Heroes of the Dustbin

  Instead, Spencer’s feet hit the bottom of the truck with jarring force. He grunted in surprise, sliding sideways through the knee-high trash. He felt his feet pass through the portal, but something was wrong. The gateway seemed to be closing before he could get through. There was pressure against his knees, and he felt like the portal might close around him at any moment, leaving his top half in Idaho and his legs in Texas.

  “Don’t jump!” Spencer called up to Daisy, just as he felt a firm hand grip his ankle. He was pulled through the trash, leaving Idaho behind. His head cleared the rim of Gia’s dumpster just as the black lid slammed shut.

  Dez dropped Spencer heavily to the concrete pad. “Good thing I was there to pull you through, Doofus,” the Sweeper boy said. “I have pacific instructions to close all the dumpster lids. I was shutting Gia’s when you fell in.”

  “First of all, it’s specific, not pacific,” Spencer corrected. “And I didn’t fall in. I was trying to get back!” Spencer reached up and threw open the dumpster lid. He called to Daisy, and she appeared a second later.

  “What happened?” she asked. Dez flew over their heads and slammed the lid shut again, perching atop the closed dumpster when he was finished.

  “Where were you guys, anyway?” he asked.

  “We went back to Daisy’s house for clues,” Spencer answered. “Why are you closing the dumpsters?”

  “Duh,” he answered. “We can’t take any chances. We’re under sage.”

  “Sage is an herb!” Spencer yelled. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Pluggers,” said Dez, pointing off toward the deep gorge that isolated the landfill from the rest of the Texas desert. “I’m talking about the nasty gang of Pluggers trying to get into the landfill.”

  “The Pluggers are here?” Spencer asked.

  Daisy chimed in. “I still don’t see what this has to do with sage.”

  “He meant siege,” Spencer corrected.

  “Whatever,” said Dez. “At least I didn’t run away when the Pluggers showed up.”

  “We didn’t know they were coming,” Daisy said. “Anyway . . . we know how to find the scissors.” She held up the moldy textbook that was once Bookworm’s jaw.

  “Somebody wrote down the directions to the scissors in a dirty old book?” Dez asked.

  “Bookworm,” Daisy said. “He can search through the landfill faster than all of us combined.”

  “Then what’s he waiting for?” Dez asked.

  “The rest of his head,” answered Spencer. “When General Clean attacked Daisy’s house, Bernard must have taken Bookworm’s lunchbox head. Rescue Bernard, and we get Bookworm back.”

  “Where is the weirdo garbologist?” asked Dez.

  “In prison with the rest of the Rebels,” Spencer said. “They’re being held in a facility off the coast of southern Florida.”

  “Where did you guys learn all this?” Dez asked.

  “I looked in the garbage,” said Daisy. The Sweeper kid made a confused face.

  “Where’s Marv?” Spencer asked. They needed to make a plan with the janitor.

  “We’re all out at the gorge bashing some Plugger heads,” Dez said.

  “Are the Dark Aurans back yet?” Daisy asked.

  “Just the girls,” answered Dez. “But I guess they fight all right.” He launched from the dumpster and soared in the direction of the gorge at the landfill’s edge. “This way,” he called down.

  “Do you think Dez is different?” Daisy asked quietly, as they struggled to keep pace with the flying boy.

  “Different from what?” Spencer asked.

  “From how he used to be.”

  “We all are,” answered Spencer, thinking of how much he had changed since everything had started in September. Spencer’s greatest worry used to be the germs on a public handrail. Now he carried the future of education on his shoulders.

  “I mean, he’s still annoying,” Daisy said. “And rude and disgusting. And selfish.”

  “Yeah,” Spencer agreed. “I wouldn’t count on him to jump in front of a mop attack for me.”

  “But I think he’s finally on our side. It’s almost like he cares about destroying the Toxites.”

  “If Dez cares about destroying Toxites,” Spencer said, “it’s because of the destroying part. He’d like to break anything he could get his Sweeper hands around. But I don’t think his feelings about schoolwork have changed.”

  “True,” Daisy said. “He never does his homework. He doesn’t even do his classwork. In fact, what kind of work does Dez like to do?”

  Spencer shrugged. “Dirty work.” At least Dez was good for something.

  Chapter 23

  “You know what we have to do.”

  The deep gorge that formed the landfill’s perimeter had become a full-scale war zone. When Spencer and Daisy arrived, the Auran girls were dirty and sweating, their knuckles bruised as they gripped their cleaning supplies.

  Spencer recognized the spot where they made their defense. Several months ago, the Rebels had driven a garbage truck across a magical bridge. The bridge had collapsed when unauthorized BEM vans tried to follow. Now there were only the twisted remains of asphalt and metal where the bridge jutted out and dropped a frightening distance into the gorge.

  “Here comes another!” shouted one of the Aurans. Spencer saw the outlines of two girls run to assist her just as a Grime-riding Plugger leapt the final distance up the cliff wall and landed at the top of the gorge.

  A razorblade sword flashed and Spencer heard it clatter uselessly against the interlocking armor that the Extension Grime wore. The large Toxite puffed its gullet, glowing green slime building into a deadly projectile. The three battling Aurans dove aside just as the acid streamed from the Grime’s mouth.

  Spencer saw the Plugger adjust the dial on his battery-pack belt, presumably decreasing the flow of energy that the creature was receiving through its Glopified extension cord. The electricity made Extension Toxites calm and docile. Lowering the output spurred the Grime forward in a rage. It leapt over the puddle of acidic vomit, and the rider gave a cry as the way opened into the landfill.

  Marv came barreling out of nowhere, his bearlike form grappling onto the Plugger. Under the weight of the attack, the man was dislodged from his saddle, gripping desperately to his cord so he didn’t get unplugged.

  Marv rolled away from the enemy, a plunger appearing in his beefy hand. The rubber suction cup clamped onto the Grime’s armored back, and he lifted the squirming creature into the air. He barely ducked in time, as the Toxite’s long tail swung around with enough force to knock off his head. Then Marv detached his plunger, hurling the Extension Grime back over the edge of the gorge. The screaming Plugger was dragged along, now frantic to separate his belt but unable to do so in time.

  “Where’ve you two been?” Marv asked, approaching Spencer and Daisy. He had a cut across his cheek, but the pain didn’t seem to bother him.

  “Long story,” Spencer said. “We have to talk.” He pointed back toward the Auran building.

  “Kind of busy,” Marv said.

  Just then, an Auran’s voice called out. “Incoming Rubbish!”

  Spencer turned to see a Plugger on an overgrown Rubbish winging over the gorge. The Aurans scrambled to their defenses, and Spencer saw Rho crouching behind a metal garbage can.

  “Trashcannons ready!” she yelled. The only trashcannons Spencer had ever seen were the ones mounted into the side of Big Bertha. They packed a powerful punch, shooting a heavy slug of high-velocity trash at whatever enemy was unfortunate enough to be in their sights.

  “I have first shot!” Rho shouted.

  “Second!” called Sylva, anchoring herself behind another trashcannon a few yards away.

  “Third!” said Yorkie, taking another station.

  They waited until the flying Plugger was halfway across the gorge. Then Rho took aim, pounding the bottom of her trashcannon and sending a wad of dangerous garbage directly at the
BEM worker.

  The Extension Rubbish veered instinctively, missing the debris as the trash projectiles spread out like buckshot from a shotgun. But the evasion was short-lived as Sylva took the second shot. This one slammed directly into the Toxite and rider, shredding the creature’s leathery wings and sending beast and rider plummeting out of sight.

  “Rho!” Spencer called, racing up to her. He was excited to tell her about his plan to rescue Bookworm, which would help them find the scissors. But Rho didn’t seem interested.

  “How many left?” she called, completely ignoring Spencer.

  Jersey stepped back from the gorge’s edge, lowering a pair of binoculars. “Hard to count,” she answered. “Looks like the far side is still bristling with them.”

  “You know what we have to do,” Shirley said quietly to Rho.

  She shook her head. “We can last a while longer. We just have to defend this stretch.”

  “Why aren’t the Pluggers trying to get through somewhere else?” Spencer asked. He knew the gorge surrounded the entire landfill. There was no way that nine Aurans could defend it all.

  “Thingamajunks protect the gorge. They stop anyone from crossing over,” she said. “The Pluggers might have the landfill surrounded, but we’re counting on the wild Thingamajunks to protect their part.”

  “Why aren’t they here?” Spencer asked. He hadn’t seen any Thingamajunks helping the Aurans with their defenses.

  “They abandoned this stretch when we built the bridge,” Rho said.

  Daisy nodded. “Development always drives the wildlife away.”

  “Shirley’s right, Rho,” Jersey seconded. “We can’t hold the Pluggers back forever. Even if we could, there’s no telling how long the Thingamajunks will resist. If the Pluggers learn how to trash-talk, we’re lost.”

  “We have to torch the gorge,” Shirley said.

  “And trap ourselves here?” answered Rho.

  “We have the dumpster portals,” Jersey said.

  “But if the dumpsters fail, we can never leave again,” Rho said resolutely.

  A Filth Plugger clambered up over the edge of the gorge, drawing four exhausted Aurans to bat it back.

  Rho sighed deeply and nodded. “Bring the petrol.”

  Jersey and Shirley ran off, and Rho finally paid Spencer some attention.

  “You’re going to light the gorge on fire?” he asked.

  Rho nodded. “If the landfill gets overrun with BEM Pluggers, it will only complicate the search for the scissors.”

  “Why didn’t you burn it sooner?” asked Daisy. Jersey and Shirley reappeared, each lugging a large red oil drum with the help of a Glopified plunger.

  “This is Glopified gasoline,” Rho explained. “The same stuff that powers our garbage trucks.” She nodded for Jersey and Shirley to begin.

  The two girls pried open the caps and used their plungers to tip the large containers on their sides at the edge of the gorge. Instantly, the smell of gasoline reached Spencer’s nose as the liquid began chugging out, spilling over the cliff and into the deep chasm below.

  “It won’t burn out,” Rho said. “We light this now, and the landfill will forever be ringed in fire.”

  The two oil drums had discharged their load. The girls tipped the cans to allow a final dribble to run out.

  “That’s enough?” Marv asked. Spencer shared his skepticism. A hundred gallons of gasoline didn’t seem like enough to protect miles and miles of gorge.

  “There are other cans below,” Rho said. “We placed them a long time ago, preparing for an event like tonight. The fire will ignite the others, and the landfill will be surrounded in seconds.”

  There was a sudden rush of wind overhead, and Dez landed beside the empty oil cans. “What are we doing?” he asked, sounding as if he was afraid of being left out of something fun.

  Jersey produced a small matchbox. She dragged one of the matches along the textured edge of the box, and a tiny flame sprang to life. Jersey held it out to Rho. “Would you like to do the honors?”

  “Sure,” Dez said, plucking the match out of Jersey’s fingers and tossing it over the edge of the gorge before anyone could react.

  The small match touched the spilled gasoline, instantly igniting a giant flame. The blast of heat and light caused Spencer to stumble backward, shielding his face. In a second, the ribbon of fire had consumed the portion of the gorge that the Aurans had been defending. Flames licked the sky, creating an impenetrable wall that rose at least fifty feet above the cliff tops.

  In the seconds that followed, there was a series of resounding booms as the pre-positioned gas tanks exploded. Fire sprouted along the gorge until it curled away out of sight around the mound of landfill trash.

  It was as bright as daylight now, and so hot that Spencer immediately began to sweat. Rho turned to face Spencer. Her youthful look seemed dimmed, despite the brightness of the fire.

  “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

  Chapter 24

  “I don’t think we should fly.”

  It was morning before Spencer got a chance to explain what he and Daisy had discovered about the BEM’s island prison.

  The other Aurans did not meet Spencer at the round conference table. Even with the ring of fire burning around the landfill, there was still a risk of invasion. The rest of the girls maintained the perimeter, keeping the trashcannons loaded and ready in case a daring Rubbish Plugger decided to brave the flames.

  Rho joined Spencer, Daisy, and Marv in the conference room. Dez came along too, hoping that the new plan would bring more action now that the burning gasoline repelled the enemies at the gorge.

  “Let me get this straight,” Rho said, once Spencer was done explaining what he and Daisy had learned from Bernard’s garbology clues. “We are supposed to break into a BEM prison and rescue the captive Rebels, just so we can repair a Thingamajunk?”

  Spencer nodded.

  “I thought we were supposed to be looking for the dumb scissors,” said Dez.

  “We’ll never find the scissors on our own,” Spencer said. “Olin, Sach, and Aryl have been looking for two hundred years. We have to take this detour to get Bookworm back.”

  “Quite the detour,” Rho muttered.

  “Plus,” Daisy added, “if we succeed, then we’ll have a whole army of Rebels to help us.”

  “Won’t be easy,” Marv said, opening the jar of soapsuds that Spencer had stolen from the Witches’ sink. “Been studying these before the Pluggers showed up. Lots of security to get to the BEM island.”

  “But the suds give us a huge advantage,” Spencer said. “If we know what security they have, it will be a lot easier to get past it.”

  “Let’s see what we’re up against,” Rho said, gesturing to the jar of suds.

  Marv carefully upended the glass jar, sliding the foamy soapsuds onto the tabletop. He blew gently on them, using his breath to spread them out. Leaning forward, Spencer could see movement in each tiny glossy surface.

  Marv squinted at the soapsuds for a moment. Then his thick fingers picked out one little bubble. The janitor took it between his hands and stretched the image so it was easy for everyone to see.

  Through the soapsud camera, Spencer saw a small, wooded island in the distance. A series of buoys surrounded the land, cordoning off a section of water as they bobbed in the ocean. There was a long causeway that stretched from the soapsud viewpoint over to the BEM’s private island. The bridge stood high above the water, with sturdy pillars jutting into the sea.

  At the entrance to the bridge, Spencer saw a sign posted on both sides of the road. He squinted to read the printed words.

  WARNING: NO TRESPASSING

  AUTHORIZED VEHICLES ONLY

  BEYOND THIS POINT

  And then in tiny letters below:

  VIOLATORS WILL FALL TO THEIR DOOM

  “Hey!” Rho said, studying the image. “Those little cheaters! That’s our trick.”

  “What?” Daisy a
sked.

  “That bridge is a replica of the one we had at the gorge,” she said. “It’s rigged to collapse unless the tires of the vehicle are coded with Glopified paint.”

  “I guess the BEM was impressed when your bridge dropped a couple of their vans into the gorge,” Spencer said. “They wanted to make their own version to keep us away from the island.”

  “You know the code for the tires?” Marv asked.

  “Ours was a specific series of crosswalks you had to drive over.” Rho shrugged. “Theirs could be anything.”

  “What if we cross the bridge on foot?” Spencer asked.

  “It won’t work,” she answered. “If it’s like ours, any footfall will trigger a collapse.”

  “Even if we fall,” Daisy said, studying the image in the soapsud, “it looks like we’d just land in the water. Maybe we could swim over to the island.”

  “Nope,” Marv said, shrinking the soapsud and picking up another one. “Here’s the view under the bridge.” He expanded the soapy bubble.

  Clinging to the underside of the bridge was the largest Extension Grime Spencer had ever seen. It made the Toxites that the Pluggers rode look small. This thing was a real monster. From nose to tail, Spencer guessed it was easily the length of a football field. Each sticky fingertip was the size of a trampoline.

  The monster Grime was hanging upside down. Its pale eyes were rolled back in what appeared to be peaceful slumber.

  “Whoa,” Daisy whispered. “How’d it get so big?”

  “Can’t see it now,” Marv said. “But when I looked earlier, I could see the extension cord. It’s plugged in to something.”

  “They must have been growing it for months,” Spencer said.

  “Big deal,” said Dez. “Looks like the lazy thing is sleeping anyway. We can totally get past.”

  “See those buoys.” Marv gestured with his hairy chin, since both hands were occupied with the soapsud. In the distance, Spencer saw the ring of buoys sectioning off the water around the island. “Anything crosses those buoys and the Grime wakes up.”