"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.