Kate adjusted her stethoscope, feeling its familiar weight settle around her neck. The fluorescent lights above buzzed softly, blending with the chorus of voices, machines, and beeping monitors that filled the emergency unit. This was her world—fast-paced, high-pressure, and relentless. And she thrived in it.
"Dr. Mitchell! We've got a trauma patient in Bay 3!" A nurse's urgent voice cut through the noise, pulling Kate's attention away from the patient chart in her hands.
"Another one?" she muttered under her breath, sliding on a pair of gloves and hurrying down the busy corridor, the sharp smell of antiseptic in the air. It was just after 8 a.m., and her shift had barely begun. The emergency unit was chaos, as always—paramedics wheeling in stretchers, families pacing in the waiting room, tearful faces searching for answers. Each day felt like a battle, and Kate was its front-line soldier, her heart racing with every crisis.
The patient was a man in his thirties, his face pale and clammy. Blood oozed from a gash on his arm, soaking through a makeshift bandage. Kate quickly glanced at the monitor as the nurse rattled off his vitals.
"Fever's spiking, BP's dropping fast. He was found unconscious in an alley," the nurse said, panic creeping into her voice.
Kate frowned, unease settling in her stomach. "Let's get him stabilized," she ordered, grabbing a syringe of antibiotics and moving quickly, her hands steady as she worked. "Sir, can you hear me?" She leaned closer, willing him to respond. His eyes fluttered open momentarily—bloodshot and unfocused—he groaned, an inhuman sound that made Kate shiver.
"Prep him for a CT scan," she said decisively, stepping back. "And let's run a full tox screen. I want to know what caused this." The nurse nodded, wide-eyed, as she wheeled the stretcher away. Kate turned to chart the case, but her thoughts lingered, an unsettling feeling gnawing at her.
By mid-morning, the unit was bursting at the seams. Patients with high fevers, violent seizures, and unexplained injuries flooded in. Then, a man stumbled into the ER, clutching his arm, which looked like it had been bitten. Kate's stomach twisted as she examined the wound—deep and jagged, the edges torn as if by teeth.
"What happened?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady amidst the chaos.
"I… I don't know," the man stammered, his face pale. "It was dark… some guy jumped me. He looked sick." Kate exchanged a concerned glance with the nurse beside her. This wasn't the first bite wound they'd seen today.
"Let's clean this up and get him on antibiotics," she said, her mind racing. By noon, they had treated five more patients with similar injuries, each relaying disturbing stories of being attacked by someone who seemed… off. Feverish. Aggressive.
The first real sign that something was wrong came screaming in with the sirens. Kate was stitching a wound when the sound grew louder, more insistent. Ambulances screeched to a halt outside, paramedics rushing through the doors, their faces tight with urgency.
"Mass casualty incident," one shouted. "Multiple victims!" Kate felt a jolt of adrenaline.
"What happened?" she called, rushing to meet them.
"Some kind of riot," the paramedic explained, breathing heavily. "People are attacking each other in the streets." Her heart sank as dread pooled in her gut.
"How many injured?" she pressed, preparing for the worst.
"Dozens. Maybe more. It's absolute chaos out there."
The next hour passed in a blur of screams and cries mixing with the metallic scent of blood. Kate moved from one stretcher to the next, her training taking over as she stitched wounds, set broken bones, and administered sedatives to those who thrashed uncontrollably before her. But no matter how hard they worked, it wasn't enough.
"I need more hands in here!" she shouted as a man convulsed on a stretcher in front of her.
"Kate!" a nurse called. "We're out of room. They're putting patients in the hallways." Kate cursed under her breath. The ER had turned into a war zone, and they were losing ground.
Then it happened—everything shifted. Kate was working on a patient when a scream tore through the room. She looked up just in time to see a man—one of the bite victims—lunge at a nurse, his eyes wild and his movements alarmingly fast.
"Nurse down!" someone shouted, panic rippling through the crowd. The man bit into the nurse's arm, blood spraying as she screamed. Before anyone could react, he turned on another patient, clawing at their face with savage ferocity.
"Security!" Kate yelled, backing away, her heart pounding as the room devolved into chaos. Two security guards rushed in, tackling the man to the ground, but he thrashed violently, snapping his teeth at anyone who came near. Kate stared, disbelief gripping her. This wasn't normal. It wasn't a riot. Something was very wrong.
The hospital's intercom crackled to life, its urgent voice filling the air. "Attention: All staff, this is a Code Black. Repeat, Code Black. Secure all doors and evacuate non-essential personnel." Kate froze, her breath hitching. A Code Black meant a catastrophic event—something beyond what she had ever imagined.
The head nurse appeared, her face pale. "Dr. Mitchell, we need to lock down the ER. Now." Nodding, Kate felt the adrenaline surge. "Seal off the entrances. Move all stable patients to the lower floors. And get me an update from administration—what's happening out there?"
She didn't have to wait long for an answer. Minutes later, Kate found herself in the hospital's command center, staring at a security monitor. The sight turned her stomach. The screen showed the parking lot, where ambulances and police cars were surrounded by a mob. No—not people. They moved erratically, their bodies twisted and contorted in grotesque ways. Their faces were lifeless, eyes glassy, mouths open in silent screams.
"Oh my God," a nurse whispered. "What is that?" Kate didn't answer. She couldn't. Her mind raced back to the bite wounds, the feverish patients, the man who attacked the nurse. It all connected, and a chilling realization gripped her.
"Lock every door," she commanded, her voice trembling. "We can't let them in."
Back in the ER, the atmosphere turned grim. Patients screamed and thrashed on their stretchers, some pulling at their restraints. Kate found a moment to look at her reflection in a blood-smeared mirror. Her face was pale; her eyes hollow. She thought of her brother, who was supposed to be at a basketball game across town. Was he safe? Did he even know what was happening? Her hands tightened into fists. She couldn't think about that now. People needed her.
Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the chaos, determined to help. Hours later, the hospital became a chaotic nightmare. Kate was tending to a patient when the lights flickered, plunging them into darkness for a moment before emergency lights flickered on. A low, guttural moan echoed through the halls, growing louder and more frightening.
"Dr. Mitchell," a nurse whispered. "They're inside." Kate felt her blood run cold. She grabbed a scalpel from the nearby tray, heart pounding as she stepped into the hallway. The moaning grew louder, and then she saw them. Zombies. They shambled through the corridor, eyes glassy, mouths dripping blood.
"Everyone, move!" Kate shouted. "Get to the stairwell! Now!"
As she herded the staff and patients toward the exit, she gripped the scalpel tightly. By the time she reached the stairwell, the hospital was collapsing around them.
"Take the patients to the basement and barricade the doors. Don't let anyone in unless you're sure they're alive," she instructed the nurse at her side.
"What about you?" the nurse asked, fear in her wide eyes.
Kate hesitated, battling the instinct to fight and the truth that this was a fight they might lose. "I'll hold them off as long as I can," she replied, her voice steady despite the chaos. The nurse nodded, fear etched on her face, and hurried down the stairs into the uncertainty.
Kate took a deep breath and turned back to the hallway, the scalpel gripped firmly in her hand. Her heart raced, but she squared her shoulders. If the world was ending, she wasn't going down without a fight. She would hold the line for as long as it took.