“I think this is it,” Spencer whispered. The vent shaft branched, leading to a downward drop into a classroom.
“Have you ever noticed how shiny this vent is?” Daisy asked. Spencer glanced over his shoulder to see that she’d fallen behind. “And it’s kind of cool how they hook all the different pieces of metal together. I really like this vent.”
What was Daisy talking about? How could she pay attention to the vent when they were so close to Mrs. Cleveland’s room?
Then he saw it, and everything made sense.
A pale Grime was only inches behind her. Bulbous fingertips clung to the metallic vent shaft. The Toxite was enjoying Daisy’s brain waves while sending out strong waves of distraction to confuse the girl.
“Behind you, Daisy!” Spencer hissed. “There’s a Grime right above you.”
“Come back here, Spencer,” she said calmly. “You’ve got to see this.”
“No!” Spencer said. “You have to listen to me.” But it was too late. The Grime breath was doing its trick. Daisy wasn’t hearing anything else.
“I love this vent! I think this is the coolest place I’ve ever been.”
Spencer was torn. He needed Daisy’s help, but if he went back to vac dust the Grime, he’d waste precious time in reaching the School Board.
Daisy was beyond reason. Now she was singing a lullaby to the vent, her voice getting a little too loud. If the BEM workers below heard the noise, Spencer’s surprise attack would be ruined.
“Quiet!” Spencer urged. “Stop singing! You’ve got to be quiet!”
Suddenly, the Grime scuttled away, aware of its detection. Before Spencer could breathe a sigh of relief, before Daisy could come to her senses, a hand clamped over the girl’s mouth from behind.
Daisy tried to scream, but the sound was muffled. Someone had followed them into the vent! But who? It had to be someone small enough . . .
A blast of flowery perfume hit Spencer as a face appeared behind Daisy. It was Leslie Sharmelle. And if Leslie was here, that meant Garth would be . . .
“I found them!” the thin woman shouted. Her voice echoed down the resonant vent, sounding in every nearby classroom. “They’re up in the—”
Spencer hit Leslie with a fistful of vac dust from the backpack. Her voice cut short as the suction dragged. Daisy was trapped helplessly beneath the BEM woman, but Spencer had no choice.
Spencer reached the branch in the vent shaft and entered feet first. He wriggled backward until he arrived at the drop into the classroom. Reaching down with a palm blast of vac dust, Spencer hit the vent cover. Suction ripped the bolts out of the ceiling and sent the slotted cover crashing into Mrs. Cleveland’s room. He pushed his legs through the blown-out opening and peered into the classroom.
There were at least half a dozen BEM workers prowling the room with a myriad of Glopified weapons in hand. The door was barricaded by a few stacked desks, just as Marv had done in Mrs. Natcher’s room. The window, too, was blocked and under watchful eye.
Garth Hadley was at the center of the room. The bronze hammer flashed in his hand. His other hand was in a fist, undoubtedly clenching the nail. Garth was bent over one of the desks, scrutinizing the wooden surface. But the clattering vent cover caused him to look up.
A pair of sneakers emerged from the ceiling. Garth set the point of the nail against the desk, but before he could swing the hammer, Spencer jumped.
In midair, Spencer hurled a dose of vacuum dust. The controlled funnel throw struck Garth in the chest and suctioned him to the floor. A split second later, Spencer landed painfully on the teacher’s desk. He bounced and crumpled to the floor.
The pain was intense and throbbing. Spencer felt blackness clouding his vision. If he passed out, all would be lost. Garth would recover from the vac dust and drive the nail while Daisy was trapped with Leslie in the vent above.
Spencer blinked hard. The BEM workers were converging on him. A mop lashed out. Spencer was immediately wrapped and turned upside down. The mop dragged him across the classroom floor. He tried to scream Daisy’s name, but couldn’t muster the strength.
The barricaded door suddenly shuddered. Spencer craned his neck to see. Something struck the door again. This time the stacked desks tumbled and the door slammed on its hinges. A shaggy form filled the doorway, a sawed-off pushbroom in his hands.
“Marv!” Seeing the burly janitor infused Spencer with an unknown strength. His painful fall was numbed by adrenaline.
The BEM workers swarmed at Marv, desperate to repel the intruder and give their boss time to drive the nail. A handful of vac dust struck his side, but Marv groaned like a Titan and resisted the suction. He was immobile, but still on his feet.
Spencer wormed his way out of the tight mop strings. Marv was going to need his help. The boy was reaching for the mop when something jerked him off his feet and threw him onto the nearest desk. Garth Hadley had him pinned, holding tight to the pink straps of Daisy’s backpack.
“Fighting us is the wrong choice, Spencer,” he said. “You showed promise. You could have been one of us.”
“Help rot kids’ brains?” Spencer shouted. “Never!”
“It’s for the good of all. If only you’d believe me.”
“You lied about the janitors!”
“Not everything was a lie, Spencer. Some of it was true. And I can explain the rest if you’ll give me a chance.”
“I’m not letting you change colors again!”
“Change colors?” Garth asked.
“You’re a chameleon! And them’s the worst kind of folks!” Spencer kicked savagely, landing his foot in Garth Hadley’s stomach. Then, fumbling in the side compartment of the desk beneath him, Spencer grabbed a textbook. With all his strength, he swung the book like a baseball bat, clobbering Garth on the side of the head.
Garth Hadley staggered, momentarily stunned. Spencer glanced at the weapon in his hands. A math book. That had to hurt—433 pages of mathematical pain.
Let’s times that by two! he thought.
Spencer swung again, dealing a blow to the other side of Garth’s head. Then he threw the textbook and lunged past the dazed man.
Spencer reached his desk, the School Board. Atop the wooden surface, the bronze nail had toppled. It spun lazily next to Marv’s misspelled inscription about Mrs. N. Spencer snatched the nail and found the hammer on the carpet nearby.
There was a great deal of thumping and banging resonating from the open vent. No doubt Daisy was putting up a fight.
Marv was still battling the other BEM workers. Some had collapsed on the floor; others were sent spiraling upward as Marv wielded his short-handled pushbroom like a knight’s sword.
Spencer turned as Garth Hadley charged. The boy started to brandish the bronze hammer like a weapon. Then a better idea came.
At his feet was a broom. Kicking it up, Spencer struck the bristles and launched to the ceiling. Garth cursed as Spencer rose out of reach with Ninfa and the nail.
He hit the ceiling only a foot from the open vent. Spencer carefully reached out and shoved the bronze hammer into the air vent. Leslie might reach it before Daisy, but at least it was momentarily out of Garth’s grasp.
Daisy’s face suddenly appeared in the hole. “Spencer!” she shouted. His broom was starting to descend. Desperately, he reached out with the bronze nail. Daisy’s hand closed around the item as Spencer slipped out of reach.
“Yes!” Daisy cried. But her celebration was followed by a scream. Daisy’s face disappeared into the vent again, Leslie Sharmelle dragging her backward.
Garth was waiting for him when Spencer touched down. The boy felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as Hadley tackled him to the floor.
Marv bellowed as mop strings tangled around his arm. He shook free and somersaulted across the classroom, his we
ight and momentum making him unstoppable.
Marv struck the School Board desk and bowled it over. All of Spencer’s school supplies tumbled across the carpet.
“This is the right one?” Marv asked.
“Yes!” Spencer shouted.
With a roar, the big janitor hefted the desk above his head and threw it. The desk tumbled across the room with a tremendous clamor. The metal legs bent and the wooden desktop cracked. Which was exactly what Marv wanted.
Marv leapt into the air and body-slammed the desk. The desktop splintered violently and came totally free. Marv picked up the wood and stripped away loose slivers. At last, he was holding a fragment of wood about a square foot in size—the School Board.
Marv quickly tucked the magic wood under one arm for a quick escape. Garth Hadley saw the plan and abandoned Spencer.
“Look out, Marv!” Spencer screamed. The janitor turned to face the oncoming BEM rep.
Garth swung a fist. Marv caught it and threw him back as more workers came at him. Others had turned to the classroom door, blocking it again to complicate Marv’s escape.
Spencer grimaced at the noise coming from the overhead vent. The shaft was probably too narrow for Leslie to get past. Daisy seemed to be holding her own, but it was only a matter of time before Leslie overpowered her. If that happened, Daisy would need a fast way out of the air vent.
Searching quickly, Spencer found the broom he’d used before. He aimed the broom, struck the bristles, and let it go. The broom shot out of his hands and entered the vent’s dark opening in the ceiling.
Marv was surrounded, Daisy was trapped. Spencer felt hope slipping away. Where were his mother and Walter? Daisy had last seen them mop-tied in Mrs. Natcher’s room. Spencer could only assume they were still there, powerless to escape. Wherever they were, Spencer couldn’t count on them for help.
Marv was still fighting like a giant, holding the School Board securely under his arm. He had taken several blows to the head, and dark blood streamed down his face into his shaggy black beard. The bearlike man was grunting and groaning. Struck from the side by a puff of vacuum dust, Marv dropped to his knees.
“The vent, Marv!” Spencer shouted. It was their only chance. The janitor met his stare across the room.
Straining against the vac dust, Marv grabbed his sawed-off pushbroom. Pulling the School Board from under his arm, Marv took careful aim and hit the wooden board with the Glopified pushbroom.
The School Board rocketed upward and clattered noisily into the metal vent shaft. Everyone watched it sail out of reach.
All hope was on Daisy now. She had everything that Garth needed to become a warlock. But Leslie was still up there too.
“No!” shouted Garth Hadley, thrusting his mop at Marv. The strings elongated, wrapping multiple times around the big janitor’s pained face and pulling him to his stomach. The pushbroom fell from Marv’s hands and another worker grabbed it. He swung, hitting Marv across the back and sending him into the air.
Garth Hadley laughed cruelly, dragging Marv through the air with his mop like a clumsy, injured bird on a leash. At last, Garth threw Marv against the chalkboard, where the big man collapsed in a motionless heap, suffocating from the strings around his face.
Spencer watched the torture in stunned silence from across the classroom. He remembered the first time Garth Hadley had put a hand on his shoulder, enlisting his help to catch the “criminal” head janitor.
Lies! Garth Hadley was a liar. A cruel, mean liar.
“Give me a broom,” Garth demanded. “I’m going up.” One of the BEM workers stepped forward with a charged broom. Daisy would never survive an attack from both sides. Garth would claim Ninfa and the School Board. He’d become a warlock.
But Spencer couldn’t let that happen—no matter what!
Spencer pulled the pink princess backpack from his shoulders and ripped open the zipper. Vacuum dust was useless now. Spencer stared at the other object in the backpack, a wild thought forming in his head. It was too risky. He couldn’t possibly . . . but his hands were already moving.
The spilled contents of his desk were all around him. He snatched a sharp pencil from the floor and lifted out the overcharged Vortex vacuum bag. Spencer was breathing hard, wishing there were some other way. Walter had warned about the Vortex; it was unstable, unpredictable.
Overhead, Spencer heard Daisy scream. It reverberated in the metal vent, amplifying the sound of her terror. Garth Hadley took aim and struck the bristles of his broom against the floor.
Without another thought, Spencer stabbed the sharp pencil into the vacuum bag.
Chapter 41
“Someone has to end this!”
As soon as the tip of the pencil pierced the papery fabric of the vacuum bag, a deafening suction sound filled the classroom—three hundred times louder than any puff of vac dust.
Spencer held onto the pencil, clenching the bag with all his might. Everything around him went black and he struggled to maintain consciousness.
On his knees, Spencer saw a funnel of dark dust issuing out of the bag. It grew, twisting and pitching like a giant tornado with Spencer at its root.
At the opposite end of the shifting tornado, Spencer saw dim visions of the classroom: Marv’s limp body, a mangled desk, Garth Hadley rising on his broom. But these scenes seemed miles away, frozen in time.
Then something crashed down the dust funnel, spiraling toward him. Spencer flinched, seeing a math book and a chair come hurtling at his face. At the last moment, both objects were sucked into the vacuum bag in Spencer’s hand, passing the boy without so much as a scrape.
But that was just the beginning.
The Vortex was soon tearing everything inward. There were so many objects twisting toward him that Spencer could see only glimpses. The teacher’s computer, an overhead projector, desks, cabinets, fragments of chalkboard . . . everything!
But the worst part was the bodies. Spencer saw human figures, indistinguishable among the rubble. He tried to count them, but it was impossible to see anything clearly at the base of the tornado.
Spencer cried out, screaming against the deafening squall. His own voice seemed to get caught in the dust funnel and sucked into the Vortex. Spencer felt tears flinging off his face. The sharp pencil slipped from his hand and disappeared into the vacuum bag. He felt the pink straps of the princess backpack snap. It swirled above his head and then vanished.
It took everything Spencer had not to let go of the dangerous bag. Still, his grip was slipping. Spencer had no doubt that he would end up inside the bag just like everything else unless he could hang on . . . just hang on!
Whoosh!
The tornado suddenly folded in on itself, crackling and hissing as it was sucked into the Vortex bag. Spencer felt the vacuum bag shudder in his hand. It felt no different from how it had been before—no heavier, no bigger. But as moonlight angled through the classroom’s blown-out window, Spencer saw that everything was gone.
The classroom was utterly destroyed. He was kneeling on bare concrete. The force of the suction had imploded the walls, tearing the sheetrock like paper. The sink in the back of the classroom had been pulled into the bag. A surge of water shot from the broken pipe, running across the floor like a river.
He was alone in the desolation.
Glancing up, Spencer saw that the ceiling tiles were gone. The insulation, too, had been sucked away. Sparking wires hung where the lights had been. Cracks angled across the bare ceiling, almost wide enough to expose the night sky.
But among the crooked roof trusses, a twisted, metal vent shaft remained, bent askew and dangling precariously.
“Daisy!” Spencer whispered hopefully. Through some stroke of fate, the vent had survived, held in place by the metal roof supports. And if the vent had survived, then Daisy might have, too!
<
br /> Then, as if the vent had sensed his optimism and wanted to dispel it, the damaged shaft slid from the metal roof truss with a groan. The vent fell in slow motion, Spencer wishing he could intervene. But what more could he do than watch helplessly and hope for the best?
The vent made a mighty crash as it hit the concrete floor of the skeleton classroom. Overhead, the weakened roof creaked.
Spencer raced forward. Water from the busted pipe was already forming a puddle, so he carefully set the Vortex on top of the twisted vent.
Please, he silently hoped. Let her be in there! Falling to his knees, Spencer peered into the narrow chute.
An arm stretched out of the dark vent, barely visible. In desperation, Spencer grasped the hand. To his relief, the hand grasped back.
The roof rasped as something fell from above and crashed onto the floor behind him. Spencer risked a glance upward. A patch of starlit sky winked through a new hole in the roof.
It’s coming down, he thought, his throat tightening. This whole room is going to collapse!
Spencer glanced at the door, mentally preparing his escape. But the doorway had been sucked into the Vortex, and rubble blocked the exit. Gasping, Spencer turned to the window. The glass was gone, but he might be able to climb out with Daisy before the roof caved.
“Come on,” Spencer whispered. He pulled on the hand and felt Daisy trying to work free. The flooding water, the groaning roof . . . it was enough to make his head spin.
Another portion of the roof caved in. Plumes of dust rose from the rubble like swirling, pale ghosts. A foreshadowing of death and a tomb of rubble if they didn’t get out soon.
“Come on, Daisy!” Spencer called into the vent. He could see her head and shoulders now.
“Spencer,” the girl moaned, an eerie sound that resonated in the metal shaft. Sliding her other arm forward, Daisy opened her hand. The bronze nail was clutched so tightly that it left a red mark on her white palm.
Her dedication was admirable. Through all the danger and commotion, even as the vent plummeted twelve feet to the hard floor, Daisy had kept an iron grip on the nail. She knew what was at stake if Garth took Ninfa and the nail.
Janitors Page 19
