Secrets Of New Forest Academy Part 26

The boy tumbled to the ground, tearing his pants at the knees. Before Spencer knew what was happening, a third ma.s.sive Grime dropped to the floor, its long tongue lashing around Spencer's ankle. He didn't have time to panic about the gigantic germs that were surely climbing up his leg. The Grime was sucking him hungrily toward its dark open maw! Judging by its size, it wouldn't be hard for the Toxite to swallow Spencer whole.

"Daisy!" Spencer screamed. But she was too distracted, playing some kind of hand-slapping rhyme game with the concrete pillar.

Scrambling at his belt, Spencer drew a mop. He cast the Glopified strings into the Grime's open mouth. The mop wound around the base of the long tongue, and Spencer pulled for all he was worth.

With a disgusting snap, the tongue broke off. The Grime skittered backward, croaking painfully and leaving a line of pale goo on the cement.

Spencer sprang to his feet, shaking off the severed tongue that still clung to his ankle. The injured Grime backed against the wall. It started trembling violently, its throat beginning to expand and contract. The venomous pouches on the Grime's neck pulsed with an eerie light.

This time, instead of waiting for the Toxite to vomit the poisonous sludge, Spencer raced directly toward it, leading one of the other Grimes in pursuit. He plunged his hand into his belt's spill-proof pouch and pinched out a heavy dose of vac dust.

The creature ahead was filling its throat. Only feet away, Spencer could smell the acrid stench of the poison. Spencer reached over his shoulder and hurled the vacuum dust, not at the venom-filled Grime, but at the pursuing monster close behind him. The Toxite went down under the suction, plowing into the first Grime. The Toxite's throat deflated, and glowing acid spewed everywhere, searing and burning both Grimes.

The attack proved too much for the tongueless Grime. Accidentally ingesting its own acid, the creature shuddered uncontrollably and disintegrated into a puddle of slime.

The other Toxite rolled out of the vac dust. It reared on its hind legs, hissing like a cobra. Burn marks smoldered across its shoulder and head. One of the venom sacks had burst, and glowing ooze smeared down its side. The creature sprang from its upright position, but Spencer was already sprinting away.

The Grime moved skillfully and silently. Gravity seemed no hindrance to its reptilian movements. Bulbous fingertips gripped wall and pillar, ceiling and floor, as it slithered after the boy.

Spencer intentionally collided with Daisy, knocking her away from the pillar of her obsession.

"What are you doing?" she yelled. Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. "Can't you see? I'm busy!"

Spencer pointed toward the advancing Grime. "Someone's trying to steal your pillar!" Spencer cried.

"What?" Daisy made her hands into fists. "Who?"

The injured Grime leapt onto the pillar and Spencer pointed. "Him!"

Daisy whirled on the Grime, tossing a fistful of vac dust into its face. Retrieving her fallen pushbroom, she sprang into action, enraged that someone would try to steal her precious piece of cement.

Turning Daisy's distraction against the Grime was a smooth tactic, but there was no telling how long she would stay vengeful before some new distraction claimed her. For now, she was wreaking savage retribution, Grime slime oozing from her victim.

Spencer turned around once, scanning the garage for the third and final Grime. It had fled the action early on. Where was the monster? Unable to see it, he ran to Daisy's aid, arriving in time to join her for the killing blow. Yellow slime spattered everywhere. The air was ripe with a pungent odor, but Daisy didn't seem to notice. Immediately, she turned her face upward to the nearest fluorescent bulb.

"h.e.l.lo, bright light!"

So much for that ...

The third Grime sprang from behind, silent as a shadow. It tackled into Spencer and sent him head over heels on the hard floor. Groaning against the pain, Spencer rolled onto his back just as the Grime lowered a huge hand onto his chest. Those wide fingertips, sticky with acid, burned against his coat to leave searing welts on his skin. He tried to jerk free, but the huge monster pinned him like a prize specimen in a bug collection.

Spencer reached for the Glopified weapons at his side, but all he felt were empty U clips. The Grime's tongue flicked out, the forked tip dancing on Spencer's face and neck. In desperation, he shoved his hand into the spill-proof pouch of vac dust and scooped up as much as he could hold.

Then came the panic. His hand was stuck! The malfunctioning belt did not want to let go of the vacuum dust. The Grime withdrew its tongue, opened its mouth, and reached its slimy head downward. Spencer saw the Toxite's wet black gums, nubs of jagged teeth poking through like broken gla.s.s. Its breath smelled fetid and rotten, the stench of a hundred carca.s.ses.

Spencer pulled on his fistful of vac dust, screaming with urgency!

Just as the creature's dark mouth began to close around Spencer's head, his hand yanked free. But the belt had chosen this crucial moment to malfunction yet again. As soon as the dust cleared the pouch, it backfired. Spencer felt the suction pull at his tool belt as the vac dust dropped back into the pouch, the magic causing a chain reaction with the remaining dust.

Spencer grabbed his belt, feeling like it might fly off at any second. He didn't realize exactly when it happened, but suddenly, the Grime was gone.

The suction in the belt pouch subsided and Spencer jumped up, bracing himself for a fresh attack.

Daisy blinked and squinted against the light she had been staring at. "I named him Louis," she said.

"Huh?" Spencer asked.

"Louis the Lightbulb." Daisy wrinkled her forehead. "That was really weird." She turned to Spencer. "Are you all right?"

He nodded. "Not really sure what just happened. I was about to get Grimed and my tool belt backfired. I don't know where the last Toxite went." Then it clicked. "Oh, no ..." Spencer looked down at his spill-proof pouch of vac dust. "I think it went into my belt."

"But how's that possible?" Daisy asked. "Wasn't it huge?"

"Penny said these pouches are bigger than they seem. Besides, you know how Grimes can compress themselves into tiny s.p.a.ces."

"What are you going to do about it?"

Spencer poked a finger into the pouch opening. He quickly pulled away when he felt something cold and slimy. "It's a spill-proof pouch. Penny said nothing would come out unless I pulled it out."

"Seriously?" Daisy said. "You're just going to leave it in there?"

"What else can I do? The minute I free it, you and Louis the Lightbulb will leave me to fight the Grime on my own. Besides, we've got to keep going. Dez needs help." Spencer looked back toward the black s.p.a.ce where the bully was trapped.

They reached the next elevator, lifted the metal grate, and slipped inside. As in the previous elevators, they immediately plummeted into darkness.

Spencer reached down to his tool belt. The U clips were empty and his vac dust was spent, replaced by a deadly Toxite. If the dumpster wasn't on the next level, Spencer didn't know if they would survive.

He touched the pouch on the back of his belt. All his hopes were riding there. And still, Spencer could think of a hundred ways this could go wrong.

Chapter 53.

"You cannot win this."

The elevator stopped. Like the last three levels, this one looked dim and uninviting. Spencer and Daisy stood silently, staring through the metal grate.

It was there.

The dumpster prison sat on the far side of the large garage, b.u.t.ted against the concrete wall. Spencer and Daisy didn't need to discuss strategy or shout warnings. This was it. This was what they had come for.

Alan Zumbro was a hundred yards away.

Daisy pulled the chain, lifting the metal grate. Spencer stepped out alone, the grate shutting firmly behind him. Daisy might have told him to be careful, but Spencer was so absorbed by the sight of the dumpster that he heard nothing.

Spencer walked forward, struggling to keep his breathing steady. It was a deja vu moment with the soft hum of the fluorescent light and the pad of his shoes on the concrete. He'd walked this distance before, through the eyes of Director Carlos Garcia.

He approached unopposed. Details of the dumpster came into view: the ridges on the black plastic lid, a scratch down one side, the line of silvery duct tape that kept the dumpster closed.

When he was only feet away, Spencer became aware of a figure standing beside a nearby pillar. The man stepped out of the shadows, and Spencer wasn't surprised to see Director Garcia.

"I've been waiting for you." His familiar voice carried that hint of a Spanish accent. "As soon as Walter Jamison breached the gate, I knew you would be coming." Garcia did not seem the slightest bit fl.u.s.tered or anxious. He was frightfully composed and collected.

Spencer froze. His dad was almost within reach. He was probably hearing every word of this conversation.

"Frankly," Garcia said, "I'm surprised you survived Slick's watchdogs. He's been growing those Toxites for weeks. He a.s.sured me they would be sufficient to stop an army of janitors."

Garcia strode forward, hard shoes clicking on the concrete. "You can't win this, Spencer. And I don't want to hurt you. I'm going to give you a chance to go. Just turn around and go home."

Spencer said nothing but stared unblinking at the dumpster, noting the slightly curled edge of the duct tape.

"I have orders," Garcia said. "Orders to kill you on sight. My superior would not give you this chance to flee."

Spencer's brow furrowed. Superior? Garcia was a warlock, top of the command chain. Who would be giving him orders?

"I'm not a fighter," the director said. "I'm not a villain. If only you understood what was at stake here. New Forest Academy must rise. And I will do anything to ensure that it does."

Without a word, Spencer stepped forward and seized the edge of the tape. He pulled, but it was hopelessly sealed.

"You cannot win this," Garcia repeated, shaking his head. He held out his hand and wiggled the fingers arrogantly. "Only one hand can open that dumpster."

As Garcia spoke, Spencer slipped his right hand into the back pouch of his tool belt. This was the moment. He pushed aside any doubts about his plan and slipped into the glove. Drawing his hand out of the pouch, Spencer grabbed the curled edge of the duct tape and stripped it away from the dumpster lid.

"NO!" Garcia cursed. His eyes bulged in sheer disbelief.

Spencer held out his hand. "Looks like I caught you red-handed."

Spencer wiggled his fingers. His face registering his shock, Director Garcia saw that his own red, inky fingerprints had somehow been copied from Daisy Gates's sloppy art project and pasted onto the fingers of a latex glove.

Director Garcia, white-faced and trembling, ran toward Spencer. He seized the boy by the throat, but the latex glove made it impossible for him to get a grip. Spencer slipped away and reached back to the dumpster, using the fingerprinted glove to peel up another strip of tape. Garcia lunged for the lid of the Glopified dumpster, but Spencer threw it open.

Alan Zumbro rose up, tangled hair and beard shadowing whatever fatherly features Spencer might have recognized. Director Garcia swung a fist, but Alan grabbed his hand and dragged him closer. Garcia's face slammed against the side of the metal dumpster with shocking force. Blood streamed from his nose.

Alan dropped the injured director to the concrete floor of the parking garage. Lifting himself along the dumpster's rim, Alan swung a leg over the side and lowered himself down.

Spencer watched in wonder. The dumpster prisoner-his father!

Alan looked so frail. His arms were so thin, his shirt tattered. But as the light glinted across his blue eyes, Spencer saw strength from deep within. Strength and determination to stay alive for countless months in such a horrid prison.

Alan took the moaning director by the collar of his shirt. Garcia's eyes rolled back, still stunned from the pain. Spencer couldn't stand to watch as Alan hefted Director Garcia violently against the side of the dumpster. Reaching inside Garcia's sport coat, Alan withdrew a bronze hammer. Director Garcia cried out and reached for it, but Alan tossed the hammer aside. It clattered on the concrete floor, filling the garage with a harsh metallic ringing.

Garcia was muttering something in Spanish. It sounded penitent, prayerful, laced with desperation.

Alan narrowed his eyes to bitter slits. "Get used to the dark!"

In a moment of absolute vengeance, Alan gave a mighty cry. With strength beyond his frail form, he heaved Director Garcia over the rim of the dumpster prison.

The force of impact caused the lid to swing shut. Before Garcia could utter a single cry, Spencer stepped forward, seized the duct tape, and used the red fingerprinted glove to seal the dumpster prison.

Chapter 54.

"Is it gonna hurt?"

Spencer turned to his father, eyes shimmering in the dim light. For a moment, he saw through the filthy beard, and the face took Spencer far away from the cold, gray garage. He was a ten-year-old boy again, riding his bike around the block with his dad ...

"Hey, kiddo," Alan said. The corners of his unkempt mustache turned up in a smile. He held out his arms.

"Dad," whispered Spencer. He stepped into his father's open arms, feeling a tight lump of emotion in his throat.

"Have to admit," Alan said, "didn't think it would be you that rescued me." Alan patted his son on the back, then held him away to look into his eyes. "How'd you get through the tape?"

Spencer held up the glove. "I used some Glopified ink remover to copy Garcia's fingerprints and paste them onto this glove."

Alan grinned and shook his head in amazement. "Unbelievable." He held Spencer by the shoulders, sizing him up. "It's been a long time, son. I can't believe how you've changed ... look how much you've grown!"

Funny that his father should mention the one aspect of Spencer's life that would never change again.

"You've got a lot to explain, Spence."

Spencer nodded, wiping tears from his cheeks. "So do you," he said. The grim realization of their location settled in again.

Alan took one last glance at the dumpster prison. Garcia was quiet inside, probably trying to sort out what had just happened. Alan stooped and picked up the bronze hammer he'd stolen from the director's coat.

It looked similar to Ninfa, but it was shorter and the edges seemed rounder. This would be a double strike to the BEM. Spencer would escape New Forest Academy with Alan Zumbro and Garcia's warlock hammer.

Alan faced his son. "I don't know how long it's been since I've been able to run." Alan tucked the bronze hammer into the threadbare pocket of his pants.

"We'll probably be doing plenty of that," said Spencer.

Together, they set off across the parking level at a steady jog. When they reached the elevator, Daisy was waiting, her face pressed nervously against the metal grate.

"You got him!" she said. Daisy tried to lift the grate, but it still wouldn't budge.

"Here," Alan said. He was looking at something on the wall next to the elevator. "Some kind of safety switch." He clicked it over, and the grate lifted under Daisy's strain.