Do not resuscitate

The beeping monitors screamed in chaotic discord as the medical team lunged into frantic motion. Dr. Elise Harper’s heart hammered against her ribs, sweat stinging her eyes beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the ICU. “Start compressions! Two breaths, one hundred compressions per minute!” she barked.

A thin, pale man lay on the gurney—his skin mottled, lips blue, eyes rolling back in agony. His chest barely rose, a faint gasp escaping his cracked lips. The nurses moved like ghosts in a choreographed panic, pumping air into his failing lungs, jabbing defibrillator paddles with desperate precision.

“Clear!” someone shouted. A violent shock surged through the man's body, but his heart flatlined again. The monitor emitted a flatline beep.

Dr. Harper’s fingers trembled over the patient’s chart, eyes locking on the four stark letters that haunted every doctor’s nightmare: DNR. Do Not Resuscitate.

Her throat tightened, torn between the oath to save and the legal command forbidding intervention.

But the man’s fingers twitched.

He was still breathing.

Just barely.

She glanced at the DNR order again. Signed, legal, irrevocable. No heroic efforts. No last-ditch miracles.

Yet, here they were.

In defiance of paper and protocol, the team kept fighting.

—

Minutes passed like hours. The patient's eyes fluttered open, wild and glassy.

“Mr. Caldwell,” Elise whispered, reaching for his hand.

He squeezed back, weak but alive.

His breath rasped like dry leaves scraping over gravel.

The room exhaled a collective relief — until the subtle tremors began.

At first, the spasms were slight — a twitch of a finger, a jerk of the jaw. Then his limbs convulsed violently. Nurses backed away, alarms blaring anew.

“What the hell?” one whispered.

Elise frowned, eyes narrowing.

This wasn’t cardiac arrest.

It was something else.

His chest heaved erratically as guttural sounds tore from his throat — not words, but snarls, growls. His skin began to ripple, veins blackening beneath the surface like spilled ink.

The man was transforming.

Right before their eyes.

—

“Call security. Lock down the ICU!” Elise ordered, voice sharp and trembling. “This patient is a danger.”

But no one moved fast enough. They couldn't.

Suddenly, the man’s mouth burst open in an unnatural gape. Jagged, broken teeth snapped like bone. A horrific scream blasted the room, shaking walls and rattling machines.

Nurses screamed and scattered. A nurse nearest to him was grabbed by his distorted hand — her blood spurting in a violent spray as he tore into her neck.

Blood coated the floor in rivers of crimson.

Chaos exploded.

Doctors scrambled, dragging the remaining patients to safety. But the monster that was once Mr. Caldwell lunged with terrifying speed, tearing flesh and cracking bones. The ICU turned into a blood-soaked nightmare.

—

Elise grabbed a scalpel from the supply tray, hands shaking as she stared at the abomination. “Stop this!” she screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the cacophony of screams and ripping sinew.

The creature snarled, eyes glowing a hellish red.

A nurse lay motionless, blood pooling beneath her.

“Why?!” Elise sobbed, staggering back.

She hid behind a cabinet. Amidst that chaos she riffled through the man’s chart, searching for answers.

His history was clean. No infections, no neurological disorders. Nothing to explain this.

Except one thing.

The DNR order.

Someone had lied.

The order had been forged.

This was no ordinary patient — Mr. Caldwell was a test subject in a secret government experiment gone wrong.

The DNR had been signed to ensure no intervention if complications arose.

Complications like this.

—

The monster roared, charging at Elise. She dodged, slashing the scalpel deep into its side.

The creature howled, but it only fueled its rage. It grabbed her, crushing her wrist until bones snapped.

She dropped the scalpel, clutching her bleeding hand.

“Help!” she screamed.

A security guard burst in, wielding a stun gun.

He fired — the creature convulsed, but didn’t fall.

It was evolving too fast.

Elise realized with horror: this was no virus or illness.

This was a curse unleashed.

—

The lights flickered as the building’s emergency protocols activated.

Voices echoed over the loudspeaker.

“Containment breach. All personnel evacuate immediately. Do not attempt to engage.”

But Elise refused to run.

Her colleagues were trapped in this nightmare.

If she didn’t stop the creature now, none of them would survive.

—

Summoning every ounce of courage, she grabbed a fire extinguisher.

The creature lunged again.

She smashed the extinguisher against its head.

A sickening crack.

The monster collapsed, twitching.

Blood dripped from its shattered skull.

But as it lay dying, it looked at her with eyes that flickered between man and beast.

“Do not… resuscitate…” it whispered hoarsely.

Then silence.

—

When reinforcements arrived, the ICU was a tomb.

The blood was everywhere, the walls soaked with gore.

Elise sat on the floor, clutching her broken hand, staring at the broken body.

The truth weighed heavy in her mind.

Some orders were not just words on paper.

Some orders were warnings.

And some things were better left dead.