Resurrection

Doppleganger

"Nelson, get your arse in here now!"

A quick glance over the top of the cubicle confirmed what she feared: the entire office staff were peering back.

Great, now everyone gets to witness my walk of shame.

Annabel cringed as his office door slammed with a resounding bang, the venetian blind clattering off the window. A brief search uncovered her notebook hiding under the printouts. She hurried, head hung low and shoulders hunched as if to make herself invisible, to Simpson's office. Pausing at the door to take a fortifying breath, she tucked a lock of hair that had escaped the ponytail behind her ear and took a quick glance at her reflection in the glass. She puffed a breath in resignation, quickly smoothing a hand down the wrinkled blouse and skirt she had been wearing since the previous morning and tapped the glass.

"Sir?" she asked, peeking around the door.

"Close the door, Annabel. Unless you want the gossip mongers to have your business spread through the entire building come tomorrow morning," he advised, motioning her to sit.

Annabel shuffled forward and pressed the door closed at her back, the click making her jump.

"You look a mess," he began, taking a gentler tone. "Did you even go home last night?" Annabel opened her mouth to respond, but he waved her off. "Don't bother, I already know you spent the night in the lab. Speaking of which, where is your report on the Nexus project?"

She grimaced and pushed her black-rimmed glasses back on her nose. "Emm, I need an extension. The tests I ran last night were inconclusive and I need to run more."

"Annabel, I've given you two extensions already. The bigwigs want those reports ASAP. I can't put them off any longer." He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "If you're having problems I can put someone else on it."

"No! Please, the tests are almost finished. I'll type up an interim report tonight and have it on your desk in the morning." She rose from the seat and backed up to the door. "I just need another couple of days, tops."

"This business is filled to the brim with unrealistic motherfuckers, Annabel. Don't make yourself one of them. One more day and that's it."

She rushed from his office before he could change his mind, walking quickly past the staring and giggling faces of her colleagues who were packing up, ready to leave for the night. The lift doors opened at the far end of the corridor. As she sprinted for them, she caught her toe on an invisible obstacle and tumbled head first into the arms of none other than Kenneth, Mr. Perfect.

Kenneth swore, his minty-fresh breath fanning her cheek. "Watch where you're going you clumsy cow." He pushed her away, making her stumble again.

She bit back her retort. Mr. bloody Perfect - the asshole - would be the guy to take over her experiment if she didn't get her report to Simpson in the morning. He'd take credit for all her hard work, not for the first time either. As soon as his back was turned, she stuck her tongue out and gave him a one finger salute.

The breath she didn't realise she'd been holding left her in a rush as the elevator door slid open at sub-floor ten, her sanctuary. Any time she spent alone in the lab were her most productive. Relieved to find the place already empty of staff, she switched the computer on, opening the Nexus programme to review the previous night's results.

She gathered her last two samples from the fridge - DNA from an unidentified life-form. The British government wanted Simpson to analyse a batch of samples, with instructions to identify their origins. Simpson put his best man on the job. Not. He'd given it to her because the government weren't funding the experiment and the best were needed for the paying customers.