Spencer’s pinkie slipped from their grasp. Part of him was impressed at Daisy’s faithfulness in keeping it secret for so long. But another part of him felt utterly betrayed.
“That’s how I knew your mom would believe us if we told the truth,” Daisy said. “’Cause
my
parents already had. I’ve told them all about the BEM’s plan to ruin education and take over the world. That’s why they let me go to New Forest Academy. And that’s why they’re going to be okay with me going on this mission.”
“You’ve got to tell Walter!” Spencer said. “Your parents could be in danger!”
“No!” Daisy held up her pinkie to reaffirm their promise. “The only reason they’re safe is because no one knows that they know. It’s our family strategy. We’re the Gullible Gates family.”
There, in the dim cab of Bernard Weizmann’s garbage truck, Spencer sensed a depth to Daisy Gates. Her face half illuminated by a snowy streetlamp, Spencer saw a complexity and wisdom that he’d never noticed before.
“Promise?” Daisy said.
He nodded, taking her outstretched pinkie once again. “I promise.”
The driver’s door jerked open, and a little flurry of snow whipped into the truck. Bernard scampered up the steps, clutching something small in his hand. He was shivering, but there was a smile on his face.
“What did you find?” Spencer asked.
Bernard’s headlamp shone on his hand. “Treasure!” His fingers uncurled to reveal the item he’d brought from the dumpster.
“A retainer!” Daisy said. Sure enough, Bernard was holding a dental retainer. The kind people wore to keep their teeth straight after braces.
“Not just any retainer,” Bernard said. “Rainbow colored!” He held it outstretched, shining his light through it. “Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo,
and
violet.” He grinned, and Spencer thought he looked nuttier than ever. “Never found one like this before!”
“Uhh . . .” Spencer fidgeted in his seat. As far as he was concerned, retainers were one of the favorite hangouts for germs. What was Bernard doing, waving it around like he’d found treasure?
Bernard reached behind his seat and withdrew a battered steel briefcase. He flipped the clasps and folded back the lid. As his headlamp illuminated the contents, Spencer almost gagged.
The entire briefcase was full of used retainers! There must have been at least thirty, all different shapes and colors. The briefcase was lined with foam, and Bernard had pinned the retainers in place like specimens in a bug collection!
“Time out,” Spencer said. “Why do you have a briefcase full of retainers?”
Bernard took an extra pin and carefully hooked the rainbow retainer next to the others. “You have any idea how many kids lose their retainers?” Bernard asked. “Leave them on the bus, throw them out with lunch . . .”
“That happened to me last year,” Daisy said. “I’ve been retainerless ever since.”
Bernard turned the briefcase toward her. “Any of these look like yours?”
Daisy squinted across the cab. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe that pink one . . .”
Bernard pulled out the pins and lifted the pink retainer from his briefcase. “This one’s from Minnesota.” He handed the object to Daisy. “See if it fits.”
“No!” Spencer shouted, but Daisy was already tucking the retainer into her pocket for safekeeping. Spencer leaned over and shut Bernard’s briefcase. “That’s disgusting. We’re putting the retainers away now.”
Bernard shrugged and clasped the briefcase. “You should see my other collections.” He turned around to reach behind the seat again.
Spencer stared out the windshield, bracing himself for whatever Bernard might have in store. In the frosty glow of the streetlamp, he noticed something. One of the school buses was gone.
Spencer leaned forward. His view through the windshield was blurred by slushy snow, but there was no mistaking it. In the solid row of school buses, one had suddenly vanished.
Then he saw a figure sprinting directly toward the garbage truck. Her distinct athletic movement identified her immediately.
“Penny,” whispered Spencer.
“Nah,” Bernard said. “I don’t collect coins. But you’d be surprised at how many pennies end up in the trash. . . .”
“Penny!” Spencer shouted. But before Bernard could turn around, a yellow school bus came hurtling through the snowy night and slammed into the side of the garbage truck.
T
here was a deafening crunch, followed by a moment of sheer disorientation. The school bus glanced off the garbage truck in a shower of glass. Bernard’s sturdy truck teetered for a split second as half the wheels came off the pavement. Spencer and Bernard slid sideways across the seat. Daisy, who hadn’t unbuckled her seat belt, whiplashed against the strap. Then the garbage truck tipped upright once more, rocking violently against the vehicle’s shocks.
Bernard twisted the truck keys, muttering under his breath. The big engine cranked and the headlights flared up. It seemed as though the snow had suddenly increased. Visibility was obscured in a blanket of white.
Spencer squinted forward as the engine finally came to life. Penny was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the truck’s headlights glinted against the reflective eyes of a giant creature.
It raced toward them through the snowy night, every stride revealing a new detail. It was an overgrown Filth, just like the kind Slick had been growing with Glopified extension cords at New Forest Academy. Just like the kind Mr. Clean had ridden into the prison to rescue Leslie Sharmelle.
The Filth was massive. Foamy white saliva streamed from its jowls. Sharp teeth gnashed with an insatiable hunger. The creature’s deadly long quills were lying back, sleek and aerodynamic for speed.
There was something else that Spencer noticed as the Filth drew nearer. The sight of it confirmed his fears and caused his hands to shake.
This was more than just an angry relocated Toxite. There was a rider on the Filth’s back! There was no doubt about it now. The Pluggers were here.
Bernard fumbled with the gears, finally sliding the truck into drive. He stepped on the gas, building momentum as he drove directly toward the charging Filth.
“What are you doing?” Spencer shouted. Hitting the huge Toxite could devastate the garbage truck, ruining their only chance of escape.
“You never played chicken?” Bernard said, closing the distance to impact.
“That’s not a chicken!” screamed Daisy.
Spencer scrambled for his seat belt and braced himself against the dashboard. They were close enough to see the Filth rider. It was not Leslie Sharmelle, but a man wearing a winter face mask and heavy coat. His gloved hands clung to the mangy brown fur at the base of the Filth’s neck. Spencer couldn’t see the battery pack on his belt, but a thick extension cord trailed out from under the man’s coat.
“Yaahh!” Bernard shouted, frantically spinning the wheel. The garbage truck veered hard to the right, missing the Filth by mere inches. There was a harsh grating sound as the Filth flared its quills, raking the sharp points against the side of the truck.
Bernard spun the truck around, narrowly missing the row of school buses. Through the flurry of snow, they could see the parking lot exit. If they drove fast enough, they might be able to escape before the Filth caught up.
“Wait,” Spencer said. “Penny was out there!”
Bernard scanned the bus depot. “Are you sure you saw—” He was cut off as the truck shuddered under a loud thump. Spencer looked out Daisy’s window, glimpsing the truck’s side mirror.
A huge Grime had latched onto the side of the vehicle. Its slimy body inched forward silently, venom oozing from its bulbous fingertips. Again there was a rider, masked and hooded. He clung to the Grime’s back, seated on a floor mat draped across the creature’s middle like a saddle.
The Grime advanced, its black tongue flicking out to taste the cab of the garbage truck. Its face was dangerously close to Daisy’s window, and its potent distractor breath seeped through the glass.
Daisy giggled.
“Drive!” Spencer shouted. But Bernard was also watching the Grime through the side mirror. He held up a finger for patience as he put the truck into park.
“You know,” said Daisy, “I never really noticed how many cool buttons and switches there are in this truck.”
There was no need for the side mirror now. The Grime’s massive head was in view through the window. Spencer could see pale sacks on the creature’s throat, pulsing with an eerie green light. In moments, the Grime’s mouth would fill with deadly venom and the creature would sear its way into the truck.
“I love switches!” Daisy said. She flicked a black switch on the control panel. A bright light turned on at the back of the truck. “Ooh! A joystick!”
The Grime’s sticky hand flashed into sight. It clamped onto Daisy’s window and instantly shattered the glass into tiny fragments.
Spencer lunged sideways, jerking Daisy away from the control panel and pinning her down against the seat. The Grime’s gigantic face pressed through the broken window just as Bernard grabbed the joystick.
The garbologist pulled the joystick back, and the truck’s mechanical trash-collecting arm sprang into action. The claw closed around the Grime’s middle. Bernard tugged the joystick to the right. The mechanical arm extended, stripping the Grime away from the garbage truck with a squelch. Bernard pushed the joystick in a new direction and the arm came down, pinning the creature to the pavement.
Spencer peered out the shattered window, the cold air forcing him to squint. The Grime wriggled free in a heartbeat, easily compressing its slimy body to escape the mechanical claw. But the fallen rider was trapped under the crushing arm of the garbage truck. The Grime crouched patiently nearby, like it was waiting for the human to break free.
Spencer could clearly see the battery pack around the man’s waist. Extending from one end of the black box was a thick extension cord, frighteningly similar to Slick’s old cord. The line extended from the man’s belt, stretched tightly across the pavement, and plugged into the waiting Grime.
Spencer unbuckled his seat belt and leaned farther out the window. He needed to get a better view, to find out how the extension cord was controlling these massive Toxites.
There was a bloodcurdling screech from above. Spencer looked skyward, but before he could withdraw his head, a giant Rubbish was upon him. Its rough talons snatched the neck of his coat and yanked him through the open window.
Daisy screamed and grabbed his legs. For one hopeful moment, she held tight to Spencer’s foot. Then his shoe came off, and he was soaring upward into the snowy night.
S
pencer wasn’t twenty feet up when he saw a blur of action on an aerial intercept course. It was Penny, a flying broom tucked tightly under one arm as she strained upward. Her second hand swung into action, a familiar short-handled mop flicking out. The white strings lassoed tightly around the huge Rubbish, trapping one wing against its hairy body and causing the creature to hiss in pain.
Then began the sick-stomach plunge toward the ground. The Rubbish spun earthward, completely out of control. The mop flew from Penny’s grasp, but the Rubbish refused to release Spencer. Up became down. Spencer glimpsed a human rider clinging to the Rubbish’s neck while the extension cord that joined them tangled around his chest.
From the tool belt at her waist, Penny drew another mop, casting the strings downward toward the falling monster. The mop wrapped tightly around Spencer’s leg. The collar of his coat finally ripped, and the Rubbish’s talons came free. The creature and its rider struck the ground in a painful heap. But Spencer dangled upside down from the mop, only a foot above the pavement.
The strings retracted as Penny touched down. Spencer staggered to his feet. With only one shoe on, his left toes were numb in his wet sock. Penny put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
Only three months had passed since New Forest Academy, but Penny looked worn and weathered. Her gymnastics letter jacket was tattered and filthy, her red hair unkempt. Her slim figure was draped in Glopified janitorial weapons, and her eyes had a deadly edge.
The crashed Rubbish hopped upright, clacking its massive beak. The extension cord trailed back to the prone rider, but the Rubbish stood defensively over the human, its leathery wings stretching for intimidation.
“Here,” Penny said, reaching into her janitorial belt. She handed Spencer a retractable razorblade. He’d used one of them before, months ago, when Marv had made him scrape old gum off desks at Welcher Elementary. Now he held it in his hand, wondering what such a tiny tool could do against a fearsome overgrown Toxite.
“I’ll distract it,” Penny said. “When the cord goes tight, cut it!”
Spencer looked hopelessly at the little blade. “With this?” But Penny was already moving off, a pushbroom in her hands.
Spencer put his thumb on the little button and pushed the blade up out of the handle. The sound of ringing metal caused him to jump back as a full, two-edged sword rose from the razorblade handle.
“Whoa!” He held the sword before him, amazed at how lightweight and agile it felt. “Definitely Glopified!”
The Rubbish croaked like a raven and hopped toward Penny. The rider moaned and pushed himself onto hands and knees. Penny went into a deep lunge, thrusting the pushbroom under the Rubbish’s beak. The action sent the creature skyward, pulling tight the extension cord between man and Rubbish.
“Now!” Penny screamed.
Spencer leapt forward. His razorblade sword flashed through the falling snow and sliced the extension cord. There was a zap of electricity and a shower of sparks as Spencer rolled away.
The Rubbish twitched midair. Its mighty wings flapped and its head cocked, like an animal suddenly realizing its freedom. The rider groaned, trying to strip off the severed battery pack.
With a cry, the Rubbish went into a tight dive. Its sharp talons ripped into the man, jerking him from the ground and tossing him over the row of buses like a rag doll.
“Over here!” It was Daisy’s voice, but Spencer couldn’t find her. He looked back to the garbage truck. The huge Grime had climbed through the broken window, filling the entire cab. Only its yellow tail protruded from the window, flicking back and forth. The human rider stood by the cab, still attached to the creature by the extension cord trailing through the window.