Janitors: Secrets of New Forest Academy

by Tyler Whitesides

  Just as the creature’s dark mouth began to close around Spencer’s head, his hand yanked free. But the belt had chosen this crucial moment to malfunction yet again. As soon as the dust cleared the pouch, it backfired. Spencer felt the suction pull at his tool belt as the vac dust dropped back into the pouch, the magic causing a chain reaction with the remaining dust.

  Spencer grabbed his belt, feeling like it might fly off at any second. He didn’t realize exactly when it happened, but suddenly, the Grime was gone.

  The suction in the belt pouch subsided and Spencer jumped up, bracing himself for a fresh attack.

  Daisy blinked and squinted against the light she had been staring at. “I named him Louis,” she said.

  “Huh?” Spencer asked.

  “Louis the Lightbulb.” Daisy wrinkled her forehead. “That was really weird.” She turned to Spencer. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded. “Not really sure what just happened. I was about to get Grimed and my tool belt backfired. I don’t know where the last Toxite went.” Then it clicked. “Oh, no ...” Spencer looked down at his spill-proof pouch of vac dust. “I think it went into my belt.”

  “But how’s that possible?” Daisy asked. “Wasn’t it huge?”

  “Penny said these pouches are bigger than they seem. Besides, you know how Grimes can compress themselves into tiny spaces.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  Spencer poked a finger into the pouch opening. He quickly pulled away when he felt something cold and slimy. “It’s a spill-proof pouch. Penny said nothing would come out unless I pulled it out.”

  “Seriously?” Daisy said. “You’re just going to leave it in there?”

  “What else can I do? The minute I free it, you and Louis the Lightbulb will leave me to fight the Grime on my own. Besides, we’ve got to keep going. Dez needs help.” Spencer looked back toward the black space where the bully was trapped.

  They reached the next elevator, lifted the metal grate, and slipped inside. As in the previous elevators, they immediately plummeted into darkness.

  Spencer reached down to his tool belt. The U clips were empty and his vac dust was spent, replaced by a deadly Toxite. If the dumpster wasn’t on the next level, Spencer didn’t know if they would survive.

  He touched the pouch on the back of his belt. All his hopes were riding there. And still, Spencer could think of a hundred ways this could go wrong.

  Chapter 53

  “You cannot win this.”

  The elevator stopped. Like the last three levels, this one looked dim and uninviting. Spencer and Daisy stood silently, staring through the metal grate.

  It was there.

  The dumpster prison sat on the far side of the large garage, butted against the concrete wall. Spencer and Daisy didn’t need to discuss strategy or shout warnings. This was it. This was what they had come for.

  Alan Zumbro was a hundred yards away.

  Daisy pulled the chain, lifting the metal grate. Spencer stepped out alone, the grate shutting firmly behind him. Daisy might have told him to be careful, but Spencer was so absorbed by the sight of the dumpster that he heard nothing.

  Spencer walked forward, struggling to keep his breathing steady. It was a déjà vu moment with the soft hum of the fluorescent light and the pad of his shoes on the concrete. He’d walked this distance before, through the eyes of Director Carlos Garcia.

  He approached unopposed. Details of the dumpster came into view: the ridges on the black plastic lid, a scratch down one side, the line of silvery duct tape that kept the dumpster closed.

  When he was only feet away, Spencer became aware of a figure standing beside a nearby pillar. The man stepped out of the shadows, and Spencer wasn’t surprised to see Director Garcia.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.” His familiar voice carried that hint of a Spanish accent. “As soon as Walter Jamison breached the gate, I knew you would be coming.” Garcia did not seem the slightest bit flustered or anxious. He was frightfully composed and collected.

  Spencer froze. His dad was almost within reach. He was probably hearing every word of this conversation.

  “Frankly,” Garcia said, “I’m surprised you survived Slick’s watchdogs. He’s been growing those Toxites for weeks. He assured me they would be sufficient to stop an army of janitors.”

  Garcia strode forward, hard shoes clicking on the concrete. “You can’t win this, Spencer. And I don’t want to hurt you. I’m going to give you a chance to go. Just turn around and go home.”

  Spencer said nothing but stared unblinking at the dumpster, noting the slightly curled edge of the duct tape.

  “I have orders,” Garcia said. “Orders to kill you on sight. My superior would not give you this chance to flee.”

  Spencer’s brow furrowed. Superior? Garcia was a warlock, top of the command chain. Who would be giving him orders?

  “I’m not a fighter,” the director said. “I’m not a villain. If only you understood what was at stake here. New Forest Academy must rise. And I will do anything to ensure that it does.”

  Without a word, Spencer stepped forward and seized the edge of the tape. He pulled, but it was hopelessly sealed.

  “You cannot win this,” Garcia repeated, shaking his head. He held out his hand and wiggled the fingers arrogantly. “Only one hand can open that dumpster.”

  As Garcia spoke, Spencer slipped his right hand into the back pouch of his tool belt. This was the moment. He pushed aside any doubts about his plan and slipped into the glove. Drawing his hand out of the pouch, Spencer grabbed the curled edge of the duct tape and stripped it away from the dumpster lid.

  “NO!” Garcia cursed. His eyes bulged in sheer disbelief.

  Spencer held out his hand. “Looks like I caught you red-handed.”

  Spencer wiggled his fingers. His face registering his shock, Director Garcia saw that his own red, inky fingerprints had somehow been copied from Daisy Gates’s sloppy art project and pasted onto the fingers of a latex glove.

  Director Garcia, white-faced and trembling, ran toward Spencer. He seized the boy by the throat, but the latex glove made it impossible for him to get a grip. Spencer slipped away and reached back to the dumpster, using the fingerprinted glove to peel up another strip of tape. Garcia lunged for the lid of the Glopified dumpster, but Spencer threw it open.

  Alan Zumbro rose up, tangled hair and beard shadowing whatever fatherly features Spencer might have recognized. Director Garcia swung a fist, but Alan grabbed his hand and dragged him closer. Garcia’s face slammed against the side of the metal dumpster with shocking force. Blood streamed from his nose.

  Alan dropped the injured director to the concrete floor of the parking garage. Lifting himself along the dumpster’s rim, Alan swung a leg over the side and lowered himself down.

  Spencer watched in wonder. The dumpster prisoner—his father!

  Alan looked so frail. His arms were so thin, his shirt tattered. But as the light glinted across his blue eyes, Spencer saw strength from deep within. Strength and determination to stay alive for countless months in such a horrid prison.

  Alan took the moaning director by the collar of his shirt. Garcia’s eyes rolled back, still stunned from the pain. Spencer couldn’t stand to watch as Alan hefted Director Garcia violently against the side of the dumpster. Reaching inside Garcia’s sport coat, Alan withdrew a bronze hammer. Director Garcia cried out and reached for it, but Alan tossed the hammer aside. It clattered on the concrete floor, filling the garage with a harsh metallic ringing.

  Garcia was muttering something in Spanish. It sounded penitent, prayerful, laced with desperation.

  Alan narrowed his eyes to bitter slits. “Get used to the dark!”

  In a moment of absolute vengeance, Alan gave a mighty cry. With strength beyond his frail form, he heaved Director Garcia over the rim of the dumpster prison.

  The force of impact caused the lid to swing shut. Before Garcia could utter a single cry, Spencer stepped
forward, seized the duct tape, and used the red fingerprinted glove to seal the dumpster prison.

  Chapter 54

  “Is it gonna hurt?”

  Spencer turned to his father, eyes shimmering in the dim light. For a moment, he saw through the filthy beard, and the face took Spencer far away from the cold, gray garage. He was a ten-year-old boy again, riding his bike around the block with his dad ...

  “Hey, kiddo,” Alan said. The corners of his unkempt mustache turned up in a smile. He held out his arms.

  “Dad,” whispered Spencer. He stepped into his father’s open arms, feeling a tight lump of emotion in his throat.

  “Have to admit,” Alan said, “didn’t think it would be you that rescued me.” Alan patted his son on the back, then held him away to look into his eyes. “How’d you get through the tape?”

  Spencer held up the glove. “I used some Glopified ink remover to copy Garcia’s fingerprints and paste them onto this glove.”

  Alan grinned and shook his head in amazement. “Unbelievable.” He held Spencer by the shoulders, sizing him up. “It’s been a long time, son. I can’t believe how you’ve changed ... look how much you’ve grown!”

  Funny that his father should mention the one aspect of Spencer’s life that would never change again.

  “You’ve got a lot to explain, Spence.”

  Spencer nodded, wiping tears from his cheeks. “So do you,” he said. The grim realization of their location settled in again.

  Alan took one last glance at the dumpster prison. Garcia was quiet inside, probably trying to sort out what had just happened. Alan stooped and picked up the bronze hammer he’d stolen from the director’s coat.

  It looked similar to Ninfa, but it was shorter and the edges seemed rounder. This would be a double strike to the BEM. Spencer would escape New Forest Academy with Alan Zumbro and Garcia’s warlock hammer.

  Alan faced his son. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to run.” Alan tucked the bronze hammer into the threadbare pocket of his pants.

  “We’ll probably be doing plenty of that,” said Spencer.

  Together, they set off across the parking level at a steady jog. When they reached the elevator, Daisy was waiting, her face pressed nervously against the metal grate.

  “You got him!” she said. Daisy tried to lift the grate, but it still wouldn’t budge.

  “Here,” Alan said. He was looking at something on the wall next to the elevator. “Some kind of safety switch.” He clicked it over, and the grate lifted under Daisy’s strain.

  “Must lock down the whole system so the grates only lift once,” Spencer said.

  “Makes sense,” said Alan. “That would control how many people can get down here.”

  The elevator trundled upward, bearing Spencer, Alan, and Daisy to the previous level. In a moment, they were racing across the parking garage. Spencer noticed the tracks of goo and venomous slime from the dead Grimes.

  “Hey,” Dez grunted when they reached his elevator. Spencer slid the grate open and everyone stepped inside. The bully looked up at Alan. “Where’d you find the caveman?”

  Dez looked pale and weary. His hair was matted on his forehead and his shirt was soaked with sweat. Red streaks marred anything that Dez had touched with his hands.

  “What happened?” Alan dropped to his knees at Dez’s side.

  “Filth got him,” said Daisy.

  Alan inspected the wound and grimaced. “That must have been the world’s biggest Filth. We need to remove the quill.”

  “No!” Dez grunted. “Is it gonna hurt?”

  “Have you ever had a shot from a nurse?” Alan asked. Dez nodded. “Did it hurt when she pulled the needle out?”

  “No,” Dez muttered, a hint of his old toughness back in his voice.

  “This is going to feel kind of like that,” Alan said, grabbing the bloodstained quill. “Except this is going to hurt a lot.”

  Before Dez could react, Alan jerked the quill out of the boy’s leg with a swift motion. Dez moaned and gasped. He said a couple of bad words through clenched teeth. Blood started gushing freely from the wound.

  “I need some cloth for a bandage,” Alan said, pressing on the wound.

  Immediately, Daisy and Spencer produced their team handkerchiefs. Alan didn’t hide his surprise. “Not only did I get rescued by some twelve-year-old kids ...” Alan accepted the handkerchiefs, “but they brought first-aid kits.”

  Alan folded one handkerchief into an absorbent triangle and pressed it over the stitch holes above Dez’s knee. He tied the other handkerchief securely around the boy’s leg. “Keep the pressure on it,” Alan instructed. Dez nodded and pressed with both hands.

  The elevator had arrived at the next level. Daisy opened the grate. Spencer and Alan helped Dez to his feet, and they hobbled out.

  It was slow going with Dez. The injured boy let off a steady stream of complaints. When they passed the spot on the level where Dez had been injured, Spencer couldn’t look down. The pile of Filth dust had soaked up the blood, making a disgusting crimson mash.

  Daisy pushed up the next grate. “Welcome back, Mr. Zumbro,” said Penny. She smiled and nodded respectfully. There was a look of awe in her eyes, and Spencer remembered what Walter had said about Alan turning the tides for the Rebels. It was hard to believe. His dad was practically a hero!

  “This is the last level,” Daisy said as the elevator stopped. Penny and Alan took Dez under the arms and helped him hobble forward. They all crossed the garage, climbed through the concrete archway, and settled onto the wooden pallet.

  “The last chain,” Spencer muttered, giving it a jerk. Far overhead, he heard the gears kick in. The chain went taut, and instantly the wooden platform shifted as they started to rise into the blackness. Spencer couldn’t help but duck as they neared the top, fearing for a moment that they would all be crushed against the pallet above. But at the last moment, the overhead pallet lifted out of the way.

  They stumbled off the platform and into the janitorial closet. Alan braced Dez against some low shelves while they scavenged around Slick’s office for any fresh Glopified supplies. Penny made sure that everyone had a broom, since their escape route would most likely take them over the brick wall.

  Alan took the warlock hammer from his pocket and readjusted it so it wouldn’t fall during a long run.

  “Hey, hey!” Penny said when she saw it. “Look what you got!”

  “No sense in leaving it in the hands of an enemy.” Alan grinned.

  They moved up the stairs, down the hallway, and into the chill night. It was nerve-wracking to wait for Dez. Penny and Alan helped him along, but they seemed to move like tar. This was the crucial escape! They should be running!

  They crossed the street over to the sidewalk in front of the rec center. Spencer and Daisy moved ahead of the others, scanning the shadows for a BEM ambush.

  “Wait!” Dez gasped. The procession came to a reluctant halt. “The nail,” he said. “Garcia’s bronze nail!”

  “Forget it,” Penny said. “We don’t know where it is. Let’s just get out of here while we can.”

  “I know where ...” Dez pointed a finger toward the rec center. “Boys’ locker room ... Slick showed me. Part of the deal.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Spencer asked.

  “I didn’t ... aghhh!” Dez gripped his leg. “I didn’t think of it till now.”

  “Spencer and I will go in,” Alan said. “The rest of you stay here.” Spencer felt an immediate swell of pride that his dad had chosen him.

  “Hidden ...” Dez said. “I have to show you.”

  “I think we should keep going,” said Daisy. “Forget the nail.”

  The group exchanged glances, their frosty breath billowing in the light of the streetlamp.

  “We might not get another chance like this,” Penny finally said. “We’ve already got the hammer. If we can take the nail, then the Rebels could have two warlocks.” She ge
stured toward the building. “You three go in. We’ll stay here and watch the entrance.”

  “Come on.” Alan took Dez by the arm. The opportunity was too good to pass up. Spencer took Dez’s other arm as Penny and Daisy lingered on the rec center steps.

  Spencer and his dad guided Dez down the hallway and around a corner. Their breathing was ragged and their eyes scanned the dim halls, but the building was empty.

  Alan opened the door to the locker room and slipped inside, leaving Spencer and Dez in the hallway. A moment later, he reappeared. “Coast is clear,” Alan whispered. He took Dez by the arm again, and the three figures moved into the shadowy locker room.

  “Over there.” Dez hobbled down an aisle of tall lockers. Alan drew the bronze hammer from his pocket. They’d need to use it to remove the nail.

  Bracing himself against the wall, Dez bent over. “Here.” He held out his hand, beckoning for the hammer. For a brief second, Spencer saw a greedy look consume Dez’s eye, but before Spencer could say anything, Alan handed it over.

  That was the first sign that something bad was about to happen.

  Dez snatched the bronze hammer, pulled back his arm, and hurled the object through the air, high over their heads. Spencer flinched against the loud sound it would make when the hammer hit the floor, but the sound never came.

  Turning, Spencer saw Slick standing in the doorway, the bronze warlock hammer in his hand.

  “Nice toss, Dez.”

  Chapter 55

  “Don’t answer, son.”

  Before anyone could move, more than a dozen armed BEM workers stepped out of the tall lockers, completely blocking the way out.

  In utter shock, Spencer turned to Dez. The big kid slid down against the wall. Sitting painfully, he pressed on the blood-soaked handkerchiefs.

  “Sorry,” Dez muttered. “Tried to tell you. It was part of the deal.”

  Any hope that Spencer had held for Dez shattered into countless pieces. He was more than just a bully. Dez was a filthy traitor!

  Two of the BEM workers pushed past Alan and Spencer until they reached Dez. Taking him under the arms, they picked him up and carried him to the doorway. He groaned and complained.