Pizza Delivery by Robert Kent

Author:Robert Kent [Kent, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Middle Grade Ninja Press
Published: 2014-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

12

LOOMING OVER THE DOOR WAS the dark outline of a man, a silhouette against the light of the full moon.

From where he sat, Brock could make out the shape of the man’s beard and at the end of his arm, the long shape of his axe.

The man shifted and moonlight spilled over the floor of the cellar. In the pale beam, Brock was able to distinguish a tall stack of shelves standing upright to his left. They stood out from the wall a good three feet.

He didn’t think.

His body overrode his mind. His arms surged forward and grabbed Maggie, and then they were scurrying along the cellar floor like mice, his hand clapped tightly over Maggie’s mouth.

She might not have made any noise, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He dragged her behind the shelves and held her still.

A second light flooded in through the cellar’s opening, not a moonbeam, but the beam of a flashlight.

It swept up and down the cellar and all along the back wall. The flashlight’s beam hit the shelves and splintered into light fragments, illuminating the cellar wall just above Brock’s head.

He clenched his eyes shut and wished the man away.

Oh God, this is it. In a minute, that light will find me, maybe it's already happened and he’s just toying with me. He’ll see who’s hiding down here in his cellar and he’ll come down the stairs and that’ll be that.

Brock opened his eyes and saw the beam’s light was still positioned directly over his head. And then the light moved on, searching the far right corner of the cellar.

In his arms, Maggie squirmed. He could feel her heart beating fast and her breath coming in tiny, choked gasps, but she made no attempt to cry out or break free of his grip.

Beside her, the pizza box lay open on its side and the few remaining pieces of pizza had tumbled out onto the cellar floor. He could still smell the faint aroma of pepperoni and cheese and wondered if the man in the doorway could smell it too.

Of course he could. How could he not?

In a moment, he'd smell the pizza or he'd see them, if he hadn't already, and either way it amounted to the same thing: he was going to come down here.

Brock looked around. The shelves in front of him were filled with cans.

In the corner, barely visible, even in all the new light, was a stack of cardboard boxes. Propped up against the wall was what looked like a volleyball net wrapped around two metal poles. Against another wall, two old mattresses leaned against one another.

He needed a weapon, but down here there wasn't so much as a baseball bat or a golf club.

The silhouette in the doorway shifted.

A new beam of moonlight shown down and fell upon a second set of shelves to Brock’s left, and when it did, Brock saw that on the bottom shelf was a tackle box.

On top of the tackle box was a long covered object, and he thought he knew what it was.

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