The closet door makes a loud clack when I close the door, and I can’t help but flinch. The rooms air jostles with keyboards clacking and voices lilting about different books and genre’s as I make my way back to my desk. I lean over the divider and check to see if Kendra is on the phone, or if she has earphones in, but she’s not doing either.

“Wow! It’s clean in here! The floors are immaculate, and everything is shiny.” I lean on the divider like she did earlier, hoping that she’ll answer my unasked question.

Kendra looks up at me and twirls her pen between her fingers. “Oh yeah, Viv hired a new cleaning crew. They were here real early this morning. I got in around 7:30am and they were just wrapping up. They cleaned everything! They even cleaned all our desks, wiped down our phones, the whole shebang!”

Well, that explains a lot. “Oh nice! I’m glad she finally got a crew that actually cleans. The last one we had barely did anything other than squirt some toilet cleaner in the toilet.”

“Right? I did overhear the crew when they were leaving that it looked like there was barbecue sauce in the breakroom on some of the cupboards.”

“Barbecue sauce?” Uh oh, that could’ve been blood and they didn’t know it. How could they not know it?

“Yeah, Frank had a blow out with his little crockpot lunch thing last week.” Kendra shrugs and rolls her eyes. “You know Frank. Always gotta push the limit.”

“Yeah,” I giggle, “right.” I lower back down behind the cubicle wall and sit in my chair. The noise of the room gets blocked out from the loud hum in my head as I realize that I did, in fact, kill Mike.

And I’m getting away with it.

I spend the rest of the day working on editing the book that I was on when the whole thing with Mike blew up. I manage to finish the book just before 5pm. Multiple people, including Kendra, have already left when I look up from my cubicle. I’ll have to sit down with her to find out how many days we’re going to be in Connecticut. I need to know how much to pack for Squeaker. For now, I feel like I have my second, or third, wind and maybe I’ll wait it out a little bit longer. There’s still some cleaning to do downstairs that I know the crew didn’t clean because I locked the door.

Maybe if I walk over to the breakroom, I can figure out how many people are still here. Plus, I never saw Viv today. She usually comes around to make sure we’re all working hard and not having fun. When I glance up to the windowed crow’s nest she calls her office, the lights are off up there. Viv and her assistant must’ve left already too.

My chair glides silently away from my desk as I push against it. It may be fake leather but the wheels on it are certainly top par. My back cracks and pops as I lift my arms above my head, stretching all the kinks out from sitting in one position for so long. The noise in here is quieter than it was earlier. I only hear one keyboarding clacking.

“Oh, what a day!” I make sure to say it loud enough in the hopes of seeing how many people respond back to me.

“I’ll say.” A lone male voice pipes up from the far corner, the desk by the breakroom.

I decide to go see what’s in the fridge in the breakroom. Maybe there’s a little snack in there, or a drink. Something to keep this third wind going because I need to make it longer than whoever is still here and have energy to clean the leftover massacre.

I drag my hand over the granite counter we use as a bar. It’s cool to the touch, and I resist the urge to lay my face on it. That would feel amazing for this headache that’s starting to manifest. I’m sure the lack of sleep isn’t helping that at all. When I make the turn into the breakroom, I see it’s Frank who’s still here.

Barbecue Frank.

“Oh hey, Frank. What are you working on so late?” Maybe if I make it sound later than it is, he’ll leave so I can get this done.

“Viv gave me a how-to guide to edit. Except she wanted to make sure that it was accurate and not just a random how-to guide that didn’t actually work. So, I have to do all of the how-to’s.” Frank runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair, making it stand up in weird spots. I want to tell him, but I also enjoy seeing him all ruffled.

Frank isn’t someone who ever looks less than his best. Always in a grey suit, yellow tie, and a white shirt. Always. I’m not even sure he changes his clothes now that I think about it. I giggle to myself as I imagine his closet with every day of the week laid out. Multiple clumps of grey suits, white shirts, and yellow ties. What would he do if someone switched out his tie for a blue one. Would barbecue Frank have a meltdown?

“What’s the how-to about?” I call out over my shoulder as I open the door to the refrigerator and lean in. This fridge really needs to be cleaned out. There are unidentifiable leftovers growing something new in the back corner. I guess the new cleaning crew doesn’t do fridges.

Frank clicks the mouse of his computer a couple of times and then reaches around and turns off his monitor. “It’s a how-to on Microsoft Excel. I never knew there was so much that can be done with that program. I thought it was just spreadsheets.” Frank leans back in his chair and lays his arms in his lap. I can relate. Our arms get tired from constantly working on a computer all day.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t realize that either. Does it give you formulas to do or is it just a book that tells you that you can make formulas?”

“It gives you formulas. A ton of formulas. Well, Effi, I think it’s time for me to head home. What are you doing here so late?” Frank stands up and grabs his briefcase. He takes his trench coat from the coat stand that he brought in just for himself and keeps it a few feet behind his desk. Frank’s been here the longest out of all the employees.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

As he drapes his coat over his arm, he makes his way toward me. I close the fridge and walk over to the counter, facing Frank. “I’m just finishing up an edit. I’m so close to being able to close the door on it that I wanted to just stick around and wrap it up tonight. Then I can start something new tomorrow. This author is painfully dull so I really would like to get it done.”

Frank taps his hand on the counter, “I completely understand that! Been there many times. Well, have a good night, Effi. See ya in the morning.”

“Thanks! You too, Frank.”

Frank shuffles his feet as he walks across the room, under the crow’s nest, and out the door to the parking lot. I watch the monitor on the wall next to the front door as the light turns from green to red indicating that the door locked behind him. Viv is all about ease and she had the building programmed to take a lot of the guesswork out. Or maybe she wanted to take the guesswork out of her dumb employees. A couple of us may have forgotten to lock up when we left. Now we don’t have to think about it. The doors lock on their own when the clock hits 5:00pm. They also unlock at 7:30am during the work week. She really does want us to come in early. I refuse. Sleep is my ruler.

I walk around the whole floor, making sure that no one else is here and just being really quiet. Once I make it all around and back to my desk, I breathe a sigh of relief. Now how do I figure out if the cameras are still offline? I heard the one snap a picture of me this morning when I walked in, but does that mean that all of the cameras are online or is it only that one? Maybe there’s a breaker box somewhere. If I can cut the power to the cameras, then I can clean without being on video and then flip them back on when I’m done. But where would the breaker box be?

I sit back down in my chair and act like I’m working. I have to act like I’m being recorded because chances are really high that I am. I double check my time sheet on the computer to see if I did get clocked in. If I didn’t then there’s no need to even worry about the breaker because then the cameras are still off. A couple of clicks with my mouse shows that, yes indeed, I did get clocked in this morning. There’s a picture of my face with a timestamp of 7:58am. Our faces are always on our time sheet because then no one can fake someone else’s time. Honestly, it’s pretty smart.

Okay, so if the cameras are on, where would I put the breaker box? If I was Viv, would I want them in my office so that I could control the power any time I want? Ugh, I hope not. If that’s the case, then I’m shit out of luck. What if she didn’t want that up in her beautiful space because she would have to create a work around in her feng shui office to cover up a huge breaker box? Where would she put it then?

The maintenance closet.

I scoot my coffee mug to the edge of my desk. It’s my only mug that has the company logo on it. It was a Christmas gift the first year I was here. We’re only given one mug. If you want a different mug, you supply it yourself. And if you break this one, then too bad so sad.

Making sure that my chair isn’t in the line of fire, I place my right elbow behind the mug and lean in toward my computer screen. Who knows where all the cameras are pointed? I nudge my elbow just enough to send my half full coffee mug careening to the floor, shattering into a million ceramic shards amidst the splatter of cold coffee and creamer.

“Ah crap!” I say loud enough for the audio to pick it up on the camera. I huffily walk over to the maintenance closet, and yank open the door, hoping that my acting is coming off as anger. I lean in as far as I can, pretending that I can’t reach what I’m going for so that I can move the bucket and mop out of the closet. Once the bucket and mop are out and leaning against the wall, I step into the closet.

It’s not a very big closet. It has two walls of shelves immediately in your face when you walk in, and quite frankly, I’ve never looked behind me. When I do, I see what I’m looking for: the breaker box. Hopefully there’s no camera in here. The thought of having a camera in the maintenance closet wouldn’t surprise me the way Viv is so paranoid, but upon a quick glance around, I don’t see one.

I find the latch that keeps the door to the box closed and open it up. This wall that the box is set on is so dark with only the door open, so I reach around, finding the string for the light switch and pull it, illuminating the closet and the box.

“Oh dear,” I mumble. There are rows and rows of flip switches, and nothing is labeled. How would anyone know what these switches are to? How am I going to know what I’m flipping on and off? And of course, it’s all going to be caught on camera if I don’t find the right one right away.

I rub my hand across my forehead, finding the little beads of sweat that have popped up on my brow. Maybe I should just leave the room downstairs the way it is. Obviously if someone goes in there, the smell is going to wreak havoc on their senses anyway.

Wait! Those rooms are all climate controlled! Each one has its own thermostat and ducting. I can make Mike’s room as cold as I want it to be!

Now I have to go down there for sure! I’ve been lucky so far. Let’s push lady luck a little farther. I look at all the switches carefully. Some of them look like they’re grouped together with other ones. If I were to put switches in myself, I would put the most important ones at the top. That’s logical, right?

I skip the ones at the top and find a couple at the end that are in a small group. I flip the first one and wait. I don’t hear anything, and it doesn’t look like anything happened. The lights are still on, and I can hear the air conditioner still running. How am I going to know if I flip the right breaker for the cameras anyway? It’s not like the cameras make sound or follow us around the room.

Maybe I’m going to have to switch off more than I realize just in the hopes that one of the silent ones are the cameras. I start at the bottom and begin making my way up.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

So far, the lights are still on, and the air conditioner is still running. I keep flipping, one at a time, listening and watching to make sure I don’t flip off the wrong one and set the alarm off. Would the alarm go off if I cut the power to it? A good alarm should have a battery back-up I would guess. But then again, I don’t make alarms. I don’t have a clue about any of this stuff.

The next flip of a switch makes something click out in the office room. I poke my head out the door and look around. The lights are on, the air conditioner is on, but when I look at the front door, the red light is off. I just turned off the electricity to the locking system. I think I want that on for sure. But is that connected to the alarm?

Cautiously, I flip the breaker back on, hearing the click on the front door. I wait, holding my breath, expecting the alarm to go off, but when it doesn’t, I let out a whole lung worth of air. When I peek around the door, I see the red light has come back on. Good. Then the door is locked again.

A few more switches and I hear the hum from the refrigerator stop. I guess that’s the kitchen switch. I flip off another one and the air conditioner stops blowing air through the vents. I only have three more breakers left. Two of them have to be the lights and the alarm, but what’s the other one? If I flip the wrong one, the cops will be immediately called and, as the saying goes, the gig is up.

My fingers dance over the last three breakers. The first one, second one, or third one. I close my eyes and decide it will be what it will be and flip the switch my fingers land on next.