Here Comes Mr. Trouble

22

Fiona made another try for the glove compartment.

“Got it,” she said, holding up a small rectangular box.

“They’re trying to block us in,” Mr. Trouble said. “Everyone, grab onto something. I’m taking the next right turn.”

But before they even got close to the next street, the other three cars slowed as one, forcing Mr. Trouble to do the same.

“This is not helping us get away,” Fiona said.

Mr. Trouble shot her a quick look. “I’m well aware of that.”

He eased the sedan forward until their bumper tapped the car in front of them.

“Brace yourselves,” he warned, then he slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

Whatever the person driving the front car had been expecting, that wasn’t it. The car jumped forward, creating just enough of a gap for Mr. Trouble to squeeze the sedan through.

“Here we go!”

Eric leaned to the side, anticipating the turn. But instead of racing left into the gap, Mr. Trouble went right, into a driveway entrance, then made a sharp turn back to the left, and ended up half on and half off the sidewalk that paralleled the road. The sedan bounced wildly on the uneven ground.

“Not…exactly…comfortable,” Fiona said, still stuck between the front seats.

On the street, the other cars had slowed to pace them, knowing Mr. Trouble would have to come back onto the road at some point. Mr. Trouble increased his speed just a little bit. Instantly, the other three cars did the same. He increased again, and they copied him once more.

“I’m going to try something,” he announced. “So whatever you’re hanging on to, don’t let go.”

He increased his speed one last time. As soon as the others followed his lead, he slammed on the brakes and pulled the wheel to the left just as they reached another driveway. The other cars were going too fast and had already passed the opening.

The sedan flew into the street, then Mr. Trouble whipped the wheel to the left again and they were racing off in the opposite direction.

Eric grinned broadly. “You did it!”

“Don’t get too excited yet.” Mr. Trouble nodded toward the back window. “They’re turning around and coming back.”

Eric took a look. Sure enough, the other cars were doing just that.

“Eric,” Mr. Trouble said. “This is your town. We need someplace where we can make a few random turns and come out in another part of town, preferably the north end. The road coming up — should I turn on that?”

Eric studied the road then shook his head. “Not that one. That’ll just take you around so that you come out behind us a couple of streets.”

“Okay. What about the one right after that? What do you think?”

Eric shook again. “That one’s not so good, either.”

“We do need to turn somewhere.”

“I know,” Eric said.

He scanned ahead, playing where they were against the map of the town in his mind.

“I hate to be Miss Negative,” Fiona said, “but those cars are getting closer.”

“Since when do you hate being Miss Negative?” Mr. Trouble asked.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“There,” Eric said, pointing down the road. “The one on the left after the house with the minivan in the driveway.”

“You’re sure?” Mr. Trouble asked.

“Yes. It goes into this big neighborhood with lots of twisty streets. There’s a way through it that’ll bring us out next to Riegel’s Pizza Parlor near the north side of town.”

Mr. Trouble smiled. “Perfect. Everyone, do I need to tell you to brace yourselves again?”

“Please don’t,” Fiona said.

For the next five minutes, they took turn after turn, sometimes doubling back, sometimes racing ahead. Finally, when Mr. Trouble was satisfied, Eric guided him toward the way out.

Once it seemed they weren’t going to be making any more sudden turns, Fiona settled back into the rear seat and gave the box she’d taken out of the glove compartment to Uncle Carl. He removed a glass tube from inside and inserted it into the injection gun Eric had happily returned to him. “Who’s first?” he asked.

Fiona gave him a long, hard look. “You’re sure that’s the right stuff? You’re not going to just make them sleep longer, are you?”

“Of course, it’s the right stuff,” he said. “I don’t make those kinds of mistakes.”

She continued to stare at him.

“I don’t make those kinds of mistake any more,” he said this time.

“Use it on Keira first,” Fiona told him. “Just in case.”

“Perfectly logical as always,” Uncle Carl said.

He leaned around the front passenger seat and placed the gun against Keira’s upper arm. When he pulled the trigger, the pfffft sound it made was remarkably similar to the one Mr. Trouble’s dart gun had made, only quieter.

Uncle Carl moved the gun away, but stayed between the seats and watched his niece.

It took about thirty seconds, but then she twitched. A few seconds later, she moved her arm, then her head began to roll, and sigh-like grunts seeped out of her mouth.

“I think it’s working,” Uncle Carl said.

“Give it to Maggie,” Mr. Trouble told him.

Uncle Carl happily placed the gun against Maggie’s arm and pulled the trigger.

In a few minutes, both girls were groggy, but awake.

“Ow!” Keira exclaimed, her hand rubbing the side of her head. “Did someone hit me?”

Eric shared a look with Fiona, both of them remembering Mr. Trouble knocking his sister’s head against the side of the car.

“Hit you? Not that I know of,” Mr. Trouble said.

Keira rubbed some more, then looked out the window. “When did we get in the car?”

Between Eric, Fiona, Uncle Carl, and Mr. Trouble, they filled the girls in on what they’d missed.

When they finished, Maggie did not look happy. “You kidnapped me out of my house while my parents were sleeping?”

“Technically, I’m not sure you can call what they’re doing sleeping,” Uncle Carl said.

“Technically, it doesn’t matter what they were doing. This is still kidnapping,” she shot back.

“You weren’t kidnapped,” Eric said. “You were rescued.”

“Like I’m really going to believe a bunch of zombies are lying all over my front lawn.”

“Technically, they’re not zombies,” Uncle Carl said. “They’re surrogates.”

“Enough with the technically, already!”

“Maggie, trust me,” Eric jumped in. “It happened. I saw it.”

She glared at him. “Okay, tell me this. If you left my parents a note saying we’re doing homework at these…” she looked at Fiona, “…people’s house, then where are our books?”

Eric stared at her for a moment, then turned and glanced at Fiona. “She’s right. We only brought my backpack.”

“You left our books?” Keira asked, no doubt more concerned about her copy of Noriko’s Revenge than any of her textbooks, Eric thought.

“We can’t worry about it now,” Mr. Trouble said. “If it becomes a problem later, we’ll figure something out.”

Maggie groaned and began rubbing her temple.

“Are you all right?” Eric asked.

She frowned. “All of this is giving me a headache.”

“It’s probably a reaction to the sleep,” Uncle Carl told her. “And then what I gave you to pull you out of it, of course.”

“Can you please just take me home?”

When they’d first woken her, she’d just looked annoyed. Now she looked miserable.

“As soon as we can,” Mr. Trouble said.

Maggie groaned again, then laid her head back and closed her eyes.

Outside, the town of Tobin started falling away as they drove into the countryside. Eric looked out the rear window. For as far as he could see, there were no other headlights.

He thought about asking where they were going, but it didn’t really matter. He trusted Mr. Trouble now. He trusted the whole Trouble family. After all he’d seen, he’d be a fool not to. And if they said these Makers were after him, then he believed that, too.

After fifteen minutes, Mr. Trouble leaned forward, his chest nearly pressing against the steering wheel, his eyes searching the road ahead.

“It should be here somewhere,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.

“What are you looking for?” Eric asked.

Mr. Trouble squinted at the road for a few seconds longer, then said, “Ah.” He pointed out the window. “That.”

On the side of the road, partially lit by the sedan’s headlights, was a short stack of rocks, the top one of which had been painted white.

“Should be another one pretty soon,” he explained.

Eric eyed the road, then a minute later said, “There it is.”

Indeed, there was another stack a few feet off the edge of the blacktop. This time the top rock was unpainted and the one below it was white.

Mr. Trouble cut the car’s speed in half. At the farthest reach of the headlights was an entrance to a dirt road. Mr. Trouble slowed the car even more and turned onto it.

The second the front tires touched dirt, a light flicked on between a couple of trees to the left. Mr. Trouble stopped the car and rolled down his window as Mother Trouble walked up, carrying an electric camping lantern.

“I see you made it,” she said, leaning down so she could look in the window. “Run into any problems?”

“Plenty,” Fiona said.

Mother Trouble held up the lantern and took a quick look through the car. “Well, I count six heads, so it mustn’t have been that bad.” She paused for a second then added, “No sense in just standing here. Keira, you’re going to have to sit in my lap.”