“...My hands were shaking with fear, the blood was pounding deafeningly in my temples. Andreev plunged the scalpel straight into the center of the zombie's stomach. Dry and yellowish, like parchment, the slightly stretched skin of the dead man burst with a papery rustle, the scalpel trembled and moved to the side. Andreev poked again, and again missed. “That’s it, Andreev, come tomorrow.” For a retake. Today is bad, my friend. Just bad..."