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.
“Gotcha.”
Without taking his gaze off the hole, Ben unzipped a breast pocket and pulled out a vial of bleach. He soaked the rag with this and wiped around both ends of the broken pipe. The muck clinging to the metal bubbled away in seconds until a shining copper ring capped the edges.
Another dribble of bleach went into the bucket. He plunged the mop into this and stirred. As he pulled it out, the solution sprayed across the black puddle. Wherever drops landed, steam rose and left the floor spotless.
Ben fought the urge to scratch his arm, which now burned up to the shoulder. He eased through several breaths, distancing himself from the pain. He shut out the sweat slicking his back, the electric buzz of the lights, and the raised voices from outside until only he and the broken pipe existed.
Drawing the mop back like a golf club, he prepared to swing.
O O O
Dani hugged herself and tried not to move. She’d never felt more exposed—not even on