The Janitor Who Stopped for a Dying Man

CHAPTER 1 - The Man at Gate 12

"Easy, sir. Breathe with me."

Ethan Collins had said it before he could think.

Harold Grant was bent over near the customer service counter, one hand crushed against his chest, coughing so hard Ethan thought he might fall right there on the polished marble floor.

"Stay out of this," snapped Marlene Voss, the supervisor, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Ethan ignored her and guided Harold into the chair.

The old man’s skin was pale. His breathing came in ragged pulls. Yet when Ethan knelt beside him, Harold’s shaking hand closed over his wrist for one brief second.

"Thank you, son," Harold whispered.

Marlene stepped in closer, face tight with anger. "Back to work."

"I won't leave him," Ethan said.

"Then you're fired."

The words hit hard, but Ethan did not move. He kept one hand on Harold’s shoulder, steadying him, while the other adjusted the footrests.

Then Harold’s right hand slid into the pocket of his dark wool coat.

Ethan thought he was reaching for medicine.

Instead, Harold pulled out a black smartphone. His breathing changed. His back straightened.

The weak old man in the wheelchair suddenly looked like someone else entirely.

He raised the phone to his ear and said, in a voice cold and commanding, "This is Harold Grant. I'm ready now."

Marlene’s face drained of color.

"I'm ready now."