Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

ZOE

T he ER was a madhouse. It always was these days, but tonight seemed like something out of a horror movie. The cacophony of beeping monitors, groans of patients, and hurried footsteps of medical personnel created a symphony of controlled chaos I'd grown used to.

I wiped a streak of sweat from my forehead, absently checking the time— 2:13 AM. Just a few more hours and I'd be off my feet, but with the way things were going, I wouldn't count on it.

The night had been relentless, a steady stream of everything from drunk college kids with alcohol poisoning to a middle-aged man with chest pains that turned out to be a heart attack. Doctors and nurses rushed from bed to bed, their faces etched with determination and fatigue.

I'd just finished assisting with a complicated appendectomy when I heard the telltale sound of gurney wheels screeching against the linoleum floor.

Another case, another crisis . I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever was coming through those doors.

The doors to the ER burst open, followed by the sound of screeching wheels. I spun around just in time to see two paramedics rolling in a gurney, trailed by a team of nurses and the on-call trauma surgeon, Dr. Ramirez.

Both paramedics looked harried, their faces tense with something I couldn't quite put my finger on. The man on the gurney was thrashing weakly, his chest exposed, deep lacerations visible across his torso. Blood soaked the sheets beneath him, dripping onto the floor in a gruesome trail.

"Dr. Blackwood, we've got a bad one," one of the paramedics called out, his voice strained with urgency.

I hurried toward them, my eyes locking onto the wounds. "Jesus," I muttered under my breath. It looked like he'd been mauled by a bear or something.

How was this guy even still breathing? The lacerations were deep, jagged, unlike anything I'd seen before. My mind raced through possibilities – animal attack? Some kind of machinery accident? But nothing quite fit.

The paramedic closest to me grimaced as they wheeled the gurney toward Trauma Room 2. "Found him in an alley off Michigan Avenue, massive claw marks. No idea how he's still alive. BP's been fluctuating wildly, and he's lost a lot of blood."

Yeah, you don’t say. I took in the gruesome sight of the gaping wounds and the dark crimson pool. Tell me something I don’t already fucking know .

I'd been working as an ER doctor for a long time, and it was fair to say that there were few things that could still make my stomach turn. This was one of those things.

Dr. Ramirez, already gowned and gloved, barked orders as we moved. "Get me two large-bore IVs, start pushing fluids, and prep for immediate surgery. We need to stop this bleeding now!"

"Does he have a name?" I asked, pulling on gloves as I jogged alongside them. My mind was already racing— massive lacerations like these meant serious internal damage. His vitals should have been crashing by now. The fact that he was still conscious, let alone alive, defied everything I knew about traumatic injuries.

"No ID on him," the paramedic replied, shaking his head. "Barely conscious when we found him. Been muttering nonsense the whole way here."

We pushed through the doors of Trauma 2, and I moved to the side of the gurney. His breathing was ragged, shallow, and uneven. Blood poured from the wounds in his chest, slick and dark, and his face was twisted in pain.

His eyes fluttered open, a flicker of something wild in them – fear, pain, but something else too. Something I couldn't quite place.

"We need to stabilize him, now ," Dr. Ramirez ordered, her voice sharp and focused. "Get the OR prepped. And I need a blood transfusion, O-negative, stat !"

The room burst into action around me, nurses and techs moving with practiced efficiency. I reached for the man's arm, my fingers pressing against his wrist to check his pulse. Weak but steady, much steadier than it should have been given the extent of his injuries. Another puzzle piece that didn't fit.

"Can you hear me?" I asked, leaning closer. "You're in the hospital. We're going to help you, but you need to stay still." I tried to keep my voice calm and reassuring, even as my mind raced with questions.

He groaned, his eyes rolling back, but his lips moved, forming words too soft to catch. I leaned in closer, trying to make out what he was saying.

"Let's move!" Nathan, my colleague, rushed into the room, taking one look at the man's wounds. "What the hell did this to him?"

I shook my head, grabbing a set of clamps and gauze. "I don't know. But whatever it was, it didn't want him to survive." I started to clean the wounds, trying to get a better look at the extent of the damage. "Nate, look at this. These aren't normal lacerations. The tissue damage... it's like nothing I've ever seen."

He leaned in, his brow furrowed. "You're right. It's almost like... the flesh is torn rather than cut. What could do this?"

We worked quickly, Nathan taking over the man's airway while I cleaned the wounds as best I could. The lacerations were deep— too deep.

With this much trauma, his organs should have been failing by now, but he was holding on. It didn't make sense.

As I applied pressure to one of the larger gashes, the man jerked, his body arching off the gurney. His eyes flew open, wild and unfocused, and his mouth opened in a soundless scream. His hands flailed, and I barely dodged an elbow to the face.

"Hold him down!" I snapped, my heart racing. This kind of strength in a patient with these injuries... it was impossible.

The nurses scrambled to restrain him as I leaned over him again. "Hey! Can you hear me? Stay with us!"

His head whipped to the side, his eyes locking onto mine for a brief second. There was something there, something feral, animalistic. My pulse spiked, but I kept my focus. The man's chest heaved as he rasped out something that sounded like gibberish.

"...The shadows… they're coming… can't… run..."

His voice cracked, fading into incoherence. My fingers froze for a second as his cryptic words hung in the air. I glanced at Nathan, but he was too busy to notice. A chill ran down my spine. What shadows? What was he running from?

"We need to sedate him," I said, swallowing the unease creeping up my spine. "He's not stable."

"I'm on it," Nathan replied, quickly prepping a sedative. "Zoe, his blood work just came back. You're not going to believe this."

I looked up, my hands still pressing down on the wounds. "What is it?"

Nathan shook his head, disbelief clear in his voice. "His blood... it's not normal. The cellular structure is unlike anything I've ever seen. And there's some kind of unknown compound in his system."

My mind reeled. What the hell was going on here? "Could it be some kind of drug?"

"If it is, it's nothing on record," Nate replied, administering the sedative. "Whatever it is, it might explain why he's still alive."

I applied more pressure to the gashes, watching the blood flow between my fingers. There was too much damage, and we were losing him.

My mind raced through possibilities. What kind of animal could have done this? And why wasn't he in worse shape? And now this mystery substance in his blood...

The patient's breathing hitched, and his body jerked again. His eyes darted wildly around the room, and I saw a flash of gold— bright, unnatural gold— in his gaze. My stomach tightened. That wasn't normal. Nothing about this was normal.

"Hold him still!" I ordered, but his strength was incredible. He thrashed on the table as if some unseen force was driving him into a frenzy.

Nathan administered the sedative, his expression grim. "It's not working fast enough," he muttered. "His metabolism must be off the charts."

I barely heard him. My focus was on the man's wounds. They were… shifting. The edges of the gashes began to close, slowly, but undeniably, the flesh pulling itself together like someone was stitching it from the inside out. My breath caught in my throat.

"Nate," I whispered, my voice low. "Look at his chest."

Nathan leaned over, his brows furrowing. "What the hell…"

"It's healing," I said, the words barely above a whisper. "On its own."

For a moment, we just stared. The deep lacerations— wounds that should have killed him— were closing before our eyes. It was slow, sluggish even, but it was happening. And I had no idea how.

"This… this isn't possible," Nathan muttered, but his hands kept moving, securing the man's airway while I tried to wrap my head around what I was seeing.

"His vitals are stabilizing," the nurse announced, her voice filled with disbelief. "Blood pressure rising, heart rate evening out. It's like... it's like he's healing himself."

I leaned in closer, my eyes scanning his body for any other signs of… whatever this was. There were faint marks on his shoulder—some kind of tattoo or scar, but the blood obscured it. I wiped away the blood, revealing a strange symbol etched into his skin. It wasn't any symbol I recognized—intricate, almost like a rune.

The man groaned again, his hand twitching against the restraints. "...too late… they're here…"

"Who's here?" I asked, leaning closer, though I knew he probably couldn't hear me.

"...Run... shadows…"

His voice faded again, his head lolling to the side. I exchanged a glance with Nathan, my gut churning with unease. Something was very wrong here. This wasn't just some random attack. Whatever happened to this guy— it was something far beyond our normal scope of practice.

"We need to get him into surgery," I said, though I wasn't sure what the hell we'd even do in surgery. His damn body is already healing itself!

But before I could give the order, the doors to the trauma room slammed open again. Three men in dark suits stormed in, their expressions cold and unreadable.

One of them, tall with silver hair, and looking very important, flashed a badge I didn't get a chance to read. "This patient is coming with us right now." Without waiting for a response, he snapped at the two men behind him and they moved towards the bleeding patient.

I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sudden intrusion. "Excuse me?"

The man's eyes met mine, and I saw something dangerous in his gaze. "Step aside, Doctor. This is classified."

Classified? My gut twisted. "He's in critical condition," I said, shaking my head. "We need to stabilize him before?—"

"You've done enough," the man interrupted, his tone final. "We're taking him now."

I took a step forward, my pulse pounding in my ears. "You can't just walk in here and?—"

"We can, and we will," the man said, his eyes narrowing. "This is beyond your jurisdiction, Doctor Blackwood."

How the hell does he know my name? The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I glanced at Nathan, who was staring at the men with a mix of confusion and fear.

The two other men moved toward the gurney, their hands reaching for the sides to wheel it out. I stepped in front of them, my chest tight with frustration. "He's still in recovery! You can't?—"

One of the men grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Move."

I jerked back, but the other man had already grabbed the gurney and was wheeling it toward the door. "Wait!" I shouted, my voice louder now, filled with desperation. "Where are you taking him?"

The silver-haired man looked at me, his expression unreadable. "This is not your concern, Doctor."

My heart raced as they pushed the gurney out of the room, and in a matter of seconds, two of the men were gone with the gurney, the doors swinging shut behind them.

The silver-haired man remained back. He glanced at the door, then at me. With one smooth motion, he pulled out a small device and held it in front of me.

I felt my hackles rise as I looked at the black object in his hands. A sudden bright flash exploded from the thing, filling the room, and momentarily blinding everyone.

When my vision cleared, the silver-haired man was gone. I felt... odd. Disoriented. I looked around, stars still visible in my head from the brightness of the light. The once busy trauma room was now filled with dazed and baffled ER personnel.

I watched in disbelief as the nurses and other doctors blinked, looking around in confusion before returning to their usual routines as if nothing had happened. But unlike everyone else, who seemed to have forgotten everything, fragmented memories clung to my mind like cobwebs.

Dr. Ramirez checked her watch and muttered something about grabbing coffee. Nathan rubbed his eyes and wandered off to check on another patient.

"What... what just happened?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

A nurse passing by gave me a quizzical look. "Are you alright, Dr. Blackwood? You look a bit pale."

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. "I... I'm not sure. We were treating a patient, weren't we? A man with severe lacerations?"

The nurse furrowed her brow. "I don't recall any such patient. It's been quite a busy night, though. Are you feeling okay? Maybe you should take a break."

But as I looked around, there was no sign of the mysterious man with the claw marks. No blood on the floor, no discarded medical supplies. It was as if he'd never been there at all. Yet I could still see flashes of his face, hear echoes of his cryptic words about shadows.

The rest of the staff seemed completely unaware, going about their duties as if the last hour had never happened. But something nagged at me, a persistent feeling that I had witnessed something important, something that I wasn't supposed to remember.

I found myself alone in the trauma room, my hands trembling slightly. What had just happened? Why was I the only one who remembered anything? My gut screamed at the wrongness of it all.

Nathan walked back into the room, looking at a chart. He glanced up at me, his expression normal, no trace of the fear and confusion I'd seen earlier. "Hey Zoe, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. How could I explain what had happened when I barely understood it myself? "I... I'm fine. Just a bit tired, I guess."

He nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, these night shifts can be brutal. Want to grab some coffee? It's been a slow night, we could use a pick-me-up."

A slow night? My mind reeled. How could he not remember the chaos of just minutes ago? The critically injured patient, the men in suits, the flash of light... It was all there in my mind, hazy and dreamlike, but undeniably real.

"Sure," I managed to say, forcing a smile. "Coffee sounds good."

As we walked to the break room, I glanced back at the trauma room. For a split second, I thought I saw a shadow move oddly against the wall, but when I blinked, it was gone.

I shook my head, trying to clear the paranoid thoughts. I was a doctor, trained in science and logic. There had to be a rational explanation for what had happened.

Memory loss could be caused by stress, lack of sleep, or even a minor head injury. But deep down, I knew this was different. This felt... deliberate.

And somehow, for reasons I couldn't begin to fathom, I was the only one who remembered. What the fuck is going on?

I watched Nathan sip his coffee and wolf down a sandwich, biting my lower lip in frustration and fear. How could he not remember? How could none of them remember? I almost doubted that the events that had happened were real at all, but the cold face of the silver-haired asshole was etched in my mind, and the memory of his eyes gave me goosebumps.

If I was going to understand what was happening, I had to hold onto the knowledge that what I’d seen was real. And if it was, and I was the only one who remembered anything, then something terrifying had just happened, and I had no idea how to handle it.

The rest of my shift passed in a blur. I went through the motions, treating patients and filling out charts, but my mind kept drifting back to the mysterious patient and the men who took him.

The image of his wounds healing before my eyes haunted me, defying everything I knew about medicine and the human body.

By the time I clocked out, the sun was just beginning to peek over the Chicago skyline, painting the city in shades of pink and gold. The night's events felt almost surreal in the soft morning light, like a fever dream I couldn't quite shake.

A few early risers hurried past, clutching cups of coffee, oblivious to the strange world that had revealed itself to me just hours before.

I started walking towards the L station, my body on autopilot while my mind churned. The patient's words echoed in my head: " The shadows... they're coming. "

What shadows? And why did those men in suits seem to know exactly who he was and what was happening? How had they managed to make a room full of people forget everything that had happened? So many questions, not nearly enough answers.

As I waited for the train, I pulled out my phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing a familiar number. It rang three times before a gruff voice answered.

"This better be good, kiddo. It's the crack of dawn."

Despite everything, I smiled. "Sorry, Grandpa. I didn't wake you, did I?"

Jake Blackwood, retired Chicago PD detective and the man who raised me, chuckled on the other end of the line. "You know I'm always up with the sun. What's on your mind?"

I hesitated, unsure how to explain what had happened. "I... I had a strange case last night. And I could use your advice."

There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was more alert. "What kind of strange?"

As the train pulled into the station, I started to recount the events of the night. The patient with the impossible injuries, the strange healing, the men in suits who took him away, and finished with how everyone in the trauma room seemed to have suffered from mass amnesia. By the time I finished, I was halfway home, and my grandfather was silent on the other end of the line.

"Grandpa?" I asked, worry creeping into my voice. "You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Zoe, listen to me carefully. This isn't something you want to get mixed up in."

I frowned, stepping off the train. The platform was busier now, the city coming to life around me. "What do you mean? Do you know something about this?"

He sighed heavily. "There are things in this city... things that most people don't know about. Things that are better left alone."

My heart rate picked up. "Grandpa, what are you talking about? You sound like... like you've seen something like this before."

"I can't say more about this, child," he said, his voice low. After a long silence, he added, "Promise me you will be safe? Strange times we are living in. Very strange times indeed."

The line went dead before I could respond. I stood there on the platform, staring at my phone in disbelief. What the hell did my grandfather know that he couldn't tell me? It seemed like everyone knew what was going on, except me.

As I walked the final blocks to my apartment, the city waking up around me, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen, and whatever it was, I was certain it held the power to reshape the very fabric of our city.

And I plan to know what that is . Playing by the rules? Yeah, that had never really been my thing.