[Janitors 04] Strike of the Sweepers

by Tyler Whitesides

  The knob rattled as Mr. Clean used his master key. It was unnecessary, since the door was unlocked, but it gave the Rebels just enough time to come up with a plan.

  Spencer peeled off a long strip of Glopified duct tape and pasted it along the edge of the door, securing it closed. No sooner had he stuck it down than Mr. Clean twisted the knob and attempted to push the door open.

  Daisy ripped off another strip of tape, fortifying the other side of the door as Mr. Clean threw his weight against it. Marv triple-secured the entrance, running a third piece along the bottom threshold.

  “The Rebels have blocked the door!” Mr. Clean shouted, a thread of anger in his voice. “Fetch me a bottle of Windex.” He pounded against the door twice more, but the tape was impenetrable.

  “I’m beginning to question your rescue operation,” Bernard said. “It would appear that we are now all trapped in the same room.”

  “Not all of us,” Spencer said, his thoughts turning to his dad.

  Mr. Clean was speaking again, but his voice was too low to understand the words. Even when Spencer pressed his ear to the door, he could hear only the rumble of the man’s voice.

  Mr. Clean didn’t deserve to have a private conversation, not with Spencer standing nearby. He reached into his pocket and felt the bronze hardware that he’d taken from the supply closet. Channeling his energy, Spencer found himself looking through Mr. Clean’s eyes, hearing every word the warlock said.

  The same woman Sweeper Spencer had seen earlier was standing before Mr. Clean, her Rubbish wings folded back. The warlock stared down at her, his voice soft.

  “The time has come sooner than expected,” Mr. Clean said. “Where did you lock Zumbro?”

  “He’s down on the fourth floor, sir,” said the woman. “No chance of escape.”

  “I want you down there,” Mr. Clean said. “The moment I radio the order, kill him.”

  “You don’t want to speak with him first?” she asked.

  “That’s the last thing I want,” he muttered. “Go.”

  The Rubbish Sweeper moved down the hallway, and Spencer brought the vision to a quick close.

  “Good news,” Spencer said. “I know where they’re keeping my dad. He’s somewhere down on the fourth floor.”

  “What’s the bad news?” Daisy asked.

  “They’re going to kill him.”

  Penny stepped forward. “You guys should get down there and get Alan out.”

  Bernard shot her a surprised sideways glance. “And what are you going to do?”

  “We’ve got to remember what we came here for,” Penny said, her voice soft. “Mr. Clean is right outside that door, and he doesn’t have a lot of backup. If we strike before he’s ready, we have a good chance of taking Belzora.”

  “And a good chance of dying,” Bernard added. Then he shrugged. “Fine. I guess I’ll stay here and take on the warlock with you.”

  “I’m staying too,” Spencer announced. “After we steal Belzora, I can use bronze to find Walter so we can meet up with the rest of you and get back to Welcher together.”

  “Alan’s being held on the fourth floor?” Walter verified, dropping to a knee in the center of the room. He asked Marv for a bottle of Windex and misted a spot on the floor. In a moment, the Rebels were looking through the transparent floorboards and into an empty room on the third floor below them.

  Marv clamped a broad hand on Walter’s shoulder, a grin parting his beard. “Here we go, boss. Like old times.”

  Walter nodded, though he looked far less enthusiastic about the plan. “Daisy, Dezmond,” he said. “Stay close. We won’t get out of this without a fight.”

  Dez cracked his knuckles. “I love fighting.”

  Then Marv smashed his big foot down, sending shards of glass falling into the room below.

  Chapter 46

  “We need more weapons!”

  Spencer, Penny, and Bernard waited until the others had moved out of sight down below. Then the garbologist straightened his duct-tape tie.

  “All right,” Bernard said. “Three of us, sharing one janitorial belt, against the most powerful warlock in BEM history. I hope someone has a plan.”

  “We need to attack from an angle he won’t suspect,” Penny said.

  Bernard glanced down the hole in the floor. “What if we strike from below?”

  “What do you mean?” Penny asked.

  “We spray the floor under Mr. Clean’s feet,” Bernard explained. “He falls through, separated from his backup Sweepers, giving us time to swipe the hammer.”

  Penny shook her head. “We could never be that precise,” she said. “There’s no way we can tell exactly where he’s standing up there.”

  “Actually,” Spencer said, “there is.”

  They didn’t have long to act on the plan. As soon as reinforcements came with Windex, Mr. Clean would discover that the Rebels had escaped through the floor.

  Using the brooms from Spencer’s belt, the three Rebels dropped through the opening. On this lower floor, the door to the hallway was already ajar from Walter and the others. They peered into the hall and, finding all quiet, moved out.

  Each had a very specific job in order for the plan to succeed. Bernard held a broom and a bottle of Windex. Penny had a mop and a pinch of vac dust. They nodded to Spencer, and he thrust his hand into his pocket, gripping the bronze hardware.

  Mr. Clean was pacing the floor above them. Three Sweepers lurked against the wall, trying to remain unnoticed while the warlock was in his obvious rage. Back and forth he stepped, glancing from time to time at the door where he believed the Rebels were still locked away.

  Spencer felt his heart rate quicken. This wasn’t going to work unless Mr. Clean stood still. Little did the warlock know that his angry pacing was currently his best protection.

  Through Clean’s ears, Spencer heard footsteps. At last, the warlock stopped, turning to face the reinforcements—four Sweepers laden with Glopified supplies.

  “You’ve kept me waiting,” Mr. Clean said. “Use the Windex to . . .”

  There was no time to listen to another word. Spencer severed his link with the bronze, pulling his hand from his pocket and pointing directly to the spot on the ceiling where Mr. Clean stood above them.

  Bernard tapped the broom bristles and drifted upward. He aimed the spray bottle and looked to Spencer for affirmation.

  “A little farther to the right,” Spencer whispered, hoping that the warlock hadn’t moved in the brief second since the vision had ended.

  Bernard adjusted his aim and misted the floor. As the blue glow shimmered away, a pair of feet became visible, standing perfectly centered over the glass spot.

  Penny flicked her mop at full force. The strings stretched upward, cracking into the glass and smashing it to bits. Mr. Clean fell, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. But the warlock Sweeper’s instincts were too quick.

  His Grime-like hands stretched out, and he caught himself on the edge of the shattered floor. With swiftness and ease, he began to hoist himself back up, but Penny’s Funnel Throw of vacuum dust caught his legs, drawing him in a downward suction.

  Mr. Clean’s sticky fingers slipped, and he dropped heavily into the hallway as Bernard touched down on his broom. Penny leapt onto the warlock, easily forcing back his arms as the vacuum suction still strained against him.

  Spencer bent down and pulled open Clean’s white lab coat. He felt the weight in one of the pockets and instantly knew that Belzora was within reach.

  Another Grime Sweeper dropped through the hole above. Bernard recovered Penny’s mop and lassoed him mid-fall, slamming him against the wall.

  Spencer reached into Mr. Clean’s pocket and felt the smooth, cold bronze of the hammer in his grasp. Immediately, a rush of white pinpricks clawed into his eyesight, forcing him into a vision. He jerked his hand backward, and there was a loud clang as Belzora slipped from his grasp and clattered across the hard floor.

  Spencer’s eyesight returned in
time to see Mr. Clean forcing Penny back as he struggled into an upright position. Bernard retreated, waving his mop at an incoming Rubbish Sweeper.

  Spencer crawled across the floor to the spot where he’d dropped the hammer. He needed a way to pick it up without his skin touching the bronze. He slipped on a latex glove that he’d taken from the supply closet. It would stop the visions and would also help him escape.

  Spencer scooped up the hammer and dropped it into his largest belt pouch. Bernard was racing toward him, but Penny was still struggling in Mr. Clean’s grasp. Spencer unclipped a pushbroom and took aim. Hurling it like a spear, he saw the bristles smash into Mr. Clean and send him spinning down the hall.

  The three Rebels made their escape, sprinting toward the stairwell ahead. The sound of pursuit was thick behind them, but they had a good head start. Spencer hoped it would be enough.

  Down the stairs they went, leaping three at a time. “Where’s Walter?” Penny asked, throwing her last pinch of vacuum dust over her shoulder at a Rubbish Sweeper who had flown too close.

  Spencer knew he couldn’t maintain a vision while at a full sprint. He took the briefest of seconds to lean against the wall, maneuvering his non-gloved hand into his pocket.

  The first thing Spencer saw through Walter’s eyes was his dad. Instant relief flooded through him. The Rebels had rescued him! Alan Zumbro had slipped away from death’s doorstep once more.

  A Filth Sweeper leapt into view. Then, in Walter’s peripheral vision, Spencer saw Marv throw the enemy back and topple a filing cabinet onto a pile of debris.

  Strong, slimy fingers clamped onto Spencer’s arm, abruptly ending his vision. He twisted away, the latex glove allowing him an easy escape. Bernard knocked the Grime Sweeper aside with the mop, and they were running again.

  “This way!” Spencer said, shoving open the door to the fourth floor and exiting the stairwell. It was suddenly obvious where the other Rebels were. There was chaos ahead, with the unmistakable sounds of battle.

  Spencer, Penny, and Bernard plowed into the attacking Sweepers from behind, forcing their way into a large laboratory room. In a moment, the two Rebel groups had reunited.

  Walter and the others had created a barricade in one corner of the lab. Filing cabinets, desks, and overturned tables and chairs formed a decently defensible location.

  Alan rustled Spencer’s white hair as he ducked behind the barricade. “Glad you could join us,” he said. The situation looked grim. The Sweepers were swarming, and it wouldn’t be long before the barricade crumbled under their onslaught.

  Spencer cast his eyes along the barricade, making sure all the Rebels were safe. Dez was hunched at the far end, Daisy standing beside him. Spencer quickly made his way over to them.

  “You guys all right?” he asked.

  Daisy’s hands were on her hips, and she stared down at Dez with a disapproving expression. She seemed relieved to see Spencer. “Good,” Daisy said. “Maybe you can talk him into helping. He wouldn’t lift a finger to build the barricade.”

  Dez was on his knees, using both hands to try to pry open a mini fridge that formed part of the blockade. “I don’t like working on an empty stomach,” he said.

  “Where did you get that?” Spencer pointed to the small refrigerator.

  Dez shrugged casually. “I dunno. I think Walter pulled it over when they were putting the barricade together. But he didn’t even check it for snacks.”

  At last, the door to the mini fridge popped open. Dez rocked back on his heels, a pleased expression spreading across his Sweeper face. “Oh, yeah!” he shouted. “It’s loaded!”

  Spencer stepped forward and slammed the fridge door.

  “Hey!” Dez protested. “There was a Mountain Dew in there!”

  Daisy chimed in. “You shouldn’t drink that. My dad says Mountain Dew makes kids hyper.”

  “Whatever,” Dez grumbled, pulling open the mini fridge door again. “It doesn’t do anything to me.” He reached inside and withdrew a bottle of Mountain Dew.

  “If you think you can drink it while you fight, then be my guest,” Spencer said. “But have you noticed the color of that stuff?” He shrugged. “It’s my personal rule never to drink anything that happens to be the exact same color as—”

  “We need more weapons!” Penny shouted. Spencer whirled around to find Marv taking on a pair of Sweepers as they tried to breach the barricade. The rescued Rebels still didn’t have weapons, and Spencer didn’t know where the nearest janitorial closet would be. Even if he knew, they probably wouldn’t be able to reach it without gear.

  Then he had another idea. Spencer fumbled with a handle on his janitorial belt. If he could use the squeegee, they could step back into Welcher and arm themselves with gear from Walter’s own closet. Then, with the proper supplies, they could make the final push to steal Belzora’s nail.

  Spencer crawled toward the back wall, his Windex already misting the cinderblock. When the transformation to glass was complete, he dragged the squeegee down the smooth surface, hoping that Bookworm had been diligent in keeping his end of the portal open.

  “What are you doing?” Bernard asked. “We’ve still got to find the nail!”

  “But we need weapons first,” Spencer said. “This is just temporary. We can open the portal again after we steal the nail.”

  The linkage was successful. As the portal’s frame glowed an eerie green, the view into Welcher Elementary School was clear and open. Bookworm’s dented lunchbox head ducked into view. When he saw Daisy hunkered behind the barricade, his textbook mouth curved in his classic grin, showing the pink retainer.

  “Hi, Bookworm!” Daisy said. “You did a good job!”

  He waggled his head as though happily embarrassed by her praise. Then he muttered something unintelligible and waved for the Rebels to step through the portal and join him in Welcher.

  “We’ll hold ’em!” Marv yelled, slamming a pushbroom into a Filth Sweeper. “Head in there and get geared up!”

  Penny rolled through the portal, clearly anxious to strap on a belt and get back into the action. Walter, Alan, and Bernard moved swiftly after her.

  Spencer grinned, holding the squeegee at his side. With all the Rebels armed, it would certainly even the fight.

  Something shot over the barricade, slimy and wet. It was the tongue of a Grime Sweeper, and it coiled around the squeegee handle before Spencer knew what was happening. The squeegee ripped from his grasp, flinging back to the mouth of a Sweeper woman who was crouched atop the barricade. She caught the tool in her teeth.

  Spencer drew his mop and aimed the strings directly at her, but the damage was already done. The squeegee fell from the Sweeper’s mouth, the handle broken in half and the rubber scraper smoldering with Grime venom.

  The mop attack went wide as the Sweeper woman bounded out of view. Spencer raced to the broken squeegee, but he couldn’t pick it up because it was soaked in acid. He watched in disbelief as the rubber melted away, ruined forever.

  He heard Walter’s voice issuing an order from behind him. “All right,” the old warlock said. “Let’s smash this portal and find that nail!”

  “Wait!” Spencer yelled, whirling around just in time to stop Penny from putting a razorblade through the portal’s glass border. “That’s our only way back,” he explained. “They destroyed the squeegee.”

  It was silent for a moment, and everyone seemed to ponder and dismiss a number of alternatives.

  “What about another squeegee?” Penny asked. “Leave one with Bookworm and we’ll take the other in search of the nail.”

  Walter shook his head. “The squeegee formula was complicated,” he said. “I didn’t make very many.”

  “What are you saying?” Bernard asked.

  “I’m saying that there aren’t any more squeegees,” Walter said. “Not until I can mix another batch of Glop formula.”

  “Maybe we can find a janitorial closet,” Penny said. “Spencer might be able to use his Glopifying po
wers on a regular squeegee.”

  But Spencer shook his head. “I’m all out of power,” he said. It had been only a few hours since he had Glopified that leaf blower. It would be at least another day before his abilities recharged.

  “That’s it, then,” Alan said. “We have to leave now.” He pointed back at the magical doorway to Welcher. “Everyone through the portal before it closes!”

  “What about the nail?” Spencer said. He was feeling responsible. He had chosen to open the portal now, and he had lost the squeegee to that Grime Sweeper.

  Alan and Walter glanced at one another. They were the only two who knew exactly what was in the Manualis Custodem. The looks on their faces told Spencer that nothing was more important than getting Belzora and the nail.

  “I know right where it is,” Spencer said. “How long will the portal stay open?”

  “About fifteen minutes,” Walter said.

  “That’s enough time,” said Spencer. “We can get there and back before it closes.”

  “Unless one of those Sweepers breaks the glass,” Penny said. “Then we’re all stuck here.”

  Spencer shut his eyes, trying to think through it all. “I’ll go,” he said. “The rest of you stay here and guard the portal until I get back.”

  “Absolutely not,” Walter said. “If anything—”

  But Alan cut him off. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “We’re wasting precious time,” Alan said. “Spencer and I will get the nail; the rest of you protect the portal.”

  No one argued with Spencer’s dad, though Walter’s expression was far from approving. Spencer checked to make sure that Belzora was resting safely in his belt pouch. Then he followed his dad to the edge of the barricade and peered over a downed table.

  The room was full of Sweepers. There were far too many to outmaneuver, even with the latex gloves that Alan and Spencer were wearing.

  “We need some cover to get to the stairs,” Alan muttered.

  It was Dez who answered. “Wait a minute.” He had a pinched look on his face, and one taloned hand gripped his large middle. His other hand held the bottle of Mountain Dew. Spencer was surprised to see that it was already empty. Dez must have really chugged the stuff. “I think I’m working something up.”