Enter the Janitor (The Cleaners) (Volume 1)

Chapter One

Ben shuffled into the college library, tugging his squeaky janitorial cart along like a coffin-on-wheels. The moment he entered the place, his right arm started aching, adding a small, but significant voice to the chorus of twinges, knotted muscles, and scars that composed his aging body.

Ignoring this as best he could, he took a big whiff of the place. He snorted and shook his head, gray ponytail flapping.

At the noise, heads popped up from textbooks and tablets as students stared his way. Ben gave them his best grumpy grandpa look until they turned back to their books. A study group that had circled up chairs in the center of the room resumed murmuring calculus equations at each other, which might as well have been a foreign language to Ben.

Resisting the urge to massage his arm, he made eye contact with the young man behind the main desk. Jason, the work-study for the evening, flashed a relieved smile as he lurched out of his chair and headed the janitor’s way.

Ben tugged at his blue jumpsuit so his name, threaded in red on the left breast, displayed prominently. The spray bottle hanging on his belt quivered as the water sloshed within. Ben scowled and slapped it.

“Shaddup,” he whispered. “I can handle this.”

Jason arrived, glancing around as if afraid of angering some librarian deity. His combed hair and tucked polo shirt made him look like the chrysalis version of a politician, close to breaking out of the cocoon into full suit-and-smirk mode.

“If I’d known anyone was coming, I would’ve established quarantine,” he said.

Ben cleared his throat with the subtlety of a garbage disposal. “If I’d known any winnin’ lotto numbers, I woulda retired years ago. What’s your point?”

Flushing, Jason caught the janitor’s arm. Ben let himself be guided to one side, but once they got out of earshot, he grumbled at the younger man.

“Leggo of my arm. The suit don’t block everythin’.”

Jason snatched his hand back. “I—er. Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ And here I thought you was one of the smarter recruits.”

“Should I … uh …” Jason wiped his hand on his shirt.

“If you caught anythin’, it wouldn’t matter if you stuck it in boilin’ water until the skin came off. Just don’t grope me again.”

“The Board processed my report?” Jason asked.

“Yuppers. Figured it was worth a look.”

Jason squinted in doubt. “And they sent you?”

Ben pushed his sagging cheeks up and leaned in. “You wanted someone prettier? Want me to go steal some lipstick from the girls’ dorm and get gussied?”

Jason coughed and backed up a step. “Sorry, I just … I waited a while to call in. You know how HQ gets if you file too many false alarms. Wasn’t sure if I actually sensed anything or was just being paranoid.”

Ben rolled his bowed shoulders, which crackled like bubble wrap. “What’re we dealin’ with?”

“The vents keep rumbling,” Jason nodded at a nearby grille, “and I’ve noticed above-average grime buildup. Definitely Corruption of some sort. Could be coming in from the air ducts. Maybe a muttermite infestation.”

Ben sniffed. “Naw. You trainees are gettin’ sloppy. Muttermites ain’t never made this kinda stink.”

Jason’s nose wrinkled. “I haven’t smelled anything.”

“That’s ’cause you ain’t an old hound dog like me. You couldn’t sniff out Corruption if bile got pumped straight up your blowholes.”

The water in the spray bottle sloshed again.

“Hmm.” Ben nodded. “Good idea.”

Jason eyed the water as it spun. “Is that … Carl?”

“You betcha.” Ben patted the bottle. “And no. You ain’t gonna hold him, pet him, snuggle, or take a sip.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“Hush it. Lemme concentrate.”

He shut his eyes to fix on his prey. He blanked out the hushed chatter of the students, the hum of air conditioning, and the clack of fingernails over keyboards. He pushed past every distraction until …

The subtle foulness in the air congealed into an olfactory hook that set in his nose and jerked him toward the source of Corruption. Along with this came the sound of leather being dragged over rusty metal, and a messy snuffling, like a dog gobbling up fresh goose droppings.

Ben cocked his head at the bathrooms. “We got ourselves a blot-hound nested in the pipes.”

Jason paled. “But there haven’t been any suicides. They leave pretty distinctive trails, too. I’m sure I would’ve noticed. And if it has a nest, that’s even worse. They always fight hardest against threats to claimed territory and—”

Ben sighed. “Are you tryin’ to be helpful or just make yourself look smart?”

Jason stuck his chest out. “I’ve been studying. Almost ready to test for active field duty.”

“Studyin’. Heh.” Ben smirked. “Lemme fill you in on a company secret, kid. With the Cleaners, you don’t learn through information. You learn through action. Gotten any of that lately?”

“I’m … not sure you mean it that way.”

He clapped the trainee on the shoulder. “Don’t think about it too hard. After all, I’m just a geezer here to get the job done.”

“What should we do?”

“We? Nuh-uh. I got this. You plant your butt back behind that desk and keep clear.”

“Sir, I’ve been ready for this for a year now.”

“If you think that, then you sure as shootin’ ain’t ready yet.”

Jason’s face fell.

Ben scratched his arm, which itched where the kid had grabbed it. “You really wanna be useful?”

“Please. Anything.”

“Then go get me a sign that says the bathrooms are closed. That’ll give me time to check things out and see if there’s somewhere to fit you in. Anyone in either of them now?”

“Don’t think so,” Jason said. “I’ll get a sign up, but—”

A growl wavered out from the women’s bathroom, loud enough to perk up several students who glanced about in confusion. Ben’s neck hairs prickled, and Jason’s eyes widened.

The librarian wiped at a trickle of sweat that escaped a trimmed sideburn. “Uh … are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Ben snorted. “Kiddin’? I’ve been moppin’ up Scum since before you started shavin’.”

A grimace. “Right. Guess I’ll … get that sign and then alert the scrub-team.”

“You do that.” Ben plodded back to his cart and hefted a plunger. “Ain’t gonna take more than ten, mebbe twenty minutes.”

The spray bottle gurgled.

Jason scowled at it. “Does he know I understand him?”

“‘Course he does,” Ben said. “He wouldn’t have said it, otherwise.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to be so insulting.”

The water slopped about, making chuckling noises.

After Jason left, Ben nudged the cart into motion with a knee.

As he maneuvered it between a bookshelf and coffee table, a slender female student burst through the double doors of a side hall. She wore black leather gloves and a white headband pinned frizzy red hair behind her ears. Wide-eyed, she peered around the room until she spotted the calculus study group. She raised a finger in the universal
just a minute
sign. Adjusting her backpack, she bolted through the room.

Ben’s blood chilled as he realized she was aimed for the women’s restroom. He flung the plunger at her back in a desperate attempt to stop her. However, she slipped into the bathroom, and the tool bounced off the door as it slapped closed.

O O O

Something thumped against the door, but Dani ignored it as she tossed her backpack onto the counter. She fumbled in the main pouch and hauled out her jumbo bottle of sanitation gel.

In her haste to make it to the study group, she’d bumped into two people on the way. Two! Who knew what their hygienic standards were? When had they showered last? Did they even own toothbrushes? One had awful halitosis, and had huffed an apology in her face as she shoved past, trying to control her rising panic.

She tugged her gloves off and pinched them under one arm. Then she pumped double-handfuls of gel and slathered it over her hands and forearms. The cutting odor of alcohol filled the restroom. Her panic subsided as the fumes surrounded her, a protective shield against a filthy world.

As the gel evaporated, she envisioned it taking bacteria and dirt with it. Vapors singed her nose, but she breathed deep. Clean body, clean mind. She had to remain vigilant, otherwise who knew what germs might hitch a ride on her skin and then burrow deep? A shudder rippled through her as she counted off possibilities:
Staphylococcus. Streptococcus. Escherichia coli
. Oh, god! What if she’d contracted
Clostridium difficile
? Should she schedule a doctor’s appointment? Should she—

The door banged open behind her. She shrieked and whirled about as a tall, elderly janitor barged in, waving a plunger like a sword.

“Aren’t you supposed to knock?” she cried. “I could’ve been—”

She dodged as his cart almost ran her over. It rammed into a stall and soapy water sloshed out of the bucket.

“Hustle outta here, missy,” he said, pursuing his equipment. She pulled back against the sink to avoid touching as he shouldered by. “We’re closin’ the place down for a lil’ maintenance.”

“C-close? But—” Dani hadn’t finished her self-assessment. “I need a few minutes, okay? I’ve got an emergency of my own.”

She squeezed her thighs together, faking the urgent need to pee. As she did, her bladder alerted her brain that it could actually use some relief. She stifled a groan. Using a public restroom would tack another ten minutes onto her routine, not counting prep-work to make sure the toilet was clean enough. Had she brought enough wet-wipes?

Grabbing her backpack, she edged toward the nearest stall, but balked as he barred the way with an arm.

“Whoa, hey there.” His craggy smile accentuated the bags under his dark blue eyes. Oh god, was there
dirt
in his wrinkles? “Lemme rephrase. Nasty case of pipes backin’ up in here. Gotta shut ’er down before things go Old Faithful. If you don’t wanna flood of piss all over your shoes, you need to leave. Now.”

Tasting bile, Dani considered retreating. But she couldn’t leave without finishing her routine. She just … couldn’t. He had to be exaggerating. If it was that bad, they would’ve had signs up and cordoned the place off.

“Look, gramps, I’ll be quick. Just a minute or two so I don’t wet myself.”

“Nothin’ doin’. Time to build a little character, princess. Get outta here and lemme do my job, a’ight?”

She sniffed. “Riding bikes builds character. I am not getting a bladder infection because you want to get back to reading porn in the janitor’s closet.”

He eyed her, grinning for some reason. His brown-streaked teeth made her stomach roil, and his breath had a tinge of spoiled meat.

“I ain’t gonna argue about this, princess.” He snatched a toilet brush off his cart and prodded her stomach. “Outcha go. Shoo.”

She yelped and hopped back. What was he doing? He used that thing to clean up after people … after they … She couldn’t complete the thought. He kept jabbing at her while she danced and dodged.

“What—hey—stop!”

A cattle prod would’ve been less of a deterrent. Her gloves fell to the floor as she jumped away from a vicious thrust. She thought of screaming for help, but what good would that do?

At last, she bumped back against the door. How many greasy handprints had she just come in contact with? How many people washed their hands before leaving? Screw study group. She needed a steaming shower and a change of clothes before she lost her mind.

The janitor came on, grinning like a jester monkey. She tried to kick the brush out of his hand, but he pulled away.

“Ah-ah.” He flicked the brush in reprimand.

Droplets hit her forehead, and she stiffened. Code Red exposure. She almost wiped the vile liquid off, but then realized her hands remained exposed. Her gloves. Where were her gloves? Her gel remained on the sink, taunting her. She reached for it even as the distance increased.

“No. Wait …”

The janitor closed the gap. “There’s more’n one set of bathrooms ’round, ain’t there?” A final jab of the brush had her out in the library again. “Or there’s some comfy bushes outside, if you got the gumption.”

She bristled. “Now hold on—”

The door slammed in her face.

O O O

Ben shoved his cart against the door and leaned on it, sighing. Where was Jason with those Purity-forsaken signs?

He studied the place while ignoring the shrill voice outside. The women’s room had four stalls and three sinks, walls done in blue and white tile, and a frosted glass window at the far end. Halogen lights gleamed off the fixtures.

Making sure the cart jammed the door, he double-checked his inventory. Mop with the metal-tipped handle? Check. Squeegee with a razor edge? Honed and ready. Radio? Charged. After hefting his mop, he walked by each stall, letting the prickling in his right arm escalate into a burning sensation.

Nothing drew him to any of the toilets, so he returned to the sinks and crouched to check under the counter.

The middle sink turned out to be the creature’s hidey-hole. The S-shaped pipe had ruptured halfway down, jagged metal poking outward while black-green ooze dribbled from the hole. Ben gripped his mop like a staff as he kicked at the puddle of inky glop spreading beneath the break. The sulfur stink made his nostrils flare.

“I know you’re in there, you cruddy little bugger.”

He spat into the bucket of soapy water hanging off the cart. The saliva sizzled as it hit the surface, and he glared at the puff of steam. Using the squeegee, he scooped up a dribble of the black muck and dunked it into the water as well. More foul smoke rose from the tool, which emerged clean.

Carl gurgled in his bottle. Ben stuck the squeegee away and grabbed a rag.

“Yeah, well, you gonna be a tattle-tale? Not like they can do anythin’.”

The water formed a brief vortex.

Ben flicked the bottle. “Have a little faith, buddy. If it gets any worse, they’ll just kill me and burn the corpse. Problem solved. Everybody goes home happy.”

He whacked the mop handle against the pipe. A spark leaped from the metal grip and shot an electric spiral down the copper length. A growl reverberated within the wall where the pipe buried itself in the concrete.