Lab Ratz
an excerpt

(Excerpt 11/27)
She hurried to her desk and opened the plastic mouse cage. Placebo was curled up in the corner of the cage and she feared the worst, although rational thought clearly stated that the mouse was sleeping. She nudged him with her finger and relaxed when he stirred and began to move about the cage.

She was so intensely focused on the mouse that she failed to realize she was not alone in the lab. She reinspected Placebo's flank - still no sign of the incision and no redness or swelling to indicate infection - and placed the cage back on its shelf. It was only when she turned away from her desk that she noticed a figure dressed all in black, face covered by a dark ski mask, approaching the fume hood in the corner.

Clarissa let out a startled scream and her first instinct was to bolt for the door but she had to duck as a glass bottle came hurling toward her head. She avoided the makeshift missile by inches and the bottle smashed violently against the back wall of the lab showering her with glass and a sweet smelling liquid.

Clarissa recognized the sugary odor and tried not to breathe but her heart was racing from the panic and she couldn't help inhaling the vapors. Her head was spinning instantly and though she tried to move towards the door she tripped over her own feet on the first step. She slammed into the ground, unable to catch herself, and the jolt temporarily brought her back to consciousness. She was lying on the floor and pain racked her brain as she tried to lift her head away from the pieces of broken glass all around her. A large shard of the bottle lay a few inches from her eyes. The label on the fragment was still intact and she could make out "Chlo-" as the first half of "Chloroform" before the letters blurred and she sank into unconsciousness.

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(Excerpt 11/20)
She placed the card on the desk and slid it over to the detective who was jotting down notes. He didn't look up at her or say anything and she didn't know if he expected her to continue.

"What type of work were you doing that you think someone would go to such great lengths to keep Mr. Jimenez away from it?" He asked when he finally looked up from his notes.

It took Clarissa a moment to realize that it was, in fact, a question. The detective's tone was so hard and cynical that she wondered if he even wanted an answer.

"We have a Friday deadline to prove that the cells we're working with - the cancer cells - produce a certain protein. We had to treat them on Saturday to have any shot at results by Friday." She hoped her explanation sounded important but not overly technical.

"And with Mr. Jimenez absent, you performed this work on your own?" He grilled her again.

"Yes."

"So if Mr. Jimenez is unable to contribute to this project you're working on, is it safe to assume that you, Miss Ratz, will be publishing the data on your own?"

"I suppose I could," she said before realizing where the detective's questions could lead, "but Pablo would still get credit! I'm NOT stealing the project. It's all his ideas and I like working with him!"

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(Excerpt 11/14)
"Exactly," said Pablo spurred on by her contribution. "But you see, ever since I started in the lab, bad things have been going on. The cells were wrong. Joel's deadlines. The vandalism, the phone calls and you -"

Clarissa flinched as if he had struck her. "Me?!?"

"No, not like that." He moved to the middle couch seat closing the space between them. "It's just that I've never met anyone like you before and when you finally walk into my life I can only have you as a friend..."

He reached up his hand and hovered it inches from her head as though restraining from cradling her face in his palm. After a moment he pulled his hand back to his side and closed his eyes.

"...It's all because of the lab. Perhaps this is God's way of telling me to find somewhere else to work," he finished, wistfully.

Clarissa was entranced by his words and wanted momentarily to agree with him but thoughts more sensible flew into her mind.

"Pablo, now you are being loco!" She reprimanded and it was his turn to flinch. "God did not paint racist slurs on your door last night and it certainly wasn't God freaking me out on the phone this afternoon! What God DID do is gift you with a brilliant mind and the chance to use that gift to cure cancer! And yeah, you might be the best man I've met in years but I'm thankful to have you as a friend if that's all we're allowed for now."

He stared at the ceiling again and his shoulders began to shake. Clarissa was afraid he might be crying but soon his silent chuckle burst into throaty laughter.

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(Excerpt 11/12)
She ran a search on articles using micro arrays. Hundreds of results appeared and she was about to narrow her search when the phone rang. She reached for it eagerly, hoping it was Pablo.

"Hello?" There was no response and she tried again, "Hello?"

"Pablo?" Rasped the rough voice on the other end.

"No, I'm sorry he won't be in today. Can I take a message and have him get him back to you?" She kept her tone polite but she was filled with disappointment.

There was raggedy breathing from the other end of line and then the connection broke.

"Hello?" She tried once more before hanging up. She couldn't say why but the phone call had her feeling uneasy. She hoped the stranger calling had nothing to do with whatever kept Pablo from the lab.

She turned back to her computer but the phone rang again.

"Pablo?" Rasped the same voice.

"No, I'm sorry he's not -"

"Who is this?" Interrupted the caller.

"May I ask who's calling?" Panic was creeping into Clarissa's voice but she managed to swallow it.

The caller hung up.

Clarissa took a deep breath to steady herself and dialed *69 hoping to use the service which would dial the number that had just called her. She was dismayed to receive a recording.

"Star six nine is not a feature currently available on phones networked within the John Ray Institute," the mechanical voice informed her. "If you are in need of assistance please contact the operator or security personnel."

The phone rang again as soon as she hung up on the recording. She hesitated and allowed two more rings before answering.

"Hello?" She said tentatively.

"Clarisssssssa," hissed the ragged voice of the caller.

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(Excerpt 11/7)
He paused to take a few sips of his soup. "How would you describe growing up around here?" he asked her.

"Now that is a most UN-interesting story, " she stated emphatically.

"Only to you," said Pablo. "I've only been in this country a few months."

"In that case, a full explanation of the experience of growing up in America would take far longer than this lunch break."

"Then narrow it down for me. I really only care to hear your experience."

Uncomfortable to be put on the spot but recognizing how much of his own life Pablo had shared, Clarissa pondered where to begin. "I didn't really grow up around here," she started, "I was actually born in Wisconsin."

"Wisconsin," he repeated, trying out her pronunciation with the midwestern accent, elongating the "on" to "an".

"Yeah, that's how they say it up there," she explained, realizing that he might not be familiar with US accents. "It's not too much different from around here, but it's colder in the winter."

"Colder than Chicago?" he exclaimed. "They already warned me that you have - what is the word - windchills? as low as minus twenty! In Bogota it is in the forties to sixties all year round!"

Clarissa laughed. "Then I guess you won't be enjoying our hundred and eight degree summers either!"

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(Excerpt 11/6)
She finished the cellular work that Pablo had interrupted and pulled up an online scientific journal site on her computer. She entered "Clarke, J" into the author search field and links to a dozen articles were instantly shown on her screen. Clicking the button marked "Sort by Date" she located the most recent paper and downloaded it to her desktop. It was an article from a high level journal published in January of this year. Joel was listed as the third author behind "Sunadhiyani, R" and "Sunadhiyani, B". It was from the John Ray Institute so Clarissa concluded that it was primarily the work of the two phD's that had moved back to India. It hadn't occurred to her before that the two doctors were related to each other - possibly siblings, or husband and wife, maybe even a parent and child?

She selected a tab marked "Author Info" for the first name. A picture of a middle aged Indian man appeared with the caption "Rishabh Sunadhiyani, phD" followed by an extensive Curriculum Vitae and list of publications. He had been with the JRI for the past four years and it appeared that he had worked at three other research universities in the US within the past twenty years.

What type of visa problems had made him leave the country now? Clarissa wondered.

She returned to the article and followed the second author link. This time the name "Bala Sunadhiyani, phD" came up beneath a picture of a lovely Indian woman. She was probably close in age to Rishabh and Clarissa deduced that they were likely husband and wife. Bala had a similar CV to Rishabh with plenty of prestigious US employment that again had Clarissa pondering the reason for their departure. She began to scan the article but looked up from the computer when Pablo returned and slumped into his chair, looking exhausted.

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(Excerpt 11/4)
Clarissa was captivated by his accent. She nodded absently before coming to her senses. "Oh, yeah. I mean, Vanessa's not here. She said you should stop by after one o' clock. That's when she'll be back."

"I see." He looked around the lab, surveying his surroundings. "Maybe, since I'm here I could just wait around and you could tell me about what we will be doing."

"I'd love to!" Clarissa said with a little too much eagerness in her voice.

Calm down! You're worse than Jill, she mentally scolded herself. Besides, it doesn't matter how gorgeous he is, he's your co-worker! That's off limits as far as dating goes!

To steady her runaway emotions and to keep her attraction in check, she imagined the words "Co-worker: Off Limits" tattooed across his forehead. As she showed him around the lab she periodically brought the image to the front of her mind.

"You keep staring at my forehead," Pablo observed, reaching his hand up to wipe his brow. "Did I mark myself with a pen or something?"

Clarissa looked away from him immediately, trying to hide the flush that she felt infiltrating her cheeks.