“So what?” Dez said. “I’ll just fly across.”
“Like this pelican?” Marv turned their attention back to the soapsud. A large bird was flying into view, winging its way innocently toward the island. The moment it crossed over the buoys, the monster Grime’s giant eyeballs swiveled around. It slipped around the side of the bridge with silent movements.
The Grime held perfectly still for one second. Then its tongue shot out at lightning speed. Like a frog catching a fly, the Grime nailed the pelican in midflight. The black tongue retracted with a shower of spit, and the Grime swallowed the large bird whole. The pelican was hardly a snack for such a huge Toxite. With the island defended, the Grime resumed its position under the bridge, its eyeballs rolling back again as the extension cord soothed and nourished.
“I don’t think we should fly,” Daisy said.
“I fly way better than that seagull,” said Dez. “I’ll drop in from so high that the Grime’s tongue won’t be able to stretch that far.”
Marv shook his shaggy head. “Fly too high and they’ll spot you from the island. Element of surprise is gone and you’ll never reach the prisoners.”
“What’s on the other side of the bridge?” Spencer asked. “What are we up against if we make it to the island?”
Marv replaced his soapsud and picked out another bubble. Instead of expanding it between both hands, he simply enlarged the view between his thumb and index finger. “Chain-link fence circles around the whole island,” Marv said. He stretched a few more suds to show multiple viewpoints of the fence rising out of the sandy beach. Beyond was nothing but a tangle of dark trees.
Spencer saw the warning signs on the fence immediately. “Oh, great,” he muttered.
“What?” Rho asked.
“We met a Glopified chain-link fence at a construction site when we broke into the BEM laboratory,” he explained. “It’s like an electric force field that runs along the whole fence and stretches across the top. You can’t even fly over a fence like that.” He glanced at Dez, knowing the Sweeper boy was about to suggest the idea.
“Then how do the BEM get onto the island?” Daisy asked.
“Only one break in the fence,” Marv said, fishing through the soapsuds with his finger until he found the right image. He picked up the tiny bubble and enlarged it between both hands. “There’s a gate that covers the road. Right where the bridge comes in.”
Spencer could see a heavy metal gate spanning the road, which provided the only gap in the island vegetation. Positioned beside the road, just inside the fence, was a tall security tower with bright searchlights that panned across the sandy beach.
“Gate’s locked,” Marv pointed out.
“Hasn’t stopped us before,” said Dez. “I’ll smash that lock to bits!”
“And get fried in the process,” Rho said.
“Luckily,” Spencer said, “Daisy and I happen to have the key to that lock.” He nodded to his friend, who then produced a small Tupperware container from her janitorial belt.
Peeling back the lid, Daisy held it out for everyone to see the contents.
Rho and Marv looked confused. Dez just chuckled. “Hate to break it to you, Gullible Gates,” he said. “But that’s just gum.”
Daisy nodded. “Strawberry Bubble Blaster,” she said excitedly. “Bernard made a mold of General Clean’s master key in this gum. It should open any lock we come across.”
“Brilliant!” Rho said, pulling the plastic container from Daisy’s hand. “We can have a duplicate key made in no time.”
“Supposing the key works and we get past the fence,” Marv said. “We finally get to the prison.” He picked up a new soapsud and held it out for display. “Looks like this.”
Spencer studied the image for a moment before pointing out the obvious. “Those are storage units.” He remembered his mom renting one when his family moved to Aunt Avril’s house. The Zumbros had stowed most of their belongings, planning to dig stuff out again when they got a home of their own.
Marv grunted. “Six rows. Hundred units per row. Holding more than a thousand Rebel prisoners on this island.”
Besides the Sweeper guards that patrolled the aisles, storage units didn’t seem like a very secure facility. The long rows were flat-roofed, with cinder-block walls. A roll-up, garage-style door closed each unit, and Spencer saw a metal lock securing each door.
“Those doors look flimsy,” Dez said, and Spencer agreed with him.
“So what’s the trick?” Spencer followed up.
Marv shrugged. “Seems reasonable that a janitor would use a storage unit. Gives them potential to be Glopified.”
“I’m guessing we won’t be able to smash through those doors very easily,” Rho said.
“We won’t need to,” Daisy said. “We have a master key.” She pointed to the locks on the doors, her finger almost popping the enlarged soapsud.
“So all we have to do,” Spencer said, “is unlock six hundred storage units before the Sweepers stop us.”
“That’s after we get past the collapsing bridge, humongous Grime, and electric fence,” added Daisy.
“And we’ll have to avoid being seen in the soapsuds,” Rho said. “If the Witches spot us coming, we lose the element of surprise.”
“Can they see us now?” Daisy asked, leaning forward and staring into the suds on the table.
Spencer shook his head. “Only the suds at the island are streaming an image,” he said. “The ones we have are just displaying what the others are recording.”
“But the Witches don’t have these display suds anymore,” Daisy said, pointing at the table. “We stole them.”
“The Witches won’t want the prison in their blind spot,” Spencer said. “I’m sure they’ll make more soapsuds to display what’s happening on the island. That way, they can watch just like we are.”
“Let’s just pop the stupid suds when we get there,” said Dez, jabbing at the air with his sharp talons.
“We’re trying to be sneaky,” said Daisy. “Don’t you think the Witches would notice if their soapsuds started popping?”
“Look,” Spencer said. “I know this isn’t going to be easy. But we have the element of surprise, we have the master key, and we have my spit sponge, which means I can Glopify anything we need to help us succeed.”
“Don’t forget Marv’s Bingo prize,” Dez said sarcastically. “Magic toilet-bowl cleaner will probably help.”
Dez’s words, intended as a mocking jab, suddenly formed into a plan in Spencer’s mind. He grinned. “Actually,” Spencer said, “I think you’re right.”
Chapter 25
“My great-grandpa had a glass eye.”
It was late afternoon and incredibly hot when Spencer found himself staring across the long bridge to the BEM’s private island. After the Rebels had hopped through Lina’s dumpster, Marv had driven the garbage truck off the southern tip of Florida and through a series of toll bridges and islands. Using the information they’d gathered from the soapsuds, Marv, Spencer, Daisy, and Dez had finally arrived at the BEM’s private bridge.
Daisy checked the zipper of her coveralls and glanced impatiently out over the water. “He’s been gone a long time. Do you think he’s in trouble?”
“It’s Dez,” Spencer pointed out. “He’s always in some sort of trouble.” He didn’t like how the plan started with Dez. But there was really no one else who could do the job as quickly.
Marv stomped his feet, as though testing out the new rubber boots he was wearing. “Let’s get in position,” he muttered, sauntering off the road and down the beach toward the water’s edge. Spencer and Daisy followed him, their own boots leaving marks in the sand.
They stopped just at the point where the bridge began to rise over their heads. Squinting ahead, Spencer could see the monstrous Grime clinging to the shadows like a troll beneath the bridge. It still appeared to be sleeping, and he didn’t want to go any closer for fear of awakening it.
Rho’s voi
ce sounded through the walkie-talkie clipped onto Spencer’s janitorial belt. “You’re still out of sight,” she said. “Are you under the bridge?”
“We’re here,” Spencer said. He adjusted the volume, turning Rho’s voice down to a mere whisper. They would need to communicate, but he didn’t want the Sweepers hearing them.
“All right,” she said. “I’m guessing one more step and you’ll come into view of the first soapsud. Looks like it’s positioned on the underside of the bridge.”
Spencer, Daisy, and Marv turned their eyes up toward the bottom of the bridge, scanning the shadows for a surveillance soapsud. It had to be somewhere damp, since the bubble needed constant moisture to stay formed.
“There,” Marv said, peering around the first pillar that supported the bridge. He pointed a thick finger, and when Spencer leaned forward, he saw the small soapsud clinging to a spot where the high tide left the concrete slick with mildew.
Marv reached to his belt and drew a bottle of Windex. Taking careful aim, he shot a narrow stream directly at the soapsud. The magic window cleaner shimmered blue on contact. In a second, the little soapsud had turned to glass.
Spencer stepped out in plain view of the bubble. “Anything?” he asked into the walkie-talkie.
“Nothing,” Rho answered. “It won’t fool anyone if they study the image. The waves aren’t even moving. But it should be good enough if the Witches are just glancing over.”
“My great-grandpa had a glass eye,” Daisy said, tapping the glass soapsud with her fingernail. “He couldn’t see a thing out of it.”
Spencer turned his gaze over the water again. Now that he was sure they could fool the suds with Windex, he was anxious to get over to the island. The effect would only trick the surveillance for about fifteen minutes.
Just as Spencer was muttering his name, Dez landed heavily in the sand behind them. His black wings folded in and he strode toward them.
“Everything set?” Spencer asked.
Dez nodded. “The speedboat should be coming in fast. Any second now.”
“Put these on.” Marv tossed a pair of rubber boots to the Sweeper boy.
“They’re not really my size,” he protested. “Besides, I don’t like to wear stuff that Spencer had to spit on.”
They were all wearing boots that were the product of Spencer’s spit sponge. It had taken him the rest of the night and well into morning to Glopify all the new gear they would need to break the Rebels out of the storage-unit prison.
Dez had just finished pulling his boots on when the sound of a motor drew Spencer’s eyes across the water. Skipping over waves at high velocity, a speedboat cut across the line of buoys, heading straight for the island.
The monster Grime beneath the bridge responded immediately. Its huge eyes rolled around and it sprang into the water, extension cord trailing as it dove out of sight.
“That’s our cue,” Spencer said. He ran to the spot where the bridge was so low overhead that he had to duck to go under. Then, leaping into the air, he stuck his feet to the underside of the bridge. The Glopified boots responded instantly, holding him fast to the concrete. He dangled upside down, the magic of the boots making him feel as comfortable as though he were strolling down the road.
Spencer didn’t wait for the others, though he heard their boots clinging to the bottom of the bridge behind him. The group sprinted forward, counting on the distraction of the speedboat to hold the Grime’s interest.
“I should be flying,” Dez grumbled at Spencer’s side. They had considered that idea, but the huge Grime was accustomed to watching the water and the skies. The belly of the bridge was where the Grime lived. And who would be crazy enough to run straight through the Grime’s personal space?
Spencer’s eyes flicked out across the water. It was confusing, being upside down. The ocean and sky had switched places, two shades of blue that disoriented him. Every footfall gave Spencer confidence. Just as they’d predicted, the bottom of the bridge didn’t register their unauthorized crossing. If it had, the bridge would have collapsed by now.
The invading Rebels were halfway across the causeway when the humongous Grime came out of the water. It took the speedboat in a perfect interception, catching the fast vessel in one sticky hand.
The Grime tossed the boat into the air, its whole slimy body propelling up after it. Out of the water, the motor screamed. But it silenced instantly as the Grime’s wide mouth closed around the boat. The jaws snapped together, jagged teeth shattering wood and metal. Bits of speedboat showered down as the Grime completed its aerial arc and dove back into the depths.
Daisy gasped at the sight. “Those poor fishermen!”
“Relax,” Dez said. “There was nobody aboard. I duct-taped the controls down and pointed the boat at the island.”
Spencer said nothing. If the Grime returned to its undercling perch before they reached the island, their rescue mission would come to a sudden end. He pushed harder, leading the group in a life-or-death race.
The moment he saw sand below him, Spencer jumped. His Glopified boots came away from the bridge, connecting once more with earth’s natural gravity. It took him a second to orient, then Spencer scrambled up the beach and away from the water.
Dez and Daisy were right side up once more. Marv leapt from the bridge just as the water erupted behind them. The monster Grime twisted in the air, its sticky fingers adhering to the causeway.
It was facing them, its huge tongue flicking out to lick the edge of the bridge. The four Rebels stood frozen on the beach, barely daring to breathe. Then the Grime’s big eyeballs rolled back and it made itself comfortable.
“What happened?” Spencer gasped. “Why didn’t it see us?”
“Blind spot,” Marv whispered, pointing directly down the nose of the Grime. Spencer had forgotten that the Grimes couldn’t see directly in front of them. For little Grimes, the blind spot was a mere inch or two. But this thing was huge, and its blind spot must have been several feet across.
“Hey!” Daisy said. “Is that a seashell?” She began to move forward, but Spencer grabbed her arm. “Let go!” she demanded. “I’m on a tropical island! I have to find seashells!”
Spencer pulled a white dust mask from his belt and quickly fit it over Daisy’s face. She came to an immediate halt, her eyes wide as she realized how distracted she’d been. Spencer put another mask over his face. There would be Filth Sweepers ahead, and he couldn’t risk getting sleepy.
“Well, we made it to the island,” Dez said.
“Now for the hard part,” Marv said.
Chapter 26
“There are no cookies.”
Marv plucked a shiny key from his belt pouch. It was a copy of General Clean’s master key, forged from Bernard’s gum mold. He drew a bottle of bleach and handed it to Spencer. Then, with the key in one hand and a bottle of Windex in the other, Marv gestured for Spencer to begin.
It was done in a moment. The last things to vanish were Marv’s rubber boots. After the big janitor was completely bleached, Spencer could see only the impression of his feet in the sand.
“Only got about fifteen minutes,” Marv’s voice floated from nowhere. “Don’t follow until Rho gives the word.”
Spencer nodded to show he understood, wishing that he and the others could turn invisible too. But since they had already used the bleach once, Spencer knew that a second spray would make it so they would never be seen again. They would have to rely on Marv’s invisibility and hope his distraction would provide enough cover that the rest of them could slip in unnoticed.
Marv grunted invisibly, and Spencer saw his footprints move up the beach toward the gate.
“Let’s go,” Dez said the moment they were alone.
Spencer caught his muscled arm. “Give him a minute.”
They waited in silence until Rho’s voice whispered through the Glopified walkie-talkie. “Marv found the next soapsud. He turned it to glass and I never saw him. You’re clear until you reach the
storage units.”
Spencer nodded to his companions and peered out from under the bridge. He was anxious to get away from the slumbering Grime under the causeway. The gate that spanned the road was open just a crack, the lock dangling ajar from when the invisible Marv had used the master key.
The three kids raced up the beach. Spencer kept glancing at the gate tower. All the enemy had to do was look out the window and they would see the intruding Rebels. But Spencer was counting on Marv to sufficiently distract the Sweepers.
They reached the gate without detection. It seemed strange to be breaking into a BEM prison in broad daylight. Spencer might have felt more comfortable sneaking around under the cover of darkness, but if all went according to plan, it wouldn’t matter. The Rebels would be free before the BEM Sweepers could stop them.
“Marv didn’t leave the key,” Dez said, pointing at the vacant keyhole in the open gate lock.
“It’s there,” Spencer said. “It’s just bleached.” He reached over to the lock, felt the end of the invisible key, and slipped it out of the heavy lock.
“Let me carry it,” Dez said, swiping for the item in Spencer’s grasp. He tried to pull his hand away, but the Sweeper kid’s taloned fingers caught his wrist. With the momentum of his arm, Spencer felt the master key fly out of his grasp, landing invisibly in the brush by the roadside.
“Way to go,” Spencer muttered. “You made me drop it!” He and Daisy peered into the bush, but it was a hopeless search.
“Big deal,” Dez said. “I thought you had a different plan to open the locks on the storage units. What about the magnet thingy?”
“I know,” Spencer said, “but it wouldn’t hurt to keep the master key as a backup plan in case the magnet doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to.”
“Look.” Daisy pointed toward the guard tower. Spencer abandoned his search for the master key, ducking into the bushes when he saw half a dozen Sweepers exiting the tower. He knew Marv’s plan was working when they hastily turned away from the road and moved out of sight.
Heroes of the Dustbin Page 15
