FETCH

The surf, the wind, and the rain were at war, battering against the

old building so forcefully Greg wondered if its crumbling walls

could stand against them. When the bawling thunder blasted the boarded-up

window again Greg jumped back, stumbling into Cyril and tromping on his

foot.

"Ow!" Cyril shoved Greg, jabbing his flashlight spastically at the wall in

in front of them. The light scanned over drooping sections of blue striped

wallpaper and what looked like two red letters, "Fr." Streaks of something

dark sprayed over the stripes. Was that pizza sauce? Or something else?

Hadi laughed at his two bumbling friends. "It's just the wind, guys. Suck

it up."

Another gust hit the building, and the walls shuddered, drowning out

Hadi's voice. The rain pounding on the metal roof ratcheted up, but inside

the building, close by, something metallic clinked loud enough to be heard

over the wind and rain.

"What was that?" Cyril whirled and swung his flashlight in a wild arc.

At barely thirteen, Cyril was a year younger than Greg and Hadi, though

still in their fledgling freshman class. He was short and skinny with boyish

features and limp brown hair, and he had the misfortune of sounding like a

cartoon mouse. It didn't win him many friends.

" 'Let's go check out the old pizzeria,' " Cyril mimicked Greg's

suggestion. "Yeah, this was a great idea."

It was a crisp autumn night, and the seaside town was dark, robbed of

power by the latest storm's assault. Greg and his friends had planned a

Saturday night of gaming and junk food, but as soon as the power went out,

Hadi's parents tried to recruit them for a board game—the family's tradition

during power outages. 

Hadi had convinced his parents to let the boys bike

the short distance to Greg's house, where they could play one of Greg's new

tabletop strategy games instead. But once there, Greg enlisted them to go to

the pizzeria. For days he'd known he had to do this. It was like he was

drawn to this place.

Or maybe he had it all wrong. This could be a wild goose chase.

Greg shined his flashlight around the corridor. They'd just explored the

kitchen of the abandoned restaurant and had been shocked to find it was

still stocked with pots, pans, and dishes. Who closed a pizzeria and left all

that stuff behind?

After they left the kitchen, they found themselves next to a large stage at

one end of what had once been the main eating area of the derelict pizzeria.

A heavy black curtain at the back of the stage was drawn closed. None of