by Greg Taylor
“You’re almost there! ALMOST THERE!!!”
Toby’s muscles gave up trying for “one more.” The weights, released from the counterweight of Toby’s effort, fell like a shot and hit their base with a loud CRACK!!!
Steve stared at Toby, then gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’ll do it next time,” he said casually, his intense drill instructor persona instantly replaced by his normally easygoing personality. Steve turned and walked out of the exercise room.
Toby staggered from the machine, grabbed his towel, and headed for the locker room on rubbery legs. Strobe and Annabel were already there, taking their showers in separate his and her stalls. They always finished their workouts before Toby did.
Strobe’s skill in the self-defense classes, his easy mastery of the various weight machines, had come as no surprise to anyone. It was Annabel who had caught everyone off guard. Even Harvey, who had noted that Annabel was a quick study, was impressed with her.
The diminutive but agile fourteen-year-old had swiftly become Strobe’s almost-equal in the physical part of their training, her lightning quickness allowing her to compete against the much taller Strobe in self-defense class, for example. As for the weight machines, Annabel had tackled them with the same can-do attitude she had shown during Killer Pizza’s rocky first week. The bottom line was that Annabel had progressed rapidly and had already established an intense, competitive rivalry with Strobe.
Toby was not happy about how far he was behind his two partners. Even worse, he had no hope of catching up. How could he? For one thing, he was so tired all the time. The exhausting pace was already wearing him out. The past two weeks reminded Toby of the time he tried out for the junior high marching band. The hours and hours spent practicing the trombone at home, the after-school practices with the band … Toby hadn’t been able to handle it, and had quit after a month. And that was just the marching band!
Maybe it would be better, Toby sometimes thought, if he were given his rejection slip right now, instead of at the end of their training. At least that would put him out of his misery
But every evening, when Toby was home in his bedroom rubbing Icy Hot into his tired, sore muscles, he inevitably opened his desk drawer and took out the talon he had discovered in his backyard. The deadly object never ceased to send a chill up Toby’s spine. It was a constant reminder of why he had signed up for KP’s MCO Academy in the first place.
MONSTERS TRULY DID EXIST!
If Toby needed a little more inspiration than just the talon, there was always the preface to his Monsters of the World textbook. An underground publication whose existence was unknown to anyone other than Killer Pizza MCOs or MCOs-in-training, it was the only text Toby and his partners would be using during their training. The sixhundred-page tome had been written by Harvey’s grandfather back in the 1940s and revised and updated by Harvey’s father in the 1980s.
The preface to Monsters of the World was short, only ten words. But Toby had discovered those ten words had a power to them, not only connecting his training to something larger than just battling guttata, but managing to stir his heart in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
The ten words?
“Evil cannot see good, but good can always see evil.”
2
Evil was lurking in a city alley, less than ten miles from Toby’s house.
The young runaway could sense it somehow. He looked out from inside his large, sturdy cardboard box—home for the night—and studied the alley.
Nothing.
The young man waited for a moment, his eyes scanning the nighttime landscape, just to be sure he wasn’t sharing his undesirable piece of downtown real estate with anyone. When he retreated back inside the box, all was quiet. Too quiet, somehow.
CRASH!!!
A large shape suddenly slammed onto the box from above, crumpling it inward. Razor-sharp talons shredded the top of the box and the shape disappeared inside. The young man’s screams of alarm were instantly silenced, but the box continued to shudder and split apart from the monster’s ferocious attack. Unlike the silent creature that had attacked Chelsea Travers and the kid behind the Echo 8-Plex, this guttata seemed crazed, consumed by bloodlust.
Suddenly, the box was still. After a moment the creature slowly emerged from what was left of the runaway’s derelict home. It looked up and down the alley, sniffing. Satisfied there was no more prey in the vicinity, it leaped upward, snatched the lower rung of a fire escape, and crawled quickly to the roof of the warehouse building.
And just like that, all was quiet once again in the alley Like an afterthought to the horrific attack, a side section of the box that was barely attached to the ravaged structure separated and fell to the ground. Light from the streetlamp at the end of the alley revealed there was nothing left inside. Not even a shoe. Or a shred of clothing. The guttata had been very thorough. Or hungry.
Either way, on this night … evil had feasted.
3
WHOOOOSH!!!!
THUNK!
The steel arrow with the titanium tip slammed into the guttata mannequin’s heart. Toby exhaled with relief. After almost three weeks of trying, he’d finally hit a bull’s-eye!
“Excellent, Toby!” Annabel gave him a high five as Harvey walked from behind the shooting counter and looked at his three rookies.
“What’s the matter, chief?” Strobe asked. “You look kinda bummed. Aren’t we comin’ along fast enough for you?”
Harvey didn’t answer right away, which made Toby uneasy In spite of his bull’s-eye, he wasn’t the one coming along fast enough.
“Steve and I got word of an incident downtown last night,” Harvey revealed.
“What happened?” Annabel asked.
“If you asked the police that question, they’d say no comment. That’s because they have no idea what happened. The only thing they have to go on is a bloody box.”
“Guttata?” Strobe asked.
“That’s my guess. This victim wasn’t being recruited, however.”
Toby felt his stomach do a little somersault at this news. He had read about the guttata’s occasional zombie-like urges in Monsters of the World. Was that the case here?
“So, you think …”Annabel began.
“The victim was eaten. Yes.”
Harvey’s disgusting news had a predictable sobering effect on the trio’s mood.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Harvey said. “We continue to train and study just as hard as we have been.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Strobe said. “But I do have a suggestion. I think we need to start in with these babies.” Strobe was referring to an impressive array of high-tech guns and rifles that hung on a nearby wall.
“All in due time, Strobe. For now, we will continue to concentrate on the crossbow. It’s actually the best for suburban combat, which is what we’ll mainly be involved with. The less noise in this environment the better. Besides, when used properly, the crossbow is just as effective as any of these other weapons.”
Eying the hardware on the wall, Strobe looked disappointed that he wouldn’t be getting his hands on them any time soon. As for Toby, he liked his crossbow. Designed by Harvey, it was an ingenious high-tech variation on an ancient weapon. Lightweight but strong as steel, the collapsible KP weapon was fitted with a multiple arrow cartridge and was deadly accurate, thanks to a high-powered viewfinder and laser-tracker beam.
“It is time to add a new wrinkle to your crossbow practice, however.” Harvey indicated two large doors behind the trio. “Annabel, would you open those cabinet doors, please?”
The trio was impressed with what they saw inside. There were racks of black, ultrathin chest plates; forearm, bicep, and leg plates; dark-tinted NVGs (night vision goggles); and backpacks of various sizes.
“Find the armor that fits you best,” Harvey instructed. “A pair of goggles that feel comfortable. Select a backpack. From now on, you will be conducting target practice in this gear.”
Strobe was the first to strap a chest plate on over his T-shirt. It gave him the cool look of a Roman warrior. Annabel and Toby were right behind him. After the trio finished suiting up and snapped an extra arrow cartridge into the receiving lock on their bicep plate, Harvey gave them a once-over, then said, “First one to hit three bull’s-eyes in their armor gets a break from this afternoon’s workout.”
Annabel and Strobe quickly tied each other with two bull’s-eyes. But Strobe proved to be faster on the draw, faster at getting his extra arrow cartridge from bicep plate clip to crossbow, and won the competition.
“Come with me, please.”
Sitting at their desks in the classroom, Toby, Annabel, and Strobe exchanged perplexed looks, then followed Harvey out into the hallway. They were supposed to have their first test, covering the exhaustive chapters on the guttata, but from the looks of it, they were going to be spared that ordeal.
On the way up the spiral staircase, Harvey explained that Killer Pizza’s deliveryman had just walked off the job. With Steve off in New York to deal with a nasty outbreak of mind-altering parasites in the Tribeca area, Harvey was the only one at the shop with a driver’s license, thus the only one legally able to deliver one large Fangtastic Hawaiian, several orders of Beasties, and one Monstrosity to a birthday party at a nearby Hidden Hills home.
“Why are we going with you?” Strobe asked.
Harvey didn’t answer Strobe’s question. He simply led the trio through the kitchen and out to the official Killer Pizza red-and-black MINI Cooper delivery car.
“As I mentioned the other day,” Harvey said, turning onto Hazel Street from Industrial Avenue, “forensic testing has indicated that the guttata I eliminated had two different types of human blood in its system when it died. There were no human remains in its stomach, so these victims were definitely recruits. Strobe, what kind of symptoms might the two guttata victims be experiencing right about now?”
Aha. The trio wasn’t getting out of the test, after all. It had simply become an oral test.
“Uhhhhh … let me think … .” Strobe said.
Harvey waited a few seconds, then said, “Toby? Symptoms from a guttata bite?”
“Fever, fatigue, weight loss, possible hallucinations …”
“Annabel?”
“Gastrointestinal discomfort, heart palpitations. Most significantly, a shaking of the left hand.”
“Correct. Strobe, what are some characteristics of a guttata pack?”
Once again, Strobe was at a loss for words.
“Annabel?”
“They’re ruled by an Alpha Male. The Alpha is a pure, direct descendant of the original guttata. They’re the only guttata that have wings. They can live for more than three hundred years.”
“Good. Toby, other characteristics of a guttata pack?”
“Well, they have this weird monthly ritual held on the night of the new moon called the Gathering. The guttata gather to drink a lifesaving secretion spit out by their Alpha Male.”
Strobe smiled at Toby’s answer, his expression suggesting that he was hearing this information for the first time. Harvey shot him a look in his rearview mirror. “Did you study for the quiz, Strobe?”
“Well … not really I’m pretty tired at night.”
“So is everyone else. Let me tell you something. You may be the best at physical combat, but without the knowledge to go along with your physical skills, you will not graduate from this program. Understand?”
Strobe was silent.
“Strobe. Do you understand?”
Strobe finally gave Harvey a grudging nod.
“The written test will be tomorrow. This was just a warm-up.” Harvey turned onto a street near North Park, the large, sprawling haven of green where Chelsea Travers had met her fate. “I confronted the guttata on the far side of this park. Which means its victims might be somewhere in this vicinity. I want all of you to be on the lookout for anyone displaying symptoms of a guttata bite. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack, I realize, but you never know.”
“Can you do anything for these two if we find them?” Annabel asked.
“I do have an antidote for my MCOs if they’re bitten during combat. But for these two, I’m afraid too much time has already passed. If we find them, at least we’ll be able to prevent them from being indoctrinated into the local pack after their transformation.”
“I’ve been wondering something, Harvey,” Toby said. “Is there any way to tell if a human is a guttata? I mean, how do we track these monsters down? I haven’t read anything about that in the text.”
“That’s the rub,” Harvey replied. “As I told you, guttata blend into their communities very well. Too well. That’s why Steve and I are trying to locate the Alpha Male. If we eliminate him, we eliminate the pack. Toby, would you please tell Strobe why that is?”
Toby didn’t like Strobe being put on the spot like this, but his boss had just asked him a question, so he figured he should answer it. “The pack needs this lifesaving spit from the Alpha Male, so they’re toast if they don’t get it.”
“Correct. If we can take out the Alpha, his pack will have to leave the city, try to find a new Alpha. They’ll die within a few months, the younger ones even sooner, if they can’t locate a new pack. Which is what we’re hoping for. Guttata are still pretty scarce on this continent. We want to keep it that way.”
“So lemme at the big guy,” Strobe said.
“You’re not ready for an Alpha, Strobe,” Harvey said. “Just to give you an idea, the guttata I eliminated is a pup by comparison.”
Yikes! Toby thought. I think I prefer the ones in the shooting gallery!
Harvey pulled up to the curb in front of a large, two-story house. Purple, green, and black balloons—each one featuring a classic, scowling monster’s face—were tied to the mailbox and the railing around the front porch. It was a monster-themed birthday party!
“Here we are,” Harvey said. “Strobe, why don’t you do the honors?”
Strobe shot Harvey a look as Annabel handed him four pizza sleeves from the front seat.
“Punishment for not studying for the test?”
“Look on the bright side. You get to keep the tip.”
Strobe got out and walked toward the house. A couple of six-year-olds bounded out the front door and grabbed at the pizza sleeves as Strobe stepped onto the porch.
“Killer Pizza’s here!” one of them yelled.
“Keep your grubby hands off the merchandise!” Strobe ordered.
Harvey shook his head at the sight of Strobe brushing past the hungry, hyper kids. “Good way to represent Killer Pizza, Strobe.”
Toby smiled when even more kids piled out of the house. He couldn’t wait to see how Strobe was going to handle them. But his attention was suddenly drawn to a first-floor window in the house. A woman was standing at the window, staring outside. Her expression was not what you’d expect, considering the festive event going on in the house. The woman looked … blank, really Her face was drained of any emotion.
Toby felt a chill run through his body as he stared at the woman. Much like the night when he heard the strange howl on his way home from Killer Pizza, or when he found the talon in the woods behind his house, Toby felt as though he was in the presence of something … not good.
That woman’s not a guttata! Toby told himself.
Actually, why not? Toby wouldn’t be able to tell even if she was. Anyone on the street could be a guttata, for that matter. The kid mowing the lawn a few houses away The two women talking on a nearby front porch. The FedEx guy who—come to think of it—had given Toby a pretty strange look when they drove past his truck.
You’re just being paranoid, Toby tried to convince himself. But then …
POP!!!
Toby jerked violently when he heard the explosion. He whipped around to see that it was one of the balloons that had caused the sound. Bursting in the noontime sun, the tattered remains were floating listlessly
to the ground. His heart racing, Toby stared at the pulverized balloon, then had to laugh at how ridiculously tense he was.
“You okay, Toby?” Annabel was looking over the front seat at him.
“Yeah, sure.”
As if to convince himself, Toby glanced back at the balloon. Yeah, that’s what had caused the sound that had given him a mini heart attack.
As for the woman in the window?
When Toby looked at the house, she was no longer there.
4
A large two-story building reflected in dark sunglasses. The man wearing the glasses tipped his hat to an older woman as he arrived at the entrance to the building and held the door open for her to enter in front of him.
“Thank you, Officer,” the woman said with a smile.
“You’re welcome.” The man’s voice carried an edgy authority. Entering the air-conditioned building, he took off his sunglasses, his police hat, and wiped his bald head with a handkerchief. The people in the building nodded and said hello to him as he passed. They all knew him and treated him with careful respect. That’s because the man was second-in-command of the Brentwood Hills Police Department, a community that bordered one side of Hidden Hills.
What no one in the building could have suspected was that the man was also a guttata.
Not just any guttata, however. Thomas Gome had been given the responsibility of tracking down the people responsible for taking out one of the pack’s more prominent members. (The guttatas’ Alpha leader was assuming the worst, that their missing comrade was dead.)
As Gome approached his office, a woman sitting behind a nearby desk pulled a file from a desk drawer. “The missing persons report you requested, Mr. Gome.”
Gome nodded, took the file, and entered his office. The blinds were closed against the harsh afternoon sun. No lights were on. In the darkness it would be easy to miss the silent figure sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. A match suddenly flared, illuminating a pair of intensely luminous blue eyes. Dressed totally in black, the woman with the stylishly punked-out hair lit her cigarette, inhaled, and blew out a cloud of smoke, all the while staring coolly at Gome.