[Janitors 04] Strike of the Sweepers (15 page)

“This is the Warlocks Box,” said Mr. Clean. “The Witches made it, hundreds of years ago, and knowledge of the Box has been passed down from warlock to warlock.”

Spencer stared at it curiously. Walter had never mentioned anything about a Warlocks Box.

“The Founding Witches prophesied of a Hopeless Day,” Mr. Clean continued. “They said that a day would come when there would be no good left in the world—only corruption and sin. In that day, the three active warlocks were to use their hammers and nails to open the Box.”

Mr. Clean tipped open the lid and angled it so Spencer could see that there was nothing inside.

“The Box is empty now. The prophesied day is upon us.”

“You opened the Warlocks Box?” Spencer said.

“A little more than two years ago.” Mr. Clean nodded his slimy head. “The world is full of wickedness, Spencer. It rages around us like wildfire. That which was good has been forced into darkness. That which was joyous has been dimmed.”

Spencer shook his head. He was thinking of his family and friends. There was plenty of good left in the world! This couldn’t be the prophesied Hopeless Day. Mr. Clean had opened the Warlocks Box too soon!

“Carlos Garcia believed as I did,” said Mr. Clean. “And the third warlock, who wielded Ninfa, was a man named Gerald Hunter. We were united in our view of the world. This was the only way to open the Box.”

“What was inside?” Spencer had to know.

“The first clue,” answered Mr. Clean. “The first clue in a series of thirteen that would lead us to the hideout of the Auran children. If we could reach them, the Aurans would tell us how to proceed.”

Spencer bit his tongue. The Aurans had given him the
Manualis Custodem
and told him that he needed to find the source of all Glop and bring back the Witches.

“We decided to send capable civilians to solve the clues,” said Mr. Clean. “We settled on Alan Zumbro and Rod Grush. But they worked too quickly, and we were not ready to meet the Aurans at that time. Unforeseeable setbacks were holding us up. Gerald Hunter was questioning the Hopeless Day, regretting the decision to open the Warlocks Box.”

“What happened to him?” Spencer asked. He’d never heard of the man before this conversation.

“Walter Jamison learned his identity and attacked,” said Mr. Clean. “Your old Rebel stole Ninfa and made himself a warlock. After that, Gerald Hunter was of no further use to us. I took care of him . . . the Clean Way.”

Spencer shuddered at a memory from earlier that night. “Just like you did to Director Garcia?” Spencer said.

Mr. Clean smiled. His hand strayed to his belt, and when he lifted it again, there was a dirty rag dangling from his grasp. He laid it on the table, an unspoken threat hanging in Spencer’s mind.

“What do you want from me?” Spencer finally asked, taking hold of the cage bars once more.

Mr. Clean shrugged. “I already asked. Where is the
Manualis Custodem.
We had spies around the old professor,” he said. “We know that the Aurans gave it to you.”

“I don’t know where it is,” Spencer lied.

Mr. Clean took a deep breath. “Very well,” he said, rising abruptly to his feet. “You are free to go.”

Spencer’s hands slipped from the bars. “What?”

“You may leave,” said Mr. Clean. “If you don’t know where the book is, then you are no good to me.”

The warlock stepped around his desk and approached Spencer’s cage. The boy shrank back as Mr. Clean reached his sticky hand through the bars and took hold of the rake handle at the center of the cage.

“The rake can only be opened by an outside hand,” Mr. Clean explained. He twisted the wooden handle, and the metal cage instantly reverted back to an ordinary-looking rake. Spencer stumbled, suddenly free of his imprisonment.

Mr. Clean shoved the rake into Spencer’s hands. “Go,” he said.

“I’m not leaving without my friends,” Spencer said.

“Brave words,” said Mr. Clean. “You may take the girl and the Sweeper boy. I assume you had an escape plan? A squeegee, perhaps?”

Spencer swallowed hard. Mr. Clean was going to let him walk out of this? “What’s the trick?”

“Trick?” The Sweeper warlock shrugged. “No tricks. Just a promise.” Spencer waited for him to explain. “I will keep the other Rebels here for questioning,” Mr. Clean said. “If you leave and never come back, they will live on. If you, or any of your friends, attempt a rescue . . .” His lips curled in a sneer. “I will kill them all.”

Spencer’s heart was racing. This didn’t feel right. Mr. Clean didn’t leave survivors. Now he was
allowing
Spencer to leave? What was his game?

“I don’t trust you,” Spencer said.

“I don’t care,” answered the big Sweeper. “I’m offering you a way out. Don’t be a hero. Get your friends and go.”

Spencer backed up, hefting the rake in his hands. He wanted to cage Mr. Clean, grab Belzora, and rip out the nail. It was futile, of course. The Sweepers would strike him down before he could take two steps.

The Filth Sweepers opened the door, and Spencer moved back into the hallway, retreating silently back to the elevator. The chalk cloud had settled inside, coating everything in a white sheet.

Spencer felt a knot of emotion in his throat. Bernard, Penny, Walter, his dad. Was there nothing he could do for them? He dropped to one knee at his dad’s side.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispered. Spencer’s hand found the squeegee that Agnes had given Alan. The one that would open the portal back to Earl Dodge.

Spencer strapped on his janitorial belt, snapped the rake into a vacant clip, and drew out his bottle of Windex. In a blue flash, the back wall of the elevator had turned to glass. He brought the squeegee around and dragged it down the transparent surface.

The portal shimmered into view. On the other side, Earl jumped to his feet, cowboy hat tipping back in surprise. Spencer grabbed Daisy’s legs and dragged her through.

“Boy, howdy!” Earl cried. “She don’t look too good!”

But Spencer barely heard him. He reached through the portal, seized Dez by the ankle, and heaved the big kid through to Earl’s side.

He stood there, petrified by the sight of his dad and other friends, paralyzed and probably wondering what was happening. Then Mr. Clean’s voice came through the intercom once more.

“Remember our agreement, Spencer.”

He thought about jumping through and grabbing his dad. Maybe he could get one of the adults through the portal before . . .

The Filth Sweeper stepped forward, lips peeled back into a hideous snarl. His clawed hand swung and the glass shattered, closing the portal to a place that Spencer could never go again.

Chapter 25

“I can work with that.”

It was dawn by the time Daisy and Dez revived from the paralyzing effects of the chalkboard eraser. Spencer had slept only the littlest bit when Earl was standing guard. Spencer had thought up a dozen rescue plans, but none of them ended well in his mind. He wasn’t giving up on the others, but right now, something else was of greater importance.

The
Manualis Custodem
had to be protected. Mr. Clean would send people to look for it. And the first spot they’d check would be . . .

“Daisy and I have to go back to Welcher,” Spencer announced when everyone was sitting upright.

Dez sighed heavily. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Spencer looked at him curiously. “Do what?”

“I’ll fly you chumps back to Welcher,” he said, flexing his muscles.

“Welcher’s in Idaho,” Daisy said. “We’re in Colorado.”

“You don’t think I can do it?” Dez asked, his pride insulted.

“Do you know how many miles that is?” Spencer asked.

“Does it matter?” Dez said. “I’ve got these babies.” He unfurled his big wings with such force that the rush of air caused Earl’s cowboy hat to blow back.

“Now, it’s fine and dandy if y’all want to go flying,” said Earl. “But driving makes a bit more sense to me.” He reached in the pocket of his pajamas and pulled out the key to Bernard’s garbage truck. Spencer recognized it by the mess of key chains that the garbologist had collected from his dumpster dives: a lucky rabbit’s foot, a couple of smashed tourist pennies, a stress ball, a tiny flip-flop sandal, and something that looked like a turtle shell.

“How did you get that?” Spencer asked. Bernard was very protective of his garbage truck.

“That odd fellow handed me the key just before he stepped through the portal,” said Earl. “Told me that if things went south, I should drive the truck down to Texas and leave her abandoned.”

Spencer grinned. “We’re not taking her down to Texas.” He held out his hand, beckoning for the key.

Earl laughed, his handlebar mustache curling up. “I ain’t letting you drive, kid,” he said. “How old are you, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Spencer said. “That’s a Glopified garbage truck. It was made to be driven by kids.” Technically, the Aurans who created and drove the garbage trucks weren’t kids. They were over three hundred years old. But they looked like kids, and so Spencer assumed there were Glopified safeguards that would allow him to drive the truck without trouble.

Earl just tilted his head, an expression of fatherly worry on his face. “I’ll see you back to Welcher myself. Least I can do after what you young’uns have been through.”

Spencer shook his head. Earl couldn’t go to Welcher. They had worked too hard to keep the
Manualis Custodem
a secret, even from Penny and Bernard. It wouldn’t be safe to let Earl find out about it.

“Thanks, but we have to go alone,” Spencer said to Earl. “There’s something in Welcher that we have to take care of. Daisy and I will send word as soon as we get something figured out. Until then, you and Dez should stay here.”

Dez reached out and smacked Spencer on the back of the head. It hurt a bit more than usual because of his hardened fingers. “You’re not leaving me behind, Doofus. You need me.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said. “There’s something in Welcher you shouldn’t know about. Something that could put you in a lot of danger.”

“I don’t care,” said Dez. “I don’t know why you’re being all secretive. But if you leave me behind, I’ll go straight to the BEM!”

Why did he always do that? Spencer gritted his teeth in utter frustration. The worst part was that he totally believed Dez’s threat. Spencer’s anger built until he couldn’t control it anymore.

“Fine, Dez!” he yelled. “Have it your way. But it’s not my fault if you end the world!”

Earl was still standing there, the key to Big Bertha dangling in his hand. Spencer took a deep, calming breath, ran a hand through his white hair, and turned to the janitor cowboy.

“You really shouldn’t come,” Spencer said. “You’ve probably got a wife and kids, and they need you to come home.” He was thinking of his own dad’s mysterious two-year disappearance. He wouldn’t bring that on another family.

“Actually,” Earl said, “I’m single.” He tipped his hat to no one in particular.

“Don’t you have a dog?” Daisy asked.

“Nope.”

“What kind of cowboy doesn’t have a dog?” Spencer asked.

“What about a cat?” Daisy asked.

“Nope,” Earl said again. “Just a goldfish.”

“Okay. I can work with that,” Spencer muttered. “Think of your goldfish, Earl. Who’s going to give her little flakes of food if you die?”

“Actually,” said Earl, “I’ve been trying to get her to go belly-up for about a month now. Them little flakes are getting expensive.”

Spencer was getting frustrated. “I’m not letting you come with us!” he insisted. There was too much at stake with the
Manualis Custodem.

“Then I guess you’ll have to lock me up,” Earl said with a big grin.

Spencer shrugged. “You asked for it.” His hand flashed to his janitorial belt, drawing the Glopified rake that had held him prisoner only hours ago. Mimicking the Sweeper’s actions, Spencer thrust the rake, handle first, right at Earl’s feet.

The swift bars closed around him, causing Earl to jolt in surprise. The key to Big Bertha flung from his grasp, landing with a clink just out of reach.

“Whoa!” Dez said, clapping his hands in approval. “Where’d you get that?”

“Picked it up in the BEM lab,” Spencer said as he retrieved Big Bertha’s key chain from the floor.

“Hey, partner!” Earl said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. He grabbed the bars and shook them, rattling his cage hopelessly. “Y’all come and let me out, now.”

Daisy stepped forward to help him, but Spencer grabbed her elbow. “Come on, Daisy,” he said, drawing her toward the door of the janitorial closet. “We’ve got to get on the road.”

“Hey!” Earl shouted. Now there was panic in his voice. “What about me? This is treason!”

“It’s for the best,” Spencer said, pausing at the doorway. “School will start in a few hours. Somebody will find you. All they have to do is reach through the bars and twist the rake handle.”

“I can’t let them find me like this!” Earl said. “I’m in my pajamas!”

Spencer nodded. “You look fine.”

Then the three kids were moving down the hallway of Viewmont Elementary School. The dawn light hadn’t spread enough to illuminate the building, but Spencer could see a glow to the east.

“Why are we going back to Welcher?” Daisy finally asked.

Spencer glanced at Dez. He didn’t want to say it, but the Sweeper kid was bound to find out eventually. “Mr. Clean is looking for the
Manualis Custodem.
We’ve got to protect it.”

“You talked to Mr. Clean?” Daisy asked. “How’d you get away?”

Spencer felt uncomfortable talking about it. “He let me go.”

“I knew you couldn’t fight your way out of there,” Dez said.

“He told me that I was free to take you guys with me,” Spencer explained. “As long as we don’t try to rescue the others, he won’t hurt them.”

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

“Rescue the others,” answered Spencer. “After we get back to Welcher and hide the
Manualis.
”

“You keep saying that fancy word,” Dez grumbled. “Are you trying to sound smart? ’Cause you just sound like a nerd.”