B E L A T O R
‘No matches found’
“Damn!” Garrett whispered under his breath, and firmly gripping the mouse in his hand in frustration. “Where is it…?” He started typing again. Perhaps he had misspelled it.
B E L A T O R
‘No matches found’
Garrett pounded the keyboard with his fist. “Argh!”
People working quietly at other terminals looked up to see who had broken the silence of the Library. Garrett ducked down his head on the pretext of reading something on his screen. Eventually, the people lost interest and kept going about their work on the computers.
Garrett realized that he had used up his allowed time on the computer, and saw that the security guard was making his way over to tell him off for going over time. Not wanting to cause any trouble, Garrett got up and started walking briskly over towards the exit door.
“Sir,” he heard the guard behind him call out. Garrett didn’t stop; he bent his head and kept walking, faster now, to the door.
“Sir, hold up.”
Had security recognized him? Garrett made up his mind that he make a dash for the crowded street outside. He was about to start sprinting when the guard behind him called out again: “Sir, wait, you left you card!”
Garrett slowly turned around, heart racing with adrenaline, and looked at what the security detail—no, he was just a local officer, nothing to worry about…calm down—was waving in his hand. The only reason that he had gotten the library card was so that he could get his hands on a computer without anyone finding out what he was doing. ‘You ask the questions, and we won’t.’ The motto was inscribed on the arched doorway to the library, in an attempt to reproduce something like was on Plato’s Academy.
“Umm, thanks,” said Garrett awkwardly.
Just another Good Samaritan in a uniform. Your getting paranoid in you old age, Garrett told himself. Old might not be the best way to describe Garrett. Nearing on forty, Garrett was a well dressed man, always clean shaven, and he could charm almost anyone, from pretty ladies in bars with fancy dresses, to grocery store clerks who wouldn’t give him the sale price on a bag of carrots. All in all, Garrett was an all around man. There was, however, one person who would not fall for any charm of his.
Cold and calculating, Kaitlyn Drake worked as a scientist for the local hospital. As far as Garrett could tell, that was her life. She worked 15 hours every day, on weekends, holidays, and she even goes in on her days off (required rest time by the hospital, but she doesn’t sign in). With a sunken and darkened face from over-work, she didn’t look the 38 years old that she was. She looked very old, though her face still retained some of the beauty that she had earlier in her life. It was unheard of to see her around town, in a restaurant, or any other place besides her house, the café in which she eats breakfast before heading off to work, or the fluorescent-lit, windowless, white laboratory room where she spent hours and hours testing, going over results, entering data into her computer, and when the medicine was finally finished, it was handed off to the doctors and she was forgotten about, and given no credit for anything.
Thanking the security man, Garrett took the card and disappeared into the crowded streets of D.C., thankful of the chance to slip off to his residence. Close call. Too close. Got to be more careful in the future, thought Garrett as he chided himself.
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