Secrets Of New Forest Academy Part 17

Dusting residual chalk off his hands, Slick stooped through the cupboard door and approached Daisy. "Course, we couldn't have you running around trying to play hero." He dragged her into the tunnel and set her in the wheelbarrow next to Spencer. "So I had to nab you, too."

He returned and started lugging Dez toward the cupboard. "And you ..." Straining, he lifted Dez into the tunnel. "I've got my own ideas for you."

Spencer and Daisy grunted unintelligibly as Slick plopped Dez on top of them. Dez moaned, clearly trying to say something.

"I know," Slick said. "Life ain't fair. You thought you was the brown team leader, till they sold you out." The janitor chuckled. "They were never really your friends. Just users. Couple hundred bucks and they set this whole thing up for me. It was the only way I could get the three of you alone together."

Slick picked up the wheelbarrow and started down the long, dim tunnel.

"A true friend is hard to come by these days. Too bad, right? You should pick your friends.h.i.+ps as careful as you pick your nose."

Chapter 33.

"Do you feel it?"

Spencer had no idea what time it was when he finally regained the use of his voice. In his paralyzed state, the pa.s.sage of time was excruciatingly slow. He drifted in and out of nervous sleep for what seemed like days.

"h.e.l.lo?" was the first word Spencer tried. When that proved successful, he tried another. "Help!"

The last moment worth remembering seemed like hours ago. Slick had pushed the wheelbarrow out of the tunnel into an adjoining janitorial office in the Academy's main building. He'd dumped Spencer, but had taken Daisy and Dez out of sight up some stairs.

Spencer turned his head clumsily from side to side, a skill he had recently recovered. "h.e.l.lo?" he tried again. "Anybody?" He was alone.

The janitor's office was cluttered with cleaning supplies. Some of the stuff had to be Glopified. If he could just get something to help him escape ...

Spencer tried to lean forward. His head swung, chin coming to rest on his chest. He was slumped in a hard chair, unable to summon the strength to stand and run. He was a prisoner, held not by ropes or chains but by the paralyzing effects of the chalkboard eraser.

"You're one stubborn fool." Slick's voice cut through the room. Spencer lolled his head around to find the janitor standing in the doorway. "It didn't have to be like this. I gave you plenty of chances to tell me 'bout that package. But you refused to cooperate. Now it's a big mess and you dragged your friends into it."

"Where's Daisy?" Spencer's speech was still slurred, and his tongue felt thick and foreign in his mouth.

"Why don't you leave the question-asking to me?" Slick dragged a hand across his greasy hair. "I'm gonna start simple. The questions only get hard if you make them hard, okay?"

"What questions?" Spencer said.

"Are you the son of Alan Zumbro?" Slick grinned. "See? Not too hard."

Spencer tried to nod his head, but Slick grabbed him by the hair and looked into his face. "Not like that. You've got to speak it out so there ain't no confusion 'bout what you're saying."

"Yes," Spencer said. "I am."

"Have you seen or spoken with your father since his mysterious disappearance two years ago?"

"No."

"Have you received any gifts or packages from your father during his absence?"

"No."

"Try again."

"I said no."

Slick sighed and pushed up his gla.s.ses. "I see you want to make things complicated." He walked out of sight and returned a moment later, trailing an orange extension cord in one hand.

"I brought a little friend to help jog your memory 'bout the package your daddy sent in the mail."

Slick tugged on the extension cord, and Spencer saw a Filth stumble around the corner. The creature's breath instantly caused Spencer a moment of drowsiness. He blinked against the fatigue as the Toxite tried to scurry into hiding. But for some reason, the Filth couldn't get away. Then, with a twinge of horror, Spencer saw the reason. The extension cord was plugged directly into the Filth's back!

"He's a little shy right now," Slick said. "But as soon as I plug him in, he'll warm up to you." Slick carried his end of the extension cord over to an electrical socket in the wall and inserted it.

The moment the electricity hit the cord, the Filth stopped squirming. It turned to face Spencer, an almost serene expression on its face. Then the creature began to hum and pulsate gently. Its breath came in deep, intoxicating rushes.

Spencer's head lolled forward and his eyes drooped. But exerting every muscle in his body, Spencer willed himself not to sleep. His eyes traced the line of the orange extension cord back to the Filth. What he saw shocked him.

The Toxite was evolving!

It had expanded to the size of a small dog. A spike-studded tail was already beginning to emerge, and the sharp quills along the creature's back were lengthening. It didn't seem possible, but the Glopified extension cord was sharpening the Toxite's most dangerous characteristics while growing it to an unnaturally large size.

"Now," Slick said, "we can go on like this all day, but the bigger this critter gets, the more potent its breath. Funny thing how Toxites don't affect adults. But you ain't an adult." Slick leaned forward. "Do you feel it?"

Spencer squinted hard and tried to hold his breath against the Toxite corruption. He felt his mind wandering aimlessly, hopping between one thought and the next, unable to separate his random imaginings from reality. His mind had slipped into that limbo somewhere between waking and dreaming.

"With enough exposure, Filth breath has a way of loosening the tongue." Slick's voice rattled at the edge of consciousness. Then, like a loud noise breaking through a dreamy haze, Slick unplugged the extension cord.

The Filth scurried around the corner, Slick giving it just enough slack on the cord to do so. Spencer's eyes opened and his head rolled around to face the janitor. The air felt fresh again, but the aftereffects of the overgrown Filth's breath lingered in his system like a bad dream.

"Let's go over this part one more time," the janitor said. "What was in the package that your father sent you?"

Spencer swallowed against the fear in his throat. There was no package. What could he say? He felt the heat of the bare lightbulb overhead, the tingle of numbness in his fingertips, and the grip of hunger on his insides. The Filth's foul breath had scattered his mind.

Package. Was there a package? But as hard as he tried, Spencer could not think of a single thing he'd received from his dad in the last two years.

"There is no ... package," Spencer said.

"Wrong answer."

Slick jerked on the extension cord, and the large Filth stumbled back around the corner. With a faint hum, electricity flowed down the Glopified line and filled the Toxite with a pulsating glow.

"Why don't I leave you two alone for a while?" Slick headed for the doorway. "Think 'bout what I said."

Spencer's eyes closed. He was alone with the growing monster. His mind wandered again. No, this time it was more than a wander. His mind was lost.

Chapter 34.

"It's genius."

Spencer awoke to a blast of cold water in the face. He gasped and opened his eyes. Aside from being dripping wet, he was seated in a dimly lit office full of janitorial cleaning supplies. His legs felt tingly and weak, and when he lifted his arm, it was stiff and sore, as though he hadn't moved it for hours. An empty pit had opened in his stomach, and Spencer wondered how long it had been since he'd eaten something.

And his mind ... it felt like his brain had been pulled apart and left for a toddler to rea.s.semble. Fragmented thoughts and ideas drifted hither and thither. It was impossible to focus on anything.

A man was standing in front of Spencer, a dripping pail on the floor beside him. He had slicked-back, greasy hair and thick gla.s.ses that pressed on his nose. He looked familiar, but Spencer's brain couldn't seem to make the connection.

"Almost forgot 'bout you down here," the man said. Spencer stared at him, void of expression. "That Toxite was nearly as big as a pony by the time I unplugged it."

Toxite. That was a word Spencer thought he should understand.

"Course, you're no good to the BEM if you can't remember nothing. That's what happens with long-term exposure to Toxite breath. It can really bring you low, turn your brain to mush."

The man stared at Spencer. "Oh, come on," the stranger said. "You were only down here with that thing for an hour or two." He patted Spencer's cheek. "I thought the water would refresh you."

The man wrinkled his forehead. "All right, then. How about a quick rundown? I'm Slick, the janitor at New Forest Academy. You are Spencer, son of Alan Zumbro. Your dad sent you a package in the mail and you're going to tell me about it."

Slick. Janitors. New Forest Academy. Toxites.

Spencer's brain finally made the connections, and it all came rus.h.i.+ng back into place. As order returned to his mind, it came with a sharp headache and an inescapable urge to run.

Spencer bolted from his seat, shoulder turned to charge past Slick and make his escape. But he only managed three steps before his legs collapsed. Spencer pitched sideways, but Slick caught him before he hit the floor.

The janitor held him still for a moment. Spencer's head throbbed with each heartbeat, wearing down his defenses. He let Slick guide him back to that uncomfortable seat. Spencer rocked back in the chair, trying to muster the strength for another escape.

"Take it easy," Slick said. "It'll be a few minutes before you get your head on straight." The janitor bent over and picked up something from the floor. It was the orange extension cord, now unplugged from both wall and beast. "You've got a choice now. I can bring another Filth to keep wearing you down." He dropped the cord to the hard floor. "Or I can let you rest, help you build up your strength. Maybe bring you a little bite to eat."

Slick crossed the room and lifted a lunch tray from a shelf. The very thought of food had caused Spencer's mouth to start watering. Now seeing the cafeteria food on the tray was almost too much to resist.

"Hungry?" Slick asked. The janitor took a step forward and Spencer grabbed the tray, half surprised that Slick didn't try to pull it away. Spencer lowered the lunch tray to his lap, eyes flicking across the myriad of cafeteria food that awaited him. He instantly started shoveling meatb.a.l.l.s into his mouth without even worrying about the fact that he hadn't washed his hands.

Slick crouched down next to the chair, his beady eyes watching the boy eat. "How old were you when your daddy ... you know, ditched out?"

"He didn't ditch us," Spencer said between bites. "Something happened to him."

"Must have been meddling in unsavory activities."

Spencer could see what was happening. This was Slick's plan-make Spencer comfortable with relaxation and food to get him talking. But it didn't matter, since Spencer knew nothing about the package that Slick was prying about. "He was a scientist," Spencer said. "A Toxite scientist."

"And a reliable go-to for the BEM." Slick tilted his greasy head. "Course, that was before the BEM changed its philosophy on Toxite fighting. The Bureau a.s.signed Alan Zumbro to a top-secret mission. He was tracing a series of very dangerous clues. BEM didn't expect him to solve it so quickly. Plenty of others had tried before, and they came home in caskets. Alan ... he made it all the way to the final clue. But the BEM wasn't ready, so they had to intervene. Alan found the final package, but before we could capture him, he ditched it somewhere."

Slick arose, put his hands casually in his pockets, and paced a few steps. "Alan knew he'd be interrogated 'bout the contents of the package. So you'll never guess what that devil of a man did."

Slick let the tension hang for a moment. Then he shouted, "He didn't look!" The janitor shook his head. "Alan didn't look inside the package! Do you get it? If he didn't know what was in there, then the BEM couldn't pry the information out of him." Slick rubbed a hand across his oily hair. "But we got a different lead from him. Just two words, but it told us where he'd sent the package."

Slick lowered his face until it was only inches from Spencer's. He spoke the two words, his breath as foul as a Toxite's.

"Spencer. Son."

Spencer felt a new numbness, far more intense than the effects of the chalk paralysis. It filled him up, twisting his stomach painfully. Surely his dad would never have said those two words knowing that it might plunge Spencer into a world of danger.

"So that, of course, brings us here." Slick shrugged. "Couple of months ago, the BEM sent a sharp representative to your town. Man by the name of Garth Hadley. Maybe you remember him? Garth was supposed to turn you against the Rebel Janitors and gain your trust in the BEM. But Hadley messed up royal. He had his own agenda that the BEM didn't approve. Thought it would be icing on the cake if he got you to steal Jamison's bronze hammer."

Spencer's eyes fell back to the tray of food on his lap. Slick's story had caused his appet.i.te to flee, but Spencer knew that eating was the best way to gain back his strength. And strength was exactly what he would need to escape from Slick's dim janitorial closet. Spencer took a scoop of mashed potatoes on his fingers and pushed them into his mouth.

Slick sighed. "Long story short," he said, "you ended up joining with the Rebels and fighting the BEM. Then comes the next bright plan. BEM lets your Rebel friend, old Roger Munroe, take a job at the Academy. Then the Bureau tips off Walter Jamison, says a couple of workers are coming to kidnap you. Roger phones in, suggests that you come to the safety of New Forest Academy. It's remote, secure, and Toxite-free. But old Roger didn't know that once the plan was in motion, I would help him ... resign."

Spencer suddenly gagged on his mashed potatoes. He rolled the mash over his tongue, face contorting into pure disgust as he spat the soggy white lump onto the lunch tray.

Slick stared at the expectorated mess and nodded. "I know, I know. It's enough to make you sick. But the BEM has a way of taking care of Rebels."

But it wasn't Slick's story that had caused Spencer to gag. Bracing himself against his own spit and germs, Spencer dug his fingers into the squishy morsel.

"Oh, now you're playing with it?" Slick turned away. "That's just gross."

Spencer's heart pounded in his ears. There was a note! He quickly found a tiny scroll of paper and pinched it between his fingers. Now, if he could just create a brief distraction, he might be able to read it.

Giving a quick jerk with his legs, Spencer bucked the cafeteria tray forward, flipping the half-eaten lunch toward Slick. The tray clattered to the floor, cold meatb.a.l.l.s bouncing off Slick's steel-toed boots.

The janitor gave a snarl and bent to grab the tray. Spencer quickly unraveled the note, trying to wipe off excess mashed potato as he silently read the message.

Academy = Danger!

I have a school bus in the parking lot!

-Meredith "What's that?" Slick took a step forward, squinting at the boy's hand. The janitor gripped the lunch tray in his grubby fingers.

"Potato peel!" Spencer popped the note into his mouth. He shuddered at the texture but forced himself to chew. He tried not to think of the route that the little paper might have taken-ripped from a notebook, pa.s.sed from dirty hand to dirty hand, scribbled on by Meredith with an unsanitary pen, rolled into the mashed potatoes, and finally, chewed to mush in Spencer's mouth. He closed his eyes and swallowed. The paper went down easy. Tasted like ... potatoes.

"Time's running out," Slick said, setting the tray on a nearby shelf. "BEM needs that package. As far as they're concerned, you're the link to find it."

"I don't know anything!" Spencer's eyes darted around the closet as he tried to plan an escape. Now that he knew Rebel help was at the Academy, Spencer was desperate to break free. But Slick squinted through his dingy gla.s.ses, antic.i.p.ating any move that Spencer might attempt.

"The Bureau will get what it needs." Slick scooped up the extension cord again, his face sinister. "Whether you're willing or not."

"You're crazy!" Spencer shouted. "The BEM's crazy!" His clouded mind felt like bursting.