<span style="font-style: italic"> <span style="color: #FFBFBF">Again?</span><br/><br/>The cellphone rattled aggressively on the nighstand, demanding attention. Even on the vibrate setting, it seemed obnoxiously loud in the stillness of the early morning. Despite flying open at the onset, Amanda’s eyelids fell shut again as if she had tiny weights attached to her lashes, but she heard the sheets shuffle as Miriam reached for the offending device and pull it back beneath the comforter with her. A husky, murmured conversation of pauses and monosyllabic responses, followed by a deep sigh, and the phone was tossed presumably back toward the nightstand- it missed, clattering to the hardwood floor and provoking a growl from the pile of blankets. <br/><br/>For a moment it seemed as though Miriam had fallen back asleep- which would have made sense, considering the amount she’d gotten in the past few days- but with a resentful gurgle the lanky woman pulled herself from the blanket cocoon and sighed deeply, reaching for her glasses. Amanda opened her eyes as the weight on the bed redistributed, muttering <span style="color: #FFBFBF">”The lab?”</span><br/><br/>“Mmhm,” came the sleepy response. She rolled over as the nightstand lamp blinked into life, the sound of dresser drawers opening and closing forcing her further and further away from sleep. <span style="color: #FFBFBF">”… coffee…”</span><br/><br/>She started to sit up, but Miriam’s sleepy voice stopped her, “Nah, don’t bother. I’ll grab something on the way. Go back t’sleep.”<br/><br/>That was all the prodding she required, falling back into the warm embrace of the comforter almost immediately. After a few minutes, the light clicked off, and the retreating sound of the botanist’s shoes was the last thing she heard. </span><br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">----------</div><br/><br/><br/>That had been almost five hours ago.<br/><br/>Amanda’s drive to work –just long enough to finish a cup of coffee, a yogurt and a granola bar, if she ate slowly- had been punctuated just once from its monotony by a call from Miriam. Apparently, the road blocks on the main highway from their flat to the college laboratories were still there. For a block to appear on such a busy road was strange enough, but Miri added that they didn’t just need to see a driver’s license anymore; now they were requesting things like immunization records, and even had a physician there asking questions and examining people. If she hadn’t had her lab ID badge on her coat, she may very well not have made it to work that morning (Amanda failed to see how that would have been a bad thing, exactly, but she kept quiet). The ranger hadn’t noticed any peculiar road blocks on either morning, though she<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>seen more military vehicles than usual. Regardless, Miri had recommended she get a copy of her medical records and keep them in the car, in case she came up on any of these random check-up check-points.<br/><br/>She parked and clambered out, the little sedan remaining unlocked behind her as she climbed the few steps to the station. “Station” might have been a generous term; it was a run-down shack, with one room and one almost-bathroom. A few desks, a couch and enough boxes to classify the main room as “storage-oriented”, she shared the outpost with one other park employee. Brady was almost sixty-five, and he didn’t do a lot in the way of field work, but he kept the place organized (meaning<span style="font-style: italic">he</span>knew where to find things, even if no one else did), and didn’t often pester her with small talk or nonsense. Plus, she had grown rather fond of Molly, his old dog that slept on the couch in their would-be office.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFBFBF"> “Anything new?”</span>she asked as she walked in, out of habit more than curiosity. She knelt down to scratch the black Labrador behind her ears, earning a tail thump and a flat tongue across her fingertips.<br/><br/>“TV says stay inside, so a slow day, probably.”<br/><br/>She stood up to face the old man behind the desk, brow quirked.<span style="color: #FFBFBF"> “Somethin’ to do with all the roadblocks?” </span><br/><br/>Brady shrugged and pulled the tab on his warm root beer. “Prob’ly. Prob’ly also somethin’ to do with why they requested all your research before the deadline.”<br/><br/>“Gatz did?” Amanda took a few steps over to the old man’s computer, thoroughly confused. It had taken her two years to even learn the man’s name, making it clear that their boss didn’t exactly have a hands-on approach to his employing, and she was positive that he had never requested anything from her even<span style="font-style: italic">past</span>deadlines.<br/><br/>“Higher up.”<br/><br/>She paused. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure who she answered to beyond Gatz. Her work was observational and occasionally, at the most scientific, interpretive. Once she’d proved she didn’t need her hand held, she was more or less given free rein in her outpost with Brady- record the data, turn in the data, rinse and repeat. She hadn’t even seen the inside of a helicopter since she and Miriam had moved to Nevada (save the one time she helped with repairs), so that ruled out any potential lawsuit-related reports that could have been needed. Brady seemed to sense her confusion, his jowly face fixing her with a semi-exasperated stare. “The feds, man.”<br/><br/>Oh. Right. Technically, those employed by the national parks<span style="font-style: italic">were</span>federal employees, but it seemed so distant. A crease of worry darkened the space between Amanda’s eyebrows, but before she could ask another question the white-whiskered man piped up. “Didn’t say why. Guess it was real important they know how the snakes are doin’ this year.” He chuckled to himself and sipped his lukewarm soda, turning back to what she assumed was a game of solitaire.<br/><br/>The dog on the couch whined a bit, prompting Amanda to give her a quick belly rub. The bullshit never stopped with the government, but at least she was far enough downstream that, hopefully, it would stay diluted. With a final pat to Molly’s head, she grabbed a leather knapsack by the door, two warm water bottles, and headed back out into the blazing desert sun.