Chapter 39

“Do they look convincing?”

It was Thursday evening at the landfill. Spencer stood on the concrete dumping pad, watching the sun set over the mounds of trash. The endless fire still raged in the gorge, but all reports stated that the Pluggers had given up. They’d most likely been recalled to fortify Welcher with the rest of the BEM’s strike force.

It was strangely quiet. Spencer’s family was locked securely inside the Auran building with Mr. and Mrs. Gates and a few other noncombatant prisoners who had been rescued from the storage unit. His mom had put up an argument, of course, but Alan had told her they needed a leader to stay behind in case something went wrong. Alice had finally agreed, accepting specific instruction on how to use the dumpster portals to get home if they hadn’t heard from the Rebel army by morning.

Marv had moved the army of Rebel Janitors into the preplanned position, anxious to be ready when the fighting began. They had taken the demoted General Clean, sitting caged in a Glopified rake. Toting him to the battle hadn’t seemed like the best idea, but the alternative was leaving him behind with the Zumbros and the Gateses. Alan simply wouldn’t let the ex-Sweeper near his family.

The Aurans had all gone with the army, including Olin, Sach, and Aryl. Even Daisy had already moved out with Bookworm. Spencer was proud of the Thingamajunk. He’d beaten the Hoarder that morning and spent the afternoon making special deliveries to the Monitors. If Bookworm was tired, he didn’t show it, since Daisy’s praise kept her pet Thingamajunk going.

Spencer thought it was strange not to have Daisy by his side. He wondered what the conditions would be like when they saw each other next.

That left Spencer, his dad, Penny, Bernard, and Dez standing on the concrete pad with the dumpsters. It was muggy and hot. Over the landfill, Spencer saw storm clouds rolling in. Of course, there had to be lightning.

“I thought your genius friend would be here by now,” Dez said, flying in anxious circles above the dumpsters.

“Me too,” Spencer admitted. “I guess it was harder than he thought to get all the Monitors together.”

“We shouldn’t keep the dumpster open much longer,” Penny said. They were taking a risk by throwing back the lid and opening the portal. But Spencer felt it was necessary.

Just then, something stirred in the trash of the nearest dumpster. Min Lee appeared, tumbling with little coordination onto the stained concrete.

“Greetings,” he said, trying to regain a look of dignity as he stood up. Immediately behind him, the trash moved again. Then, one after another, young students began pouring through the dumpster portal.

Spencer recognized most of them, though many looked different since that wild day when the school bus had flown off a cliff near New Forest Academy. The Organization of Janitor Monitors had grown as the original Monitors had brought trusted cousins and friends into the group. The network of students had spread, each member spying on the school janitor and sending reports of suspicious activity to Min.

The Asian boy shook Spencer’s hand. “The Monitors are at your service.”

“Took you long enough,” Dez retorted.

To soften the statement, Spencer said, “It was probably tough to get everyone together.”

Min shook his head. “That was not the problem. The moment I gave the word, everyone squeegeed over to my house. Bookworm’s deliveries made the process quick and simple.”

Spencer nodded, glad to know that the Thingamajunk’s efforts had helped. Bookworm had used his unique ability to travel between trash piles in order to deliver squeegees to all the Monitors who were willing to participate. Dela’s truck was already in California, so a quick drive moved it into position for Min and the Monitors to get to the landfill.

“What was the holdup, then?” Penny asked.

“The problem was finding the right costume shop. I had to visit five different stores to gather enough wigs for all fifty-seven Monitors.”

“Do they look convincing?” Spencer asked.

Min made a face. “They look ridiculous,” he answered. “But I’m hoping the disguise will be sufficient in the rush of battle.”

“I’m sure it will be great,” Alan said, though Spencer wondered how much his dad really believed in this crazy plan.

Alan put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You should get on your way,” he said. “I’ll close the dumpster behind you and move the Monitors into position. Give us about an hour to get set.”

Spencer nodded as Bernard and Penny moved toward Gia’s dumpster. Dez wasted no time, folding back his wings and diving like a falcon into the trash. Alan pulled his son close for a brief hug. Part of Spencer was surprised that the Rebels were letting him play this role. But he was the obvious choice since the Witches had encountered him twice.

Alan counseled his son to be safe, and Spencer followed the others through Gia’s dumpster.

A second later, Bernard, Penny, and Spencer were climbing out of the truck and onto the Gateses’ driveway. Dez was already perched on top of the cab. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go already!” Spencer wondered if the Sweeper’s impatience would ruin the whole operation.

“Alan and the Monitors won’t be in place for at least an hour,” Penny reminded.

“And besides,” added Bernard, “it’s going to take me some time to rig up Big Bertha.” The garbologist had a smile on his face as he moved past Gia’s vehicle toward his old garbage truck parked on the street.

They probably could have used either truck, but Big Bertha was a better choice. Not only was Bernard more comfortable behind the wheel, but Big Bertha’s portal to the landfill was broken. Even if things went terribly wrong, the BEM wouldn’t be able to use Big Bertha to reach the landfill and find Spencer’s family.

Bernard rummaged through Mr. Gates’s mechanics garage, finding all the tools he would need. A moment later, he fired up a work light and ducked under the back of Big Bertha, only his yellow rubber boots in sight.

Penny seated herself on the steps to the house, the front porch light illuminating her project as she unclipped a squeegee from her belt and ripped off a thin strip of duct tape.

Spencer reached into his belt pouch, feeling the pointy object resting just out of sight. The responsibility felt heavy, and Spencer was a little unnerved to be carrying the Glopified scissors. He tried to reassure himself by remembering that he only needed to make one cut. And it wouldn’t be where the Witches were expecting.