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A zombie emerges from the lab.

A white corridor. Almost sterile white. And empty. A bright yellow LED lamp glows. The lamps repeat every few meters. They cut through the whiteness with their warm yellow glow. It's already night. Closer to midnight. And there's no one here. A zombie emerges from the lab.

It's unclear where he came from. Or how he got into the corridor. But it's a fact. A zombie is in the corridor. Walking down a long white corridor. For him, it's like a second life. But it's full of despair. He hobbles slowly. And waves his arms. Grasping the walls. As if they were his only support.

Occasionally, he makes sounds. More like screams. He walks down the corridor. These LED lamps have never seen anything like this. He's already walked the entire long corridor. And there it is – the sign – exit. A green sign. With white text – exit. A zombie is heading for the exit.

The zombie almost falls once. He constantly touches the walls. And, leaning on them, he slowly hobbles toward the exit. The exit is very soon. He waves his arms. And moves on. As if feeling the air. The zombie can only go forward. And it’s hard for him to understand that he can go anywhere else. His head is in complete chaos. Everything is seething, as if in an ocean. And not a second of calm or clear consciousness. Only chaos. And a constant pulsation. He goes. Step after step. To the exit. It’s a zombie marathon. And he’s almost finished it. He’s a participant in this run down the corridor. And he’s succeeding. The door with the sign “Exit” is even closer.

Again and again. The zombie takes a step. And doesn’t stop. When he almost falls, he tries to grab the wall with his hands. And tries to say something. But all that comes out is a scream. It’s impossible to utter words. His head is in chaos. Thousands of mosquitoes seem to be biting. It’s as if he can’t see anything in front of him. His vision seems to be malfunctioning. It seems he can see after all. Sometimes it's bad – through a veil of red. It's blood before his eyes. Sometimes it's clear. Sometimes everything swims before his eyes. The brain has a hard time processing the signals from the eyes. He can't feel anything with his nose. There's no charm. And he can't breathe. He realized this. Consciousness is weak. But it's there. A spark of consciousness. His back hurts as if after hard work.

He'll get a bonus at work for this corridor. A thought. Incomprehensible. And everything drowns in a pulsation like an ocean. Thousands of mosquitoes. That sensation again. A burning. It's all just in his head. He doesn't really feel the pain. It's just that his brain is so heavy. His head feels like it's aching. What's wrong with him? He needs to get to the exit. The answer is there. He thinks he's hurt himself. Thought. This is good. Everything will be fine.

He throws both hands at the door. The door swings open. There's the night air. And night. The light from the streetlamps. And the street. He needs to go there.

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