Killer Pizza

by Greg Taylor

  A sudden breeze blew through the trees. The movement of the leaves shimmering in the dying summer light caused Toby to snap back to reality. The shape in the woods was probably nothing. Probably just a trick of lighting.

  Turning away from the window, Toby plopped himself back onto his bed. He was anxious to get back to his Killer Pizza dreams.

  Still, as Toby lay on his bed, he couldn’t quite shake the image of the shape in the woods. Had it been a trick of lighting? Or simply leaves moving in a summer breeze?

  Yeah, of course it was, Toby convinced himself. Then, starting with when he rode his bike up to Killer Pizza at eleven o’clock, Toby ran through the events of his wonderful day one more time.

  2

  Several hours after Toby was distracted by the mysterious shape outside his house, a young employee of Hidden Hills Echo 8-Plex movie theater exited the rear doors of the theater and walked toward his ’92 Corolla. It was well past midnight and he had just finished his least favorite chore, cleaning up the mess left behind in the theaters after another long summer day of cinematic fun. The kid pulled his keys out of his pocket and was about to open his car door when he felt a sharp sting of pain at the back of his thigh.

  “OWWWWW!!!”

  Dropping his keys as he spun around, the kid was so startled at what he saw behind him that he froze on the spot, mouth open in astonishment.

  “What the …”

  A streetlamp shone brightly behind the figure standing a few feet away, obscuring its features but sharply defining its tall, monstrous shape. If the kid had any impulse to run away from the thing, he wasn’t able to act on it. He staggered suddenly from the effects of the bite, tried to stay upright, but fell backward and landed on his butt. He slowly looked up at the creature that had taken a step toward him, his expression registering confusion and disbelief.

  “What is this, a joke?”

  The thing—whatever it was—did not reply to the question. The kid did a kind of slow-motion tilt—his eyes never leaving the incredible sight in front of him—then collapsed onto his side. He seemed to be trying to say something, but his voice was low and slurred.

  The creature remained standing a few feet away, silently studying its prey. It only took a few more moments for the kid’s eyes to close, then he lay still on the concrete.

  3

  On Killer Pizza’s opening day, Toby woke up long before he needed to. Actually, he felt like he hadn’t slept more than a few minutes the entire night, he was so excited.

  And nervous. He had spent the past few days with Annabel, Strobe, and Doug training at the shop, honing his pizza-making skills and learning everything from the right words to say when answering the phone to the proper way to clean up shop.

  When the time came for Toby to hop onto his bike and pedal down the street to Industrial Avenue, he checked himself out in the mirror one last time. The uniforms kids were forced to wear for their summer jobs were usually pretty embarrassing. But Killer Pizza’s black tee and baseball cap—complemented with blue jeans and black Converse sneakers—wasn’t the least bit embarrassing. It was downright cool, Toby thought. He nodded at his image in the mirror, sucked in his gut—yeah, that was better—then headed off to his first day at work, saying a silent prayer that everything would go smoothly.

  “Stop it, you two!”

  Toby and Strobe interrupted their argument as soon as they heard Annabel’s command. However Toby had imagined what day one might be like, this particular scenario had never crossed his mind. He and Strobe had been butting heads in the kitchen from the moment Killer Pizza opened.

  Maybe it was the name, Killer Pizza. Or the corny but fun names of the various pizza and side order choices. (In addition to the Creature Double Feature and Monstrosity pizzas, KP also featured a Fangtastic Hawaiian pizza, Beasties—little bite-size pizzas, the Frankensausage pie, and Vampire Stakes—pointed garlic sticks with red dipping sauce.)

  Or perhaps people were intrigued by the unusual location of the place. Whatever the reason, opening day of the Hidden Hills Killer Pizza franchise had been crazy since it opened its doors. Steve had led them to believe it would be a quiet day. That they would have time to develop their pizza legs, so to speak.

  So much for Steve’s crystal-ball prediction. Annabel, Toby, and Strobe had been taking phone order after phone order and making one pizza after another for more than three hours. They were struggling to keep things together and were already exhausted from the pace.

  Doug had been no help whatsoever. Matter of fact, he had already proven himself to be a liability. In just a few short hours he had botched a couple of phone orders, put wrong ingredients on one of the pizzas, and spilled an entire gallon jar of pizza sauce on the kitchen floor. His coworkers already wanted to strangle him.

  “If we don’t get some organization here we might as well close up shop and go home,” Annabel said, her face glistening with sweat from the kitchen heat.

  “No kidding,” Strobe shot back. “Where’s Steve, anyway?” (He’d left shortly after opening the shop and hadn’t come back.)

  “I don’t know,” Annabel replied. “But it seems we can’t count on him.”

  “This is weird.” Strobe paced back and forth in the small kitchen. “Why would the guy just bolt like that? He’s the manager!”

  “It doesn’t matter, Strobe!” That was Toby’s reply, which certainly didn’t help ease the tension that crackled between the two of them.

  Whoa, take it easy, Toby urged himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten into an argument with someone other than his sister. It signaled to Toby just how stressed he was on his first official day at work, how quickly things had gotten out of control.

  Just then the phone rang. Annabel went to answer it, but Doug had been sitting like a slug right next to the old-fashioned, 1950s-era black telephone—the entire shop was decorated with a kind of ’50s vibe—and already had the receiver in his hand.

  “It’s clear that Toby’s the fastest at making pizzas,” Annabel said when she returned to the kitchen. “I think he should be head chef. That means anything dealing with food, he gives the orders.”

  Toby was shocked to hear Annabel say that. It was true, he was the fastest at making pizzas, but head chef? He would have never suggested that.

  “Wait a second,” Strobe countered. “I’m not a half bad doughboy myself.”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t,” Annabel said. “But we need someone in charge.”

  “So who put you in charge of deciding who’s in charge?”

  “Gimme a break, Strobe. I’m just trying to sort things out here.”

  “I think Strobe should be head chef,” Toby said. He simply didn’t have the confidence to take on such a responsibility. But instead of saying that, Toby added, ‘After all, he’s the oldest one here.”

  That much was true. Strobe was fifteen, Toby and Annabel fourteen, and Doug … well, no one was sure how old Doug was. He acted like a preschooler, as far as his coworkers were concerned.

  “Okay,” Annabel said. “If that’s what you want, Toby. Strobe’s in charge here in the kitchen.”

  “Thank you, Annabel,” Strobe said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

  Actually, Toby hadn’t said what he really thought. Which was … Annabel should be in charge. She had proven herself to be a very calm, very efficient worker. Plus she got along with everyone.

  As for Strobe … Toby simply wasn’t sure what to make of him. He didn’t talk much. Just came in, did the work, left at the end of the day with an abrupt “see ya.” Strobe made Toby uncomfortable, that’s for sure. He seemed to be … well, a pretty angry guy. What Strobe had to be angry about, Toby had no idea. But it made him want to step lightly around the kitchen’s new head chef. He didn’t want to get on Strobe’s bad side. Speaking of which …

  “What about this slacker?” Strobe growled when Doug walked into the kitchen with the phone order he had just written down. Concerned that Strobe might actu
ally pop the timid Doug, Annabel stepped between the two of them.

  “Doug?” Annabel said. “I have a really good job for you.” Doug just stared back at Annabel. “If you could take the pizzas, once they’ve been removed from the oven, and place them in the cardboard boxes, that would be great.”

  Doug looked like he was tackling one of the great riddles of the universe. When he finally nodded, Annabel turned back to Strobe and Toby. “I’ll answer the phone and handle the cash register, keep the kitchen clean, make pizzas when needed. If we find that we need another person to help, I’ll talk to Steve about that. Okay?”

  Toby nodded. Strobe had already turned to scrutinize the order Doug had placed on the revolving wheel above the counter. “Genius!” he called out to Doug, who had disappeared down a hallway that led to the bathroom, Steve’s office, and the storage room. “You sure they ordered a dozen Mummy Wraps?!”

  The errant Steve arrived back at the shop later that night, just before the older kids arrived to take over the nine to one A.M. shift. He entered to find three exhausted, practically-dead-on-their-feet employees. As for Doug … he’d already left the building.

  Ignoring the comatose looks on his employees’ faces, Steve gave everyone a big grin. “Ready to do this all over again tomorrow?”

  4

  Toby was riding his bike home from work later that evening when he heard the sound.

  He stopped in the middle of Hazel Street, not far from his house, and looked toward the woods that stretched out behind the row of split-level brick houses to his right. The sound had been a strange animal-like howl, unlike anything Toby had ever heard before. And he’d spent a lot of time in those woods, too, especially when he was younger.

  Toby shivered suddenly. Couldn’t have been from the evening breeze. The night air was warm and humid. So why did Toby feel as though a chill had just run right through him? He remembered the mysterious shape he had seen behind his house after his first day of training at Killer Pizza. This was the first time he had thought about it since that night.

  Snap out of it! Toby told himself. The sound was just an animal of some sort.

  Still, Toby felt a sudden urgency to get home. He stood up on his bike pedals and pumped briskly up the hill. After stashing his bike in the garage, he talked briefly to his parents about his first official day at work, then took a shower and retired to his bedroom.

  Just before going to bed, Toby went to his window to take a look out at the dark woods. When he was younger, Toby had often imagined strange beings lurking under his bed, or in his closet, or outside … in those dark woods. But Toby was fourteen years old now. He’d grown out of his monster phase a long time ago.

  Just the same, Toby was not displeased at the lack of activity in the woods that rose up beyond his backyard. With a final glance at the dark landscape, he pulled down his window, closed the shutters, and got into bed. It was only ten o’clock but Toby was totally drained—physically and mentally—from the long, difficult first day at Killer Pizza.

  Which meant it didn’t take long for Toby to drift off to sleep. But just before his brain shut down for the night, Toby was sure that he heard that sound again—that odd animal-like howl—off in the distance.

  5

  “One Fangtastic Hawaiian!”

  Strobe slid the pizza into its cardboard box and took it to the counter, where a couple of Triple H girls were waiting to take it outside. Killer Pizza was take-out only, but Steve had decided to install a few tables, with umbrellas to ward off the summer sun, on the sidewalk since opening day two weeks ago. They were always full. Business was good.

  Fortunately, after a rough start, Toby, Annabel, and Strobe had managed to get their “pizza legs” and were handling the busy lunch and dinner hours much better than they had the first week.

  “Thanks, Strobe!” the two girls said. Strobe nodded and went back to the kitchen. He was studying the order forms on the revolving wheel when Annabel said, “I’ve been wondering about something, Strobe.”

  Strobe gave Annabel a look. Yeah?

  “Where’d that nickname come from?”

  At first Annabel wasn’t sure Strobe was going to answer the question. Then he said, “My dad started calling me that when I was a kid. Said I reminded him of one. Light one moment. Dark the next.”

  Haven’t seen the light side yet, Toby thought as he prepared a Creature Double Feature with garlic, spinach, and black olives. The past two weeks hadn’t done much to change his initial impression of Strobe, which was not good. Toby was working better with him in the kitchen, that much was true, and he had actually exchanged more than a few words with him over the past week, but Strobe continued to be a cool, closed-off character. Toby still didn’t feel very comfortable being around him.

  Annabel, however, seemed determined to break through Strobe’s tough exterior. She was beginning to make some progress, Toby thought. Strobe definitely talked to her more than to him.

  “Know what?” Annabel said. “I’ve never had a nickname.”

  “Maybe you’re just not a nickname kinda girl,” Strobe countered.

  “Just don’t call me Annie. No, I think my parents are too formal for anything like that. As for my friends … well, the less said about them the better. How about you, Toby?”

  “What?”

  “What do your friends call you?”

  “Nothing,” Toby said a little too quickly. He had actually been saddled with a cruel nickname when he was younger and a bit more on the heavy side, but he wasn’t about to mention that. Strobe was giving him a lingering, suspicious look, so to deflect attention he said, “Why the less said about your friends the better, Annabel?”

  “I don’t know. They’ve been kinda weird ever since I started working here. They don’t get it, I guess. Neither does my dad, for that matter. Order of Vampire Stakes!” Annabel relayed to the outside tables over a kitchen intercom.

  “What don’t they get?”

  Annabel held up a finger. Be right back. After delivering the garlic sticks and returning to the kitchen, Annabel indicated her T-shirt and cap. “This, for one thing.”

  “Get out. Your friends don’t like your KP cottons?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s a uniform. Only thing worse than that, as far as they’re concerned, is my choice to be here instead of hanging out at the pool with them.”

  “Total immersion in a cool pool sounds pretty good to me right now,” Strobe said.

  “As for my dad,” Annabel continued, “he doesn’t understand why I would want to work here instead of at one of his stores. He almost didn’t sign my work permit.”

  “What kind of stores?” Strobe asked.

  “Business furniture and supplies.”

  “Hey, I’ll work at one of his stores. With commissions? Has to pay better than here. But then, you don’t have to worry about money, do you, Annabel?”

  “There you go,” Annabel said, fixing Strobe with an annoyed frown. “So typical.”

  “What?” Strobe asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

  “You just stamped a label on my forehead. Rich brat, right?”

  “No, I was just saying …”

  “Why do people have to do that? Put everyone in a box? People are more than just one thing, you know? That’s exactly why I took this job. I wanted to do something different. Something unexpected. Why are you here, Strobe?”

  Instead of being defensive at Annabel’s sudden, uncharacteristic attack, Strobe looked amused. “I need to make money. How ’bout you?” Strobe was looking at Toby. “Let’s get this all out in the open. Why are you here?”

  Toby didn’t want to reveal anything about his chef dreams, so he decided to be totally honest. “This was the only job I could get.”

  “There you have it!” Strobe said with a sweep of his hand. “Now we all know why we’re here. Okay, Annabel? We cool?”

  Annabel studied Strobe for a moment. “Yeah, we’re cool. Just don’t …” Annabel flinched when Strobe grabb
ed a dish towel and wiped her forehead. “What? I’m a totally gross sweaty or something?”

  “Just wipin’ off that label. See anything on Annabel’s forehead?”

  What Toby saw was one incredibly great-looking fourteen-year-old. “No, I don’t see a thing.”

  “Good. Nobody’s gettin’ put in a box in this kitchen.” With that, Strobe headed out to the counter to take an order from a group of skater boys. When Toby exchanged a look with Annabel, she shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get all worked up.”

  “That’s okay. Strobe shouldn’t have said that about you.”

  “Maybe, but … I don’t know … I have been kind of edgy lately. At home, anyway. With my friends.”

  “Why?”

  Annabel hesitated. She looked like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue talking about this. But then she said, “Don’t laugh, okay?”

  “Of course not.”

  “It’s been kind of a gradual thing, actually. It’s not like I woke up one morning and all of a sudden thought … I’m changing.”

  “Changing?”

  Annabel nodded. “I feel like … well, like there’s this other person inside me, itching to get out.”

  “What kind of person?” Toby was really interested. That’s how he’d been feeling recently, what with his chef dreams and all.

  Before Annabel could answer, a bell went off on the counter, signaling it was time to retrieve a couple of pizzas from the oven. As Toby and Annabel took out the Monstrosities, sliced them, and put them into their cardboard sleeves …

  “So what were we talking about?” Annabel said.

  “This alien inside of you.”

  “Right.” Annabel thought for a moment, then said, “She’s me, of course. But different. In some really important ways.”

  “How?”

  “Well … for one thing, she definitely did not want to work at one of her dad’s business supply stores this summer. Which, of course, she was expected to do. And she has no desire to take over the family business, or become a doctor or a lawyer or anything like that.”