The sliding door was ajar when I woke up. I haven’t yet left the room, and find myself clinging to the fear that I wasn’t supposed to leave. I have no idea where I am, but have a vague remembrance of how I might have come here; I had signed up for medical testing to make a little extra cash. Of course, my wife had told me not to. “It’s too dangerous Alex!” she said, or “Think about your children!”, but I just passed it off as paranoia. We needed the money.
I took a deep breath and peered out the open sliding door. There was a hallway with several other similar doorways, all with their doors shut. To the left was a ramp leading up to another hallway.