Finding Angel

The dark night seemed to swallow up every ounce of light in its thick fog and heavy down pour. What a lovely day to celebrate a thirtieth birthday. Reagan laid her head on her arms, the cold counter seeping through her thin scrubs. Her grey eyes slowly slid down into the cuff of her arm. Saturday nights were never this quiet. Usually the sounds of at least one bird or dog or cat kept her awake.

Lifting her head slightly, she surveyed the small waiting room. It's pewter blue walls with welcoming cats and dogs and birds and reptilians of all sorts playing with balls or toys of some sort seemed to stare back at her. Her eyes glided over a neatly stacked pile (complements of an OCD cat owner) of magazines. On the top was People Magazine with the latest gossip and celebrity break-up. Probably none of which was true.

"Finny was getting lonely." A soft tug on her dirty blond pony tail and her boss's voice made her jump. Clare, while being a slightly heavy set woman was surprisingly sneaky. She had black hair, dark brown eyes and a whiter than white complexion. In her arms was a large, fat, fluffy, brown cat with a very flat face. Finny, other wise known as Fat Cat, was nearly a permanent resident of the small Veterinary Practice. He had a bit of a hair ball problem, and his owners were rich and a bit panicky.

"Here, he was howling in the back. Poor thing, all alone. It's been a really slow night, huh?" She plopped the cat into Reagan's lap. Then a stern look consumed her face. Reagan rolled her eyes, preparing herself for a lecture of some sort. It was something she had seen a lot, but had never experienced. Most of the other vet techs bore the brunt of her lectures, but Reagan, being quiet and generally a good person had never needed a lecture. Until tonight.

"Why are you here?" Clare put her hands on her hips.

"What do you mean? Have I done something wrong?"

"Wrong? No, no. What are you doing here tonight?"

Reagan suddenly realized this was a friendly lecture, rather then a boss lecture. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean. It's your birthday, you should be out partying and drinking and celebrating!"

"I don't party."

"At the very least go home, rent a movie, invite a friend over, anything. But it's you birthday, you shouldn't be here!"

"I like work. I'd rather be here."

"You know what you need?" Dramatic pause, "You need a social life."

Reagan laughed. What a joke! Smiling, she looked up at the clock. 9:54 pm. It was official, she was thirty. The smile faded. She gently stroked Finny's head and he purred, delighted.

"Well, I have a birthday present for you." Clare beamed. "I called Susan and she's gonna fill in for you."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah. You work too much. Go. Have fun. Don't be here!" She wiggled her finger at Reagan, giggling to herself.

"Fine." Reagan sighed, leaning back into the office swivel chair. After a long forty minutes, Sue walked in, a smile plastered to her face. "Happy birthday!" She said, bubbly as ever. Sue was small, thin, with brown hair and blue eyes.

Reagan stood up, holding Finny out to her, "Here, have a cat." A fake smile lining Reagan's lips.

Grinning, Sue scooped him up, cradling the feline in his arm. "Hey, Finny. How are you today?" She tickled his nose and scratched his ear.

Reagan shook her head. Susan was always so peppy and happy. She had no idea how Sue managed it. She always had something nice to say and her happiness was intoxicating.

"I figured you'd be shooing me out the door."

"Clare would be on my ass in seconds."

"Probably." Still grinning, Sue walked back into the locker room, Finny still in her arms.  

Spinning around in her chair, Reagan got up, slinking in after her. The two changed in silence with Finny sitting on the bench in the middle of the room. Pulling her shirt off, Reagan looked suspiciously at the feline as he looked up at her. If he were human he'd be in paradise right about now. The idea made her gag. She slid an old t-shirt on followed by a fitted hoodie and  her trademark brown leather jacket.

"Enjoy your night." Susan smiled.

"Thank you." Reagan paused at the door. "Thank you…for all of this."

"Oh, no problem. Happy birthday."

With a small smile, Reagan nodded and walked out into the lobby. Clare stood over the front desk with a stack of papers. "Night, Clare"

"Have fun!" She called back as Reagan push through the front door with a wave. Stepping out into the cold, rainy night, she looked up into the starless sky. The city seemed silent, unnatural. She flipped her hood over her short, gelled blond hair. Hands shoved deep into her pockets, she walked on through the dark, head down, watching the sidewalk. After the first block of tall buildings the rain slowed and stopped. The air was still cold and the once faint scent of fish and moister was now thick.

She walked another two blocks before a familiar scent hit her. The irony scent of blood. It was faint, but there. She looked down a long, dark ally. Four dumpsters sat against the walls with soggy boxes and wooden crates. With out a second thought, she followed the scent down the ally, her conscious screamed for her to stop. "Hello?"

A car driving on the road behind her was the only reply.

Slowly peering around the first dumpster, she couldn't help but heave a shaky sigh. Just a pile of wet boxes. Crossing to the next green metal tin, she noticed a bloody smudge across the front. "Hello?" She hesitantly looked around the corner.

There leaned a motionless man. He was dressed in black jeans, a pair of old but neat sneakers and a long black leather trench coat. Not your average junkie. His hair was a golden brown and messy but neat in an obviously styled way. Reagan couldn't see his face.

Pulling her cell phone out she shown the light over him. Blood covered his shirt and his face was covered in scratches and small cuts. "S-Sir?" Her voice quivered. Her hand shaking, she slowly touched her index and middle fingers to the inside of his wrist, checking for a pulse. He suddenly awoke, grabbing her arm. Leaping backwards, she easily pulled out of his grasp. The man groaned, blinking his deep green eyes.

"Sir, you should go to the hosp-"

"No!" As the word came out he flinched. "I can't" his deep voice was weak and barely a whisper.

She was quiet, staring at him. Something inside her trusted him and her conscience remained silent. Running her hand through her hair, she crouched down to his level. "Alright. I can't just leave you here so lets get you up and I can see about putting you back together. Come on."

"Why, you…don't know me." He tilted his head slightly, confused by her kindness.

"Karma." She gave him a small smile.