“It doesn’t matter, Spence.”

Spencer pulled himself up in the mud, scrambling the final distance to meet his friends. “Dad!” Spencer threw both arms around the man. Daisy touched his back, as if reminding him that she was also there, even though Spencer hadn’t said anything to her yet.

The quiet moment didn’t last long, as soft radio static filled the air. Spencer looked down, surprised to see that Leslie Sharmelle’s Glopified walkie-talkie had survived the Windex. It lay in the mud, half buried and forgotten as the voice of Mr. Clean drifted out.

“Leslie. Leslie, do you hear me?”

The stranger who had rescued Alan stooped down and retrieved the walkie-talkie. He took a step forward, pulling a baseball hat off his head to expose a shock of white hair.

“Who . . . ?” Walter started, but Spencer knew exactly who it was.

Spencer pushed past his dad and came face-to-face with the boy stranger. “You’re the third one,” he said. “You’re a Dark Auran.”

In response, the boy pulled down his collar to show Spencer the Pan. It meant more to Spencer now that he’d been within a second of wearing one of his own.

“Name’s Sach,” the boy said. “I heard you might be in a spot of trouble. Thought I’d stop by to help.” He glanced at the muddy walkie-talkie in his hand as Mr. Clean’s voice came through again.

“Leslie Sharmelle! Leslie, do you copy?”

Sach held the radio out to Alan. “I think it’s for you.”

Alan accepted the walkie-talkie. Pressing the button, he lifted it to his lips. “Hello, Mr. Clean.”

It was silent for a moment, and then the BEM warlock spoke.

“Alan.”

“Leslie’s dead, Clean. But I’m still here. Just goes to prove that if you want a job done right, you should do it yourself.”

“You can’t escape my wrath, Zumbro!”

“I’m not trying to,” Alan said with a smirk. “Come on, Mr. Clean. No more henchmen. No more bodyguards. No more hiding. Why don’t you come out and meet me face-to-face?”

The radio was silent for a moment. Then Mr. Clean’s answer was low and slow. “You should hope it never comes to that.”

Just then, the entire gang of Pluggers came careening over the edge of the slope in a vicious downward charge. They must have been waiting at the edge of the utensil forest, and when they saw that their leader’s surprise plan to take Alan had failed, they rode hard to finish the job.

Alan dropped the walkie-talkie into the mud and brought his heel down hard, smashing the device into ruined pieces.

“This way!” Sach shouted, racing back toward the Glop lagoon. Walter pulled Daisy away from the shattered form of Leslie Sharmelle as Bernard and Penny followed closely behind. Spencer stood beside his dad, who lingered for only a moment at the site where Leslie and her Filth had met their demise, a look of unmasked relief on his face. Then they were sprinting after the others, making a hasty retreat before the Pluggers reached them.

“Where are we going?” Spencer shouted at Sach. The Dark Auran appeared to be leading them right back to the Broomstaff. Spencer could see the group of Aurans gathered at the shore of the lagoon.

“We need to join forces,” Sach said.

“With the Aurans?” It didn’t seem like a good plan, but Sach was set on it.

The Aurans fanned out when they saw the Rebels coming in. Janitorial belts were at the ready and weapons were in hand. Spencer almost laughed at the astonished look on V’s face when she saw Sach leading the Rebels in.

“You!” V shouted. “I should have known.”

“One of us had to interfere,” Sach said, “since none of you seemed interested in saving Spencer’s dad.”

“What about Aryl and Olin?” V said. “I assume they’re nearby.”

“Oh, we know you’d love to have all three of us together,” Sach said. “Which is why I’m here alone.” He held out his hand. “Lower your weapons. We’re not here to fight.”

“Speak for yourself,” V said. “I’m always ready for a fight.”

“Well, good,” Sach said. “Because we’re going to have one in less than a moment. But it’s going to be against them.” He pointed behind him to where the gang of Pluggers was closing fast.

“They’re after the Rebels,” V said. “They’re not our enemies.”

“Maybe not,” answered Sach. “But they’re too close now. You can’t hope to get away before the Toxite breath overpowers you. And when it does, you’ll be helpless against them.”

“What are you suggesting?” V tilted her head.

Sach reached over and unclipped the vanilla air freshener from Daisy’s janitorial belt. “This nullifies the effects of Toxite breath,” he said. “Stay close and we all have a chance of surviving.”

V hesitated for only a moment. “This doesn’t make us comrades,” she muttered, squaring her shoulders for battle.

Spencer didn’t know who to trust anymore. The Aurans had tried to Pan him, and Sach was supposedly evil. But bygones had to be bygones—at least for a while. The Rebels had a much better chance of survival by joining with ten more fighters. Then Spencer realized that there were only nine Aurans on the shore of the lagoon.

Spencer glanced back toward the towering Broomstaff. Rho was the only Auran worthy of trust, but she was trapped on the island with no way off while the Glop was being pumped into the earth.

Seeing the churning mixture caused Spencer another wave of despair. He had to tell his dad that this wasn’t the Glop source. He had to tell him that there was no way to destroy the Glop, and that everything they saw in the lagoon was being recycled to make more Toxites.

“This isn’t the source, Dad. They’re pumping the Glop . . .” He started to explain, but his dad suddenly pulled him into a tight hug.

“It doesn’t matter, Spence.” And for a moment, it didn’t. The impending attack of the Pluggers, the trickery and deception of the Aurans, the Glop lagoon . . . for a moment, as he was held in his dad’s arms, none of it mattered.

For the first time in his recent life, Spencer felt at peace with his dad. Here beside the gurgling lagoon, he realized that although the quest into the landfill had not brought them to the source, as they’d hoped, it had brought him and his father together. And that was more than either of them could have hoped for.

Then the illusion of safety was broken as Spencer saw the gang of Pluggers drawing into an offensive line. He pulled away from his dad, renewed to face the dangers ahead.

The riders twisted the dials on their battery packs, reining back their creatures at a distance of about forty yards. The monsters stamped and hissed, but they were far enough away that the Toxite breath did not reach the Rebels or Aurans yet.

Spencer tried to count them, thinking it might be a good idea to know how many Pluggers they were up against. Then he decided that counting was only cause for despair. There were maybe a dozen Extension Filths, and almost as many Grimes. Overhead, a handful of Extension Rubbishes went into a dive, landing heavily in the mud to form an impassable line.

“Ready!” shouted one of the Pluggers, who had obviously taken charge in Leslie Sharmelle’s absence. The rider reached down through his Filth’s bristling fur and lifted a bucket from the saddle. He ripped off the lid with one hand, and Spencer saw bristling wings, tails, and quills, confined in the bucket by an unseen force.

An Agitation Bucket.

Spencer hadn’t seen once since his time at New Forest Academy. The buckets held small Toxites against their will, causing them such anger that, once released, the Toxites would attack with unmatched fury.

Spencer didn’t know if the Aurans understood the danger. He didn’t even have time to shout a warning before the man on the Extension Filth upended his Agitation Bucket and let the creatures stream forward unbridled.

Spencer felt a wave of sleepiness hit him as the agitated Toxites came tearing across the dark earth, their bodies twitching with anger.

“Freshener!” Walter shouted, releasing a hiss of aerosol. The other Rebels joined the spray, instantly purifying the air around them and the Aurans.

The Plugger seemed dismayed by the defensive air freshener. “Release another bucket!” he shouted. The rider at his left popped open the lid of a second Agitation Bucket and heaved the contents forward. Then the gang of Pluggers charged in a line of beasts and Glopified weapons.

The small, agitated Toxites struck first, rending and biting in a hiss of claws and teeth. Spencer fell back, his hand closing around the dustpan at his belt. With a twist of the handle, the metal dustpan fanned outward, forming into a round shield. Diving Rubbishes pinged off his defense, streaks of black in the glow of the Glop lagoon.

Spencer found the pouch containing his razorblade and flicked the button. The blade leapt out, skewering a little Grime and reducing it to a splatter of yellowish slime. Daisy was pulling him up, her pushbroom angling past his head and taking out a Rubbish midflight.

There was nowhere to retreat. The agitated Toxites were as thick as a swarm of gnats, and the larger, more deadly Extension Toxites were circling around to flank them.

Penny’s short-handled mops looked more lethal than ever. She spun them around like nunchucks, the strings extending and retracting to snuff out the agitated Toxites.

An Extension Filth sprang for Walter, but Bernard and Alan moved to block its path. The creature reared on its hind legs, bellowing, as the spiked tail thumped the sodden earth.

Sach and the Aurans were carving out a defensive ring, their countless years of combat training coming in useful. One of the Extension Grimes spat a chug of venomous slime. V sidestepped the steaming liquid and delivered a well-placed blow from her two-headed mop to the Grime’s neck. The Glopified armor turned the mop strings aside, but the creature withdrew.

As long as the air freshener lingered around the Aurans, they would have a fighting chance. But Spencer knew that, with so many Toxites, the monster breath would win out soon. He released another shot of air freshener from behind his shield, hoping it would be enough.

The Auran defenses were breaking down. Spencer was moving to fill the gap when an Extension Filth charged through. It loped toward Daisy, rearing back on its hind legs before the rider spurred it to attack.

The beast’s hairy jaws were opening, sharp claws descending, when something miraculous happened. The scraps of garbage at Daisy’s feet suddenly moved. In a heartbeat, the trash sprang to life, forming quickly into a familiar Thingamajunk.

Bookworm met the Filth head-on, wrestling the creature back with his strong arms. They were an equal match for only a moment before Bookworm tossed the Filth aside. The Thingamajunk’s foot came down in a solid kick, cracking the Toxite’s helmet and leaving a dusty gash across its face. The rider retreated instantly, coaxing his injured beast to the sidelines of the battle.

“Bookworm!” Daisy cried. “You came back!”

The Thingamajunk dropped onto all fours and gave a snarling grin, covers of the textbook folding back. The pink retainer was still there, and this time, there seemed to be fewer worms.

Daisy was still reveling in the reunion when an overhead attack, unexpected and accurate, came from an Extension Rubbish.

The beast opened its massive beak and blew a stream of thick black dust like a ribbon of fire. The cloud settled around the Aurans, obscuring their vision and causing them to gasp for fresh air. In the chaos, huge talons closed around Spencer and Daisy, lifting them into the darkness.

But as Daisy screamed out, Bookworm flung into action. The Thingamajunk leapt high into the air, seizing the Exten­sion Rubbish by the beak and pulling it into a headlock.

The huge Rubbish squawked, dropping its prey as it spiraled off into the darkness with Bookworm still clinging around its neck.

Spencer landed face downward in the mud, dangerously close to the edge of the lagoon. He heard Daisy grunt as she struck the ground. Glancing up, he saw her slide past, momentum causing her to tumble across the slick earth.

“Daisy!” Spencer threw aside his shield and reached for her, but it was too late. Daisy Gates slipped off the edge of the muddy bank and fell, out of sight, into the roiling lagoon of Glop.