Undead Fate

Chapter One

TWO WORLDS

"Dr. Murray!" panted Dr. Heather, a first-year resident. "We have another patient coming through the ambulance. A victim of traffic accident—possible rib fracture, punctured lungs, and head trauma. They are doing their best to stabilize the vital signs."

And this was exactly what I wanted to cap my evening off. "What's the blood pressure and O2 saturation?"

I, together with four more residents and three interns, am having a full house. And it was a Sunday. It was what should be a glorious, go-out-to-shop or relax-in-a-spa kind of Sunday. But being a doctor meant no glorious any day to enjoy even a full eight hours of sleep.

I was pushing my 49th hour of straight duty and was dead tired on my feet. I didn't even have time to run to Starbucks, which was only a few blocks away from the hospital, and I would rather just die than drink that poison from the coffee machine in the nurse's station. So basically, I was dead tired on my feet and hadn't had even a single drop of caffeine to my system. I mean, even I surprise myself sometimes.

"I—didn't get it," Dr. Heather trailed sheepishly.

I forced a smile and through gritted teeth said, "Well, Heather, can you do me the favor and get it? And while you're doing your job properly, can you have OR-two ready?"

Dr. Heather scurried away. Okay, that was a bit too snarky for me. But one would be if not constantly on the brink of running to the doctor's quarters and jump to anything that resembled a bed and fall asleep in a second.

"You don't have to scare the kid," Dr. Cruz, another Fellow and also a dear friend, came up beside me.

I could feel my face breaking into a relieved smile, "I'd never been so happy to see you, Neil!"

Dr. Cruz laughed, "I'm on duty, heard you guys are low in manpower." A nurse called our attention and with a mock salute to me, Dr. Cruz approached the nurse.

The wailing sound of an oncoming ambulance spurred me into action, quickly setting aside the weariness of my own body. I went out of the hospital and received the endorsement of the EMT as I wheeled the patient inside the emergency room.

They just had finished establishing an intravenous line and attached cardiac monitors, when the patient went into an arrest. I barked orders as I started to perform chest pumps to the patient. One of the nurses ripped the man's shirt while I took the defibrillator, and rubbed it together.

"150 joules," I ordered, "Clear!"

"Shock!" the patient's chest rose.

"200," I yelled.

"Ready!" Dr. Heather answered back.

"Clear! Shock!" The cardiac monitor beeped, followed by the spikes of a heartbeat. I sighed in momentary relief and placed the defibrillator back to its machine.

"D-Dr. Murray, the patient is struggling to breathe." Dr. Heather stammered, pointing at the oxygen saturation level showing on the cardiac monitor.

One thing after the other, I thought as I mentally massaged my temples. Mentally, because I was too preoccupied searching the patient's thorax to actually massage my own temples.

Bruises peppered the man's chest, but I located what I was looking for: a huge purple blot at the side of the ribcage.

"Intubate the patient," I said to Dr. Heather and turned to the nurse, "get me a thoracotomy kit."

In no time at all, I was able to make a precise incision on the man's badly bruised side ribcage and inserted a tube. The blood drained from the patient's punctured lungs, decompressing it, enabling the patient to breathe easier.

"Bring the patient to OR-two," I said to Dr. Heather who did well in intubating the patient. "Notify the neurosurgery department, they have to check up on the patient, we'll see what to do next. I'll inform Dr. Finnigan. And Dr. Heather, you did a great job."

The intern's obvious relieved yet glowing expression made me smile. I went out of the Emergency Room as I dialed for my Professor. After a few rings, he answered.

"I just got out of a four-hour surgery," he moaned as a way of greeting. I rolled my eyes upward, then reported about the trauma patient and told him I'd call again once the Neurosurgery confirmed.

It turned out general surgery team had to operate after the neurosurgeons. Wanting for the evening to just end so I could sleep, I half-walked-half-dragged myself up towards the locker room so I could change into my surgery scrub suit.

I was gingerly taking my gown off when I caught something odd at the small rectangular mirror attached to the door of my locker.

It was my reflection, but it wasn't really me. It just kind of looked like me. Well, I only had a few seconds to be confused because when I blinked my eyes, I felt the horrible sensation of being pulled into something so tight, and then the next thing I knew I was drowning. I didn't even have the chance to scream.

I had a second to realize that I was submerged in what I supposed was a large body of water. I flailed my arms in the water. Instinctively, I propelled myself upwards, gasping for air.

And as I prevented myself from drowning, a woman's voice pleaded inside my head: Save the king. Don't make the same mistakes. I'm sorry. If I wasn't in a life and death situation, I would have also recognized that voice.

I swam blindly until I reached the shallows. With a wildness I never knew I would ever experience in my life, I looked around the alien place. I was panting so hard, my heart imprinting itself on my ribcage, and feeling immensely cold.

In a split second, I, Isabella Murray, was in a place I didn't recognize.