by Greg Taylor
The policeman tossed the missing persons file onto the woman’s lap. She was here because she had been chosen to track down the missing guttata’s “marks” and bring them into the pack. It was an important job, one that would overlap Gome’s work.
Gome and the blue-eyed woman were aware it might take a while to complete their assignments. The missing guttata had not revealed to anyone where he was going to troll for marks on the day that he disappeared. It could have been anywhere in the city. That was a lot of ground to cover.
But these two were confident they would not fail their Alpha leader. The guttata “recruits” would be found and brought into the pack. The people who had brought harm to their colleague would be tracked down and dealt with in the appropriate manner. “Appropriate” in this case meaning … liquidation.
Guttata-style.
5
Toby was in his bedroom—door firmly closed to prevent unwelcome visitors—watching an episode of his favorite female chef’s cooking show. He had downloaded the show on his computer a few weeks before but hadn’t had any time to watch it.
After getting home from KP that afternoon, Toby decided to give himself the time. It was clear to him that he needed a break from all things guttata, at least for one evening. No studying. No worrying about whether or not any of those monsters lived on his street. Or whether or not he was even going to graduate from the KP program. It was time to shut down the weirdness, even for a few hours, and do something normal for a change.
Toby definitely felt better as he watched the hostess of At Home in Italy move about her beautifully stocked kitchen, instructing the uninformed masses how to properly prepare Pizza Rustica.
“Four ounces thinly sliced prosciutto, coarsely chopped, one quarter cup grated Pecorino Romano, two teaspoons minced garlic, one half slightly beaten egg …” Toby dutifully wrote down the recipe in his private cuisine notebook, which he kept hidden in a desk drawer, right next to Monsters of the World.
Before the program was over, however, Toby felt his eyes droop. His first evening off in almost three weeks, and he couldn’t even make it through a half-hour program!
Frustrating.
Just go to bed, Toby told himself. Sleep for twelve straight hours and you’ll feel better in the morning.
But the thought of calling it a night and going to bed so early didn’t appeal to Toby. So, what to do? It didn’t take long for Toby to come up with an answer. He went downstairs, told his parents he was going out for a bit, hopped on his bike, and took off for the Hidden Hills Fun Zone.
“The Zone” featured an indoor video arcade and an outdoor miniature golf course and batting cages. It was always crawling with kids—especially in the summer—and Toby felt instantly energized as he approached the entertainment complex. Zipping around a group of Triple H kids, he rode up to the bike rack, secured his GT Palomar, and went into the arcade, where he bought a hot dog at the Dog Zone.
Leaning up against the counter, Toby looked out across the huge playtime palace. Yeah, this was more like it. Havin’ a dog, checkin’ out the video arcade to see what’s shakin’. Toby had spent a ton of time in the place when he was eleven, twelve years old, so he felt right at home. But he had forgotten just how deafening the place was.
He had also forgotten what a Dog Zone hot dog tasted like. Taking a bite, Toby had to stifle an impulse to spit the mouthful right back out onto the floor. It was terrible!
“Hey, Seth,” Toby said, turning back to the fourteen-year-old who was behind the hot dog counter. “You should think about putting out some different kinds of condiments for these dogs. Something interesting, maybe a cilantro, roasted pecan dip. Or a Mexican bean kind of thing. Hey, how about fennel? That has a licorice kind of flavor. That’d be different, worth trying.” Toby got excited, just thinking about the mouthwatering seasoning variations.
Seth looked at Toby blankly, as if the endless noise in the arcade had zapped his brain to the point of coma. Toby gave an understanding nod to Seth, then headed off into the maze of video machines, tossing his hot dog into a nearby trash can as he went.
I could show these people how to improve the Dog Zone!
Toby had to smile when he realized what that said about how much he missed being in the Killer Pizza kitchen. He was coming up with ideas on how to improve a hot dog!
The fact was, Toby really did miss being in the KP kitchen. In addition to his hyper/exhausted state, that had been one of the really negative side effects of signing up for the KP academy. Just when Toby had felt like he was beginning to get better and more comfortable as a pizza chef, “Doug” had revealed himself to be Harvey
“Tubby! I mean, Toby. What’s happenin’?” Toby felt someone grab him on the shoulder. “Whoa! Check it out. Aliens take over your body or something? You’re kinda toned there, man.”
The happy grabber was Jordan Marley, a classmate of Toby’s at Hidden Hills Middle School. The two usually sat close to each other because of their last names. Magill and Marley. It had been that way since grade school. Toby didn’t like sitting near Jordan. He was a coarse, physical kind of kid.
“Yeah, Jordan, aliens took over my body,” Toby said, eying the arcade exit. He was pleased that Jordan had noticed his improved physique—so had his dad the other day, Toby’s slightly slimmer, more muscular body being one of the positive side effects of signing up for the KP academy—but that didn’t mean he wanted to hang out with the guy.
“What’s up with that?” Jordan said. “Gonna try out for football in the fall?”
“No, don’t think so.”
“You should. You’d be good on the line. Hey, I’m off to take on Monster Menace. Wanna play?”
“Thanks, but I’m gonna do a round of golf.”
“See ya!”
Jordan disappeared into the crowd. Toby watched him go with a shake of his head, then went outside. The stale air in the arcade was already getting to him.
Toby felt better when he hit the golf course. Tapping a small, colored golf ball down the worn green runways of the Fun Zone golf course had always made Toby feel … happy. Maybe it was how simple the game was. Put the ball in the hole. That was it. Uncomplicated. As opposed to life, which was seldom as simple. Especially lately.
Toby had happily played six holes and was waiting to start the seventh hole when he saw the girl with the trembling left hand. That changed Toby’s fun evening in a shot, his posture going rigid as adrenaline exploded through his body.
The girl was with Lenny and his crew, who were playing a few holes in front of Toby When the girl turned to get a drink of water from a nearby fountain Toby was shocked to see that it was Chelsea Travers.
Yes, Chelsea.
It had been more than a month since a young couple had discovered her around one o’clock in the morning, still lying in the middle of the road near North Park. Chelsea had no memory of being rescued, just the part where she came to in the emergency room of a local hospital. She had immediately made the mistake of telling the emergency room doctor that she was bitten by some sort of strange creature.
Say it again? The bite on Chelsea’s thigh was real enough, but a strange creature?
Chelsea quickly learned not to mention that ever again. Not to the other doctors her father had taken her to see over the past few weeks. Not to Lenny and her friends. Fact was, at this point Chelsea wasn’t sure what she had seen that night. All she was certain of was that she felt absolutely terrible.
Toby knew Chelsea only by sight. He’d never talked to her. She was a year older than he was, but everyone knew Chelsea because she was the notorious Lenny Baker’s girlfriend.
Right now Toby wasn’t concerned about who Chelsea dated. What worried him was how she looked. She’d lost so much weight since the last time he had seen her! Before he knew what he was doing, Toby was on his way toward Chelsea, his heart beating faster the closer he got to her. Harvey hadn’t told the trio what to do after spotting a possible victim of a guttata bite. But Toby knew
he had to do something. After all …
Weight loss. A pallor to the skin. A trembling left hand. Chelsea had three of the telltale symptoms.
“Hi, Chelsea.”
Chelsea turned around slowly from the drinking fountain when she heard Toby’s greeting. She looked right at Toby, but her eyes were glazed, unfocused.
“You probably don’t know me, but my name’s Toby Magill.”
“Yeah?” Chelsea said.
Toby hesitated. Okay Here he was. Now what? He couldn’t launch into a lecture on guttata, that’s for sure.
“I have a question for you, Chelsea. I know this might sound weird, but … were you bitten by anything the past few months?”
The look Chelsea gave Toby was suddenly animated with so many emotions, emotions that seemed to flit across the surface of her eyes. Fear. Denial. Resignation. But hope, maybe, as well?
Before Chelsea could answer Toby’s question, someone gripped him painfully on the arm and spun him around. Toby groaned inwardly before he even saw who had twirled him around like a top. He knew who it was.
Lenny Baker.
Shaved head, heavily muscled, Baker was the kind of person you just didn’t want to cross. The “king bully” of Hidden Hills High was legendary in the area. The guy seemed to have a sixth sense for zeroing in on a person’s weakness and attacking, either verbally or physically Often both.
“What do you think you’re doin’?” Lenny said, his sharp, angry eyes promising violence, very soon. “Hittin’ on my girl?”
“No, of course not. I was just …”
“It’s okay, Lenny,” Chelsea said.
“It’s not okay! I don’t like dudes who think they can just walk up to my girl and start talking to her!” Lenny hit Toby in the chest with a short, powerful punch. Stumbling backward, his arms whirling comically, Toby barely managed to stay upright.
“Sorry. I won’t do it again,” Toby gasped when he was able to catch his breath, which Lenny’s punch had knocked right out of him.
“Sorry’s not good enough, dude.” Lenny grabbed Toby by the front of his T-shirt. Oh, boy, here it comes, Toby thought. I’m gonna be eatin’ my front teeth in about two seconds!
“You don’t let him go, you’ll find your lower cheeks parked in the thirteenth-hole pond.”
Lenny’s cocked fist froze by his right ear. Still holding Toby by the T-shirt, he turned his head slowly to see Strobe standing behind him. Lenny smiled, let Toby go, and squared off with Strobe.
“And who’s gonna do that?” Lenny asked.
“I’ll be more than happy to,” Strobe replied.
Toby made no move to stop what looked like an inevitable clash between the two. For one thing, he was too fascinated by what he was seeing. This was the type of thing he’d only seen in the movies!
Lenny’s friends quickly gathered behind him, pushing Toby out of the way. “Looks like you might have your hands full,” Lenny said.
Strobe didn’t blink. “I can handle it.”
Lenny laughed. “Think so?” Lenny’s icy smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “Give it your best shot … .”
“Break it up!” A beefy, bullnecked security guard pushed his way through the crowd that had started to cluster around Toby, Strobe, and Lenny. “You hear me?!” the guard demanded.
Like air seeping out of a balloon, the tension that had instantly gripped the crowd (“Check it out! A fight!”) started to dissipate. Lenny and Company looked cheated. They really wanted this, if for no other reason than to break up the boredom of another long summer evening.
“Hand over the putters!” the guard ordered. Lenny’s crew, holding putters in one hand and different-colored golf balls in the other, suddenly looked very silly.
“We paid for a round of golf,” one of them yelled belligerently.
“Tough! Hand them over!”
There was a moment of hesitation, as though Lenny and his pals were not going to comply with the guard’s ultimatum. Then, mumbling and cursing among themselves, they filed slowly past the guard, handing over their putters and balls as they went. Lenny gave Strobe a hard bump when he followed his crew out of the Fun Zone golf course. “See ya around sometime.”
Cool as could be, Strobe just smiled. Chelsea was right behind Lenny As she passed Toby she gave him a glance. Toby wanted to grab her. Take her with him. But he knew he had to find another way to help her. He’d call Harvey. That’s what he’d do.
“You two, as well.” The guard positioned himself in front of Strobe and Toby, as though he expected them to make a dash for the video arcade. “C’mon. Out.”
Strobe turned and started for the exit. Toby fell in silently next to him. He felt completely drained all of a sudden. And ashamed that he hadn’t made a move to face down Lenny’s gang with Strobe.
How do you expect to do battle with a pack of guttata if you can’t face down a group of high school punks? Toby thought, thoroughly disappointed in himself.
“See you tomorrow,” Strobe said, heading off when they had arrived at the parking lot.
“Hey, where you going?”
“Home.”
“How’d you get here, walk?”
Strobe nodded.
“Want a ride on my bike?”
Strobe smiled. “Don’t think so.”
“Yeah, right. That wouldn’t be too cool, would it?”
Strobe waved as he walked off. It wasn’t until Toby got to his bike that he realized he hadn’t thanked Strobe for saving his butt.
6
“Chelsea never went home last night.”
Toby sank dejectedly into the chair facing Harvey’s desk. The news his boss had just given him was like a punch to the gut.
“I should have never let her out of my sight.”
What Toby had done was call Harvey right after Strobe had walked off into the night. Harvey had told Toby to go on home. He and Steve would deal with it.
“Don’t beat yourself up about this,” Harvey said. “You did the right thing. How could you have known what Chelsea would do? Or wouldn’t do? Besides, it would have been kind of difficult following her car on your bike, don’t you think?”
Good point. But Toby still felt bad. No, terrible. He couldn’t get the image of Chelsea’s searching look—the look she’d given him after he’d asked her if she had been bitten by anything—out of his head. She had looked so … vulnerable. And scared.
“So what do we do?” Toby asked. “Form a search party?”
“Yes. But not until this evening. If Chelsea has gone off to begin her transformation, there’s no way we’ll be able to track her down during the day. At night, she might be out and about, looking for food.”
Picturing Chelsea—probably out in the woods somewhere—beginning her otherworldly transformation made Toby feel sick. Literally. He felt like he might upchuck his breakfast.
“There’s nothing you can do right now,” Harvey insisted. “Best to keep busy.”
Toby knew that meant he should get back to his training. He sat silently for a moment, then pushed himself up from his chair and walked out of the office.
“No! It goes in like this!” Annabel was obviously annoyed with Strobe as she showed him how to quickly collapse his crossbow and properly insert it into his MP (Monster Patrol) backpack.
The trio’s assignment for the day was repeatedly assembling and collapsing their crossbows as quickly as possible. In addition, they were to don their MP gear until they could do it with their eyes closed. At the end of the day, Harvey was going to test them.
Annabel and Strobe stopped what they were doing when Toby came into the gym. “Chelsea never went home,” Toby said in answer to their questioning looks. “We’re going out to look for her tonight.”
“Why not today?” Annabel asked. “Why not right now?”
“She’s probably in hiding during the day, Harvey said.”
Annabel angrily brushed past Toby on her way out of the gym, obviously on her way to talk
to Harvey. Toby looked at Strobe. “What’s wrong with Annabel?”
“Nothin’.”
“What do you mean, nothin’? I’ve never seen her like this. Were you giving her a hard time about something?”
“Hey, check it out. Toby protecting his girl.”
“She’s not my girl. I just know how you can be sometimes, Strobe.”
Strobe shrugged, then shoved a long, gleaming knife into the sheath on his forearm plate. “Maybe I have been a little testy today. I’m tired of all this training, is what it is. Let’s get on with it, you know? Time to look these monster goons in the eye. Time for some action.”
“We’ve been doing this less than a month.”
“That’s enough for me.”
Toby didn’t doubt it was enough time for Strobe. Not after last night. Strobe was the kind of guy you wanted in the trenches with you, that’s for sure.
Toby found himself thinking about the events of the previous night as he arranged his gear in preparation for a run-through. “So, anyway … thanks for helping me out at The Zone last night.”
Strobe nodded. That was the extent of his response. Just a cool nod.
“What were you doing there, anyway?” Strobe didn’t strike Toby as the type of guy who would go in for a place like The Zone.
“Batting cage.”
“Batting cage? You play baseball?”
“No. I just like to whack a ball as hard as I can every now and then.”
Toby nodded. Ooookay. “By the way, do you go to Triple H, Strobe?”
“I will in the fall. I just moved here.”
“Yeah? When?”
“Just before I got the job at Killer Pizza.”
“Where were you living before?”
“No offense, Toby, but last night doesn’t mean you can interview me like a talk show host.”
Toby was offended by Strobe’s brush-off. He thought that maybe something had changed in their relationship because of the incident the previous night. Obviously, Strobe didn’t feel that way. Fine, if that’s the way Strobe wanted it, Toby figured he’d just leave him be. It felt like too much of an effort trying to connect with the guy.