Dave had never been shot at before. He added it to the list of firsts he’d done that day. First time riding in the back of a caretaker cart, first time having to create a revenue and expenses log with nothing more than a file full of ridiculous invoices, a rickety table and chair, and an abacus. It was also the first time he’d been kidnapped by an evil organization to fix their books.

He hoped there would be no more firsts added to his list today.

Another shell pinged off the back of the moss green cart. Warthog’s rifle jerked on his shoulder as he fired off another deafening shot. “Got ‘im.” The large boar-like thug grinned from ear to ear.

Dave lifted his hands from his ears.

“So, like I was saying.” Warthog scratched the thatch of ruddy brush that sat on top of his melon sized head. “My doctor keeps telling me that I need to eat more healthy fats like avocados, but I hate the slimy things. Know any way to make them turn into fries or something?”

“Ah, I don’t think you can make fries, at least not good fries, but my wife once blended them into a milkshake. I think she said it was something that was popular in Bolivia or was it Brazil.”

“Was it any good?”

“It wasn’t terrible.”

“You’ll have to get the recipe for me from her, so I can try it.”

Dave’s pulse quickened. Did that mean that they were really planning on letting him go after he finished fixing their company’s finances? Probably not.

Warthog knocked the side of the four-wheeler portion of the caretaker cart to get the weaselly driver’s attention. “Hey, Steve. Pull over. I need ammo from Johnny’s.”

Steve the weasel brought the cart to a stop. Warthog jumped out of the cart. “Hey accountant you need anything?”

“Does Johnny sell computers and finance software?”

“Naw.”

“Calculators?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“Then no.”

Warthog returned ten minutes later looking even more ridiculous than he did when he went in. On top of his biker vest two bandoliers crisscrossed across his brawny chest. He also now sported a belt that had more pouches than any tool belt Dave had ever seen. He also carried a bazooka over his left shoulder.

“Are you kidding me?” Weasel sputtered as Warthog tucked his new toy between himself and Dave.

“It was on sale.”

Two more stops added a box of land mines, a machete and suitcase that Warthog had cuffed to his own wrist.

“This is the last stop I swear,” Warthog promised as Weasel slammed on his breaks outside what appeared to be an ordinary office supply store.

For the first time since he’d crawled into the caretaker cart Dave perked up. “Can I come with you?”

“Well…” Warthog rubbed the silver case.

“If you want me to fix your books I’m going to need more than an abacus and printer paper from the seventies.”

“Steve?”

“Fine.” Weasel pulled the keys from the cart’s ignition. “But I’m sticking to you like glue number cruncher. No funny business and let’s make this snappy. I get irritable when I’m hungry.”

Weasel must not have eaten anything all day.

The three strolled through the front doors attracting more than a few stares even though Warthog had left his bandoliers and pouch-laden belt in cart. He was still the size of a continent and still strapped to the silver briefcase, so the gaping was understandable.

Warthog peeled off taking most of the attention with him while Weasel followed so closely behind Dave that he could smell the guy’s noxious cologne. Dave headed for the computers. There’d be no sending messages to anyone while Steve the weasel was so close. But maybe he could-

BOOM!

Paper products flew in every direction like flaming confetti. Weasel grabbed one of the display computers threw it at Dave, grabbed a handful of electronics for himself and bustled them off to the door. No one stopped them as they hustled out into the parking lot. Weasel cursed.

The green caretaker cart was gone.

Warthog pulled up on a tandem bicycle ringing the silly little bell attached to the handlebars. The briefcase was balanced precariously on his knees. “Hop on!” He called.

The weasel stuffed as much stolen loot into his pockets as possible and plopped into the basket on the front of the bike. Dave hesitated. This was his chance to run. He could leave and-

“Drop the merchandise!” A blue uniformed police officer pointed a pistol at Dave. The accountant dropped the laptop.

Warthog lobbed something over his shoulder. A few seconds later another explosion rocked the parking lot. Dave hopped onto the second seat of the tandem.

Sirens blared as they peddled away.