Chapter 45

“I’m not wearing this.”

Spencer released the bronze hardware and found himself back inside the janitor supply closet. It took him a moment to realize that Daisy, Dez, and Marv were staring at him, awaiting a report. He slipped the bronze handle into his pocket.

“Good news,” Spencer said. “My dad is alive. Bad news—I don’t know where he is.” He shrugged. “Good news—I do know where Walter and the others are. Bad news—Mr. Clean’s on his way to see them right now.”

Spencer thought back on the conversation. Why was it so important to separate his dad? It was only after this was done that Mr. Clean was willing to see the other Rebels. Something didn’t make sense. Spencer felt like he was missing part of the story.

“So what are we going to do?” Daisy asked.

“We’re going to get there before Clean does,” Spencer said. He reached onto one of the shelves and withdrew two extra spray bottles with green solution. Handing them to Dez and Marv, he said, “We have to move quickly and silently. All we have is the element of surprise. Once we’re discovered, we’ll be too outnumbered.”

They took a minute to gear up, scavenging through the supply closet. Spencer and Daisy replenished their belts, while Dez pocketed some razorblades. Spencer yawned, surprised that he felt tired at such a moment as this. Then he remembered the Sweeper in the closet. Even though the man was unconscious, he was still breathing, and the effects were clouding Spencer’s focus.

He let out a spritz of air freshener and shook his head. It was going to be tough with so many Sweepers in the BEM lab. Rattling his air freshener, he realized that his aerosol can was nearly empty. Mr. Clean wouldn’t stock a product that was meant only to benefit the kids. But the BEM warlock did have something else that might be useful.

Spencer dug in his belt until he found the white dust mask. He hadn’t thought much about it since the last time he was at the lab. He’d taken it from the elevator when Mr. Clean had paralyzed the others with the chalkboard eraser bomb.

Spencer quickly sorted through the shelves until he found a few more masks. He handed one to Daisy and another to Dez.

“We should probably put these on,” he said. “This place is crawling with Sweepers, and we can’t afford to get distracted. Mr. Clean said these masks will provide pure oxygen. Last time I wore one, it blocked the Toxite breath.”

Spencer stretched the small elastic and pulled the mask over his head. When Daisy did the same, Dez burst out laughing.

“You guys look like dorks,” Dez said. “I’m not wearing this.” He handed the dust mask back to Spencer. “Besides, I’m not affected by Toxite breath. The Rubbish used to get me sometimes, but now I am one.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. Dez’s invincibility complex was going to get him in trouble. He slipped the extra mask into his belt and turned to Marv, who had just found a janitorial belt of his own. The buckle wouldn’t quite reach around the big man’s stomach, so Marv tore off a small strip of duct tape and bridged the gap, giving a satisfied grunt when all was in place.

As an afterthought, Marv stooped down and picked up the Vortex. Spencer wondered if it still had power after the Rip. The hairy janitor held the vacuum bag in silence. Spencer didn’t know what Marv was thinking, but the big man seemed deep in thought.

Spencer saw Marv shrug away his thoughts, and the janitor tossed the Vortex into the corner of the closet. “Leave it for the BEM,” he said. “I never want to see that thing again.”

They slipped into the hallway, scanning both directions but seeing no one. Spencer had to lead, since he was the only one who knew where the Rebels were being held. The bronze vision hadn’t shown him which route to take, but Spencer knew they were headed in the right direction.

As they rounded a corner, Spencer found himself face-to-face with a surprised Grime Sweeper. Before the enemy could move, an emerald mist sprayed into his face and he collapsed with a gap in his memory.

Marv peeked into a nearby room and, finding it empty, dragged the unconscious Sweeper inside. There wasn’t time to tie him up, which meant their entire rescue operation needed to be done in about fifteen minutes.

They found the elevator rather quickly, but Spencer didn’t want to use it. They’d been trapped in there before, and he didn’t want to repeat the mistake now. Besides, Mr. Clean would probably be using the elevator to get from the sixth floor up to the second. Stairs were a better option.

Daisy spotted the stairwell at the end of the hallway. They moved as quickly as they could manage without making a sound. Just as they reached the stairwell door, voices drifted up to them.

They recoiled from the doorway, Marv pressing the three kids against the wall and trying to flatten himself beside them. The door swung open, and three Sweepers stepped into the hallway. They moved straight away, never bothering to check over their shoulders. If they had done so, they would have seen four Rebels quietly slipping through the open door and down the stairs.

They emerged onto the second floor, entering the hallway behind an unsuspecting Filth Sweeper. Dez gestured that he would handle it. Silently opening his wings, the boy jumped forward, gliding the distance to the Sweeper without a footfall. The guard collapsed in a cloud of green spray, and Marv dragged him back, depositing the body in the stairwell.

Spencer pointed straight ahead down the hallway. “Third door from the end,” he said.

A short distance to the right, the elevator chimed in an unwanted announcement that Mr. Clean had arrived. The Rebels dropped into a dead sprint, caring less about stealth and more about reaching the room before Mr. Clean spotted them.

There were two Sweeper guards outside the door, and the Rebels engaged them before they could call for backup. Daisy conquered one with a shot of vac dust and a mist of green spray. Marv took down the other, thrusting a plunger against the Sweeper’s chest with bone-breaking force. His Glopified half vanished, leaving him unconscious, blind, and plainly human.

One of the Sweepers wore a key on a lanyard around his neck. Spencer ripped it off, inserted the key into the lock, and pushed open the door. Marv and Dez flung the unconscious Sweepers into the room. The three kids ducked inside, followed closely by the big janitor, who swiftly shut the door behind him.

Stunned silence greeted the rescue party as Walter, Penny, and Bernard rose to their feet. They stared at Marv, and Spencer could see the absolute disbelief on their faces.

“Marv Bills,” Walter finally muttered, a genuine smile spreading across his weary face. “I don’t believe my eyes.”

Marv gave a curt nod and grunted, suddenly uncomfortable with all the attention. “Better make a plan,” he said, getting back to the comfort of business. “Mr. Clean’s right outside the door.”

“I have a way out,” Spencer said. He pulled the dust mask off his face, and Daisy did the same. “I’ve got a squeegee,” Spencer said, patting the handle on his belt. “Bookworm’s got the other one in Welcher.”

“So the Thingamajunk is feeling better?” Bernard asked.

Daisy nodded. “We gave him a trashfusion of new garbage, just like you said.”

“But we’ve got to find my dad,” Spencer said. “How long ago did they take him away?”

“Probably an hour or two,” Penny said. “But we don’t know where they took him.”

Walter held out a hand for silence as Mr. Clean’s voice sounded in the hallway outside.

“Head down to staffing and find out who is scheduled for guard duty here,” the warlock said. “I’ll have them punished for this negligence.”

Walter whispered to the other Rebels, “We have to stop him from opening that door.”

The knob rattled as Mr. Clean used his master key. It was unnecessary, since the door was unlocked, but it gave the Rebels just enough time to come up with a plan.

Spencer peeled off a long strip of Glopified duct tape and pasted it along the edge of the door, securing it closed. No sooner had he stuck it down than Mr. Clean twisted the knob and attempted to push the door open.

Daisy ripped off another strip of tape, fortifying the other side of the door as Mr. Clean threw his weight against it. Marv triple-secured the entrance, running a third piece along the bottom threshold.

“The Rebels have blocked the door!” Mr. Clean shouted, a thread of anger in his voice. “Fetch me a bottle of Windex.” He pounded against the door twice more, but the tape was impenetrable.

“I’m beginning to question your rescue operation,” Bernard said. “It would appear that we are now all trapped in the same room.”

“Not all of us,” Spencer said, his thoughts turning to his dad.

Mr. Clean was speaking again, but his voice was too low to understand the words. Even when Spencer pressed his ear to the door, he could hear only the rumble of the man’s voice.

Mr. Clean didn’t deserve to have a private conversation, not with Spencer standing nearby. He reached into his pocket and felt the bronze hardware that he’d taken from the supply closet. Channeling his energy, Spencer found himself looking through Mr. Clean’s eyes, hearing every word the warlock said.

The same woman Sweeper Spencer had seen earlier was standing before Mr. Clean, her Rubbish wings folded back. The warlock stared down at her, his voice soft.

“The time has come sooner than expected,” Mr. Clean said. “Where did you lock Zumbro?”

“He’s down on the fourth floor, sir,” said the woman. “No chance of escape.”

“I want you down there,” Mr. Clean said. “The moment I radio the order, kill him.”

“You don’t want to speak with him first?” she asked.

“That’s the last thing I want,” he muttered. “Go.”

The Rubbish Sweeper moved down the hallway, and Spencer brought the vision to a quick close.

“Good news,” Spencer said. “I know where they’re keeping my dad. He’s somewhere down on the fourth floor.”

“What’s the bad news?” Daisy asked.

“They’re going to kill him.”

Penny stepped forward. “You guys should get down there and get Alan out.”

Bernard shot her a surprised sideways glance. “And what are you going to do?”

“We’ve got to remember what we came here for,” Penny said, her voice soft. “Mr. Clean is right outside that door, and he doesn’t have a lot of backup. If we strike before he’s ready, we have a good chance of taking Belzora.”

“And a good chance of dying,” Bernard added. Then he shrugged. “Fine. I guess I’ll stay here and take on the warlock with you.”

“I’m staying too,” Spencer announced. “After we steal Belzora, I can use bronze to find Walter so we can meet up with the rest of you and get back to Welcher together.”

“Alan’s being held on the fourth floor?” Walter verified, dropping to a knee in the center of the room. He asked Marv for a bottle of Windex and misted a spot on the floor. In a moment, the Rebels were looking through the transparent floorboards and into an empty room on the third floor below them.

Marv clamped a broad hand on Walter’s shoulder, a grin parting his beard. “Here we go, boss. Like old times.”

Walter nodded, though he looked far less enthusiastic about the plan. “Daisy, Dezmond,” he said. “Stay close. We won’t get out of this without a fight.”

Dez cracked his knuckles. “I love fighting.”

Then Marv smashed his big foot down, sending shards of glass falling into the room below.