REM

Last Day

Being passionate for what you do at work can be a blessing when you're constantly waking up early and going home late. On the other hand, if your job is borderline illegal because you're messing with genetics and doing tests the government thinks you aren't, then there are bound to be some repercussions for the lies and deceit when inspected.

My first day at work was six years ago. Five years in, we celebrated the milestone. There was a big work party, which was fully catered with an open bar. The president of the company had made a speech, one speaking to how he envisioned the company looking when it reached ten years of operation. One year after making that speech, karma finally caught up to us.

The last inspection didn't yield any wrongdoing, or illegal procedures, but we had a guy on the inside of the regulations department, who gave us the heads up. He called the president of the company directly, who immediately called a boardroom meeting for every employee: scientists, cleaners, management, and security.

As one can imagine, the meeting didn't go over too well. There was a critical decision to be made. We either closed the business and started a new one, or ran the risk of being discovered and then fined, or worse, jailed. No one wanted to go to jail. No matter what department you were in, everyone would be seen as guilty. Trying to cover up such an operation, a person would easily see five years behind bars, maybe more.

Myself, I was one of the managers for logistics and findings. I sat in an office wearing a suit and tie, minding my own business as I looked at numbers and spreadsheets all day long. My job wasn't boring by the way. I was constantly running around to various departments in the facility to double check data, confirm orders on equipment we needed, plus I had to supervise on days when people called in sick.

Our inside man, who gave us the tip, had said we passed our inspection, except for some minor detail, which would be scrutinized a lot more in the next visit. Since we had labeled our company as a research lab for curing diseases, we had disguised many things. Unfortunately for us, one of the air tests they did was coming back with odd readings, which meant the regulation department would soon catch us red handed.

The gutting of the facility began weeks ago, but today was officially the last day for us to be present. I was running around in my business suit, which was covered in a plastic one to keep contaminants off my skin and suit. Workers were sanding, bleaching, stripping, burning, and shredding evidence. Any way they could erase this building's true operations, they were doing it.

Clipboard in one gloved hand, the other swinging freely, I jogged around to check each department. Rooms, closets, cupboards, storage units, walk-ins – you name it – all had to be checked off by me, personally. My boss was tight-lipped ever since the announcement, but we did have our final work orders.

Someone had brought their dog with them and locked it up in the air-conditioned office upstairs in the testing lab. I thought nothing of it and neither did anyone else as work continued as normal, the dog keeping quiet.

Near the end of the day, we were ready to say goodbye to our beloved workplace. The facility managed to fly under the radar for six full years without a hiccup, but the ride was finally coming to an end. Our lives weren't worth the risk if the government found out what we were actually doing. Jail sentences were going to be avoided, and everyone was retiring with severance from our wealthy investors, who understand the seriousness of the situation in its entirety.

My clipboard had check-marks and highlighted lines covering it as I headed to the testing lab for one final check. I didn't pay much attention as I walked into a dust cloud. I immediately began coughing and was escorted back out by someone in a hazmat suit.

"What are you doing, man?" he asked through the muffling material. "This stuff could infect you. Go wash up quickly and don't get any in your eyes or mouth."

I nodded in acknowledgment as someone helped me to the employee washroom, which was the only thing left standing next to the kitchen. Once my face was washed and my nose flushed, I looked in the mirror to see some minor redness in my eyes. I felt lucky after having that close call.

After leaving the washroom, I checked in with my boss and told him what happened. Since we had routinely gone over emergency procedures, he reminded me that a severe exposure to what we were creating was necessary for me to become sick.

"Red eyes are the least of your worries," he assured me, standing up from his office chair. Aside from it, only his empty desk and a book shelf remained. There were no papers, pens, books, plaques, machines, nor any organics. Curtains remained, which he closed as we both headed out of his office for the last time.

As we headed down to the main floor, we heard a commotion coming from the lab area. The employee who had brought his dog to work was in the lab. We walked in to find the lab solid white, no dust present anymore – thank God. I could see the man crouched down in the upstairs room through the glass window, but something didn't seem right. The dog didn't seem to be responding.

After all the cleaning that had been done, maybe the filtration system had clogged up, or the air cleaners had failed, causing chemicals to be pumped through the AC system and into the office where the dog was. We might have poisoned the dog, or worse, killed it.

Standing next to my boss, I waited patiently to see what the employee was going to do about his beloved pet. I didn't want to see the limp creature removed from the facility; I couldn't bare to watch something like that. It would be like watching the soul of the business being walked out to pasture and laid to rest.

Then the man began to scream. I strained my neck to see what was happening. My boss took one step towards the stairs, then stopped. Blood began to splash up against the glass window of the office. The dog was definitely infected somehow. It looked to be chewing through its owners neck, his jugular spraying more and more blood to the point where we couldn't tell what was happening up there.

"Run!" yelled my boss as he pushed past me. "Get to the parking lot!" He ran down the hall and pulled the alarm as I headed for an emergency exit.

Pushing the door open, the afternoon sun hit my face and began to slightly burn. I dropped my clipboard as I pulled off my gloves and began to remove the plastic suit and scrubs on my black dockers. By the time I was at my car, I was shaking so much I couldn't use the key, so I unlocked the door with the key fob.

I started the car and backed up, a loud thump hitting the trunk. Shit, had I hit someone? Turning around in my seat and checking my mirrors, I couldn't see anything. As I put the car into drive, a bloodied man stood up. I saw him in my side mirror, realizing he was the one attacked by his dog. Other employees were running for their lives; it was complete chaos.

Before putting my foot on the gas, my passenger door opened and my boss jumped in. He was out of breath and quite panicked.

"Drive, you idiot!" he barked, breathing heavily.

The tires squealed as I accelerated out of the parking lot and onto the main road. What the hell was going to happen now? We tried covering up what we were doing, but it still managed to get loose. Now there was an infected dog and man, running around the city. There was nothing more we could do.

Looking in my rear-view mirror, I noticed my face had become red and blotchy. "Shit," I muttered. "I think I'm infected."

Seconds later I felt a sharp pain in my leg, which caused me to take my foot off the gas pedal. My boss had stuck me with a needle and pushed a yellow substance into my body.

"Did you really think I wouldn't keep an antidote on me for emergencies?" he asked, pulling the needle out of me and placing it into a black briefcase I had failed to notice when he first got in. There were more needles in it, dozens at least. The contents of that briefcase were now our lifeline. And as I put my foot back down on the gas pedal, I felt the burning of my skin fade as the antidote went to work.