The Lazarus Protocol

Arthur was not a superstitious man. He was a man of science, a dropout medical student who worked the graveyard shift at the St. Jude County Morgue because the pay was decent and the “clients” were quiet.

His job was simple: monitor the temperature gauges, ensure the refrigeration units were humming, and watch the bank of twelve CCTV screens that covered every inch of the facility.

It was 2:00 AM on a Tuesday. Rain lashed against the high windows, but inside, the air was sterile and smelled faintly of bleach and formaldehyde.

The Arrival of John Doe #894

Earlier that evening, the police had brought in a body found in the basement of an abandoned textile factory. No ID. No signs of trauma. just… stopped. The coroner, Dr. Evans, had noted that the body was in full rigor mortis—the stage where muscles stiffen completely.

“He’s stiff as a board, Arthur,” Dr. Evans had said before clocking out. “Won’t be moving for another twenty-four hours until the muscles relax. Lock him in Cooler 4.”

Arthur sat in the security booth, sipping cold coffee. He glanced at Camera 4. The monitor showed the interior of the autopsy room where they had left the body on a steel gurney, covered by a white sheet, because the coolers were momentarily being serviced.

That was when the recording system triggered a “Motion Detected” alert.

The Six Events

Arthur frowned. The room was sealed. He leaned in closer to the grainy black-and-white monitor. The digital clock on the screen read 02:14:03.

Event 1: The Sheet (02:14 AM) On the screen, the room was still. Then, the corner of the white sheet covering John Doe #894 twitched. Arthur tapped the glass. “Air conditioning,” he muttered to himself. But then it happened again. The sheet didn’t just flutter; it was pulled. It slid slowly down the body’s chest, revealing the pale, grey shoulders. The movement was smooth, deliberate. Arthur checked the HVAC controls. The fans were off.

Event 2: The Hand (02:25 AM) Arthur rewound the footage and watched it again, trying to find a logical explanation. When he switched back to the live feed, his breath hitched. The sheet had fallen further. The corpse’s right arm, which had been strapped to the side of the gurney, was now hanging off the edge. “Impossible,” Arthur whispered. “Rigor mortis. You can’t just… go limp.” As he watched, the fingers on the hanging hand flexed. Click-clack. He imagined the sound of stiff tendons snapping. The hand wasn’t relaxing; it was clawing at the air.

Event 3: The Interference (02:40 AM) Arthur grabbed his walkie-talkie to call the police, but the device shrieked with static. Suddenly, all twelve monitors flickered. A high-pitched electronic squeal filled the security booth. On Camera 4, the image distorted. Heavy pixelation corrupted the screen. Through the digital noise, Arthur saw a shadow standing in the corner of the autopsy room. He rubbed his eyes. When the screen cleared, the shadow was gone. But the body on the table had shifted. It was no longer lying flat. It was… hunched.

Event 4: The Legs (03:00 AM) This was the moment that made Arthur’s blood turn to ice. The camera zoomed in slightly (an automatic feature he didn’t know existed). The corpse’s legs, previously straight and stiff, began to move. First, the left knee bent upward, sliding the heel against the steel table. Then the right. The movement wasn’t smooth anymore; it was jerky, violent, unnatural. It looked like a marionette being pulled by an inexperienced puppeteer. Crack. Even through the silent monitor, Arthur saw the force of the movement. The legs bent so far back that the heels touched the thighs. The corpse was preparing to stand.

Event 5: The Descent (03:05 AM) Arthur stood up, his chair crashing backward. He needed to leave. He needed to get out now. But his eyes were glued to the screen. John Doe #894 sat up. The sheet fell away completely. The corpse’s eyes were open—milky white and staring directly into the lens of the security camera. Slowly, terrifyingly, the corpse swung its legs off the side of the table. Its feet touched the floor. It stood up. It swayed, its joints popping, struggling against the stiffness of death. It took a step toward the door. The door that led to the hallway. The hallway that led to Arthur’s security booth.

Event 6: The Missing Frame (03:10 AM) Arthur lunged for the door of his booth to lock it, but his hands were shaking so hard he dropped his keys. He looked back at the monitor. Camera 4 was empty. The room was vacant. The gurney was overturned. Arthur quickly switched to Camera 5 (The Hallway). Empty. Camera 6 (The West Wing). Empty. Camera 7 (Outside the Security Booth). Arthur froze. On Camera 7, right outside his door, stood the figure. It wasn’t moving anymore. It was standing perfectly still, pressing its face against the reinforced glass of the security booth.

Arthur slowly turned his head away from the monitor to look at the actual glass window of his booth.

There was nothing there but his own reflection.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “My mind is playing tricks on me,” he laughed nervously. “Too much coffee. It’s just a hallucination.”

He looked back at the monitor. On the screen, the corpse was still standing outside the window. And in the video feed, the corpse raised a grey, decaying finger and pointed… not at Arthur, but behind him.

Arthur felt a drop of ice-cold water hit his shoulder. He remembered the vent in the ceiling of the security booth. He remembered the sound of the vents rattling earlier.

Slowly, terrifyingly, Arthur looked up.

The Final Log

The following morning, Dr. Evans arrived for the day shift. The front door was unlocked. The security booth was empty.

The only evidence found was the digital recording from the night before. The police reviewed the tapes. They saw the sheet move. They saw the legs bend. They saw the corpse walk out of the room.

But the last video file, recorded at 03:15 AM inside the security booth, was corrupted. The only thing audible on the audio track was the sound of a man screaming, and a dry, rasping voice whispering:

“Thank you for letting me in.”