Heroes of the Dustbin

by Tyler Whitesides

  Spencer held still for a moment, waiting for someone to react to their arrival. But the crew of the garbage barge weren’t expecting any trouble, and Spencer guessed that their attention was lax.

  “What now?” Daisy asked.

  Spencer crept forward on his stomach. Gripping the edge of the wheelhouse, he leaned as far as he dared, peering through the windows to the room where the captain steered.

  He saw a long panel of controls covered in buttons and switches, the ship’s wheel rising in the center. There was only one person in the wheelhouse, but the sight of him made Spencer draw back suddenly.

  He looked at his friends in surprise. “The captain is Dustin DeFleur!”

  Chapter 30

  “We’ve got to find that lunchbox!”

  Daisy looked puzzled. “The captain is dusting the floor?” she said.

  “Then it should be easy to take him down,” added Dez.

  “No!” Spencer rolled his eyes. He enunciated clearly so there would be no confusion. “Professor Dustin DeFleur is the captain!”

  “Our P.E. teacher?” Daisy said, finally catching on.

  “That chump is a hundred years old,” Dez said. “This is going to be easy! All we have to do is kick out his cane and he’ll fall over.”

  “What’s he doing here?” Daisy asked. “Shouldn’t he be teaching second graders how to jump rope or something?”

  “School’s out for the day,” Spencer replied. “DeFleur must have squeegeed over here to command the barge.”

  “Not for long,” Dez said, clearly growing impatient with the conversation. “I’ll slam through the front window. You two follow me in.” Without leaving time for them to come up with a better plan, Dez stepped off the edge of the wheelhouse. His black wings fanned, slowing his fall like a parachute as he kicked through the front window. Grabbing the edges of the broken glass with his tough hands, Dez pulled himself through.

  Below, Spencer heard the old man cry out in surprise. Trusting in his newly Glopified rubber boots, Spencer stepped over the edge. His boots instantly adhered to the side of the wheelhouse. He took three steps down, Daisy by his side, and leapt through the shattered window.

  The old professor had backed against the wall, his thin cane waving at the intimidating form of Dez. “Back away!” DeFleur threatened.

  “Sorry, old fart,” said Dez. “We’re taking the ship.” The Sweeper boy reached for the control panels, but DeFleur swung his wooden cane to stop him. Concealed metal prongs unfolded from the tip of the cane, forming a Glopified rake. He thrust the handle toward Dez, but Spencer was ready for a trick from Dustin DeFleur. He’d been caught in that hidden rake cage once before: on the night of Walter Jamison’s death.

  Spencer’s razorblade flashed downward, chopping through Professor DeFleur’s wooden cane. The concealed rake fell short, the handle clattering to the wheelhouse floor in two pieces. Professor DeFleur grunted, the impact of the broken cane jarring his frail body and casting him back against the wall.

  “Clean said it might come to this,” muttered DeFleur, a hint of madness in his eyes. “I’m ready now.”

  “Ready for what?” Daisy asked.

  DeFleur’s wrinkly hand clawed at his shirt pocket until his fingers closed around something small. “Ready to be strong again.” He lifted the item to his lips, and Spencer realized too late what it was.

  A Sweeper potion.

  Professor DeFleur grunted, the contents of the glass vial gone. He threw the container to the floor as a rapid change overcame him.

  The old man still looked wiry and thin, but his frame now seemed tough and durable. His arthritic fingers split as dirty claws emerged. Bristling, sharp quills ripped through his linen shirt, and a patch of dusty fur ran down the back of his neck. His white hair remained frizzed out like a mad scientist’s, but suddenly it was studded with short spikes.

  The man’s eyes, now an unnatural blue color, turned on the three kids in the wheelhouse. “Who’s ready for P.E. now?”

  DeFleur’s voice was raspy, and Spencer felt an instant wave of fatigue fill the wheelhouse. He staggered sideways, Daisy catching his arm to support him.

  “Here,” Dez said, digging a crumpled dust mask from his pocket and tossing it to Daisy. “I don’t need it now that the toilet-bowl cleaner wore off. I still can’t believe it smelled like cookies.”

  Professor DeFleur charged and Dez met him head-on, the two Sweepers grappling in the center of the wheelhouse.

  Daisy looked down at the mask she’d caught, noticing that the thin elastic band had snapped. “Do you have to break everything you touch?”

  “You would too, if you were as strong as me,” Dez replied, throwing DeFleur back as if to prove his point.

  Daisy knotted the two ends of elastic together and placed the dust mask over Spencer’s face, reviving him just as he was slipping into careless slumber. He jerked to his senses with a deep gasp. “Good morning!”

  The old professor rushed at Dez once more, but the Sweeper boy slammed DeFleur against the barge’s control panel. DeFleur bounced back with the strength of an overgrown Filth, throwing Dez against the ship’s wheel.

  The barge lurched, making a sharp turn that toppled Spencer and Daisy to the floor. Dez pushed back, the wheel spinning on its own to set a new course.

  Professor DeFleur delivered an uppercut to Dez and rolled away. The old man lunged for the ship’s horn, desperate to sound an alarm, when Daisy suctioned him down with a pinch of vac dust.

  Dez rubbed at the pain in his jaw. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  Spencer staggered to his feet. “Let’s see if we can stop this thing,” he said, staring at the array of controls before him. The barge’s new course was taking them back toward the BEM’s island. Spencer grabbed the wheel, but before he could crank it, Daisy shouted a warning from behind her dustpan shield.

  Spencer looked back at Dustin DeFleur, trembling on the floor of the wheelhouse. He’d seen angry Filths use this tactic before, and Spencer immediately knew that the Rebels had to take cover. He drew a Glopified dustpan from his belt, twisting the handle to fan the metal into a circular shield. Spencer threw himself in front of Dez, pushing the bully down so they both had shelter behind the shield.

  With a grunt and a hiss, Professor DeFleur shot the quills from his back. Three of the projectiles buried into Spencer’s shield. A few more clattered off Daisy’s defenses, and dozens of deadly quills burrowed into the wheelhouse walls and control panels.

  Professor DeFleur picked himself up, straining his wiry body against the waning effects of the vac dust. He looked strange now, without his quills. Spencer thought it would make him look more human, but the result was the opposite. Already, new quills were rising from his back, short nubs that would soon be deadly spikes.

  DeFleur hoisted himself over the nearest control panel. His clawed fingers smashed out the glass of another window, and he dragged himself through. The old man fell from the wheelhouse, landing in a pile of garbage on the deck below.

  Spencer grabbed the barge’s wheel once more, attempting to steer the ship back out to sea. “It’s stuck!” he said, noting where several of DeFleur’s quills had shot through the wheel, anchoring it into place.

  Spencer grabbed one of the quills in hopes of pulling it free. But he drew back his hand the moment it made contact. The Sweeper’s quills were edged with miniature razor barbs. Ripping the quill out of the wheel would shred his flesh.

  “Forget it!” Dez said, crawling up to the broken window where DeFleur had escaped. “We’ve got to find that lunchbox!”

  He sprang out of the wheelhouse, gliding down toward the flat deck. Spencer’s idea to commandeer the barge had gone horribly wrong. Now it was time to implement Dez’s backup plan. He would pick off the Sweepers while Spencer and Daisy searched through the discarded belongings on deck.

  Daisy had found a pair of binoculars and was scanning over the dumpsters below. Spencer wanted to rush her, but it was smarter to take t
heir time searching the debris from the protected vantage point of the wheelhouse.

  It didn’t take Daisy long. “My pillow!” she shouted, pointing down toward one of the dumpsters. “And that’s our dining table!” Daisy dropped the binoculars and made for the broken window. Spencer joined her, the two kids using their rubber boots to run straight down the exterior of the wheelhouse. When they reached the deck, Spencer and Daisy paused behind the first of many dumpsters.

  “My stuff was in a dumpster about halfway across the deck,” Daisy said. “On the left side.” Hunching down, Daisy made a stealthy dash along a row of overflowing dumpsters. Spencer followed, keeping a careful eye out for enemies onboard.

  Twice, Spencer saw Dez soaring overhead. When the Sweeper boy dipped out of sight, his arrival was met with shouts and the sound of struggle.

  “Okay,” Daisy said, pausing between two industrial-sized dumpsters. She peered over the rim and patted the side of the big container. “This one and that one.” Daisy pointed to the dumpster next to Spencer.

  “You’re sure?” Spencer asked.

  “Both of these containers are full of garbage from my house,” Daisy answered, hoisting herself up on the rim.

  “I wouldn’t call this garbage,” Spencer said, climbing into the neighboring dumpster. He shoved against the Gateses’ leather couch from their living room.

  “There’s a saying in garbology,” Daisy began, disappearing into the debris. “Everything is garbage.”

  Spencer lifted his eyebrow at the strange saying. He saw the Gateses’ china cabinet, smashed to shards, the precious contents destroyed. “This is valuable stuff from your house, Daisy.”

  “And there’s another saying,” said Daisy. “All garbage is valuable.” She lifted a recently discovered bedroom pillow and tossed it aside. “The BEM probably dumped all my family’s stuff together. That means Bookworm’s lunchbox should be here.”

  Spencer lifted the Gateses’ discarded microwave and peered underneath. “I think you’re going to make a pretty good garbologist someday, Daisy.”

  Her head poked over the rim of the dumpster, a smile on her face. “I hope so.” Then she disappeared back into the wreckage of her home.

  The search was frustrating under the hot Florida sun. Spencer was using a broom handle to pry some of the heavier items up so he could see beneath them. The wood snapped in his hands, and he stepped back as an upright piano settled deeper into the dumpster.

  Standing tall, Spencer saw Dez grappling with a Grime Sweeper. Two other enemies were racing across the deck to reach the boy, but Spencer had to trust that Dez could take care of himself.

  Spencer glanced out over the water. The barge was on a collision course for the BEM island. He guessed that they had less than fifteen minutes before the vessel ran aground. A sudden worry crossed Spencer’s mind. He twisted sideways to look out at the sea just in time to see the barge carelessly running over the cordon of buoys that ringed the island.

  “I got it!” Daisy shouted. She stood up in the dumpster, using both hands to hold a dented lunchbox high above her head. No sooner had she struck her victory pose, a big smile on her face, than an enormous Grime tongue shot out of the water beside the barge.

  The sticky tongue slammed into the side of Daisy’s dumpster and retracted. Spencer’s instincts were fast. He drew a mop and flicked the magical strings, entangling Daisy and jerking her out of harm’s way as the dumpster slid wildly across the deck.

  The monster Grime rose out of the water, flicking the dumpster into the air and swallowing it in one gulp.

  Daisy tumbled against Spencer, both of them protected from the collision by their Glopified coveralls.

  “You got Bookworm’s lunchbox?” Spencer asked.

  Daisy sat up, her face panic-stricken. “I dropped it!” she cried. “Into the dumpster!”

  They both peered over the edge of their container. Daisy’s dumpster, with Bookworm’s lunchbox, was long gone. And the huge Grime was coming back for seconds!

  Striking his broken broom against the trash, Spencer soared into the air with Daisy just as the monster Grime devoured the second garbage container. Airborne as they were, Spencer saw that Dez’s fight with the Sweepers had broken up. Everyone stood terrified on the deck of the barge, wondering where the ginormous Toxite would surface next.

  Spencer’s broom had just settled back to the deck when the Grime sprang from the ocean. It landed squarely in the center of the barge, its orange extension cord trailing off into the water. The ship was barely larger than the creature, and when its tail flicked around, it cleared off more than half the deck.

  Dumpsters went flying overboard, with debris hailing down on the water like shrapnel. The Sweepers that weren’t quick enough to evade the tail were swept away. Spencer could hear their cries until the moment they hit the sea. He didn’t know Dez’s fate, as Spencer and Daisy scrambled wildly toward the protection of the wheelhouse. There was nothing they could do about Bookworm’s lost lunchbox. Now all attention turned to finding safety.

  The Grime’s mouth opened, a dark hole large enough to drive a bus into. Its tongue lashed out, catching a Rubbish Sweeper in midair and swallowing him down.

  Daisy paused in their retreat, grabbing Spencer’s arm and pointing directly at the Grime’s mouth. “Look!” Spencer didn’t know what she wanted him to see as the Grime hissed, seeking a new victim. “Between the teeth!”

  Spencer leaned forward, squinting at the jagged maw of the amphibious creature. There was all manner of debris caught in the Toxite’s mouth, but the piece Daisy had noticed was wedged just between the bottom two front teeth.

  It was Bookworm’s lunchbox.

  “Good thing he doesn’t floss,” Daisy said.

  Spencer was considering their good luck and wondering how long the dented lunchbox would remain lodged. Spencer had once gone a whole afternoon with a poppy seed stuck between his front teeth. But he also wasn’t trying to eat a barge that day.

  The monster Grime made a terrifying shriek and slipped back into the water without a splash. Spencer knew it wasn’t over. The creature was probably rallying for another attack.

  Dez landed abruptly beside them near the base of the wheelhouse. “We’ve got to turn this boat around!” he pointed out.

  Spencer wanted nothing more than to sail past the buoys and out of the Grime’s reach, but they hadn’t come this far for nothing.

  “No,” Spencer said. “The Grime has Bookworm’s lunchbox. We’ve got to get it back.”

  “Are you crazy?” Dez shouted.

  “What’s your plan?” Daisy asked.

  “Maybe we could wedge the Grime’s mouth open,” Spencer brainstormed. “Then one of us could slip inside and grab the lunchbox.”

  “Not it!” Dez shouted.

  “Maybe we don’t have to go in at all,” Daisy said. She turned to Spencer. “Do you have any stainless steel polish left?”

  Chapter 31

  “You’re still alive?”

  The three kids crouched at the base of the wheelhouse, waiting for the monster Grime to resurface. If there were other Sweepers still aboard, they were making themselves scarce. The barge was still purring steadily toward the island, and Spencer guessed that they would hit land in a matter of minutes.

  Spencer shook the aerosol can of stainless steel polish. He didn’t have much liquid left. Just enough for two or three shots.

  “You better not miss, Doofus,” said Dez.

  “I won’t,” Spencer answered. “As long as you make sure it keeps its mouth open long enough for me to get a good shot at the lunchbox.” The missing piece of Bookworm’s head was made of metal. A bit of polish would magnetize it and then Daisy could extract the lunchbox by wielding the Glopified magnet.

  There was still plenty of danger in the plan, since Spencer would need to get close enough to the creature’s mouth to get a clear shot.

  “Maybe it’s not coming back,” Daisy whispered. No sooner had the phrase left
her lips than the monster Grime resurfaced. It sprang onto the deck again, its giant orb eyes darting around as it swayed its massive head back and forth to accommodate for its blind spot.

  As per the plan, Dez grabbed Daisy, and the two of them flew up to the wheelhouse. They entered through the broken window, climbing over the quill-studded control panel. Once in the wheelhouse, Daisy found the ship’s horn and pulled the cord.

  A bass hum pealed out over the water, and the Grime sprang to silence the sound. Its front legs squelched onto the wheelhouse, tongue darting through the shattered windows and missing Dez by mere inches.

  Spencer watched from below, waiting for the perfect opportunity. Dez and Daisy were making a racket, taunting and yelling to keep the Toxite’s focus on them.

  At last, the Grime opened its enormous mouth and bit down on the corner of the wheelhouse. Spencer leapt onto the wall, his rubber boots sticking. He sprinted upward, trying to gauge the distance. He wanted to stand close, but not too close.

  Spencer saw a glint of metal between the Grime’s lower teeth. Standing horizontally on the wall, dangerously near the mouth, Spencer took aim and released three quick sprays with the stainless steel polish. He knew he had hit his target when the sun glimmered sharply against a magically polished surface.

  Spencer was just about to shout for Daisy to use the magnet when the Grime pulled away from the wheelhouse, its tongue flicking out to break off the radio antenna atop the ship. The tongue retracted sharply with the Grime’s sudden intake of breath. The unexpected inward draft yanked Spencer’s boots from the wall, and he spiraled into the Grime’s open mouth.

  Spencer landed on the creature’s tongue, slipping toward the back of the throat. He was instantly soaked in slime, and he gagged at the feel of it. The ship’s antenna landed beside him, the Grime’s teeth coming together to smash it into fragments. Clambering, Spencer drew a plunger from his belt and clamped the red suction cup to the roof of the Grime’s mouth. He dangled there, resisting the swallowing pull toward the Grime’s dark belly.