by Greg Taylor
Table of Contents
Title Page
PROLOGUE: SOMETHING WICKED …
PART ONE: - KILLER PIZZA
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
PART TWO: - HOW TO BECOME AN MCO
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
PART THREE: - STAKEOUTS, NEW RECIPES, AND VISITORS IN THE NIGHT
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
PART FOUR: - EVIL RISING
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
EPILOGUE: - GRADUATION
RECIPE FOR FIERY DRAGON’S BREATH PIZZA
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Copyright Page
PROLOGUE: SOMETHING WICKED …
Run! Don’t look back! Just run!!!
Charging through the dark woods, Chelsea Travers was already exhausted from running. She was also barefoot and unable to see more than a few feet in front of her, thanks to the dense canopy of trees overhead that prevented the moonlight from penetrating to the forest floor. Added up, three pretty big strikes against the fifteen-year-old, considering that she was running for her life.
“Help! Someone, please … HELP ME!”
Even as Chelsea cried out for help, she knew it was a stretch to think someone might hear her, way out here in the woods. But the words had suddenly burst out of her, as though she had no control over them.
You’re losin’ it, Chelsea thought as she ran between the trees. You’re totally losin’ it! You have to keep it together.
Or else you’re dead!
Admitting the unthinkable to herself—that she might not get out of these woods alive—gave Chelsea a well-needed burst of adrenaline. She leaped over a fallen tree trunk, shot a wild glance over her shoulder, then continued her mad dash through the woods.
Thoughts buzzed in and out of Chelsea’s brain as she ran.
What were you thinking, walking home alone through the woods at twelve o’clock at night?
Shoulda gone home with Lenny. So what if he was being a jerk, as usual?
What is this thing chasing me, anyway?!
More than anything, that’s what had Chelsea so off-the-rails-I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening terrified. The not knowing what was chasing her through the woods. The sudden snarling bursts, which shattered the nighttime silence behind her, obviously pointed to an animal of some sort. But Chelsea was certain she had glimpsed the thing on two legs as it ran after her. What kind of animal ran on two legs?
Suddenly, up ahead … a road! Chelsea couldn’t believe her luck when she saw the ribbon of worn asphalt through the trees. She slapped aside branches as she sprinted for the two-laner, her heart pounding from fear and fatigue and I-just-might-make-it optimism.
But when Chelsea broke from the woods, she stumbled on the uneven terrain between the trees and the road, twisted her right ankle, and fell heavily to the ground. Slowly pulling herself to her feet, Chelsea limped to the middle of the road. To her right, darkness. To her left, at the bottom of a long hill … the red and blue lights of a gas station.
Civilization! But never had civilization felt so far away Chelsea began a slow, hopeful, hobbled jog down the hill, carefully scanning the woods as she went. She hadn’t gone very far before a searing flash of pain exploded in the back of her thigh.
Screaming in surprise—she hadn’t heard even a whisper of warning that something was behind her—Chelsea whirled to defend herself. Her eyes widened when she saw what was standing in the middle of the road, towering over her. The light from the gas station wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the huge thing’s features, but it was obvious to Chelsea that she wasn’t looking at any kind of animal. Not one she’d ever seen before, anyway.
What is that? Chelsea wondered, her head suddenly spinning. She felt like she’d been injected with some kind of sedative. As much as she urged herself to fight, to run, to do something to get away from the silent, bizarre creature that had bitten her, all Chelsea could do was sink to both knees. She was going fast and she knew it. The next thing she knew she was lying on the asphalt road, still warm from the hot June sun that had set three hours earlier.
The creature stepped toward Chelsea, its foot filling her fuzzy—and quickly fading—field of vision.
Bare feet. Long, deformed toes. And … what was that, a toe ring? Is that what Chelsea was seeing?
Strange …
That was Chelsea’s confused last thought. Then her eyes closed and her world shut down.
PART ONE:
KILLER PIZZA
1
Toby Magill had just sat down at his desk to boot up his computer when he heard his cell phone ring. Tossing aside the graphic novels and clothes strewn across his bedroom floor, Toby found the phone in a pair of cargo shorts and snapped it open.
“Hello?”
“I’d like to speak to Toby Magill, please.”
“I’m Toby.”
“This is Steve Rogers, from Killer Pizza.”
“Oh, yeah. Hi.”
“I have good news, Toby. We’d like you to wear Killer Pizza’s distinctive black T-shirt with the red logo known around the world.”
“You would?”
“Congratulations. The job is yours to lose. Come in tomorrow morning at eleven. By the end of the day you’ll know how to make the best pizzas in the universe.”
Steve Rogers hung up before Toby had a chance to say thank you. Staring at the phone, Toby wondered if he really heard what he thought he had just heard. After peppering at least a dozen local businesses with work applications over the past few weeks—and getting turned down by all of them—had this man actually offered him a job?
If so, Toby wanted to do more than just say thank you to Steve Rogers. He wanted to kiss the guy’s foot! He felt like letting out a whoop of joy! But Toby—by nature a shy, introverted kind of kid—bypassed the whoop of joy and simply smiled at this wonderful news.
So long, summertime blues!
Only two weeks had ticked by since school let out, but Toby was already dealing with a mean case of the SBs. Sure, he had his graphic novels, computer, video games, and chores he was always forgetting to do. But step outside of his home and there was nothing to do in his Ohio suburban community of Hidden Hills. Nothing for Toby, anyway. His only real friend had left for California to spend the summer with his dad and stepmother. That had left Toby hangin’ out in the wind. Alone.
But this was great! Toby was confident that Killer Pizza would kick-start what had so far been an incredibly dull summer.
“Guess what? I got a job,” Toby announced at dinner that evening.
Toby’s mother frowned, obviously not overjoyed at the prospect of her son finding employment. His sister, Stacey, looked like she didn’t believe him. As for Mr. Magill, Toby’s news of summer employment brought a smile to his face. “That’s great, Toby. Where?”
“Killer Pizza. It’s right down on Industrial Avenue.”
“Weird spot for a pizza place,” Stacey said.
Toby felt like giving his bratty twelve-year-old sister a swift kick under the table. To say the two had a combative relationship would be putting it mildly.
It didn’t help that Stacey was so good at everything, fro
m academics to learning the flute to being so naturally at ease with people.
By contrast, nothing had ever come easily to Toby. He struggled to keep a B average, had not been able to master any of the instruments he had tackled so far—including his battered secondhand guitar—and had always found it difficult to make friends, thanks to that shy streak of his.
Those weren’t the only differences between brother and sister. Physically they were worlds apart, as well, Stacey being a small, petite kid—she took after her mom in that regard—compared to Toby, who was big for his age and close enough to being overweight that his mother was constantly reminding him to watch those sweets.
“Well, that’s where it is,” Toby told his sister, referring to the location of Killer Pizza. “Go look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“I still think you’re too young to be working,” Mrs. Magill said. Toby had turned fourteen just a few months before, which meant he had been able to apply for a work permit. “Especially at a place called Killer Pizza. What kind of name is that?” Mrs. Magill’s expression looked like she had just eaten something very distasteful.
“It’s ‘Pizza to Die For.’ If I’m lucky, no one will die from any of the pizzas I make.”
“Toby! That’s a terrible thing to say!”
“Just a little joke, Mom. Anyway …” Toby gave his dad a smile as he got up from the table. “I start tomorrow morning.” After placing his plate, silverware, and glass into the dishwasher, Toby walked from the room.
“Tell you one thing,” Stacey yelled after her brother. “I’m not ordering a pizza from you, that’s for sure!”
Stacey was actually right about Killer Pizza’s address. It was an odd spot for a pizza place. Industrial Avenue wasn’t an avenue at all. It was a dead-end side road lined with old, somewhat decaying industrial buildings that housed a hodgepodge of businesses, from Washabaugh Auto Body to a dog obedience school to Harr’s Boat Covers.
Toby was nervous as he rode his bike past Harr’s the following morning. “The job is yours to lose.” That’s what Steve Rogers had told him. When he got to the Killer Pizza shop—located in a crumbling, 1950s-era brick building that sported a certain kind of funky charm—he hesitated before entering, took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.
Toby didn’t want this job just to ward off the summertime blues. Fact was, he harbored a secret passion he hadn’t revealed to anyone. Not to his family. Not to his best friend.
He religiously watched the Food Channel.
Yes, Toby thought it might be kind of cool to be a chef. And why not? Celebrity chefs were in, after all. They were stars. What they mostly weren’t—from what Toby had seen on TV, anyway—were muscled, perfect-looking, athletic types, the kind who always brushed past him disdainfully in the hallways at school.
That gave Toby the license to dream about being a chef in a way that he could never dream about being one of the Popular Kids at school. Problem was, dreaming was all Toby had done, as far as being a chef was concerned. Cooking was still a secret ambition of his, which meant he had zilch experience in the kitchen.
So that’s why Toby was so nervous as he stood on the sidewalk in front of Killer Pizza. This wasn’t dreaming anymore, it was real life, a pretty scary thing for someone who was not exactly overloaded with self-confidence. After squelching a sudden impulse to turn and run, Toby squared his shoulders and nodded. Ready or not, it was time. Time to meet his destiny!
Or at least try to learn how to make a decent pizza pie.
When Toby pushed through the front door of the pizza shop, he was greeted by the sight of four people standing in the small area in front of the ordering counter. He tried not to stare at the beautiful girl with the ink-black hair.
This can’t be right, Toby thought. That’s Annabel Oshiro. What’s she doing here?
And yet it was Annabel Oshiro. A bona fide member of the Cool Kids Clique at Toby’s school, Annabel was also a Rich Kid, her family being one of the wealthiest in the community. Impressive social credentials, to be sure, but the really impressive thing about Annabel—as far as Toby was concerned—was how down-to-earth she was. With her outgoing personality and winning smile, Annabel managed the rare feat of actually being nice to everyone, no matter where they were on the social scale.
Thrilled as Toby was at the prospect of working with Annabel, he couldn’t help but wonder … why she was here, at Killer Pizza, standing in front of the large, colorful poster that advertised the various KP pizza choices. Certainly she had better, more exciting things to do than slave away in the hot kitchen of a take-out pizza chain all summer long.
“Mr. Magill?” Steve Rogers, with his crew cut, glasses, and pressed T-shirt, was the classic small-shop manager type. His eyes, magnified behind his glasses, were staring at Toby. “I’d like you to meet your fellow Killer Pizza staff.”
Toby nodded, eager to get on with things.
Annabel smiled as she stepped toward Toby, holding out her hand. “You’re Toby, right?”
“Yes,” Toby said, surprised that Annabel knew his name.
“We had English and geometry together last year.”
“Yes,” Toby said again. He knew from taking those classes with Annabel that she was really smart, a serious student. So, let’s see, in addition to being great-looking, popular, and one of the Rich Kids, Annabel was also a brainiac. Not a bad resume.
“This should be fun,” Annabel said, looking like she meant it.
“Yes,” Toby said. Better come up with a few more words in this conversation or this girl’s gonna think you’re an idiot!
A tall guy with a lean but muscular build was the next one to shake Toby’s hand. “Strobe,” he said simply. Strobe had really intense green eyes, Toby noticed, eyes that seemed to take him in and size him up in a quick glance. Unlike Annabel’s warm greeting, Strobe’s was cool, abrupt. Toby didn’t recognize him. Strobe—whatever kind of name that was—looked older to Toby. Which would explain his unfamiliarity. He probably went to Triple H (Hidden Hills High), the intimidating fortress that Toby would begin attending in the fall.
“And, last but not least, this is Doug,” Steve said, indicating a teenager who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but in the front reception area of Killer Pizza. Doug did not respond to Toby’s effort to shake hands. After holding out his hand awkwardly for a moment, Toby withdrew it. Okay, this kid is kinda strange.
“You four are the first employees of the Hidden Hills franchise of Killer Pizza,” Steve announced. Toby thought Steve might tear up, he looked so emotional. “Wear the colors proud.”
With that, Steve distributed four Killer Pizza T-shirts and four Killer Pizza baseball-style caps. The T-shirts were black with KILLER PIZZA on the front pocket in small, red letters. On the back of the tee—also in red—was a large, smiling, Godzilla-like creature holding up a steaming pizza pie. Beneath this variation on the Italian chef holding up a pizza was the KP logo …
PIZZA TO DIE FOR.
“What do you say, people?” Steve said, his eyes glinting with excitement. “Let’s learn how to make pizzas!”
Toby fell backward onto his bed that evening and smiled up at the ceiling. Yes! He had passed the first test!
True, he had no idea how he would react under fire, during the busy dinner hours when he would have to choose from more than two dozen toppings and three different types of dough as he quickly constructed one of five different sizes of specialty pizzas after another (example: the Creature Double Feature—two mediumsize pizzas, choice of any three toppings). But so far, so good.
Toby had absolutely loved the feel of the dough between his hands as he began making his first pizza. He loved the challenge of sprinkling just the right amount of ingredients onto the round pie. (They were all instructed to make a Monstrosity—an extra large with everything.)
Finally, there was the nervous—but somehow wonderful—anticipation as he waited for his pie to come out of the wood-burning oven. When it did, Ste
ve tasted Toby’s first Killer Pizza. He had criticized all the others for one reason or another. “Too much pepperoni” (Strobe’s). “Too doughy” (Annabel’s). “This is a total disaster!” (Doug’s).
So Toby had waited to see what was wrong with his pizza. He knew something had to be wrong with it. But then Steve, his eyes closed for what seemed like a long time after tasting Toby’s pizza, looked at him and said, “This pizza … is killer!”
Toby smiled, thinking of that moment. It was a moment he had a hard time believing had really happened. But it had. It really had. Heck, who knew, could be he was a natural at this. Could be he was too good for Killer Pizza. Of course, he’d work there for a while, get some experience, but then … he’d strike out on his own! Open his own pizza shop! Write a bestselling pizza cookbook! Have his own show on the FC!
“How bad was your first day, on a scale of one to ten?” Toby hadn’t noticed Stacey, arms crossed, smug smile, leaning against the jamb in his open bedroom doorway. Toby felt so good he didn’t even mind that Stacey had interrupted his delicious pizza dreams. He calmly got up from his bed and walked toward his sister.
“On a scale of one to ten, ten being best? It was an eleven!” Toby slammed the door in Stacey’s face, then smiled when he heard her run off down the hall, calling out for her mom as though she were a five-year-old. Turning away from the door, Toby walked over to his open window.
The view didn’t look as tired as it did the day before. The hills of Hidden Hills now seemed to glow brightly in the amber light of the setting sun. Toby leaned on the sill and breathed in the warm, humid evening air. Incredible how things could change so quickly. From dreading the summer to suddenly welcoming it with open arms!
Wait, what was that?
Toby frowned as he scanned the line of trees that bordered the backyard of his house. He had just seen something move through those trees. A large upright shape of some sort, too large to have been human.
What was that? Toby wondered. A bear? Is that what I just saw? Toby wasn’t even sure if there were bears anywhere around Hidden Hills. Besides that, he was pretty sure they didn’t jog around on two legs.
