The Saturday Shift Survival Guide

Maya adjusted her security guard hat, the brim stiff against her forehead. Three years she'd worn it, standing watch at the hollowed-out shell of what used to be Merriweather Pharmaceuticals. Now it was just twelve floors of abandoned labs and broken dreams.

The company had left town last year, but the insurance company required a human presence. Most shifts were uneventful. Tonight, something scratched at the service door.

She shone her flashlight through the reinforced glass. A cat sat there, calico and thin, water soaking its matted fur. Rain hammered down outside, flooding the parking lot where she'd parked her Honda Civic.

'You too, huh?' she muttered. The zombie apocalypse of corporate abandonment had left them both behind.

She shouldn't open the door. Protocol said report any intrusion, even four-legged ones. But protocol also said she wasn't supposed to be drinking the office coffee or napping in the CEO's former office on breaks. Some rules existed to be broken.

The door clicked open. The cat didn't run. It stepped inside, shook water everywhere, and looked at her with ancient, judgmental eyes.

'Yeah, I know. I'm not supposed to let you in.' She crouched, extending a hand. 'But I'm also not supposed to be alone in this building at 2 AM, wondering where five years of my life went.'

The cat allowed a single pat before walking toward the stairwell, tail held high.

'Fine. Lead the way.' She followed, their footsteps echoing off abandoned walls where motivational posters still clung—TEAMWORK, DREAM BIG, WE'RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER. The irony tasted bitter.

On the fourth floor, the cat stopped before a window. Below, running lights from the few remaining businesses dotted the darkness. The rest of the industrial park stood dark, a graveyard of middle-class jobs.

She'd been thirty when she started here. She'd believed the recruiters who said there was room for growth. Now her back hurt from standing all shift, her savings account was a running joke, and the only growth she'd experienced was a profound understanding of what it meant to be disposable.

The cat jumped onto a desk, curling up on a stack of forgotten performance reviews.

'Maybe you're right,' she said, settling into the ergonomic chair someone had left behind. 'Maybe this is what we do. We find the warmest spot available and we survive.'

Outside, the rain intensified. Inside, she watched the strange cat breathe, finding comfort in another heartbeat in the dead building.