Heroes of the Dustbin Read online

  Janitors: Heroes of the Dustbin

  Book 5

  Tyler Whitesides

  © 2015 Tyler Whitesides.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Shadow Mountain®. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Shadow Mountain.

  Illustrations © 2015 Brandon Dorman

  Visit us at ShadowMountain.com

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Whitesides, Tyler, author.

  Heroes of the dustbin / Tyler Whitesides.

  pages cm. — (Janitors ; Book 5)

  Summary: Spencer and his team of Rebels must face the combined evil of the Founding Witches and the Sweepers, or the world is doomed to fall under the control of the sinister Bureau of Educational Maintenance.

  ISBN 978-1-62972-065-4 (hardbound : alk. paper)

  [1. Monsters—Fiction. 2. School custodians—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Magic—Fiction.] I. Title. II. Series: Whitesides, Tyler. Janitors ; bk. 5.

  PZ7.W58793He 2015

  [Fic]—dc232015005189

  Printed in the United States of America

  RR Donnelley, Harrisonburg, VA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For friends and family who stick with you to the end.

  And for Jessica, Laura, Molly, and Clayton, who stuck with me from the beginning.

  Table of Contents

  “Just can’t keep up.”

  “How do I look?”

  “Did he say anything to me?”

  “He has a thing against germs.”

  “We’re in this together.”

  “I love Bingo!”

  “They know I have a mysterious past.”

  “You guys ready to do this?”

  “Some call me Dez.”

  “It’s all for the Witches.”

  “Your face!”

  “I’m not very good at knots!”

  “The time has come at last.”

  “You know what’s for dinner?”

  “That would ruin everything!”

  “We’ll find another way.”

  “Nothing personal.”

  “She had other plans.”

  “Were the prizes good?”

  “He’s different from the others.”

  “That’s a big wad.”

  “I looked in the garbage.”

  “You know what we have to do.”

  “I don’t think we should fly.”

  “My great-grandpa had a glass eye.”

  “There are no cookies.”

  “We have to find him.”

  “To put to rest our doubts.”

  “In charge of the barge.”

  “We’ve got to find that lunchbox!”

  “You’re still alive?”

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  “I think he’s afraid.”

  “Heads.”

  “And in this corner . . . ”

  “Keep them closed.”

  “I don’t know who you are.”

  “What are we up against?”

  “Do they look convincing?”

  “Quite demanding, isn’t he?”

  “I want to write a letter.”

  “Stop the little brats!”

  “I added everything.”

  “To the nests!”

  “Go and finish this.”

  “Is he smart enough?”

  “You think you have won?”

  “What’s the opposite of me?”

  “If you make a mess, clean it up.”

  “You’ll need to hire some good janitors.”

  Acknowledgments

  Reading Guide

  Glossary of Glopified Supplies

  Chapter 1

  “Just can’t keep up.”

  Spencer Zumbro was supposed to spit. He didn’t like spitting. It was typically disrespectful and totally unsanitary. But today, it was necessary. Today, in the janitorial closet at Welcher Elementary School, his spit was a secret weapon.

  It was really the only thing keeping the Rebel Janitors going in their fight against the corrupt Bureau of Educational Maintenance. The BEM had Mr. Clean and his strike force of mutated Sweepers. They had Pluggers, trained to ride and control oversized Toxites. They even had the Founding Witches, who were masterful at Glopifying cleaning supplies even without their wands of power.

  The Rebels had Spencer’s spit.

  Spencer glanced around the secret janitorial closet. The shelves were almost bare, the Rebels’ stock of magical cleaning supplies nearly depleted since Walter Jamison had died six weeks ago. What few supplies remained had been Glopified by Spencer’s right hand and delivered around the country by Marv to the last of the loyal Rebels.

  Spencer’s attention turned to the open doorway. Daisy Gates had just appeared, framed by the hulking form of Marv behind her. Daisy was already wearing her blue Glopified coveralls, which fit loosely over the clothes she’d worn during school.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Daisy said.

  Just as they did every Monday, they were supposed to meet in the secret Rebel closet right after school ended. They couldn’t slack off now, not even on the last week of school. Marv said the Toxites would be heading into a light hibernation for summer vacation. In preparation for the months of empty school, the potency of the Toxites’ breath had increased. That surely explained why students seemed to grow more rowdy as summer break drew nearer.

  Today, Daisy was nearly fifteen minutes late for their appointment in the janitor closet. “What happened?” Spencer asked.

  “I was tap dancing in the cafeteria.” Daisy shrugged with embarrassment.

  “Another Grime?” Spencer asked.

  “Two of them,” Marv said. “They got away.” He dropped an ordinary pushbroom onto the table in front of Spencer. It wasn’t Glopified, which would explain why Marv hadn’t been able to destroy the Grimes. The big janitor shook his head. “Just can’t keep up.”

  The Toxites were making a terrible comeback at Welcher. Just the day before, Spencer had fallen asleep in class. And he knew his fatigue was brought on by more than Mrs. Natcher’s boring lessons. Daisy said she’d seen a Filth bedding down in a dusty corner behind the door.

  Marv rubbed a dirty hand through his shaggy beard and gestured at the pushbroom on the table before them. “Magic time.”

  Spencer nodded. “Are we keeping this one?” Marv only grunted in response, which prompted Spencer to press the matter. He pointed at the bare shelves in the Rebel closet. “There are at least three Grimes and a handful of Filths out there,” Spencer remarked.

  “Yeah,” Daisy cut in. “And Dez said he saw a flock of Rubbishes, but I don’t know if he was pulling my leg.”

  “We can’t keep giving all the supplies away,” Spencer urged. “We have to keep this pushbroom for Welcher!”

  Marv’s expression seemed to darken, and he shook his hairy head. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble. “Think it’s bad here? There’s schools out there with three monsters for every kid. Good Rebel schools where the janitor has nothing but a maxed-out mop and a pinch of vac dust.” Marv rested a hand on the bristles of the pushbroom. “This one’s going to a school in Tennessee. Trust me, they need it more than we do.”

  Spencer lowered his head, ashamed to have thought so selfishly. He missed Walter Jamison’s guidance, not to mention the old warlock’s power to create new Glopified supplies with regularity. But the Witches had ordere
d Walter’s death, and Mr. Clean’s Glopified rag had carried it out, reducing the kind old janitor to a mere wisp of vapor. Without Walter, the Rebels were left with only the weapons they had in stock. And most of those cleaning supplies had maxed out, becoming useless after destroying so many Toxites.

  Spencer’s spit was the only hope the Rebels had of receiving new Glopified supplies. But he could use his magic on only one item at a time, and it took a couple of days for his power to recharge. He was doing all he could.

  Marv gestured to the pushbroom on the table. “That’s going to save somebody,” the janitor said, as though reading Spencer’s mind. “Maybe even stop them from getting taken.”

  Marv didn’t have to explain what he meant. Spencer knew that from the moment the Founding Witches had returned, the Rebel Janitors had begun disappearing. So many schools were defenseless now, the students’ minds rotting from Toxite breath while the janitors vanished without a trace.

  It was distressing news, and it shook the Rebels in the wake of Walter’s sudden death. But the news turned worse as the disappearances increased. Spencer wondered again what might have happened to those loyal Rebel Janitors.

  Then it became personal.

  Meredith List, Welcher’s own lunch lady, had gone missing four weeks ago. Then Earl Dodge, the cowboy janitor who had helped the Rebels in Colorado. Then Agnes Maynard, a Rebel spy who had helped them gain entrance to the BEM’s secret lab.

  Then Penny.

  Walter’s daring red-headed niece, a veteran of so many Toxite battles, had been missing for over two weeks.

  The Rebel Janitors who remained were scared and underprepared. Spencer wondered why he had been spared. So far, no apparent attempt had been made to abduct him, Daisy, or Marv. He felt almost insignificant, as if the BEM were ignoring him. But why?

  Spencer looked at the ordinary pushbroom on the table. Marv was right. He needed to Glopify it, even if it would bring hope to only one person in this fight.

  Spencer checked the zipper on his Glopified coveralls. He wasn’t expecting trouble, but it was a habit for him to check whenever he had them on. The coveralls didn’t defend against magical attacks, but as long as the zipper was pulled tight, they would protect the wearer from any physical impact.

  Spencer held his right hand before his face, worked up a bit of saliva in his mouth, and spat onto his palm. He clapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly until a bright golden light spread from his wrists to the tips of his fingers. The magical Aura had once encompassed his entire body, introducing Glop into his bodily systems and transforming him into an ageless Auran.

  Daisy giggled, and Spencer turned to look at her. She shrugged. “It’s just ironic.”

  “What’s ironic?” Spencer asked, his glowing hands outstretched.

  “That you have magic spit,” she said. “You hate spit.”

  “Tell me about it,” Spencer muttered. He looked at his hands, the right one with the power to Glopify and the left with the power to de-Glopify.

  He’d gotten quite good at it over the last six weeks. He knew how to let the magic flow through him, changing the ordinary cleaning supplies into magically charged weapons. Warlocks like Walter had to experiment with Glop formulas, sometimes taking days to find the right solution that would yield a magical result. Spencer could do it instantly. And unlike the warlocks’ creations, Spencer’s cleaning supplies could be used endlessly without maxing out.

  There were no warlocks anymore. Their bronze hammers had been replaced by three evil Witches sequestered at New Forest Academy, experimenting with Glop formulas and sending Mr. Clean and the Sweepers in search of the bronze nails that were actually the Witches’ wands.

  Spencer lowered his right hand toward the table. He had to be careful to touch the pushbroom first, since the Glopifying power would go to work on the first thing it contacted. And the Aura took two days to recharge, so Spencer didn’t want to waste it.

  Spencer’s hand was an inch from the pushbroom’s bristles when a sound outside the closet drew his attention. A razorblade sword flicked open in Marv’s hand, and Daisy drew a pinch of vacuum dust from her reserves. Spencer clenched his glowing hands into fists as someone appeared in the doorway of the secret Rebel closet.

  “Don’t touch that pushbroom!” the newcomer shouted.

  Marv growled and pointed his razorblade at the intruder. “Who are you?”

  But Spencer and Daisy knew exactly who had barged into the closet.

  It was Rho.

  Spencer stepped away from the table, his glowing hands raised so he wouldn’t accidentally touch something.

  Daisy’s mouth opened in surprise. She seemed to forget about the pinch of vac dust in her hand, and it slipped out of her fingers, causing a suction force to grab her leg and pull her down.

  Marv kept his razorblade pointed defensively at the white-haired girl in the doorway. “Know her?”

  Spencer nodded. “This is Rho. She’s an Auran.”

  “And she’s Spencer’s first crush,” Daisy added, trying to sit up against her own vac dust suction. “But that was before we found out that she’s really three hundred years old.”

  Spencer rolled his eyes at Daisy’s brutal honesty. His face was definitely turning red. “Anything else you want to share about our history?”

  “Well,” Daisy said, oblivious to the sarcasm, “they met at New Forest Academy, but Spencer thought her name was Jenna. She was kind of flirty and pretty, but then we found out she was just spying on Spencer so she could trick him into going to the Broomstaff, where he’d have to wear a dustpan around his neck and live in a landfill forever.”

  Rho smiled awkwardly, then held out her hand to Marv. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Marv didn’t seem any more trusting, but he lowered the tip of his razorblade a few inches.

  “What are you doing here?” Spencer finally asked. Rho lowered her hand when Marv didn’t accept the handshake, instead turning her attention to Spencer.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Rho ordered.

  “Is there a problem?” Spencer asked. He hadn’t seen her in months and she was already bossing him around.

  “The boys are ready,” said Rho.

  Spencer felt a chill pass through him. He’d been waiting months to hear those words from Rho. The Dark Auran boys, cursed to wander the landfill with imprisoning dustpans around their necks, had told Spencer to wait for Rho. It had been so long, Spencer was beginning to lose hope. But Rho’s sudden arrival at Welcher Elementary’s janitorial closet could mean only one thing.

  Rho nodded. “It’s time for you to un-Pan them.”

  “Now hold on,” Marv cut in. “Spencer’s already got a job to do.” He pointed his blade at the pushbroom on the table.

  “That can wait,” Rho said. “The Dark Aurans cannot.”

  “You don’t come barging in here, telling us—” Marv began.

  “She’s right,” Spencer cut him off. “Nothing is more important than getting the Pans off Olin, Sach, and Aryl.”

  “But what about V?” Daisy asked, dusting herself off as she stood once more.

  “She’s come around,” Rho explained. “She’s on our side now.”

  It was hard for Spencer to believe. V was the ringleader of the Auran girls. She had Panned the boys when they had stopped her from giving the Manualis Custodem to the BEM two centuries ago. V had been recycling Glop through a pump house, a process that only created more Toxites.

  “V wanted the Witches to return more than anyone,” Rho said. “When they finally arrived, V realized that they weren’t the friends she thought they’d be.”

  “Yeah,” Spencer muttered. “Join the club.” He felt awkward, standing there with his golden hands outstretched.

  “We should go,” Rho said. “Gia has a garbage truck in the parking lot. We’ll jump through the back and come out the dumpster portal at the landfill.”

  “We should get my dad,” Spencer said. “He won’t want to miss this
.”

  “No time,” said Rho. “General Clean could be here any moment.”

  “General?” Marv snorted.

  Rho nodded. “That’s what the Witches are calling him.”

  “General Clean is coming to our school?” Daisy yelped.

  “Not sure where he’s going,” Rho said, “but we spied a team of Sweepers on the way into Welcher. General Clean was with them.”

  “That can’t be good,” Spencer muttered. It made him uneasy not to know the exact whereabouts of the Sweeper General. Spencer used to be able to touch bronze objects and see through the warlocks’ eyes. Since the Witches had returned, there were no more warlocks. Now touching bronze did absolutely nothing.