by Greg Taylor
“Just kidding,” Harvey said, revealing a rare sense of humor. “Tell me why you want to resign.”
Expecting just such a question, Toby had rehearsed his answer, but it didn’t come out the way he’d planned. “That night in the woods … I don’t know, I just … It’s not something I ever want to go through again. I’ve been having nightmares ever since. Really bad ones. Besides, I didn’t do that great of a job, anyway. I mean, I let the guy get away. Now the guttata know where we live. The general area, anyway.”
“Not necessarily. I covered our tracks pretty well before we left the woods. I don’t believe they’ll be able to sniff us out.”
“The bottom line, sir, after giving it a lot of thought … I just don’t think I have what it takes to be an MCO.”
“I believe you’re wrong about that, Toby.”
“I don’t get it. I mean, what is it you see in me? It’s not like I’m ‘The One’ or anything. I haven’t noticed any telltale marks on my body, you know? I’m just an average kind of kid.”
“Who is making the mistake of comparing himself to Annabel and Strobe.”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“You can’t do that. Those two are extraordinarily talented.”
“So what am I? You said the other day you thought I had qualities I didn’t know about. I mean, name one.” Toby laughed a short laugh, as though that would be difficult for Harvey to do.
Harvey stood and came around his desk. “I’ve learned to trust my instincts over the years, Toby. In your case, I believe you have depths of strength, physical and mental, you haven’t even begun to tap into.”
“So, what … ? This is just a feeling of yours?”
“No, not just a feeling. You have to remember I spent three weeks with you in the KP kitchen. I had plenty of time to observe you at work, up close and personal. You’d be surprised how much you can learn about a person, if you really study them.”
“And what you learned was … I’m a closet Hulk.”
“Let’s not get carried away. Superhero? No. Depths of inner strength? Yes. Definitely. My job now is to help you tap into that strength. It’s there, believe me. It’s a cliché, I know, but once you start believing it’s there … that’s when things happen. That’s when you really start to grow.”
Toby was silent.
“Don’t worry about the way you reacted in the woods. It’s perfectly understandable. You couldn’t have asked for a more intense experience your first time out. The more you do this, the more seasoned you become. It gets easier, believe me.”
“But what about the nightmares?” Toby asked. “They seem so real. Will they ever go away?”
Harvey hesitated before answering. Toby thought he saw the answer to his question in Harvey’s eyes, but it wasn’t the one Harvey said out loud. “Yes, they do.”
In an instant, Toby saw his boss in a different way. A more human way. The look in Harvey’s eyes suggested someone who had been wounded—literally and figuratively—more than a few times in the course of carrying out his chosen “profession.” Then the look was gone and Harvey’s usual brusque manner returned.
“This is what I suggest,” Harvey said. “Stick it out through the training period before making your decision.”
Toby wasn’t sure what to say. It certainly was nice to get some encouragement for a change. His teachers at school hardly ever did that. But Toby couldn’t help thinking there must be an easier way to get a pat on the back than battling monstrous guttata!
“I’ll cut your training back to four times a week,” Harvey added. “The other two days, you can work up in the kitchen.”
Toby looked at Harvey in surprise. Work up in the kitchen? What a tantalizing offer!
“That’s the best I can do. Take it or leave it.”
Toby couldn’t resist. “Okay,” he said, then he stood, awkwardly holding out his hand to seal the deal. Harvey shook Toby’s hand and returned to his seat. When he looked up at Toby, he seemed surprised that he was still in his office.
“Don’t you have self-defense class?”
“Uh … yeah.”
Harvey nodded, his expression suggesting that Toby get to it. Toby hesitated a moment, then exited the office, closing the door softly behind him on his way out.
2
The black Hummer contained four people. The blue-eyed woman sat in the backseat with the young guttata Toby had confronted in the woods. The driver was Thomas Gome. As for the person in the front passenger seat, he looked to be somewhere in his forties. Maybe younger. No, wait, older. Hold on … younger. Definitely younger.
Actually, it was difficult to pinpoint the man’s age. It depended on how the light from the passing streetlamps hit his face. That, and the contrast between the man’s ruggedly handsome, youthful features and his hair—his most distinguishing characteristic—of pure silver.
If the man’s age was difficult to lock down, one thing was immediately obvious about him. He oozed charisma. The dangerous variety. Sitting very still—unnervingly so—he radiated a coiled, ominous kind of energy.
“I’m telling you, we’ve gone all over these woods … .”
The silver-haired man did not have to say a word to silence the younger man in the backseat. A glance in his direction was more than enough to do the trick.
There were no more words spoken as Gome negotiated the twisting turns in the heavily wooded area east of the city. The digital clock on the dashboard indicated that it was three o’clock in the morning.
Gome and the blue-eyed woman took their time as they walked through the fern-carpeted floor of the woods. They studied—sniffed—the area around them, taking in every detail. After they had completed their search, they returned to where they had started. The young guttata and the silver-haired man were waiting for them. Along with almost two dozen other men and women, who had also been searching the woods. Spread out under the cathedral-like canopy of the tall oaks, they looked like a creepy platoon of black-clad soldiers, ready to do battle.
“Nothing, right?” the young guttata asked.
The blue-eyed woman shook her head. Not a thing.
“What kind of humans can wipe out their scent?” the young guttata wanted to know. “I mean, who are we dealing with here?”
The silver-haired man slowly focused his gaze on the young guttata. “The only reason we’re here tonight is because you and your recently deceased comrades disobeyed one of my orders.”
The young guttata looked like he had instantly stopped breathing, his eyes reflecting how petrified he was at suddenly being singled out by the silver-haired man.
“Do you remember what it was that I said?” the silver-haired man asked. “Or shall I remind you?”
“No, sir. I remember.”
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
“I remember what you said, sir.”
“Which was?”
“We were not to congregate after dark until further notice.”
“And why was that?”
“Because of the attack on our comrade.”
“Correct. No congregating after dark until further notice. I don’t recall giving notice on that particular order, do you?”
“No, sir.”
The blue-eyed woman had taken a position just to the left of the young guttata. Something at the end of her hand glinted in the moonlight as her arm suddenly lashed out in a wide arc in the direction of the young man. He didn’t know what hit him. His instantly lifeless body stood upright for a moment, then crumpled to the ground.
The shocking attack elicited an audible response from the rest of the guttata. They hadn’t seen this coming. All eyes were now focused on the single talon that extended from the woman’s index finger. That’s what had caused the glint in the moonlight, what had found just the right spot on the young guttata’s neck to take his life. The woman showed no emotion as the talon slowly morphed back into a normal fingernail.
“I will not tolerate anyone disobeying o
ne of my orders,” the silver-haired man informed his elite group of soldiers. “My only consideration is for our safety, our continued well-being. Which brings me to the people who eliminated one of our most valued colleagues. I can assure you they are mere amateurs compared to others I have faced. Our colleague’s death will be avenged. I guarantee it.”
The silver-haired man looked at the dark figures spread out among the trees for a moment, then he turned and walked away from them. Gome and the blue-eyed woman followed him.
The group in the woods slowly dispersed. Two of the guttata approached the lifeless body and dragged it off by the legs, as though it were a dead animal instead of a former comrade. The executed man was clearly persona non grata. Already forgotten.
All that remained was to dispose of the body.
3
“Let’s review our current situation.”
Harvey sliced a tomato and tossed it into the Ghoulishous Salad. Before, it had been the deliveryman’s desertion that caused Harvey to change the classroom setting. This time Harvey had abruptly fired the entire afternoon kitchen staff. The temporary solution had been to press his rookies back into cooking duty, at least until the evening shift arrived.
“One …” Harvey continued. “Chelsea Travers was one of our guttata’s victims. The other is still at large. Two … so far, Steve and I have had no success locating the Alpha. This puts us in a defensive position, which is not where I want to be.”
As Annabel passed by Harvey with a couple of pizzas for the new deliveryman—waiting at the counter—Harvey put his salad in a bag and gave it to her. Then Annabel returned to the kitchen.
“Fortunately, the pack’s Gathering is on the horizon,” Harvey said. “Anyone know when it is?”
“Five days?” Strobe guessed.
“Six. It just might be the thing we need to get to the Alpha. Anyone know why?”
Nobody answered right away, but then Annabel said, “First, we have to find Sammy’s other victim.”
Strobe and Toby frowned. They didn’t see how that would help them. But Harvey nodded appreciatively at Annabel’s answer.
“Very good, Annabel. If we can discover who the other person was that our guttata infected, we will be able to keep a watch on its house. The new guttata, after its transformation, after being trained by its donor, will return to its home, in human form, of course …”
“ … and come the new moon, we follow this person to the monthly Gathering, where we will definitely find Alpha Man,” Strobe said, finishing off Harvey’s sentence for him. “Excellent, Annabel.”
Annabel gave Strobe a thank-you smile.
Harvey produced a small stack of newspapers and distributed one paper to each of his students. “This is today’s edition. Page forty-nine. The article in the lower right-hand corner. I’ll take over here while you read it.”
The trio opened their newspapers as Harvey slid a couple of pizzas into the oven, then exited the kitchen to answer the phone. The title of the article was “Hidden Hills Man Goes Missing.” The missing man was a 20-year-old named Chris Child. He had mysteriously disappeared earlier in the week.
“It’s possible that Child is the other victim,” Harvey said after he had taken the phone order and placed it on the wheel. “What we have to do before staking out his house, however, is confirm that Child is definitely our man. Otherwise we’ll just be wasting our time. His home is located at 419 Finney Drive. As soon as the night shift gets here, that is your destination.”
“I thought you said we had to confirm Child was our guy before staking out his house,” Strobe said.
“You will not be watching his house tonight, Strobe. What you will be doing is conducting Killer Pizza’s version of a search warrant.”
Just then a punker with red-tipped hair entered the shop. “Anyone here? I need a dozen Mummy Wraps!”
4
Earlier in the week, a police car had been a familiar sight in front of 419 Finney Drive. But after getting the information they needed, the police were no longer around. They had left with a solemn promise to call Mrs. Child if they discovered anything about her missing son.
Carrying one Killer Pizza Frankensausage, mediumsize, Strobe was struck by the lonesome vibe of the house as he walked up the quaint, flower-lined path to the front door. Harvey had dropped him off and was now parked down the street, monitoring the unfolding KP “search warrant.”
Behind the house, Toby and Annabel were already in position and in contact with Strobe via wireless headsets. “I’m approaching the front door,” the two heard Strobe relay from the front of the house. A few moments later: “I’m ringing the bell.” Toby and Annabel tensed as they got ready for Strobe’s command.
“Go!”
Instantly breaking from their hiding place, the two ran toward the back door.
Meanwhile, the middle-aged woman who had just opened the front door was clearly confused that a Killer Pizza deliveryman had just rung her doorbell. “Yes?” she asked.
Strobe’s heart immediately went out to Chris Child’s mother. She did not look good. Her face was drawn. Her eyes showed deep fatigue. But Strobe had a job to do, and he wasn’t about to let his sympathy for Mrs. Child get in the way of that.
“You ordered a pizza?” he asked.
“No. I did not order a pizza.”
It was Strobe’s turn to look confused. “Are you sure? I have the order form right here … .” Strobe started to look through his pockets, taking his good old time in the process.
As Strobe employed his stalling tactic, Annabel was using the techniques she had learned from a crash course in burglary just before heading out to Mrs. Child’s house to unlock the back door. Accomplishing that, she stepped into the kitchen. Toby was right behind her. They walked quietly on soft-soled sneakers through the kitchen, the dining room, and into the living room. They could now hear Strobe at the open front door.
“I’m certain it was 419 Finney Drive. Yes! Here’s the order form.”
“Well, there’s been a mistake. I did not order a pizza.”
“Jeez, this is really unusual. We simply do not make mistakes at Killer Pizza.”
“You did this time. I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me …”
Annabel and Toby had arrived at the end of a hallway that led to the front entrance and a set of stairs that led to the second floor. The stairs were halfway between where Annabel and Toby stood and the front door. Mrs. Child’s back was to them, but she was about to close the door and terminate the discussion about the mistaken pizza order.
Strobe saw Annabel and Toby at the end of the hall. He quickly jammed his shoulder against the door to prevent Mrs. Child from closing it. “My cell is dead. Do you mind if I call my supervisor? I’m sure he’ll be able to clear this up.”
Taking advantage of Strobe’s last-gasp effort to prevent Mrs. Child from closing the door in his face, Annabel and Toby scampered down the hall and up to the second floor.
Mrs. Child couldn’t resist Strobe’s open, innocent-looking smile. “There’s a phone in the living room,” she said, stepping away from the door. “You may use that.”
“Thank you very much.”
Crouching behind the upstairs banister, Annabel waited until Strobe and Mrs. Child had disappeared into the living room, then silently indicated to Toby that she would take the rooms to the right of the stairs. Toby’s search would consist of the rooms to the left.
They were there to gather anything that belonged to Chris Child—toothbrush, hairs on a pillowcase, a razor—that could be tested forensically to confirm that Child was, indeed, the victim of a guttata bite.
Toby entered the bedroom nearest the stairs and snapped down his NVGs to be able to see in the dark room. The room was a mess. The bed unmade. The air had a musty, stale smell. Toby pulled on a pair of thin sanitary gloves as he crossed the room to the bathroom. He took several plastic bags from a pouch on his belt.
There was a toothbrush in a glass on the sink. Toby put t
he toothbrush in one of the plastic bags. He spotted a shaver lying on a nearby shelf. He picked it up, placed a plastic bag over its head, and gave the shaver a jarring upside-down shake. After replacing the shaver and shoving the evidence bags into his pouch, Toby turned to leave the bathroom.
“WHOA!” he shouted, practically leaping out of his sneakers. Annabel was right behind him!
“Shhhhhhhh!” Annabel slapped her hand over Toby’s mouth. The two stood like statues, waiting to hear if there was any reaction downstairs to Toby’s shout of alarm.
There was. Very faintly they heard Mrs. Child say, “I’m certain I heard something upstairs.”
“Crap. What do we do?” Toby whispered.
“Just wait,” Annabel commanded.
The two listened as Strobe said, “I didn’t hear anything.”
“There’s somebody up there,” Mrs. Child insisted.
“Maybe I should go up,” Strobe suggested. “Better yet, maybe you should call the police.”
“It’s probably my son,” Mrs. Child replied, her voice hopeful, and louder this time. She sounded like she was right at the bottom of the stairs! Annabel and Toby, their faces close together, held their breath.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go up there alone,” Strobe said.
“I appreciate your concern, young man, but it’s perfectly all right. I’m sure it’s Chris. He always comes in the back way. You can let yourself out, if you don’t mind.”
Annabel and Toby heard Mrs. Child’s footsteps coming up the stairs. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.
“We’re outta here!!!” Toby hissed frantically.
“The bedroom window!” Annabel hissed back, then quickly led the way into the bedroom and opened the window. The white curtains, billowing inward from the night breeze, looked like dual dancing ghosts.
Annabel stepped through the window and onto the roof. Toby quickly followed. He pulled the window down and ducked out of sight just as Mrs. Child came into the bedroom.
“Chris?” Mrs. Child called out. Toby thought it was the saddest sound he’d ever heard, that one word. And he felt bad for making Mrs. Child think that her son had returned home.