Falling Awake

Gavin Hardy, was from the center’s IT department. Gavin was the guy you called when the computers went down or the lab equipment malfunctioned. He was in his mid-thirties, thin, twitchy and very hyper. The only time he was ever still was when he was engrossed in a software problem. He was dressed in a pair of voluminous cargo pants and a tee shirt emblazoned with the logo of one of the mega casino-resorts in Las Vegas. Gavin’s big goal in life was to devise the perfect system for beating the house at blackjack.
    The second man at her door was Bruce Hopton, the head of the center’s small security team. He was accompanied by one of his staff. Bruce was nearing retirement. The white shirt he wore was stretched to the breaking point across his ever-expanding belly. Security was not a major problem at the center. Most of thetime Bruce and his people devoted themselves to making sure employees parked in their assigned slots, escorting the female nightshift workers out to their cars and performing the perfunctory employee background checks.
    None of the three men looked happy to be where he was.
    “Sorry about this, Isabel,” Bruce muttered. “Belvedere himself gave us our orders.”
    Ken looked at Isabel.
    “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded. “These guys say they’ve been told to destroy all the files in your office and on your computer.”
    “It’s true. Belvedere just fired me.”
    “That sonofabitch.” Ken glared at Gavin and Bruce.
    Gavin held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “Hey, don’t blame us.”
    “Yeah,” Bruce mumbled. “We feel just as bad about this as you do, Ms. Wright.”
    “I doubt it,” she said. “I’m out of a job.”
    “I’m real sorry about that,” Bruce said. “We’re sure gonna miss you around here.”
    The regret in his face was sincere. She could not take her anger and frustration out on him. “Thanks, Bruce. If you don’t mind, I have to get Sphinx.”
    Bruce nervously checked the hallway behind her. “I’m not supposed to let you back inside, Isabel.”
    “I’m here for the cat,” she said evenly.

    He hesitated briefly and then squared his shoulders. “Go ahead and get the carrier. I’ll take the heat if Belvedere objects.”
    “Thanks, Bruce.”
    “Forget it. Least I can do after what you did for my grandson a few months ago.”
    Isabel moved into the office.
    Ken stood aside. “Are you okay?”
    “Yes, I’m fine.”
    “Sphinx is a little upset.”
    “I can tell.”
    Sphinx was crouched in his cage, ears plastered against his skull, eyes narrowed, fangs bared.
    “It’s okay, Sphinx. Calm down, sweetie.” She hoisted the carrier. “We’re going home.”
    “Belvedere can’t fire you like this,” Ken growled.
    “Yes, he can, actually.” She glanced at her cluttered desk and then determinedly turned away from the sight of all the work that was about to be destroyed. She had done her best to salvage Martin Belvedere’s research, but she had failed. There was nothing more she could do. She had her own problems and they were big ones.
    “Where is she?” Randolph called heatedly outside in the hall. “My instructions were clear, Hopton. Ms. Wright was not supposed to be allowed back into her office.”
    “She’s picking up the cat,” Bruce said quietly. “Figured you’d want him out of here.”

    “Cat? What cat?” Randolph appeared in the doorway, his anchorman features as tight and drawn as if he’d just been told that the network had decided not to renew his contract. “Damnit, that’s my father’s cat, isn’t it? What’s it doing here? I told Mrs. Johnson this morning that the creature was to be sent to the pound.”
    “Don’t worry, Dr. Belvedere.” Isabel walked toward the door, holding the carrier in both arms. “We’re leaving. The best thing you can do is get out of my way. You’re going to look awfully foolish if you decide to fight me over this cat. If I get really annoyed, I might open the door of this carrier.”
    Sphinx hissed at Randolph.
    Belvedere got out of the way.
    h ours later she sat at the table in the kitchen of her small apartment glumly regarding the array of bank and credit card statements. The windows were open, allowing the warm air of the early summer afternoon to circulate through the small space. She couldn’t see the smog when she looked out across the pool and gardens toward the other apartments, but she could taste it in the back of her throat.
    She had considered turning