[Janitors 04] Strike of the Sweepers (6 page)

A Sweeper potion.

Garcia’s hand was trembling ever so slightly. Spencer knew what he was going to do. He’d seen Mr. Clean swallow a similar Glop formula, transforming himself into a terrible human-Toxite hybrid. A Sweeper.

The idea was horrifying, and Director Garcia didn’t seem keen on it either. “You don’t have to do this,” Spencer said, noticing the man’s hesitation.

Garcia paused, his left hand gripping the tiny cork. “I have little choice.” He took a deep breath. “Clean will be here any moment.”

Spencer remembered what a pawn Garcia was. Mr. Clean was always the one calling the shots from the sidelines. It didn’t matter that Carlos Garcia was a warlock. It didn’t matter that he was director of New Forest Academy. Clean was the man in charge. Spencer wondered what threats and lies had turned Garcia into such a loyal puppet.

Spencer had just opened his mouth to say something more when the band room door flew open. Garcia whirled around, and Spencer stepped around the kettledrums to see who had arrived.

Dez stood in the doorway, a broken-handled pushbroom in his grasp. His face was twisted with anger and darkened by the shadows of the hallway.

“You liar!” he shouted, pointing the pushbroom directly at Garcia.

Director Garcia relaxed when he realized it was only the boy in the doorway. “Dezmond, what are you doing here? Nicholson was taking you to get the—”

“Shut up!” Dez yelled. “It’s in your hand! Give it to me!”

Garcia looked at the small vial of Glop formula in his hand. “I simply cannot do that. This Sweeper potion is meant for me.”

“I don’t care if it’s meant for your old granny!” Dez took an intimidating step forward. “You said I could have it if I brought you the Rebels!”

Garcia shook his head. “I don’t have time for this. Where is Nicholson?”

“The chump you sent to lock me up?” Dez said. “I unplugged his Rubbish when he started acting like a jerk. Then I busted my pushbroom over his back. He might wake up in an hour or two.” Dez was trudging forward, his broad face red.

Garcia held out a hand. “Not another step, Dezmond,” he warned. “Think about which side you want to be on when Mr. Clean gets here.”

“That’s a no-brainer,” Dez said. “I’m on my own side.” Then he hurled the broken pushbroom like a javelin.

Chapter 9

“I’m not even in the band!”

The bristles of Dez’s pushbroom caught Director Garcia full across the chest. His polished wingtip shoes left the carpeted floor, and the small vial of Glop formula fell from his hand.

The band room quickly erupted into chaos. Director Garcia soared over the Rebels’ heads and crashed high upon the wall, gasping for air from the solid impact. Penny’s twin mops streamed out and entangled the nearest Filth Plugger. Alan and Walter both sprang toward the Grime Plugger that held Daisy hostage.

Spencer threw himself down, his hand closing over the little vial of Sweeper potion. Dez was on him in a flash, wrestling Spencer sideways and toppling into the nearest music stands.

“Give it to me, Doofus!” Dez grabbed Spencer’s wrist. Unless something serious had changed in Dez’s personal hygiene, Spencer knew the big kid never washed his hands. That alone was almost enough to make him give up the vial of Glop formula.

But there was too much at stake. If Dez got his filthy fingers on that potion, he would definitely try to use it. Ordinary Dez was bad enough—Sweeper Dez would be far worse. If he could even survive the transformation . . .

“It’s mine!” Dez grunted. “My potion!” He sounded like such a big baby! Dez swung a fist into Spencer’s stomach. Spencer braced for the pain, but it never came. His Glopified jumpsuit had magically reduced the impact, rendering Dez’s fists useless. Spencer rolled hard to the side, smashing one of Dez’s hands against a chair.

There was a deep-throated croaking sound somewhere overhead. Spencer barely shut his eyes as an Extension Rubbish swooped down, a cloud of black soot issuing from its long beak. Spencer coughed on the grit. In his momentary blindness, he felt Dez suddenly lift away from him.

Spencer dragged himself along the carpet between two rows of chairs, the Sweeper potion clutched in his sweaty hand. Peering between chair legs, he checked on his friends.

One of the Extension Grimes had been destroyed. Its scaly armor was in a formless heap over a puddle of pale goo on the carpet. The dismounted Plugger was lying motionless beside his fallen Toxite.

Penny had just knocked another Plugger from his Filth saddle. Her razorblade flashed downward and severed the extension cord in a burst of magical sparks. The beast reared up, sensing its sudden freedom. With that realization came the animal instinct to hide. But a creature so large was not going to find a hiding spot easily.

The loose Filth charged, its armored head smashing into chairs. The thick horn on its mask impaled a music stand, and it thrashed wildly to lose the awkward accessory.

Spencer saw an opening and stumbled to his feet. Reaching behind his back, he dropped the vial of Sweeper potion safely into his janitorial belt pouch. He’d need both hands for this fight.

Spencer’s dad, Walter, and Penny were teaming up on the last Grime Plugger, but a woman on a Filth was trying to rout them. Spencer couldn’t see Dez anywhere, but he could hear his annoying voice, so he knew he wasn’t far.

It was Daisy who needed help. She stood alone near the back of the room, surrounded by a bunch of percussion instruments. The Extension Filth was hunkered nearby, its wet nostrils flaring like a nervous animal. And the Plugger who had been separated from his ride was moving on foot toward Daisy, a pushbroom in his hands.

As soon as Spencer moved to help her, the stray Filth charged in panic. Spencer saw it coming with just enough time to leap around the large bass drum and come shoulder to shoulder with his friend.

“Hi, Spencer,” Daisy said, releasing a shot of vanilla air freshener. There was a rending
boom,
and the bass drum split open. The Filth’s huge armored face ripped through the drumheads, desperate for a place to hide. Spencer fell back, the creature’s galvanized horn passing inches from his chest.

The Filth began to bellow and buck like a rodeo bull. The frame of the big drum was wrapped around its neck, and somehow one of its front legs had become entangled in the mess.

The dismounted Plugger backed away from the rabid beast. In the confusion, Spencer saw Director Garcia cutting across the room toward Alan. Spencer acted quickly, his mop strings flicking out and catching Garcia around the middle. The man went down, and a flip of the handle caused the mop strings to retract, dragging the director toward Spencer.

Before Garcia could recover, Spencer pounced. His knee came down hard on Director Garcia’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. Spencer jerked at the director’s suit coat. He and his dad had found Holga there once before, just before they threw Garcia into the dumpster prison. It would be different this time. If Spencer found the bronze hammer, he intended to keep it.

Daisy squared off against the other man, trying to buy time for the search. Spencer couldn’t keep Garcia down for long. The director gasped for breath and heaved the boy aside.

On hands and knees, Director Garcia began to scurry away, always avoiding a fight. He might have escaped if Daisy hadn’t bumped into the crash cymbals. The round pieces of metal toppled to the floor with a deafening sound. The sharp edge of one cymbal caught Garcia across the side of the head and he collapsed, hair matting with blood.

Daisy gasped when she saw what she’d done.

“Perfect timing on the crash cymbals, Daisy!” Spencer said.

“I’m not even in the band!” Daisy answered. “I didn’t crash them on purpose!”

“That’s okay,” said Spencer, “the kids in the band never do either.”

Spencer rolled Director Garcia onto his side. The man was breathing but seemed completely dazed. Before Spencer could complete his search, Dez’s voice rasped out from overhead.

“Up here, you chumps! Help me out!”

Spencer’s eyes turned toward the high ceiling of the band room. Dez dangled from the armored talons of a giant Rubbish. The Plugger leaned in the saddle, keeping his creature balanced in midair.

Spencer grunted in frustration. Then he turned to Daisy. “Find Holga before Garcia wakes up!”

She plastered the dismounted Plugger with a dose of vacuum dust and dropped down to finish the search for Director Garcia’s bronze hammer.

Spencer backed up, his hand reaching into his janitorial belt. Dez was weaponless, but Spencer knew just the tool that would do the trick. As the Plugger winged around, setting a course to smash Dez against the wall, Spencer shouted the bully’s name and tossed the weapon into the air.

It was the small handle of a razorblade. Spencer didn’t have to explain how to use it. Dez must have seen one before. The bully caught the handle and pushed the button with his thumb. A long, double-edged blade extended, ten times the length of the little handle. The sharp tip pierced past plates of armor and stabbed into the hairy belly of the Rubbish. The wound gushed black dust.

The Rubbish made a horrendous shrieking sound and the talons released Dez. Leaving the razorblade embedded in the Rubbish’s gut, the big kid dropped heavily. He smashed through the drumhead of the nearest timpani and came to rest lying cradled in the big kettledrum.

The injured Rubbish made a final desperate swoop for Spencer. At the last moment, he ducked under the xylophone. The reinforced claws clinked along the bars, scraping out an ugly scale. Spencer felt flakes of disintegrating Toxite filter down on him through the gaps in the xylophone bars. He could see the handle of the razorblade wedged between two plates of armor, piercing the creature’s belly.

Spencer quickly reached between the broken xylophone bars, and, seizing the handle of the razorblade, he twisted sharply. The damage was too much for the huge Rubbish. Its leathery wings flailed, scraping an eerie glissando across the instrument. Its body spasmed, and it leapt into the air.

The Plugger felt his bird breaking apart and tried to bail from the saddle. But the Toxite’s final burst of energy was too strong, and the rider hit the wall with bone-breaking force.

Daisy leapt to her feet, a triumphant grin on her face. “I found Holga!” she shouted, holding the bronze hammer aloft.

Spencer glanced around the room nervously, but no one seemed to be able to devote any attention to Daisy’s announcement. The riderless Filth that had tangled itself in the bass drum was gone. The Rebels had killed the other Grime, and its rider was incapacitated. Alan and Walter were flanking the final Filth Plugger while Penny went hand to hand with a BEM woman.

“This way, Daisy!” Spencer grabbed her by the arm. In a second, the two kids were kneeling at the back wall, Dez climbing out of the timpani.

“Let me do it,” he said, elbowing between them.

“No way!” Spencer shoved him away. “Go ahead, Daisy.”

Spencer was relieved to have his friend pull the nail. It would have been complicated for him to try resisting the bronze visions while holding Holga. The removal process was simple. Nothing would happen to Daisy. She wouldn’t even have to exert herself since the magic of the hammer would draw the nail out of the wall. Spencer had done it a few times before. But he had taken it one step further when he had pounded Ninfa’s bronze nail into the School Board. That had brought a serious side effect, introducing Glop into his bloodstream and turning him into an Auran.

Daisy pressed the hammer against the flat head of the bronze nail. Immediately, a burst of golden light formed between the two objects. Daisy pulled back, magically plucking the ancient nail from its place in the wall.

The small object fell to the ground, and Dez snatched it. “This is what you guys came for, right?” He rolled the nail between his stout fingers. “Now, how do we get out of here?”

Daisy had clipped the squeegee into her janitorial belt. But it was useless now anyway, since both squeegees were in the same room and no one was back at Welcher to complete the portal.

Spencer held out his hand, acting as if Dez would fork over the nail without an argument. “You can’t be trusted with it,” he said.

“You chumps still think I’m a bad guy?” Dez did his best to look shocked. “The whole reason I left you guys was so I could get some cool stuff from the BEM and then betray them.”

“Wait a minute,” Daisy said. “You betrayed us so you could betray them?”

“Duh,” Dez said. “It’s called a double cross.”

“I can do those with a jump rope,” Daisy said.

Alan suddenly ducked over to the kids, his eyes quickly finding the bronze nail in Dez’s hand and the hammer in Daisy’s. He nodded in approval, taking both items before Dez could protest.

“This way,” Alan said. Walter and Penny had succeeded in clearing a path to the doorway of the band room.

Spencer took one final glance at Director Garcia. The man was finally stirring, a hand pressed to the injured side of his head. He was still a warlock, but without the hammer and nail, Garcia was useless.

“It is over!” Director Garcia managed, his hand outstretched. “You will not escape.” There was a current of panic in his voice that caused Spencer to stop. “He is here.”

Spencer didn’t have to ask who Garcia was referring to. It was Mr. Clean. It was always Mr. Clean, standing on the sidelines and controlling everything.

“He will kill you,” Director Garcia said. “And he will kill me for my failures.”

Daisy tugged on Spencer’s arm, reminding him of the urgency of their escape. Spencer didn’t look back at Garcia. He was a villain, and whatever fate awaited him would be the result of his own dark choices.

Spencer and Daisy ducked out the doorway and into the dim hallway, leaving Director Carlos Garcia broken and powerless on the band room floor.

Chapter 10

“No whiff from me.”

The Rebels burst out of the Arts Building and into the cool night. They paused in the lamplight, scanning the area for enemies as Walter searched for something on his janitorial belt.