of Delilah’s bed, his aged face held a look of slight concern.

“Are you in severe pain?” Asked the Doctor,”Is something bothering you?”

“She seemed to have been having a nightmare, Doctor.” The nurse said.

“A nightmare?” The Doctor questioned the nurse, his face now hardening with inquiry. The nurse nodded sheepishly as he stared at her. He then looked to Delilah, his face like stone, his brow furrowed.
After a minute he exhaled heavily and then stepped around to Delilah’s right side.

“Is that true, Miss,” he asked,”were you having a nightmare, or are you in harsh physical pain? Please be completely honest with your answer.” He finished sternly.

Twenty eight days? Delilah put her hands over face and sighed into them, shaking her head. She shook her head again when the Dr. asked if she was in pain. "No, not really," she said from behind her hands, the response somewhat muffled. Delilah then removed her hands and looked at the Dr. Her eyes glanced between him and the nurse as they spoke, until finally, they rested on the Dr. once more. He was staring at her so intensely, that it almost made her feel uncomfortable. He walked around the bed and came up on her right side. Delilah's eyes followed him.

He then asked her a question, and asked her to be completely honest with her answer. That made her feel even more uncomfortable. She squirmed a bit and then slowly, pushed herself up into a sitting position. It took a moment, and was accompanied by a few soft groans, but she managed. Once she was sitting up comfortably, she looked back at the Dr. and took a deep breath. Why did she feel like she was being tested? Like this was some sort of trick question? "It was a nightmare," she replied honestly, keeping eye contact with the man. "A man was trying to kill me."

“Hmmm,” mumbled Doctor Phillips,”I see.” He looked back to his clipboard, flipping through pages and running his finger up and down while mumbling to himself. The nurse stood to Delilah’s left still, arms crossed while she patiently waited. The digital clock above now said 8:12. The doctor finally lowered his clipboard to his right side and looked again at Delilah.

“Well Miss Stevens,” he began,”as you may remember you were in a car accident. A box truck plowed into the side of your car as you were progressing at a green light in stormy weather. You were unconscious when you were brought in, and were in a comatic state for the past twenty-eight days. Your left forearm, left femur bone, and several of your left side ribs were fractured. Your face, torso, right leg, left side, and the left side of your upper back all had numerous mild cuts as well. Not to mention that you suffered a major concussion. Yesterday, it was reported that your fractures have mended nicely, and most of your cuts have healed over completely. But, I’m rather concerned about potentially serious brain damage.”

He paused for a minute, then continued,”A CAT scan given on the second day you were here showed severe trauma to your frontal and temporal brain lobes. You haven’t been scanned since then, so I’m hoping that the damage has healed substantially, or at least modestly.
Nurse Lauren here will run you down for a follow-up CAT scan shortly. For now, we’ll give you time to orient yourself and ‘get on your feet’.”
Then nurse nodded as Doctor Phillips finished his statement.

Delilah nodded, remembering the accident. Well, she remembered it happening, but nothing after that. Which made sense, since she had been in a coma for a month. He then began to name off the injuries she had sustained. At first, her jaw dropped open just a little, her brows crinkling. But with each injury he named off, her jaw dropped a little further. She had seen worse, but didn't think that an had gotten that many, and so extensive. No wonder she was so damn sore and in pain. It was then, that she moved her arm and leg, feeling the casts that had been put on them.

Brain damage. That was all she needed. She ran her fingers through her dirty and matted hair, exhaling deeply. So many thoughts were racing through her head at that moment. Her life. Her job. "Yeah, alright," Delilah replied softly with a nod of understanding. The nurse and Dr. both left shortly after that, leaving Delilah to her thoughts. She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, then threw the blankets off of her. She tried scooting to the edge of the bed, which took a minute, and let her legs hang over. It was at this point, she took the time to examine herself. There were definitely going to be some scars; something she wasn't really worried about. She wiggled the toes on her left foot and gently kicked her leg. She did the same with her left arm. Well, at least it was the left side. She was a rightie.

With a heavy sigh, Delilah slowly slid off of the bed, making sure to keep most of her weight off of her left leg. She glanced up at the window. Exhaling with determination, she grit her teeth and slowly began limping her way towards it. About half way there, her arm came up and wrapped around her injured ribs, a soft groan passing between her bared teeth. When she finally reached the window, she slid the curtains aside in one side, and leaned down on the sill with her right hand. She was breathing like she had walked up 30 flights of stairs, but the sight helped calm her. The morning sun shining over the city, casting soft oranges and bright yellows. Delilah sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cool glass.

It was just over an hour when the nurse returned. She knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open and speaking in to Delilah,”Miss Stevens, it’s time to go down for your CAT scan. Come with me, I’ll take you down to the second floor.” She pushed the door open for Delilah and motioned with a wave for her to come. Behind her out in the hall sat a solid white wheelchair.

The hallway was lit brightly, and though not heavily crowded, did have others walking it’s length. A pair of nurses passed by, and from the opposite direction came a surgeon, his face shrouded by a surgical mask. Voices could be heard from the far end of the hallway, two male voices.
“Come with me,” repeated the nurse,”we’ll take the elevator down. Have a seat.” She pushed the wheelchair forward.

As soon as she heard the knock at the door, Delilah lifted her head from the window and turned her attention to said door. The nurse, Lauren, called out to her. She looked at the nurse, then out into the hall. It wasn't dark, and she could hear voices and see people walking in it. With a heavy breath of relief, Delilah smiled softly and turned, slowly making her way to the door where Lauren was. As she approached, the woman turned the wheelchair so that it was facing one is the room.

It took her a little longer than expected, but Delilah finally made it into the chair. Once she was settled, she closed her eyes and exhaled the pain she felt, wincing as she did. Delilah laid her head back against the chair, her eyes remaining closed. "Thank you for trying to help me," she said softly to the nurse, referring to her nightmare.

“No problem at all.” Nurse Lauren said kindly as she pulled the door closed. She slowly turned Delilah around in the wheelchair, and then began gently pushing her down the hallway, in the direction that the bright light shone from previously. Lauren said they would take the elevator down to the second floor for a follow-up CAT scan, to see how well Delilah’s brain had healed since she was first brought in.

The hallway was empty, yet voices could be heard in the distance. They turned the left corner and the elevators came into view. Two metal doors to the right snugged together between a patient’s room and a pair of vending machines, a snack and soda dispenser. Nurse Lauren stopped Delilah in front of the closer door and pressed the down button. The elevator door instantly slid open with a flat ding, and Nurse Lauren immediately pushed Delilah inside. She turned Delilah so that she was facing the door and then pressed the second floor button. A red digital number six appeared on the floor indicator on the control panel, and a down arrow appeared next to it.
The heavy silver-gray doors slid shut slowly, and with a low rumble, the elevator began it’s descent.

Nurse Lauren remained behind Delilah, silent as she firmly held the handles on the back of the wheelchair. The elevator continued its descent downward. The lights above shone at a modest brightness, reflecting on the white tile elevator floor.

Delilah's eyes took in everything. After the nightmare she had, she was glancing at everything. Oddly enough, everything still felt off. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was a feeling. She pushed it to the back of if he mind though, feeling as though she were being ridiculous, and tried to remain relaxed.

As ion as they entered the elevator, Delilah watched which buttons the nurse pressed, and to which floor they were going to. She watched the elevator doors close, shifting in her seat anxiously. Small spaces. She hated them. It was at this point, the lights began to flicker. Delilah looked up, her brow wrinkling in fear. And then, that God awful ringing sound started. Delilah clenced her eyes shut and covered her ears as quick as she could. Again, her attempts at keeping the noise out of if her head were useless. It just continued to screech and ring, Delilah crying out, begging it to stop.

When it finally did, the lights stopped flickering, and Delilah slowly uncovered her ears. She felt tears burn her eyes as she opened them, fear racing through her body. Whipping around as much as she could to see if the nurse was still there, she whimpered. She wasn't. When she turned back around, the elevator doors were gone. Her jaw dropped a bit, and she inhaled a skow, deep breath, holding it. Something was going to happen. Something was going to pop out or show up like it had last time. This was no dream. It was happening again. It wasn't a dream. What the hell was going on?!

Delilah released the breath she had been holding, and slowly pushed herself out of the chair.

The morgue, Delilah had been brought to he morgue, not the second floor. The room was dimly lit, a dull and rather depressing shade. To Delilah's right were several small cabinets and drawers stretched along the length of the wall, they were aligned with assorted objects, scissors, tweezers, gauze and the like. To her left, there were five tables equally spread across the walls' length, and on these tables were five white sheets spread over unmoving shapes. Corpses, five corpses.

The room itself did not smell of death, though it was obvious that these were the bodies of the deceased. The air was already chilled, holding an unfriendly cold. These corpses seemed to only solidify this unwelcome feeling. Or perhaps it was something else. It was then that the lights flickered, the room turning black as night, but only for a moment, returning to the their previous state.



That same dark shade, that white-eyed ghoul from before.
There he stood in the doorway before Delilah, across the room, unmoving and blocking her way. The same sinister aura from before filled the air in the cold, gloomy morgue. A radiance of pure evil.

"The morgue," she mumbled to herself as her eyes adjusted to the light, squinting them to help speed the process. Delilah took a cautious step forward, her eyes continuing to scan the area. The with various instruments, all of which she was familiar with. The tables that contained dead bodies. Something else that wasn't new to her. Though, seeing them like this, was a little different that how she saw them. The room, she noticed, was cool. Delilah looked down at herself and damned the hospital gown she was in. She desperately wanted normal clothes on.

And then it happened again. The lights went out, only for a moment, before coming back on. As soon as they had came back on, the feeling from earlier came back. The awful feeling like pure evil was in the room with her. And he was. Delilah gasped and stepped backwards, tripping over the chair behind her. There, across the room, was the same man from earlier. He stood, unmoving at the door, blocking her escape. "Jesus Christ," Delilah whimpered as she struggle to right herself after tripping. "Go away!" She pressed herself hard against the wall, and slowly scoot along it, as if it would keep her far away from him.

She looked around the room, her eyes glancing back at the man. The counters. There had to be something there that would help. Would it, though? Would it even phase this being? Could she even make it across the room before he got to her?

Without word or sound, the cloaked figure began slowly approaching Delilah. He took slow, deliberate steps, menacing as walked toward her.
His milky eyes stared and his gray deathly face remained neutral and cold.
He drew close, a mere foot from her when he disappeared.

Like a ripple in the water, the shadowy spook of a man flickered, his figure shimmering, and immediately vanished. Delilah was now alone in the brooding morgue, the mysterious being gone again. It was then that a sharp groan could be heard, followed by the rustling of a sheet. To the left, the corpse closest to Delilah suddenly moved.

The white sheet was pushed aside and landed to the floor left of the body. The nude, pale figure of a young man raised up from the table. Bones popped and snapped as the stiff corpse was suddenly revitalized with life.
It was a young man of average height and build, his dark hair cut shot and a scruffy goatee surrounded his mouth. Dead, sunken blue eyes glared at Delilah as the reanimated corpse stood, groaning and mumbling as climb off the table.
Another groaning could be heard, and another, and another. The sheets on the other four corpses all slipped off onto the floor as the living dead stirred to life.

A middle-aged blonde woman, an older African American male, a young Asian male, and a young red-haired girl. They all slowly raised up and stood from the tables where they had lay, growling and grumbling as their dead eyes all glared at Delilah.

"Jesus Christ!" Delilah attempted to press her body further against the wall, but all she managed, was to walk back the way she had just come. Pressed against the wall, her hands open against it, fingers splayed out, she moved backwards. Back towards the elevator. Or what used to be it, anyways. The figure seemed to be able to be faster than she, and was upon her in mere seconds. Delilah whimpered, her heart feeling like it was going to beat from her chest. She shook her head, almost as if she were pleasing without saying anything. And just like that, he was gone.

A soft sob escaped her lips, but she quickly gathered herself. That was, until she heard a groan. It sounded off. Like it were sick. Delilah raised her eyes. Or dead. "Oh my God," she whispered slowly as she watched one of the white sheets fall from a man. A man that was dead on a slab. Only, he wasn't now. He rose from the table, bones popping and snapping with a sickening sound. Then, there was another groan. Followed by more. With each new groan she heard, she saw one more dead person getting up from their tables; sheets falling to the floor as they did. She noticed something then. Their eyes. They all seemed to be staring at her as if she had wronged them in some way.

She then glanced at the door across the room. It wasn't blocked. At least, not directly. Her eyes moved from the corpses, to the door. Back and forth. Could she make It? Could she avoid them in her condition and make it to the door? Delilah held her breath and followed the wall she was on, all around the the room. She maneuvered her way around the counters, snatching up a scalpel as she did. Never did she stop or slow down. She wouldnt even risk looking in their direction. All of her focus was on that door. She had to make it.

One of the living dead, the first to rise, released a rattled snarl and lunged forward, slightly picking up speed as it moved forward.
The others followed in tow, groaning and growling as they lurched forward. They staggered and stumbled in slight, their stiff bodies hindering them to an extent. They moved at a quick walk, their hardened bodied preventing fast movement. Their eyes all shared the same look, a desire for murder, to kill Delilah.

In the adjacent room, a door sat across it's span. The room itself appeared to be for washing up and preparation. It consisted of a small corridor-like section that contained more cabinets and drawers. Past that, in the actual room itself, there was a line of sinks and mirrors across the wall to the left, while to the right was a line of lockers. The door itself sat between them at the far end of the room, a metal push door with a small glass window at it's top.
Behind Delilah, the walking corpses continued their ghastly sounds as they urged forward, intent on reaching her.

Delilah continued to her destination. The corpses continued theirs. The absolute hatred and malice in their eyes was terrifying. They were dead set on getting to her. She was breathing hard, but not because she was tired. She was horrified. Her adrenaline had kicked into high gear. The scalpel was still in her hand, her knuckles white from grasping it so hard.

She made her way into the first small corridor, but still never stopped. Instead, she turned and started walking backwards. She kept her blue eyes on the bodies as they slowly scrambled to get to her. Brows drawn down, lips slightly parted, she wondered what the hell was going on. Was this some sort of never ending nightmare? Was she dead and this what she was left to experience? Was this hell?

She then made her way into the other room. Sinks and mirrors on one side lockers on the other. Delilah glanced in the direction of the mirrors and caught a glimpse of herself. She was pale, bruised, and the look on her face was one that she never thought she would ever wear. It was the kind of face the girl's in horror movies wore. She quickly glanced back towards the bodies as she continued backwards.

Glancing back towards the door, she hurried and turned. Placing her hands on the door, she hurriedly pushed it open and went inside. Without hesitant or stopping, she turned and closed it, standing there in front of it. Just in case they kept coming, maybe she could keep the door closed. Push back against it if they started pushing against it. Delilah had to get on her tip toes in order to look through the window. Her quick breathes quickly digging the little window.

There was a heavy thump against the door, and a thud as one of the undead corpses pressed its deathly gray face against the small window.
It was the first to come to life, the young Caucasian man with the goatee.
He growled and groaned at Delilah from his side of the door, his grotesque face glaring back at her through the window. The push door began to heave against Delilah, as the five undead all piled against it at once. Their combined weight began pushing her back and the door began to force open against her. A single, gnarled gray hand reached around the opening door, it’s fingers grasping away at empty air.

Behind Delilah was a long hallway that spanned for a good one-hundred feet. On each side of the hall were endless rows and columns of old, rusted metal drawer-like doors.



The massive corridor itself was freezing, an uncomfortably low temperature.
Delilah was in the freezer area of the morgue, where corpses were sealed away.
The span of metal doors on each side reached all the way to the hallway end, where another push-door stood against the adjacent wall.

Delilah gasped, her eyes going wide when the dead, white man suddenly appeared in the small window. Her brows furrowed and she felt him pushing against the door. Not like a normal person would, but she was able to keep it shut do the most part. At least until they all started piling up against it. She dug her heels into the slick tiled floors, attempting to use her weight to keep the door shut. It wasn't happening. The floor was too slick. If she took her socks off... but there was no time for that. Suddenly, the door pushed open far enough for an arm to reach inside. Delilah cried out and phage harder against the door, her eyes burning with tears. The cold dead arm reached and swatted the air, trying to find something to grab on to.

Delilah took a second and looked around the room she was in now. It was lit, but only enough for her to be able to make out where she was. That was when she felt the chill.
It was where they kept bodies before and after they were examined. Most of the doors were shut, but there were a few that were open, and that terrified her. They were on both sides of her. It looked like there was blood or rust, trailing down from the tops of the walls. She didn't even want to know which it was. But in front of her, was another door. Swallowing hard, Delilah pushed back on the door she was on as hard as she could before shoving off of it. Her eyes were set on that other door. Only bad thing, was that it too, was a push door. Whatever. It didn't matter. She had to go that way no matter what. It was the only way. So, she ran. As fast as she could to the other door.

The closer she got, Delilah extended her arms, her hands out in front of her. The second her hands touched the door, she pushed it open and ran through it. Without stopping, she turned and grabbed the door, closing it like an had the other one. The corpses were heading her way, and it would be the same. They would gather at the door and push it open, forcing her to go further into... whatever the hell this was.

They were coming, the short chorus of moaning and growling echoed from the freezer room, drawing closer. Before Delilah was another kind of hallway.



Dark and delapidated, this gloomy hall looked as if it hadn’t been inhabited in some time. Cobwebs were clustered in the corners of the walls and ceiling, the concrete floor was cracked and gritty. This area looked nothing like the morgue, or like any place one would find in a hospital. It more so resembled a shoddy, abandoned warehouse or a condemned building of some sort.
Despite this, a light could be seen shining in the distance, weak and yellow, but there nonetheless. A single, rickety wheelchair sat to the left of Delilah, it’s wheels and handles rusted over.
A heavy thud shook the door at the door from which Delilah just came, the angry growls of the undead could be heard just on the door’s opposite side.

Delilah pushed herself to her tip toes once again, looking through the small window in the door. There they were. They were going through the door, and coming down the narrow hall, straight for her. Her brow furrowed and a soft whimper accompanied the heavy breath she released. Quickly turning, she immediaty noticed the light at the end of the tunnel she was in. The tunnel itself, looked like it was one of those underground access tunnels... With a rusted old wheelchair in it.

Her eyes widened and filled with hope. Was that a way out of this nightmare? Delilah took a hesitant step forward. When she heard the sounds of the corlses behind her, she broke off into a run. The pain in her side, arm, and leg was nothing right now. She had pushed it all aside, filling that spot with hope. Delilah ran, as fast as she could, until she finally came into light. It was nearly blinding, having spent so much time in poorly lit areas, or darkness. She raised her arm over her eyes, trying to block out some of the harsh light, and let her pupils adjust accordingly.