Dave dipped the mop into the soapy, gray soup at the bottom of his bucket then slopped the dingy head back onto gleaming tiles. He was taking as long as he possibly could on the floor job. His next task was cleaning the second-floor bathrooms of the goon’s barracks. Several of the mountain sized men had come down with a bad case of food poisoning and the second-floor bathrooms had taken the brunt of the illness’s wrath.

“This is clean enough,” Dave’s supervisor Ken folded his arms across his narrow chest. Of all the guys in the compound Ken was the only one who wasn’t wearing red. His janitorial jumpsuit was a bluish-gray covered in suspicious looking stains. Of course, Dave’s own black slacks and blue dress shirt were not in the state they had been when he’d pulled into work at eight o’clock that morning. “I want you to get a start on the second-floor bathrooms then after that we need to skim the pool.”

“Yes sir,” Dave said. He slopped his mop back in the rolling cart, bucket thing.

He pushed his cart down the hall. One wheel squeaked and the whole contraption was shuddered over the black and white tiled floor. Occasionally a bit of water sloshed onto the polished surface. Dave did not stop to wipe the spills.

Reaching the elevator, he depressed the down button. The doors opened with a ping and Ashley emerged Tyler Rift in tow. She’d changed into a tight red blouse and even tighter jeans. Tyler still wore only a pair of running shorts, sneakers and a guitar. Ashley glared at Dave as the accountant pulled his janitor’s cart back. Ashley slipped around him. Tyler lingered. He looked like he wanted to say something to Dave, but Ashley snapped at Dave first. “Tylerkins is performing in the ballroom tonight, but the vents are so gross. Do something about that.” She snaked an arm around Tyler’s and started to saunter away.

“Are you sure that’s a good use of my time?” Dave asked.

Ashley turned back. “Excuse me?”

“I’m an accountant not a janitor. I fix paperwork and file taxes. Don’t you have need of those kinds of services. That’s what Molly wanted me to do.”

“No. I have a full-time accountant already and I don’t need another one. What I do need is someone to clean the vents in the ballroom. You have an hour.”

Dave’s knees groaned. He was too old to be crouching down with a duster trying to clear dust from the mostly clean vents. He swiped with his duster again. The fuzzy bit caught. Yanking on the duster freed the thing but a bit of fuzz came away dangling from a loose screw. Dave twisted the metal bit with his fingers. It came out easily. He tried another one. It too did not resist. Dave surveyed the vent again. It was big. Really big. In fact, it just might be big enough for a sixty-three-year-old overweight accountant with bowel issues to wriggle his way to freedom.

It wasn’t big enough. Sure, the first bit was, but Dave found out the hard way that the vent narrowed. Now his feet were inches past the gaping hole the vent cover and his head jammed between his outstretched arms cold air blowing straight into his face. He could neither advance farther into the vent nor could he scramble back out of it. He was stuck.

Once he stopped thrashing about Dave could hear noises were filtering up to him over the hum of the AC that were becoming all too familiar to him. Gun shots followed by the stomping of men’s feet and if he was not mistaken there was also the wail of sirens.

Dave twisted his head freeing his ear from the flesh of his arm. Men were shouting and if he wasn’t mistaken coming closer. His heart raced. Was he finally going to be rescued? The voices started to fade away.

No. They couldn’t leave.

Dave started shouting. “Hey over here! Please get me out of this!”

The footsteps came back.

“What the?” Someone said.

Hands clamped around Dave’s ankles and with a few hard tugs he was pulled back into the ballroom his eyes filling with tears of relief as he saw the blue uniforms surrounding him. He was saved he was saved he was-

His wrists were jerked behind him and slapped into a pair of cold steel bracelets. The officer who wielded the cuffs dragged him to his feet. “You’re under arrest.”