by Greg Taylor
“Can’t escape, you know,” the man coldly informed Toby, who continued to back away into the woods. “Your friends are already dead. Even if you were able to get away? We’d find you. That’s ’cause we’re everywhere, man. Let me save you the trouble of even trying to hide.”
The man took a step toward Toby and held out a hand. “C’mere. I bet you’re gonna taste just as good as that little kid.”
Toby stared at the man’s hand, mouth open in shock. At the end of each of the man’s fingers and thumb … were three-inch-long talons!
That was enough for Toby. He whirled and ran back in the direction he had come. As he sprinted through the wet underbrush he turned and blindly fired his crossbow. The arrow didn’t hit its mark, but it did cause the man to dive out of its way, allowing Toby to put some well-needed distance between him and his pursuer.
He can’t be right, Toby thought desperately as he approached the top of the hill that led back down into the ravine. My friends can’t be dead! They just can’t be!
When Toby reached the top of the hill, he leaped down the steep bank, his hands whirling for balance as his legs pounded through the underbrush. The slashing rain hit his face, making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of him. He couldn’t see what was happening down below, but he thought he heard shouts and screams and those bloodcurdling battle cries. Bad as all that sounded, Toby was relieved when he heard the continuing sounds of battle. It was better than silence, that’s for sure.
Toby suddenly felt sharp talons slash at his T-shirt. He cried out in surprise, changed direction, and charged to his right. Glancing wildly over his shoulder, Toby saw his pursuer slip on the slick hill as he tried to follow him, then disappear into the thick underbrush.
Through the mist and rain Toby was able to make out a huge fallen tree trunk up ahead. Skidding dangerously on the slick forest floor, Toby managed to reach the trunk.
He dove over it and hit the muddy ground on the other side with a thud. He crawled to the base of the tree, where the huge roots—looking like gnarled, ancient fingers, grasping for some unseen object—had pulled right up out of the ground. Here, there was a little space between the tree trunk and the ground, providing Toby with a protected view back in the direction where he had just been.
Toby switched the view on his crossbow from CLOSE-UP to WIDE, then looked into the scope to try to spot the man who had almost snatched him a few moments earlier. No sign of him. Toby moved the scope back and forth, desperately trying to get a bead on the guy.
Just then, the underbrush shook to Toby’s right. Toby took aim at the telltale movement of the bushes and fired his arrow. Without waiting to see whether or not the arrow had found its mark, Toby fired another arrow. Then another.
He was about to fire once again when the man blasted up out of underbrush, right in front of him! Toby fell back in surprise. He couldn’t believe it. There was nothing human left in the man! He had turned one hundred percent guttata!
The sight of the thing took Toby’s breath away. Teeth the size of paring knives. Tightly coiled muscles under the irregularly spotted, leathery skin. An abnormally huge chest accenting its massive frame. With the rain and mud, thunder and flashes of lightning—plus the way the creature had appeared so suddenly from the bushes—Toby had the strange sensation that hell had split open and spit the thing right out into the woods.
And then, the thing-from-hell was coming right at him! Toby fired the final arrow in his cartridge, dove, and slid under the massive tree trunk. He yanked his knife from the sheath on his forearm plate and turned to meet the creature.
But instead of a taloned hand grabbing for him, Toby’s eyes bulged when the guttata lifted the massive tree trunk right up off the ground! The few roots that were still attached to the earth snapped loose. Dirt flew into Toby’s face.
The earth then exploded around Toby. The tree trunk crashed back to the muddy soil—missing Toby by mere inches—literally shaking the ground on impact. Toby cried out in pain as a sharp tree branch stabbed into his calf. He rolled away from the tree trunk, pulled himself to his feet, and launched himself down the hill.
Spotting a nearby tree that grew out of the steep hill at an odd 45-degree angle, Toby broke for it. He was certain he had no chance to outrun the guttata. The tree might provide him with a little protection. When he reached it he scrambled up the trunk like a hyper monkey.
Halfway up the trunk, Toby lodged himself between two thick branches and looked back toward the base of the tree. Expecting to see the guttata either coming for him or about to try to wrestle the tree right up out of the ground, Toby was shocked to see that the guttata was retreating. He couldn’t believe it. There it was, heading back up the hill!
As Toby watched the creature disappear into the rain-soaked, misty forest, he suddenly felt woozy. He turned his leg to check out his injured calf. It was immediately obvious that the tear in his jeans wasn’t the result of a tree branch. There were two tears—very sharp, not ragged—the resulting wound deep enough for the blood to flow freely.
The sounds at the bottom of the ravine had gotten softer, Toby realized. It was as though he had put in a couple of earplugs. But wait, the battle sounds below hadn’t gotten softer, they had ceased altogether. That’s why the guttata had retreated. His friends were okay! It was the guttata who had lost the battle!
At least Toby prayed that was the case. His vision was suddenly blurred, making it difficult to see as far as the bottom of the ravine. Toby reached up a hand—it looked to him as though he was moving in slow motion—to show his partners where he was. A weak raising of the hand was all Toby could muster. He tried to call out for help, but no sound emerged. It was as though his vocal cords were frozen.
Toby knew what was happening. He’d read all about the effects of a guttata bite in his textbook. As the rain continued to pound the woods, Toby thought how strange it was to be sweating in such an intense downpour. He already had a fever. He was going fast and he knew it.
They’ll never find me up in this tree, Toby thought as everything started to go dark around him. How perfect is that? Up a tree!
That was Toby’s last thought before passing out.
9
“Toby?”
“Hey, c’mon, Tobe. Show us you’re alive or something.”
Toby opened his eyes slowly. He wasn’t sure where he was at first. He was lying on a cot, that’s the first thing that registered. Two hazy faces, staring down at him, was the second.
“There you go. I’ll leave him with you, Annabel. Be right back.”
When the one face moved away, Toby could see a nearby blackboard, the smell of the chalk reminding him of the time he had to stay after class in grade school and write “I will not forget my homework” fifty times.
Toby frowned. Was he back in grade school? That couldn’t be right.
“Toby, how do you feel?”
The voice sounded familiar. Toby tried to place it. Just then, the pictures above the blackboard came into focus. A series of strange-looking monsters. The strong images cut through Toby’s hazy state like a laser.
I’m in the Killer Pizza classroom, Toby realized.
And the person standing over him?
“Annabel?”
“Yeah, Toby, it’s me. How do you feel?”
Like a jolt of electric shock therapy, the ordeal in the woods—every detail—suddenly flooded Toby’s brain.
“What a horrible experience,” Toby managed to say. “How is everyone?”
“Good.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Some scratches and cuts, but no one else was bitten.”
“What about the guttata that was after me?”
“Don’t worry about him.”
“I am worried about him. Did he get away?”
Annabel hesitated before saying, “Yes. By the time we were able to go after him … he was gone.”
Not good news. Toby suddenly remembered something else. “The boy?”
“S
afe and sound. He was out the entire time. Which is good for us. He didn’t see a thing. Harvey told his parents he found him wandering around not far from his house.”
Toby’s double vision had eased and he was able to see Annabel more clearly. Her face was filthy. An area near her right ear was dotted with dried blood. Her T-shirt was mud stained and ripped, exposing the scratched chest plate beneath. Toby thought she looked great.
“I turned and ran,” Toby said suddenly. “I couldn’t handle it. Everything … it was just too much for me.”
“You did fine.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You want to know something? I almost took off myself. I really did. Especially when my guy started turning guttata.”
“I did take off. No ‘almost’ about it. I let my guy get away.”
“You were all alone at the top of that hill, Toby. I had Strobe and Harvey on either side of me. That made a big difference, believe me.”
Toby hadn’t thought of that. Still, he knew he would have to deal with the disappointment of how he performed in his first Killer Pizza battle, at some point. For now, however …
“I need some water.” Toby rose from his cot, then immediately lay back down.
“Dizzy?”
Toby nodded.
“Harvey said you might feel like that. It’s as much from the shot he gave you as the bite.”
“Harvey gave me a shot? Oh, right. The guttata antidote. Hey, wait a second … .” Toby glanced to his left. “Where’s Chelsea?”
Her hospital bed was empty.
“She’s okay,” Annabel replied. “Well, not okay. But Harvey thinks he and Steve might have managed to save her.”
“So where is she?”
“The hospital. Harvey’s flying in the company doctor from Killer Pizza headquarters in New York. He’ll be able to make sure she gets the proper care.”
Toby felt a flood of relief at this news. Just then, Strobe came back into the classroom. He, too, was a mud-and-bloodstained mess. “Tobe! How’s it goin’?” Toby couldn’t believe how exhilarated Strobe looked. It was as though he’d just come back from seeing an extremely exciting movie instead of battling hybrids-from-hell.
“Glad to see you didn’t die on us,” Strobe said, smiling as he looked down at Toby. It was a rare thing, seeing Strobe smile. A good fight with otherworldly creatures seemed to bring out the light side in Strobe’s nickname.
“Hey, you notice something just now?” Strobe asked Toby.
Toby shook his head no. He was suddenly having a hard time keeping his eyes open.
“I called you Tobe.”
Toby wasn’t sure what Strobe was getting at.
“That’s a nickname, right? Rhymes with Strobe.”
Toby managed a weak smile. “Yeah, I guess you could call that a nickname.”
“Was that something tonight, or what?” Strobe looked like he was ready to go out for another round with the guttata.
“It was something,” Annabel agreed. But she didn’t look charged up like Strobe did.
“Now what?” Toby suddenly asked.
The question had just kind of popped out. Toby had a feeling he was asking himself the question as much as he was asking Strobe and Annabel. It seemed to temporarily stump his KP partners.
Strobe was the one who offered an answer. “Now we need to get to that Alpha, pronto. Before the thing gets to us.”
Good point. The Killer Pizza crew were in the midst of a perilous cat-and-mouse game with the guttata, with each trying to locate the whereabouts of the other. Seeing as Toby’s guttata had managed to escape, the guttata would now have a better idea of where their enemies lived. Not the most comforting thought.
“Let us worry about that right now, Toby,” Annabel said. “You just need to concentrate on getting better.”
Yeah, first things first, Toby thought. He wanted to talk to Annabel and Strobe a bit longer, but before he knew it his eyes had closed. He struggled to stay awake, but simply couldn’t. Drifting off to sleep, it wasn’t long before Toby had entered a strange dream landscape.
Unfortunately, many nasty things lurked there, ready to pounce on him.
PART THREE:
STAKEOUTS, NEW RECIPES, AND VISITORS IN THE NIGHT
1
“NO!!!”
Toby woke up instantly, sweating and out of breath. Staring into the darkness that shrouded his bedroom, he instinctively rubbed his shoulder where the Alpha guttata had grabbed him. The pain in Toby’s nightmare had felt so real that it had shattered his dream, snapping him back to the here and now.
The monstrous guttata’s talons piercing his skin was the flash point where Toby always woke up, this not being the first time he had been subjected to this particular nightmare.
“Oh, man!” Toby said in dismay. “When is this gonna stop?”
This had been going on for the past week. Toby was still on leave from Killer Pizza, recovering from his guttata bite. The first few nights had been especially difficult—and strange—with Toby thrashing about in bed, groaning, sweating, and occasionally calling out in his sleep, “I’m changing! I’m changing!”
Fortunately, Toby hadn’t been changing. Harvey’s antidote had worked. Since those first few nights, however, Toby’s nightmares had dissolved from a crazy quilt of terrifying images into the same dependable scenario: Toby being chased through a strange, apocalyptic landscape by a terrifying Alpha guttata, the thing flying a few feet from the ground as it closed in on him.
Of course Toby hadn’t been able to explain to his parents what really happened the night he spent on a cot in Killer Pizza’s classroom, which meant his mother was convinced that his lingering symptoms were the result of … well, she didn’t even want to think about what her son had been up to. The bottom line was that Toby had been grounded for a week. He had three more days of house arrest, then he would be free to go back to Killer Pizza.
Toby lay back on his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He knew he would have a difficult time getting back to sleep. The intense nightmares were hard to shake. They were unlike anything Toby had ever experienced before. The sights, sounds, smells … everything in the dreams felt so real. But the nightmares also felt like a warning. A preview of something that was actually going to happen.
Very creepy. And very unsettling.
Still rubbing the imaginary wound on his shoulder, Toby closed his eyes. Immediately, he could see the final image in his nightmare. The Alpha’s taloned hand, ripping into him. The talons looked to be at least a foot long, making the one Toby had found in his backyard look … well, like a pup’s. Toby wondered if the real Alpha’s talons were as big as they were in his dream. If so, there was one thing he was certain of: He didn’t want any part of the thing. No way.
On the last night before returning to Killer Pizza, Toby took advantage of a rare evening of peace and quiet—his sister was at a sleepover and his parents were at the movies—to try out the Pizza Rustica recipe he had written down in his notebook the previous week.
Yes, Toby was putting on his apron and taking out the pots and pans. There was a very particular reason for his kitchen session, beyond just wanting to experiment with a new recipe. Toby had been surprised and pleased to discover that cooking actually calmed him. Even in the crazy KP kitchen, after the first week, anyway, it was as though he was able to develop a kind of tunnel vision, focusing on the task at hand without freaking out, like he usually did when confronted with stressful situations.
So Toby was able to temporarily leave behind all thoughts of guttata and Alphas and deadly talons as he worked. When the Pizza Rustica was done, he pulled it gently out of the oven. Crust? Perfect. Aroma? Pretty tasty-smelling. Overall presentation? Toby nodded in approval. The pizza looked terrific. But now came the real test. Toby waited for the pizza to cool, then cut a slice of the multilayered pizza pie, closed his eyes, and took a bite.
Mmmmmm. Good. Very good, actually. Spinach, garlic, bell peppers, prosciutto, pep
peroni, salami. Terrific! Toby was pleased that the Pizza Rustica tasted as good as it had looked on the program.
Double mmmmmmm!!!
Toby’s pizza high didn’t last long, however. As he cleaned up the kitchen, his good mood started to fade. The question that had been eating at him all week long was raising its hand once again, demanding attention.
What to do the following morning, upon his return to Killer Pizza? Toby had gone back and forth during his time off. One option was simply not resuming his training, letting Strobe and Annabel carry on without him. Toby felt like he was dragging his partners down.
But then, as Annabel said that day in Prospect Park, somebody had to take on these monsters. Toby just wasn’t sure that he was cut out be one of those somebodies.
So … stay or leave? Toby had one more night to make his decision.
Walking up to Harvey’s office, Toby paused for a moment, then opened the door and went inside. Harvey was sitting behind his desk, immersed in paperwork. He gave Toby a brisk nod as he entered.
“Welcome back.”
“Thanks. Yeah, it’s good to be back.”
“You wanted to see me about something?”
Hands clasped behind his back, Toby shifted nervously. He’d gone over what he was about to say more than a few times.
“I don’t have all day, Toby.”
“Sure. Of course.” Toby cleared his throat, then said, “I’m withdrawing from the Killer Pizza Academy.”
Harvey didn’t say anything. The silence quickly became uncomfortable. Toby couldn’t tell if Harvey was looking at him or past him, at something on the other side of the office.
“I don’t accept your resignation,” Harvey finally said.
Not what Toby was expecting to hear. Harvey indicated the seat near his desk. “Sit. Please.”
Toby sat.
“For one thing, at this point I can’t let you go. You already know too much about the program. I’d have to kill you.”
Toby managed a short laugh, but his smile faded when Harvey’s deadpan expression didn’t change. The guy was serious!
