I stood in front of my desk, knees aching from hours of computer work. My fingers were nearly numb, and the carpal tunnel in my wrists was flaring up again.

I’d spend hours testing and retesting. Still the results came back the same.

Negative. Always negative.

I fired up a diagnostic program that claimed it could recover almost anything off a hard drive. This was my last chance, and perhaps the last chance for my coworkers as well.

The last, untested, tool in my toolkit. Personally I thought the drive was dead, there was no point without the clean room.

But the angry customer holding the sawed off shotgun thought differently.

I surreptitiously rubbed the bruise forming on my ribs where he’d poked me repeatedly with the barrel, and glanced at Harv lying on the floor, blood leaking from the gash in his forehead.

His wife was 9 months pregnant. I hoped he’d be able to see his baby, and me my little girl at the end of the day.

I crossed my fingers and waited to see what it could recover.