Strike of the Sweepers Page 3

  It was better to focus on the task at hand. The translated pages of the Manualis Custodem would tell them how to find the source of all Glop. Alan had given years of his life to find it, and his partner, Rod Grush, had literally given his life. The Dark Aurans explained that the Founding Witches had been trapped in the source, waiting for mortals to rescue them. If the Witches were set free, they could help the Rebels in their fight against the Bureau of Educational Maintenance.

  They were nearing the end. Spencer could feel it.

  Mrs. Natcher was in the middle of saying the word deceive when Mrs. Hamp’s voice crackled through the intercom speaker.

  “Spencer Zumbro and Daisy Gates, please report immediately to Mr. Campbell in the janitorial office.”

  For once, Spencer was pleasantly surprised by the secretary’s announcement. If Walter wanted to see them, then he would finally get some answers.

  Mrs. Natcher looked far less enthusiastic about the announcement. The sixth-grade teacher peered over the rims of her glasses, daring anyone to move during her spelling test.

  “Shouldn’t we go?” Spencer finally asked.

  Mrs. Natcher sighed. “You can make up the test during afternoon recess.”

  Spencer leapt to his feet, maybe looking a little too excited. Daisy joined him at the door right as Mrs. Natcher called out her usual line.

  “Take the hall pass!”

  Spencer grabbed the blackened piece of plastic that was once Baybee’s leg. The doll had given its life in a Texas high school, exploding like a chalk bomb and buying the Rebels time to get away from the huge Extension Toxites and the Pluggers who rode them.

  The two kids moved silently down the hallway. They were almost to the steps that led into the janitorial storage area when a familiar voice squeaked out.

  “And where do you think you’re going?”

  It was Principal Poach. He was leaning against a drinking fountain, breathing as heavily as though he had just run a marathon. His walrus mustache still had droplets of water clinging to it from a drink he must have just taken.

  It was indeed a rare occurrence to see Principal Poach standing, instead of spilling over the arms of his office chair. Rarer still to see him outside his office, wandering the hallway like a responsible administrator.

  “The janitor wants to see us,” Spencer explained.

  “Don’t worry,” Daisy offered. “We have a hall pass!” She grabbed Spencer’s arm and made him display the blackened chunk of doll leg that had belonged to Baybee. It was hardly a hall pass anymore. Now it looked more like a piece of shrapnel.

  Principal Poach narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I’m sure you’re up to no good. If I weren’t so busy, I’d follow you.”

  He didn’t look busy, leaning for support on the drinking fountain. Principal Poach wiped his brow. “I’ve been down to the school gym,” he said, but Spencer was sure he wasn’t exercising. “I got word this morning that the P.E. teacher quit. She moved to Mexico with hardly a moment’s notice.” He shook his head. “Now I’ve got to hire someone new to finish out the year. And good help is hard to find.”

  “Good luck with that,” Spencer said, not seeing what it had to do with Daisy and him.

  Principal Poach studied them over. “You didn’t scare off the P.E. teacher, did you?”

  “What?” Spencer said. “No way!” Whenever anything bad happened in the school, Spencer and Daisy were Poach’s prime suspects.

  “Maybe she got tired of running laps,” Daisy said. “I know I do.”

  Principal Poach gestured for the kids to move along. Then he bent over the drinking fountain to take another sip, rallying his strength to make it back to the comfort of his office chair.

  Spencer and Daisy moved quickly down the steps into the janitorial storage area. The stack of boxes was already slid aside. Chunks of wood were lying on the floor, remnants of last night’s shattered portal that were no longer glass after the Windex wore off.

  Walter welcomed them into the hidden room, and Spencer immediately noticed the open binder on the table, showing the translation of the Manualis Custodem. Other than that, the closet was empty.

  “Where’s Ted?” Spencer asked. “And my dad?”

  Walter walked around to the other side of the table. “Your dad took Ted away. We’re turning him over to some other Rebels. We can’t afford any distractions right now.”

  “Did you read it?” Spencer asked, his eyes falling to the open binder.

  Walter nodded. “Your dad and I pored over every word last night.” He touched the open pages of the translation. “It’s now clear what we must do.”

  “I hope it’s not a crossword puzzle,” Daisy said. “I’m really bad at those.”

  “I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit more dangerous than a crossword puzzle,” Walter said. “We have to go back to New Forest Academy.”

  Spencer shuddered at the name. That place held very bad memories. New Forest Academy was a private school created by the BEM to handpick and educate only certain students while letting the rest of the nation rot out on Toxite breath.

  “What does New Forest Academy have to do with finding the source of Glop?” Daisy asked.

  “Meet me here at ten o’clock tonight,” Walter said. “I want you to be part of the team.”

  “Who else is coming?” Daisy asked.

  “We’re keeping it small,” Walter said. “Just the three of us, plus Spencer’s dad and Penny.”

  “So you’re going to tell Penny about the Manualis Custodem.” Spencer asked. They’d kept it a secret since the landfill.

  Walter shook his head. “Not yet. Which is why I pulled you from class so I could talk to you two first.” He carefully closed the binder. “The BEM will stop at nothing to find out what is written in the Manualis Custodem. They have Sweepers now, in addition to the Pluggers, making them more deadly than ever before.” He leaned across the table. “Alan and I are the only two people who know what this book says. From translating it, Professor DeFleur had to know also. In a way, I suppose it is for the best that he didn’t survive last night. One less person to protect.”

  Spencer was shocked by Walter’s words. The warlock was so serious, he seemed almost uncaring.

  “No one else can be given this dangerous knowledge,” Walter continued. “I don’t want you to know specifics, and I don’t want you to mention the Manualis Custodem to Penny or anyone else. Understood?”

  Daisy nodded promptly, but Spencer took a moment to process it all. Walter was expecting a lot and not giving them specifics.

  “You have to trust me on this,” Walter said. “It will keep you safer.”

  Spencer did trust Walter, but he hated being shut out like this. He nodded at last.

  “Ten o’clock tonight,” Walter repeated. Then he gestured for the two kids to hurry up the stairs. There would still be time to write the word confidentiality for the spelling test.

  Chapter 5

  “Maybe he’s homesick.”

  It was five minutes to ten o’clock. The moon let off a hazy glow behind a curtain of leftover storm clouds. Spencer found Daisy in her backyard, leaning against the rickety tool shed in the dark. He had succeeded in sneaking past the Gates family dog, which usually came at him like it had missed a few meals.

  “Hey,” Spencer whispered. “My dad’s in the car just down the street. Walter’s waiting for us at the school. We should hurry.”

  “Spencer.” Daisy’s voice sounded small in the large, dark yard. “I think something’s wrong with Bookworm.”

  Besides the dog, Daisy had another pet. Bookworm was a Thingamajunk—quite literally a walking heap of trash with a mind of its own. Bookworm had followed Daisy home from the hidden landfill when she had showed it a bit of kindness instead of trash-talking it like everyone else. Bookworm had saved Daisy’s life and become resolutely loyal to the girl.

  Spencer knew that Daisy kept her Thingamajunk in the toolshed. Her parents probably knew too. Mr. and Mrs. Ga
tes knew all about Glop and Toxites, but their involvement was a secret Daisy had shared only with Spencer.

  “What’s the matter with Bookworm?” he asked.

  Daisy pulled open the door to the toolshed and stepped inside. Spencer knew this might make them late for their rendezvous with Walter at the school, but Bookworm was important to Daisy, so Spencer followed her in.

  Daisy reached onto the workbench and flicked on a battery-powered lantern. In the dim light, Spencer saw a formless heap of trash lying in the middle of the shed. This was strange indeed. Usually Bookworm took a humanoid form, with gangly arms and legs. The pile of trash before them looked like someone had upended a dumpster.

  “He used to jump around and say hello whenever I’d come out to the shed,” Daisy said.

  “He says hello now?” Spencer didn’t remember the Thingamajunk speaking the slightest bit of English.

  “Well,” Daisy said, “it sounded more like gharba-harba-blarba. But I thought it meant hello.”

  Spencer stooped to examine the pile of garbage. It didn’t smell pretty, and he was reluctant to get any closer. “When did this happen?”

  “He’s been getting slower for a while,” Daisy answered. “But today he hasn’t moved at all.”

  “I don’t know, Daisy. Are you sure he’s still . . .” Spencer couldn’t bring himself to say alive.

  “Bookworm,” Daisy addressed the mound of trash. “I’m going to be very sad if you’re dead.” She put her hands on her hips.

  In response, the pile of garbage began to stir. Spencer stepped back as something lifted out of the mess. It was the Thingamajunk’s head, comprised of a dented lunchbox and a moldy textbook dangling down like a sloppy jaw.

  Bookworm attempted his trademark smile, textbook covers parting to reveal stubs of broken pencils arranged like teeth in the yellowed pages. Spencer was relieved to see that the pale worms that had inspired the creature’s name were finally gone. A pink retainer was wedged among the pencil teeth, a simple gift from Daisy that had changed the Thingamajunk’s entire nature.

  Bookworm managed his smile for only a second; then his head collapsed out of sight under the trash.

  “Maybe he’s homesick,” Daisy said.

  Spencer couldn’t imagine that anyone would want to go back to that Glop-saturated landfill. “Or maybe he’s tired of being caged up in this tiny shed,” Spencer suggested. “Do you take him for walks?” Taking the garbage out for a walk? It sounded ridiculous! Spencer couldn’t believe he had just said that.

  “We used to run around the yard at night,” Daisy said. “But Bookworm kept trying to eat our dog, so we had to stop.”

  A quick car honk sounded from down the street. Spencer was surprised that his dad would risk it at this time of night. But Alan was obviously anxious to move forward on the information they’d gathered from the Manualis Custodem.

  “We’d better go,” Spencer said.

  Daisy reached out and patted the stinky garbage. “Hang in there, buddy,” she said. Then the two kids slipped out of the toolshed and ran across the dark backyard, janitorial belts jangling.

  Chapter 6

  “Holga.”

  Walter looked serious. He stood in the Rebel janitor closet wearing dark blue coveralls and a black cap over his bald head. A Glopified squeegee rested loosely in one hand.

  Beside him stood his niece, Penny. She was Walter’s weapons specialist and always looked ready for battle, in Spencer’s opinion. She had on the same type of navy jumpsuit as her uncle. Her short red hair was tied back in a bandanna, and she wore not one but two janitorial belts.

  Walter checked his wristwatch. “I have exactly seven minutes to brief you on the mission, so I’m going to ask for your cooperation and trust.”

  Spencer glanced at Penny. He felt bad that she didn’t know anything about the Manualis Custodem. It didn’t seem fair to keep her in the dark like this. Of course, Spencer and Daisy were shut out now too. Walter and Alan were the only two who knew what the mysterious book said, and they had decided it would be safer to keep it a secret from the kids.

  “In five minutes,” Walter said, “I’m going to use this squeegee to open a portal to New Forest Academy. We’re going to move in and apprehend Director Carlos Garcia.”

  Spencer’s surprised look mirrored Daisy’s. Penny looked excited, and Alan simply nodded.

  “Tonight we finish what we almost did last November,” Alan said. “We’re taking the warlock’s hammer and nail.”

  Spencer remembered their wild escape from New Forest Academy, his father barely freed from his dumpster prison. They had managed to swipe Director Garcia’s hammer then, but they’d lost it when Dez had betrayed them. . . .

  “Holga,” said Walter.

  “Bless you,” Daisy muttered.

  “I don’t think he sneezed, Daisy,” Spencer said.

  “We’ve received new information that has revealed the names of the other two warlock hammers,” Walter said. Spencer knew the information had come from the Manualis Custodem, and he was again bothered by the secrecy of it. “Holga is the name of Director Garcia’s hammer.”

  “What about the other one?” Penny asked. “The one that Mr. Clean holds?”

  “Belzora,” Walter said. “Clean’s hammer is called Belzora.”

  Daisy shivered. “That one sounds scary.”

  Spencer raised an eyebrow at her. “Why does it sound any scarier than Ninfa or Holga?”

  She shrugged defensively. “It has a Z in it.”

  Walter was smiling. “We have no reason to be afraid. Ninfa, Holga, and Belzora are the names of our Founding Witches. They left their power in the bronze hammers so the warlocks could continue to fight Toxites.”

  Spencer saw Daisy open her mouth to say something. But then she seemed to remember that Penny didn’t know about the quest to bring back the Founding Witches. Her mouth dangled open for a silent moment, and then she closed it.

  “Here,” Walter said, pulling a bulky bundle of clothing from a closet shelf. “Put these on.” He tossed the clothes onto the table, and Spencer saw that they were dark blue jumpsuits just like Walter and Penny were wearing.

  “What’s this?” Spencer asked.

  “Your new uniform,” Penny said. “Uncle Walter finally succeeded in Glopifying these coveralls.”

  Spencer lifted one off the table. It was obviously adult sized, so he handed it to his dad. Daisy had found some coveralls just her size, and the remaining outfit looked like it would fit Spencer comfortably.

  Spencer held it out for examination. The cloth seemed very plain and, to Spencer’s relief, clean. The jumpsuit had long sleeves and pants, with a few pockets sewn into the design. The front zipper started at the seam between the legs and ended at the collar.

  “Try them on!” Penny said impatiently. “Make sure they fit!”

  “Umm . . .” Daisy hesitated, her jumpsuit tucked under one arm. “Could I get some privacy? I don’t feel comfortable changing my clothes in a room full of people.”

  “You don’t have to change, Daisy,” Walter explained. “The jumpsuit will fit over your regular clothes.”

  Alan had already stepped into his uniform, pulling the coveralls over his clothes and zipping up. Spencer removed his janitorial belt and followed his dad’s example. He was pleased to discover that the jumpsuit fit comfortably and smelled as though it had been freshly laundered.

  “My dad wears something like this when he’s fixing cars,” Daisy said, stepping into the coveralls. “Except, his jumpsuits are always dirty. And they definitely aren’t Glopified.” She pulled the zipper partway up and strapped on her weapons belt once more.

  “What do the coveralls do?” Spencer asked. It was remarkable to him that he trusted Walter enough to put on a magic jumpsuit without having any idea what would happen.

  “Protection,” Walter said. “The Glopified coveralls will protect you from any sort of physical impact.”

  “Like a suit of armor?” Daisy aske
d.

  “Sort of,” Penny said. “I’ve been testing the jumpsuits for the past couple of weeks. They have their limitations.”

  “Like what?” Spencer asked.

  “The jumpsuits won’t do anything against Glopified attacks,” Penny continued. “Get hit by a pushbroom and you’ll still go flying. Get cut by a Glopified razorblade and you’ll still bleed. Toxites can also get through the coveralls, so you’ll want to duck if a Filth blows its quills.”

  “If they don’t protect us from Glopified weapons,” Daisy said, “then what are they good for?”

  “The jumpsuits will protect you from any kind of natural physical injury,” Penny said. “You can get kicked in the ribs or smashed against a wall and you’ll walk away without any pain.”

  Spencer looked down at his blue coveralls. He felt safer already. “Why didn’t we have these before?”

  “I just developed the formula last month,” Walter said. “Then we had to special-order those child-sized coveralls. Penny brought them to the school this morning so I could Glopify them.”

  “One more thing,” Penny said. “Make sure you zip all the way up.” She reached over and tugged Daisy’s zipper until it was just below her chin.

  “Yeah,” Daisy said. “That’s embarrassing. One time I went a whole day at school with my zipper down.”

  Penny shook her head. “It’s not that,” she said. “The coveralls have to be zipped up completely. If the zipper pulls down even half an inch, your jumpsuit will lose power until you zip up again.”

  Spencer checked to make sure his zipper was tight.

  “Do you have these jumpsuits in a different color?” Daisy asked, looking down at herself.

  “What’s wrong with navy blue?” asked Spencer.

  “Nothing.” She shrugged. “I just like variety.”

  “I don’t think the coveralls are going for fashion, Daisy,” said Spencer. “I have a feeling that color won’t matter so much in the middle of a battle.”

  “Speaking of battle,” Penny said, turning to Walter, “what’s our plan tonight? Director Garcia won’t give up Holga without a fight.”