[Janitors 03] Curse of the Broomstaff (12 page)

“Rod and I broke into the principal’s office late one night. Following instructions from the previous clue, we began peeling back a strip of carpet in the corner. There was noise in the hallway, and before we knew it, we were under attack. We didn’t know who it was, but they were armed with Glopified weapons and wore the seal of the BEM.

“We locked ourselves into the principal’s office, but it was clear that the door wouldn’t hold for long. I returned to the corner, frantically tearing up floorboards. But Rod . . .” Alan swallowed hard. “Rod went out to buy me time. His surprise attack was so sudden that he drove them down the hallway, giving me time to find
this
under the floorboards.”

Alan tipped the mailing tube, and something slid out of the package. It was a shiny metal cylinder, about an inch wide and just under a foot long. There was a black cap at one end, held in place by a metal clasp. Alan held up the cylinder so the whole team could see the number 13 written in dripping red paint.

“The BEM workers were returning, and I had no time,” said Alan. “It was a matter of minutes before they captured me. I couldn’t let the cylinder fall into their hands. I couldn’t let them steal what I’d worked for. I found the mailing tube and stamps in the principal’s desk. I’d seen a secure mailbox just outside the office, so I made a run for it. The attackers didn’t see me slip the package through the opening, but before I could get away, they were onto me.”

He looked down for a moment, taking deep, steadying breaths. “They dragged me outside. Rod was on the steps of the school, tangled in mop strings. One of them tied my hands, and I heard him say, ‘We’ll leave this one alive for questioning.’ That was when I knew that Rod Grush was already dead.” Alan paused, giving his old friend a moment of respectful silence.

“I was sent to a BEM compound and questioned for a year and a half. Then, as if I wasn’t miserable enough, they threw me into a dumpster for six months. I hadn’t opened the cylinder, so I could tell them nothing. Only two words escaped my lips:
Spencer. Son.
” He looked at his boy. “I had mailed the package to Spencer, where it sat untouched for over two years. Now it is found. And we’re here to open it.” He held up the silver cylinder.

“What happens when we solve the last clue?” Daisy pointed to the cylinder in Alan’s hand.

“This clue should direct us to a map. The map will lead us to a hidden landfill. That is where we’ll meet the Aurans.”

“The Aurans live at a landfill?” Spencer raised his eyebrows, not so sure if he wanted to be associated with kids who’d been living in a trash heap for a few hundred years.

“What makes you think the Aurans will cooperate once we find them?” Penny asked.

“They left the clues for someone to solve. I think the Aurans want to be found. Maybe this is their very purpose. Maybe the Founding Witches left them here so that whoever solved the clues could put an end to Glop and Toxites forever.”

“If the Aurans are hundreds of years old,” Penny said, “then how come that cylinder looks so new and shiny?”

“The Aurans periodically updated the thirteen clues, keeping with the times as technology advanced,” Alan said. “I have learned never to underestimate the Aurans. They want to make it as difficult as humanly possible to find the map to their landfill. We have to earn the right to speak with them.”

“Mmm, landfill . . .” Bernard said, a grin spreading across his face. “So there’s gonna be garbage?”

“Lots of garbage,” said Alan. “Which is why I put you on the team.”

Bernard rubbed his hands together in pure joy. “I love a good dump.”

“It’s not a dump,” Penny cut in. “It’s a landfill.”

“Dump, landfill. Potato, potahto.” Bernard shrugged. “Same dif.”

“No,” Penny persisted. “A dump is
not
a landfill. I did a report on it in high school. There’s a big difference.”

“No difference,” Bernard said stubbornly. “Place for garbage.”

Penny leaned across the table. “Dumps aren’t even legal anymore. Once upon a time, people heaped their hazardous waste into holes in the ground and called it good. Now we have landfills—well-engineered disposal sites for nonhazardous solids.”

“Bern! Penny!” Walter finally cut in. “Can you have this discussion later?”

“Same thing.” The garbologist sat back, smiling as he managed to sneak in the final word.

“Let’s suppose we find the Aurans and they tell us the location of the Glop source,” Walter mused. “How do you plan to destroy it?”

Alan had an answer ready. “The Aurans have been destroying Glop for centuries. They collect old maxed-out Glopified supplies. Somehow they extract the Glop, deliver a small portion back to the warlocks, and destroy the rest.”

Penny sat forward, a scheming look in her eye. “If we can find out what the Aurans use to destroy the Glop, then we might be able to use the same method to destroy the source.”

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Bernard said. “We’ve got to find the map to the dump first.”

“Which is why we have this.” Alan hefted the cylinder and took a deep breath. “Let’s find out what’s inside.”

His thumb flipped the clasp, and the black lid sprang open.

A
lan upturned the cylinder and dumped the contents onto the table. There was a quiet stupor as they all stared blankly at the item.

Finally, Bernard threw his hands in the air. “You gotta be kidding me!”

“That’s a little disappointing.” Penny raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a . . .” Spencer stammered. “A . . .”

“It’s a roll of paper towels!” Bernard shouted.

“But without the paper towels,” added Daisy.

And that was exactly what it was: a brown cardboard tube, about eight inches long, slightly wrinkled at both ends.

“There’s something inside it,” Walter said, bending close to the table.

Alan picked it up and peered through it. Carefully, he reached his fingers into the end of the roll and pinched out a scrap of old newspaper, stuffed tightly, as if to hold something in. Alan tossed the paper into the trash can and grabbed a second wrinkled scrap from the other end of the tube. This time, something fell from the cardboard roll and landed with a tinkle on the table.

It was a tiny silver key, maybe half the size of Spencer’s thumb. He’d never seen one quite like it before. Alan dropped the scrap of paper and the cardboard tube in the trash and bent over to inspect the key.

“Why’s it so . . . small?” Daisy asked.

“It’s the economy,” Bernard said. “Everyone’s downsizing.”

“It’s small,” Walter said, “because the lock is small.” He reached across the table and picked up the key. “Anyone who’s spent time as a janitor ought to know exactly what this key is for.” He pinched it between his fingers for all to see.

The garbologist and the biology teacher shrugged. Spencer and Daisy had both spent time as janitors, but they didn’t have keys to the school. It was Penny who finally answered: “It opens a paper-towel dispenser.”

Walter nodded. “Every paper-towel dispenser has a tiny keyhole, usually on the side or the top. That’s how the janitor opens the dispenser to put in a fresh roll of paper.”

“Then the map to the Auran landfill must be hidden inside a dispenser somewhere!” Alan said.

“How many paper-towel dispensers do you think there are in the United States?” Penny asked. “Millions? Billions?” She shook her head. “Where do we even start looking?”

“I just have to point this out,” Daisy cut in, holding up a finger. “Has anyone else noticed that the word
dispenser
sounds a lot like, you know,
Spencer?
”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Spencer said.

Daisy shrugged. “Just an interesting coincidence.”

“Did the twelfth clue give you any direction on where we could find this dispenser?” Walter asked.

“No, I don’t think so.” Alan rubbed a hand through his beard. “But that was more than two years ago. I could be wrong.”

“We’ve got to find a way to narrow down the search,” Penny said.

“I might start by searching Alsbury High School.” Everyone turned to Bernard. The garbologist was rocked back on his chair, yellow boots resting on the edge of the table. He was holding a newspaper in front of his face, as though casually reading at the breakfast table.

“Would you get your nose out of the trash and start taking things more seriously?” Penny snapped at him.

Bernard lowered the wrinkled newspaper just enough to peer over the top. “One man’s trash is another man’s reading material. Very interesting report about the janitor at Alsbury High School. Looks like the article continues on page A3.”

He dropped his boots to the floor and reached into the trash can for the second scrap of newspaper that Alan had plucked from the tube. Carefully, Bernard unfolded the page and smoothed it against the tabletop.

“Yup!” Bernard said. “Sure as shooting. It’s page A3.”

The whole team was staring at the garbologist, waiting for an explanation of what was written on the newspaper.

“It’s all right here.” Bernard hoisted the trash can onto the table. “You were all so worked up about the tiny key that you didn’t think twice about throwing away the real clue.”

He lifted the cardboard tube out of the trash and waved it around. “This tells you that the key belongs to a papertowel dispenser.” Bernard set down the tube and lifted the newspaper. “And this tells you that the paper-towel dispenser belongs to Alsbury High School. Are you following me?”

Walter sighed. “Just read the article, Bern.”

“Ahem.” Bernard cleared his throat and straightened his duct-tape tie. “Police are investigating the death of Alsbury High School’s night janitor, Rico Chavez.”

“Wait!” Walter held out his hand.

Bernard flinched. “I haven’t even gotten to the tragic part yet.”

“What’s the date on the paper?” the warlock asked.

Bernard squinted at the corner of the page. “Let’s see . . . Friday, January 13, 1993.”

Daisy did some quick math on her fingers. “That newspaper’s more than twenty years old!”

“It’s a warning,” Walter said. “I remember the Rico Chavez incident in ’93. The Bureau wasn’t happy about it going public.”

“What happened to Rico?” Spencer asked.

“It isn’t pretty, kid,” Bernard said. “Says here he was found—”

Walter held up his hand again, cutting off Bernard before he could share the gruesome details. “The press found Rico before the BEM could cover it up. The news reporters couldn’t fathom what got him. There were even outrageous theories about wild animals in the school. But every janitor knew without a doubt. Rico Chavez was killed by Toxites.”

“How could that be?” Penny asked. “Toxites don’t live in high schools.”

“Toxites feed on active brain waves,” Walter said. “High school air is too rotten for them. They’d feel relocated and would do anything to escape.”

“Okay,” Alan said. “Let’s suppose the Toxites were trapped in the high school, getting angry. Rico must have accidentally released them, and before he knew it, the creatures got him.”

“Right,” said Penny. “I’m still wondering how a swarm of angry Toxites ended up trapped in a high school.”

“They must have been planted there,” Alan said. “I bet the Aurans put them there to guard the final clue.”

Walter picked up the small key. “If the paper-towel dispenser is at Alsbury High School, then Rico Chavez might have given his life to pave the way for us.”

“Don’t take anything for granted,” Alan said. “Just because Rico sprang the first trap doesn’t mean there won’t be others. I’m guessing we can still expect to run into danger.”

“I don’t think any of you know this,” Bernard said, fishing around in the trash can again, “but my middle name is actually Danger.”

“Dr. Bernard Danger Weizmann.” Daisy said it softly to hear what it sounded like.

“It’s got a nice ring to it!” Bernard found what he was digging for and produced a half-empty bottle of Dr. Pepper from the trash can. He unscrewed the lid and took a swig. The garbologist smacked his lips. “It’s a bit flat.”

Spencer gagged.

I
t was still dark outside when Spencer felt a hand shaking his shoulder. He blinked a few times before his eyes could focus on Penny’s face. The young woman was wearing a huge grin.

“I talked him into it,” Penny whispered.

“Huh?” Spencer glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s six o’clock in the morning. Why are you waking me up?”

“Shh!” Penny pulled him up from the couch. The team had slept in the teacher’s lounge at Woodbury Elementary. There were enough couches and armchairs for everyone except Walter and Penny, who’d volunteered to stay down in the janitor’s closet with the Glopified gear.

Penny led Spencer into the hallway, silently shutting the door to the teacher’s lounge. “What about the others?” Spencer asked. “Where are we going?”

“I thought you should be here for this,” Penny said. “Operation Vortex. I talked Uncle Walter into using the leaf blower!”

Spencer paused in the hallway, his feet suddenly too numb to move. Operation Vortex! Spencer was fully awake now. Walter was about to rescue Marv!

Penny grabbed his arm, infusing Spencer with anticipation as they continued down the hallway.

“I convinced Uncle Walter that we needed one more janitor on this mission,” Penny explained. “Marv’s the best Toxite fighter I’ve ever met. I’d feel a lot better with him by our side.”

Spencer could barely contain his excitement. He’d been waiting months for this day. It was Spencer’s fault that Marv was trapped in the vacuum bag. A few months ago, they’d learned for sure that Marv was alive. Penny had captured an audio clip from inside the Vortex. It was Marv’s voice booming out, “Haha! Gutter ball!” So, not only was the big janitor alive, but Marv seemed to think he was bowling inside the vacuum bag.

Walter turned as Penny and Spencer entered the janitor’s closet. The Glopified leaf blower was on the table and the overcharged Vortex vacuum bag was resting in the crook of Walter’s arm.

“Penny?” He made a disapproving face.