Heroes of the Dustbin

by Tyler Whitesides

  “Dez!” Spencer shouted, but it was clear the boy couldn’t hear him. It made Spencer sick to see him dangling there, to know what Dez had done for him.

  Suddenly, the brain stem seemed to buck, pitching Dez out of the energy beam. He fell limply, landing with a thud on the hardened dust beside Spencer. Dez didn’t move, his body still and smoking.

  “Dez!” Spencer shouted again. “Wake up!” He wasn’t dead, right? Dez couldn’t be dead! The Sweeper half of him was clearly gone, but the boy still had one more life. Didn’t he?

  A sound overhead drew Spencer’s attention. The three Witches had collapsed on top of the wall, suctioned down by a skilled Thumb Shot of vacuum dust. Daisy Gates appeared, Glopified leaf blower strapped to her back and a broom in her hand.

  She tapped the bristles against the wall and drifted down toward the brain nests. As she drew nearer, Spencer saw the look of absolute worry on her face.

  “What happened?” Daisy dropped onto the hardened dirt and ran over to Spencer.

  “Dez took the hit for me,” Spencer said in disbelief. Daisy grabbed both ends of the rope binding Spencer and tied them together. Immediately, Spencer felt the rope’s grip loosen, and he wriggled free as Daisy knelt down beside Dez.

  Daisy lowered her ear to the boy’s face, listening for breathing. He looked so much smaller now that his Rubbish half was gone. Spencer barely remembered what regular old Dez was supposed to look like.

  “He’s breathing,” Daisy said, unclipping the orange healing spray from her belt. “Where should I spray him?”

  “Everywhere,” Spencer said. Dez didn’t look so good. His shirt was charred and smoking, his arms and hands blistered and burned from the energy of the brain stem.

  Daisy sprayed a quick mist of orange over the boy’s entire body. Then she rocked back on her heels to wait for the effect.

  “We can’t stay here,” Spencer said. “The Witches almost made a new Toxite out of me. And I’m afraid they’ll try again as soon as they get up.”

  “What about the scissors?” Daisy asked.

  Spencer lowered his head in shame. “The Witches blew them to bits before I had a chance to use them.” He stared up at the eternally rising brain stem. “I guess we lost.”

  There was a loud squelching sound directly behind Spencer. He whirled around, instinctively drawing a mop from his belt.

  The Grime brain was doing something strange. It was convulsing, the slime around it slurping as it rocked back and forth. Silver scales began forming all over the soft brain matter, shimmering like coins at the bottom of a fountain. And the Grime brain wasn’t the only one having a reaction.

  “Why’s it so dark?” Dez shouted, suddenly sitting bolt upright as the orange healing spray worked its magic. “Hey!” The movement seemed to alert him to the fact that his wings were missing. He reached his arms around, slapping his own back. “Who took my wings? Why can’t I see?”

  Spencer and Daisy glanced at each other, sharing a look of sheer relief that the boy was alive. Neither wanted to break the news about his Sweeper death, and they decided they didn’t have time to do so anyway, with the Toxite brain nests behaving so strangely.

  The Rubbish brain was changing texture. Instead of the leathery black hide, bright colors started to emerge. Spencer saw what looked like feathers forming on the sides of the massive brain.

  The Filth brain was shaking, throwing off the layer of dust that had coated it for so long. The deadly quills snapped off, clattering to the ground like discarded arrows. Tufts of soft fur pressed through the folds of the brain, creating a fuzzy blue exterior.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Spencer said, looking up to see if the Witches had recovered.

  “Spencer?” Dez shouted, groping blindly with both hands. “I hear you, Doofus! Where are you? Why can’t I see anything?”

  Daisy slipped the leaf blower from her back. They’d used a device like this one to escape the Dustbin last time they came. She flipped a switch and pulled the trigger, releasing a bolt of air straight into the sky. The leaf blower kicked back, burying itself in the hard dirt. Daisy’s hair whipped in the upward current.

  “The Witches are going to want a ride out of here too,” Spencer said. He didn’t know how to stop them. The Rip would be open for only a few minutes. If they paused to fight the Witches, the Rip would close and they would be trapped in the Dustbin forever.

  “That’s okay,” Daisy said. “The Witches can come. Bookworm should have moved the Vortex into position by now. We’ll be ready for them!”

  Spencer had no idea what she was talking about, but there wasn’t time to ask. He turned and grabbed Dez by the arm, hoisting the boy to his feet.

  “Stay close,” he said. Keeping one arm around Dez’s shoulder, he stepped with the bigger boy into the whirling slipstream.

  They were immediately airborne, carried up by the rushing current of Glopified wind. Daisy entered just below them, keeping her arms and legs tucked close as she flew.

  They blew past the Witches standing at the top of the wall. Spencer caught a brief glimpse of their shocked faces, and his escape tasted even better. He saw Ninfa turn to the leaf blower buried in the dust. She raised her wand to pulverize it, but Belzora caught her hand. Spencer had been right. The Witches weren’t willing to destroy their only way back to the real world. Instead, the three old hags joined hands and stepped into the slipstream, flying upward in pursuit of the escaping kids.

  Rising parallel to and alongside the brain stem, Spencer saw new colors flashing and dancing amid the column. He didn’t understand exactly what had happened when the Refraction Dust struck Dez, but the result seemed to be changing the Toxite brain nests into something entirely new.

  “Oh, man!” Dez suddenly yelled, as something important seemed to occur to him. “I died, didn’t I? My Rubbish half is dead!” He gasped, a look of genuine fear on his face. “I’m blind!”

  Flying in the slipstream alongside Spencer, Dez touched his unseeing eyes. His fingers had returned to normal, chubby and dirty.

  “The good news is,” Spencer said, trying to soften the revelation, “you have to die twice to really die.”

  Dez threw his head back and groaned. “I didn’t want to die!”

  “You saved my life,” Spencer said, trying to help him understand that his Sweeper half had not died for nothing.

  “Seriously?” Dez yelled. “I died saving you? I barely even like you!”

  “Thanks?” Spencer said, not sure how to take that.

  “My eyes!” Dez moaned. “I’m blind forever!” Then he began whining about all the assets he had lost. “And my talons, and my muscles, and my amazingly awesome wings . . . argh! I can’t even burp dust anymore!”

  “Look on the bright side,” Spencer said. “At least you have a normal nose again.”

  “My beak was better!” Dez swung a punch at where he thought Spencer was, completely missing. “Chump,” he grumbled. “Even my death perception is off.”

  Spencer rolled his eyes. “It’s actually depth perception,” he said. And of course it was off. Dez was completely blind!

  “Whatever.” Dez glared out over the Dustbin, even though he couldn’t see anything.

  The Rip came into view overhead. Beside it, the glowing brain stem continued to rise into what seemed like infinity.

  Daisy’s voice drifted up from below the two bickering boys. “The Witches are coming in fast!”

  Spencer looked down, glimpsing Belzora, Ninfa, and Holga rising quickly through the slipstream below Daisy. They had used their wands to fashion brooms, taking advantage of the extra speed to catch up to the three kids.

  “We’re almost there!” Spencer shouted down to Daisy. “Don’t let them get you!”

  Daisy screamed, and Spencer saw Belzora’s wrinkly hand close around the girl’s ankle. Before he could do anything, Spencer was emerging from the Vortex vacuum bag.

  It was suddenly pouring rain, and Spencer found himself on his h
ands and knees in the mud beside Dez. Thunder pealed and lightning flashed, illuminating the giant Broomstaff looming above them.

  They were on the little island at the center of the Glop lagoon. The Vortex was a soggy mess lying in the mud, and the garbage figure of Bookworm loomed over it. Marv was there too. And Penny, and Bernard.

  Alan Zumbro helped his son to his feet. But there wasn’t time to explain anything as Daisy suddenly appeared through the small hole in the Vortex.

  Belzora was still clinging to the girl’s foot, but she released her grip at the surprise of her sudden surroundings. Bookworm seized her by the shoulders and slammed her against the rough wood of the Broomstaff, her bronze wand slipping from her wet grasp and landing like a stick in the mud.

  Ninfa and Holga appeared out of the Vortex almost simultaneously. Aided by the element of surprise, Marv and Penny knocked the two wands aside and threw the Witches against the Broomstaff with their sister. Bernard raced around the wooden trunk, spooling out a long strip of duct tape to secure the three hags in place.

  “What?” Holga shrieked, wriggling against her bonds. “You can’t do this!”

  “We have wands!” yelled Ninfa, her hand straining for the bronze tool in the mud. “We’ll strike you all!”

  Alan stepped forward, tucking a heavy bronze dustpan behind each of their thrashing heads. Lightning crackled overhead, this time only inches from the bristling tip of the Broomstaff.

  All around them, the Glop lagoon was swirling and churning in a great whirlpool. Most of the magical substance had already been pumped back into the earth. In a few more moments, the lagoon would be dry.

  “You think you have won?” Belzora screamed. “The brain nests live on! Our Toxites will never—”

  The Witch’s sentence was cut short as a deafening clap of thunder accompanied the brightest bolt of lightning so far. The electricity hit the tip of the Broomstaff, illuminating the whole shaft with a terrible magical glow.

  The bronze dustpans snapped, curling like collars around the necks of the three Witches. The force of the blow rendered them all unconscious, frying the duct tape and causing them to collapse into the mud.

  The lagoon slurped loudly as the last chug of Glop was pumped away. Toxites would be springing up all over the country, and the lagoon would begin its long process of filling once again.

  Almost immediately, the storm broke. The rain slowed to a mere drizzle, and the thunder gave a soft farewell rumble.

  Marv retrieved the three wands from the mud and tucked them in his belt. Now that the Witches were Panned, they would be held under the same curse that had governed the Dark Aurans for so many years. They would be doomed to wander the landfill, unable to perform any sort of magic unless under someone else’s orders. And once the Rebels took the wands back to Welcher, the Witches would never be able to reach them again.

  Spencer stepped over to the motionless form of Belzora and rolled the woman onto her side. There was something he needed from her before she ran off to live out her life in the rotting landfill. Spencer grabbed the twelve remaining bangle bracelets and slid them off Belzora’s wrist.

  The Timekeepers.

  The Aurans deserved to have them. Not the way V had received hers, but in their own time and their own way. If they were careful, the Aurans could age however they liked.

  Spencer stood up, the bronze bracelets tinkling softly in his hand. “We have to find the Dark Aurans,” he said. “They could be in danger.” Last he’d heard, General Clean had transformed back into a Sweeper and Panned them.

  “They’re fine,” Alan said.

  “A little sheepish to admit that they got Panned again,” Bernard added. “They’re certainly anxious for you to use that spit sponge and get them out of it.”

  “What about General Clean?” Daisy asked.

  “Ran off,” Marv said. “I would have too, if I looked like that.”

  “What do you mean?” Spencer asked.

  “I don’t know what happened down in the Dustbin,” Alan said. “But there’s something you have to see.”

  Chapter 48

  “What’s the opposite of me?”

  The battle for Welcher Elementary School was over. As Spencer approached the transplanted school, he noticed a few Rebels sifting through items that had fallen to the mud, collecting any discarded Glopified supplies that might be useful in the uncertain days ahead. Bernard moved off to help them, always anxious to discover treasures among the trash.

  There was no sign of any BEM workers. Extension cords and battery packs littered the battlefield, but the overgrown Toxites that the Pluggers had been riding were nowhere in sight.

  “When did the battle end?” Spencer asked.

  “Hasn’t been long,” said Marv. The big janitor had a guiding hand on Dez’s shoulder. The kid kept shrugging it off, but every time he did, he would stumble on something. Dez’s blindness was going to create a dependence that the rough kid would have a hard time adjusting to.

  “About twenty minutes ago,” Penny said, leading them up the crumbling steps of the school.

  “The moment the change occurred,” said Alan.

  “What change?” Daisy asked, but no explanation was needed.

  The hallways of Welcher were full of Extension Toxites. Abandoned in the battle, the creatures had naturally headed into the school, seeking their favored habitat. Now they sat lazily in the hallway, not bothering anyone.

  But something was definitely different about the Toxites.

  The Filth looked fuzzy and blue, its sharp quills replaced by the kind of fur that you wanted to pet. Its previously feral eyes were now big and watery, looking shy when it blinked. Its ears had grown long and floppy, hanging down along the side of its head. And the Filth’s clawed feet had been replaced by padded paws.

  “What?” Spencer couldn’t help but exclaim. Daisy began to giggle wildly at the sight of the cuddly Filth.

  “What’s so funny?” Dez demanded, wanting to make sure that no one was laughing at him while he couldn’t see.

  “The Filth . . .” Spencer stammered. He didn’t have words to describe it. “It’s a . . . a . . .”

  “A dust bunny!” said Daisy, still unable to control her giggles.

  Down the hallway, Spencer saw a winged Rubbish glide forward and perch on the edge of an overturned table. But the Rubbish didn’t look at all like a Rubbish anymore.

  It had feathers! Bright, colorful feathers! Instead of a bald vulture head, it had a beautifully craning neck. When its emerald beak opened, Spencer expected the dry croak of a Rubbish. What came out instead was a whistling birdsong.

  Spencer turned to Dez in astonishment. “What did you do?”

  “Who, me?” Dez asked. “What are you talking about?”

  A long Grime scuttled into view. The creature was no longer slimy, but covered in shimmering silver scales. Instead of being slender and agile, the Toxite was so plump it waddled. Its eyes didn’t bulge the way they used to. Instead, it blinked slowly, staring cautiously at the humans standing in the hallway.

  “And that’s not the best part,” Penny said. “Check this out.” She bent forward and whistled softly, patting her knees as though she were calling a dog.

  Instantly, the transformed Toxites swarmed toward her. The Grime rubbed its head against her leg while the Filth licked her face. The feathered Rubbish tried to perch on her shoulder, cooing softly.

  Penny shrugged. “They’re friendly!”

  “They’re more than friendly,” Alan said. “Rho said she thinks their breathing has been reversed.”

  “No way!” Daisy exclaimed. “So the Grime will actually make me focus?” She dropped close to the new Grime, her face only inches from its scaly nose.

  “What’s six times eight?” Penny asked her.

  “Forty-eight,” she answered without delay. “Give me something harder.”

  “What’s the square root of 154?” Penny asked.

  “Whoa, not that hard,” Daisy
answered. She reached out and touched the Grime’s pointed nose. “But I definitely don’t feel distracted.”

  “And I feel wide awake,” Spencer added. The floppy-eared Filth was sniffing at him, but the creature’s breath actually seemed to give the boy a boost of energy.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dez said, finally catching on to what was happening. “All the freaky monsters turned into cuddly pets? That’s so lame!”

  “It’s your fault,” Spencer said.

  “No way,” replied Dez. “If I knew where you were standing, I’d punch you for saying that.”

  “I’m serious,” Spencer continued. “The Toxites changed because of you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dez. “They only change when I crush them under my fist of doom!”

  “Not this time,” Spencer said. “This time it was your brain that changed them.” He turned to the others, all the pieces finally fitting together as he explained what had taken place at the brain nests.

  “The Witches had me pinned,” Spencer said. “They were charging up their wands with Refraction Dust, planning to use my brain to create a fourth Toxite. But Dez . . .” he grinned, slapping a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Dez took the blow for me. The Refraction Dust knocked him into the brain stem.”

  “And the opposite of Dez got infused into the existing brain nests,” Alan finished.

  “What’s the opposite of me?” Dez asked defensively.

  “Studious,” answered Daisy.

  “Focused,” offered Penny.

  “Interested,” said Spencer.

  “Okay, okay,” Dez waved them off. “So that’s what Toxites do now?” He moaned. “Oh, man! I just made school so boring.”

  “Actually,” said Alan Zumbro, “I believe you just saved school.”

  “Yeah,” Dez said. “I definitely did not mean to do that.”

  “But you did mean to take the blow for me,” Spencer said, recalling the moment when Dez had spread his wings and absorbed the Refraction Dust. “Thanks.”