Here Comes Mr. Trouble

18

Eric twisted and turned in his sleep, his dreams nearly as active as the day he’d just lived through. In his mind he saw ships, and storms, and glows that filled rooms, and airplanes, and car chases, and helmet scanners. And though he had never seen one, he saw Makers. What his mind decided they looked like, anyway. They were hideous, with troll-like heads, and bodies as thin as a piece of rope. They smiled at him, they laughed at him, they waved for him to join them. But he wouldn’t give in.

Relax, Eric. It was the sing-songy voice from that afternoon. Don’t worry about anything. It’ll all be fine. It’ll all be fine. It’ll all be—

“No!” he yelled, jerking himself awake.

Where am I? This wasn’t his bed. This wasn’t his room.

His body seemed to be moving in slow motion as he struggled to push his blanket down to his waist. He could feel sleep waiting to drag him back under, but for some reason he knew he couldn’t let it.

Wake up! he told himself. Wake up!

He forced his eyelids all the way open, then swung his legs off the cushions and planted his feet on the floor.

The slumber party. I’m…I’m at Maggie’s.

“Wake up,” he said, the words actually coming out of his mouth this time.

Sleep began to fade, and he no longer had to fight with himself to move anything.

Those had been some powerful dreams. They were the kind of dreams that made you feel even more tired after having them than if you had just stayed awake.

He caught sight of the digital clock on the receiver by the TV. Twelve forty-nine a.m. He groaned.

Maybe a glass of water will settle my brain down.

Just enough moonlight seeped in through the windows for him to make his way into the kitchen without turning on any lights. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the automatic water dispenser in the refrigerator door. It let out a low whisssssh as the water streamed out.

Once his glass was full, he raised it to his lips and started to drink. But as the first gulp passed into his mouth, he realized the whissssshing hadn’t stopped.

He looked back at the dispenser, expecting to see water pouring onto the floor, but there was nothing coming out of the spout. He cocked his head. The noise wasn’t coming from the refrigerator. It was coming from…

…outside.

As he took a step toward the kitchen window, the sound stopped. He stood there for a moment, waiting, but all remained quiet. Must have been a bug.

He was just about to raise the glass again when the whisssssh returned. It lasted for five seconds, stopped for a few, then started again. Only it wasn’t as much of a whissssh as it was a hnnnnnff.

He tiptoed to the counter and quietly set down his glass. Leaning forward, he pulled the edge of the curtain back just enough so he could peek outside.

Moonlight bathed the backyard, allowing him to see everything from the swing set Maggie didn’t use anymore to the big tree in the center of the yard. He could even see Mr. Ortega’s tool shed in the far back corner. Other than that, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The noise started up again. Only now, Eric could hear that it really wasn’t so much a hnnnnnf as a snnnnniffffff.

He dropped the curtain, and froze.

Outside, directly below the window, he had seen the top of a head. And though the moonlight wasn’t strong enough to tell the color of the person’s hair, the greasy mess couldn’t have belonged to anyone other than Peter Garr.

Slowly a shadow in the shape of Peter’s head appeared on the curtain.

Snnnnniffffff.

The head turned to the right.

Snnnnniffffff.

And to the left.

Snnnnniffffff.

It tilted down and hovered right by the crack at the bottom.

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.

Eric took a silent step backwards.

Outside, the sniffing paused, and then: snnnnniffffff, snnnnniffffff.

Eric raced out of the kitchen and into the hallway that bypassed the dining room. At one end was the front door and potential escape, while at the other was the intersecting hallway that led back to the bedrooms. The Trouble sisters were back there and now, more than ever, he needed their help. So that was the way he went.

There were three doors off the hallway: a bathroom, Maggie’s parents’ room, and Maggie’s room. Like her parents’ door, Maggie’s was shut, but Eric didn’t even hesitate. He opened her door and rushed inside.

Since her room was located at the front of the house, and not in the direct path of the moonlight, it was much darker than the living room had been. For half a second he thought about flipping on the light, but he didn’t. If Peter came around to the front, he would be sure to see it.

Maggie’s bed was against the wall opposite her window. The blanket-covered lump lying in the middle of it had to be her. The mood she’d been in, no way would she have let Fiona or Keira use it. They would be somewhere on the floor, in the darkest part of the room.

He bent at the waist. “Fiona,” he whispered.

No one stirred.

“Fiona,” he repeated, a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

He took a frustrated breath, then said, “Fiona,” in a voice loud enough to wake all three of them. No one stirred. Apparently, girls were heavy sleepers.

He lowered himself to his knees and crawled toward the center of the room. After a moment, he could just make out two shapes similar to the one on Maggie’s bed. Which was Fiona and which was Keira, he couldn’t tell, but it didn’t really matter.

He grabbed what he guessed was a foot on the lump closest to him and gave it a shake. “Hey.”

Nothing.

He shook it again, harder this time. “Hey, wake up.”

When that didn’t work, he switched to the other lump and repeated what he’d just done.

Not even a twitch.

What would they do if there was a fire? Just sleep through it? Come to think of it, this is a fire!

No longer concerned about being selective, he said, “Hey, you guys. Come on. I need you to wake up! One of those Maker robots…” he paused, searching for the right word, “…surrogates is outside right now. We’ve got do something. Hey, come on! Are you guys even listening to me?”

Apparently they weren’t. And apparently neither were Maggie’s parents, because Eric was pretty sure he’d been loud enough to wake them, too.

The annoyance he’d been feeling quickly changed to fear.

He crawled over to the bed.

“Hey, Maggie,” he said, pushing on her leg.

Same non-response.

He turned back to Fiona and Keira. They were breathing slowly and steadily, like they were in a deep sleep.

“Come on. Wake up!” He tugged Fiona’s shoulder, rolling her onto her back. It should have been more than enough to wake her, but her eyelids didn’t even flutter.

He was about to try the same with Keira when he heard the sniffing sound again. Peter was indeed coming around to the front yard.

Maybe he’s leaving.

Eric stepped gingerly over the girls and to the window. Carefully, he lifted the shade a couple of inches and looked out. Peter was standing on the front lawn fifteen feet away.

Not only was he not leaving, he wasn’t alone.