Here Comes Mr. Trouble

by Battles, Brett

  “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.”

  23

  The seven of them traveled down the dirt road in the sedan designed to hold only five.

  “You see that big tree ahead?” Mother Trouble asked her son.

  “I see it,” Mr. Trouble said.

  Eric could see it, too. It was tall and wide and still had most of its leaves.

  “The road you’ll be wanting is just beyond that on the right.”

  Eric leaned toward Fiona. “How did your brother know they’d be out here?”

  “Do you think my brother and sister and I are the only ones in our family with cell phones?”

  “Oh. Right.” He felt stupid.

  The road Mother Trouble promised was exactly where she said it would be. Only it wasn’t really a road at all. It was a long driveway that led to the shadowy form of a house, maybe the length of a football field away. Beyond it was a larger structure Eric guessed was a barn.

  There were no lights on in the house. In fact, there were no lights on anywhere, no matter which direction Eric looked.

  As the car neared the house, Mother Trouble said, “Just around the back, dear.”

  Mr. Trouble steered the sedan along a couple of tire ruts to the right of the house.

  As they passed the old building, Eric realized there probably hadn’t been lights on inside it for years. The place was a wreck. Big gaping holes in the roof and not a single visible window intact. It might have been nice once, but not now. Now it just looked horror-movie ready.

  They swung around the back corner of the house, across a large open space, then over to the barn. It, too, looked worn and old. Someone had taken spray paint and written in large letters: MINERS RULE. Probably done by someone from the high school, whose students were known as the Miners.

  “And to the left,” Mother Trouble instructed.

  As the sedan curved around the corner, the Lady Candice came into view. She was parked about one hundred feet beyond the barn. Mr. Trouble pulled to a stop halfway between the end of the wing and the building.

  “Where’s Uncle Colin?” Keira asked, looking around.

  “In the workshop,” her mother told her.

  Uncle Carl sucked in a surprised breath. “Oh! Oh! We can look in the box now!”

  He opened the door, but couldn’t move because Maggie lay partially in his lap.

  “Up, child,” he said. “Up. Up.”

  Maggie winced as Eric helped her sit up.

  In a flash, Uncle Carl was out of the car and around the back. He hit the trunk twice. “Open it. Come on, come on. Open it.”

  “Relax, Carl,” Mother Trouble said as she got out of the car. “Whatever it is you’ve got back there, there’s no reason to get so excited.”

  “No reason to get so excited? No reason to get so excited? Do you know what we found, Deirdre?”

  “Obviously not.”

  He paused, smiling. “A Maker’s box!”

  “Carl, just take a moment and…Wait. A Maker’s box? You can’t be serious.”

  “Deadly serious.”

  “For Heaven’s sake, Ronan,” Mother Trouble said as she moved quickly to join her brother. “Open the trunk!”

  The trunk popped open, then Mr. Trouble, Keira, and Fiona got out of the car, leaving Eric in the center of the back seat with Maggie still on his lap.

  “Oh, um, here,” he said, helping her move onto the seat.

  She immediately closed her eyes tight and rubbed her head again.

  “Still have the headache?” he asked.

  She opened one eye just enough so that he knew
she was looking at him. “What do you think?”

  He scooted toward the door. “I’ll see if they have some aspirin. You can lie down if you want.”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, though it was clear she wasn’t.

  They both got out on separate sides, then Maggie sagged wearily against the front fender. Keira stepped over and leaned in to check on how she was.

  On Eric’s side, Fiona and her brother were standing several feet away, talking quietly.

  “You did everything right,” Fiona was saying as Eric walked up. “I should have never questioned you.”

  “I should have prepared everyone for something like this,” Mr. Trouble said. “It’s my job to consider all the possibilities.”

  “But this was so much different than—” She stopped as she realized Eric was standing next to her.

  “Maggie’s headache’s still pretty bad,” Eric said. “Do you guys have something she can take?”

  Fiona looked at her brother, then back at Eric.

  “Of course,” Fiona said. “I’ll go get something.” She reached out, gave her brother’s arm a squeeze, then headed for the plane.

  From behind the car, Uncle Carl said, “I can carry it myself.”

  Eric and Mr. Trouble turned just in time to see Uncle Carl lift the jacket-covered Maker’s box out of the trunk with Mother Trouble trying very hard to help him.

  “All right, just be careful,” she said, stepping back.

  Uncle Carl huffed. “Of course I’ll be careful.”

  Without another word, he began walking quickly toward the workshop. Mother Trouble followed just a few feet behind him.

  When she noticed Eric and her son looking at her, a giant smile grew on her face. “This is so exciting, isn’t it?”

  Not waiting for a response, she continued after her brother.

  “So, what do we do now?” Eric asked. “Do we just wait around until morning and…and…” He couldn’t think of a way to finish the sentence so he just let it hang, hoping Mr. Trouble would have the answer.

  “I have a feeling by the time the sun comes up, your problems will be over, one way or another,” Mr. Trouble said.

  That wasn’t exactly the response Eric had been hoping for.

  Mr. Trouble must have sensed Eric’s unease because he smiled and added, “Preferably our way.”

  “Why do you think it’ll be over by morning?”

  Mr. Trouble looked out into the dark, empty land. “Because if I didn’t, I’d be underestimating them again. And if I were them, I wouldn’t wait until the morning.”

  “Have you seen this happen in the past?”

  Mr. Trouble was silent for a moment before turning to Eric. “We have records on every case from 1801 until now. As far as I’m aware, and as far as Uncle Carl can remember, there’s nothing mentioned in any of those that even comes close to this. Things are happening much faster than they ever have, and with more intensity.”

  “Do you know why?” Eric asked.

  Mr. Trouble looked out into the night again. “We really haven’t had much time to try to figure it out. Once our job here is finished and we go home, we’ll have to sit down and attempt to do just that. I know this doesn’t really help your situation, but I’m hoping it’s just a one-time thing. Because if it’s an indication that things are changing….” He took a deep breath, then put a smile on his face and looked at Eric again. “But you don’t need to worry about all that. For you, we just need to concentrate on the here and now.” He clapped a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “You want to see what’s in the Maker’s box?”

  “Can I?” Eric asked, his fears momentarily overridden by curiosity.

  “I think you’ve earned that right.” He looked over at Maggie and Keira. “We’re going to the workshop. You ladies want to join us?”

  Keira said something to Maggie, then answered, “We’ll be there in a bit.”

  “Okay,” Mr. Trouble said. He caught Eric’s eye and nodded toward the plane. “Let’s go see if there’s anything in those drawers.”

  24

  Unlike Eric’s last visit to the workshop, this time every single monitor was pulled down to eye level and turned on. Each had a grainy green image on it, but no two were the same. Most were showing shots of landscapes, while a couple were of buildings, and one looked very much like the Lady Candice.

  After a closer look, he realized it was the Lady Candice, and the buildings were the barn and the farmhouse they’d passed as they’d driven in. So the landscape shots must have been of the surrounding area.

  No one seemed to be paying attention to the monitors, though. The two uncles and Mother Trouble were huddled in front of the Maker’s box, which they had put on the workbench.

  One of them had attached a clamping device to the top of the box to keep it from moving.

  “Find anything?” Mr. Trouble asked.

  The two uncles whirled around, surprised, but Mother Trouble didn’t even flinch.

  “Not yet, sweetheart,” she said, still looking at the box. “I believe we were just about to open the first drawer. Isn’t that right, Colin?”

  Uncle Colin touched the odd-looking goggles that sat on top of his head as if he were making sure they were still there. “Uh, yes. Exactly right. Exactly right. But…” He looked at his nephew.

  “Yes?” Mr. Trouble asked.

  “Um…do you think…” Uncle Colin tilted his head twice to his left toward Eric, “…should be here? It would be highly irregular.”

  Mr. Trouble almost laughed. “Isn’t everything we do highly irregular?”

  “He has a point, Colin,” Mother Trouble said.

  Uncle Colin hesitated a moment, then smiled. “Well, you are the one calling the shots. If you think he should stay, then…he should stay.”

  “Now that that’s settled, can we get back to work, boys?” Mother Trouble said.

  “Of course,” Uncle Colin said as he turned back to the box.

  Mr. Trouble and Eric moved in behind them, but the wall of adults was too tall for Eric to see anything. He craned his neck and leaned side to side, but at best he could see only a sliver of what was going on.

  “Hang on,” Mr. Trouble said. He pulled a large plastic bin out of one of the storage cabinets and set it on the floor. “Stand on that. If it’s not high enough, I can get another.”

  Eric climbed onto the container and was now able to see over Uncle Colin’s shoulders. “No, this works great. Thanks.”

  “Is everyone ready?” Uncle Colin asked. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, and his brother, who had an identical pair sitting on his head, did the same. “Yes? Okay. Then here we go.”

  He reached a gloved hand toward the drawer in the upper left corner, but just before he touched the handle, Uncle Carl yelled out, “Video!”

  Uncle Colin jerked his hand back. “Of course. What were we thinking?”

  It took them three minutes to set up a video camera and clamp it to a stand so no one would have to hold it. Uncle Carl then ran a cable from the camera to the closest monitor and pushed a couple of buttons on a remote. The image switched from a shot of the dark silent farm to one of the Maker’s box.

  Using the monitor, Uncle Colin adjusted the camera’s angle until the box was centered, then said, “Now I think we’re ready.”

  The brothers pulled their goggles back down and Colin reached for the drawer again.

  “I am opening what we have numbered drawer number one,” Uncle Colin narrated for the camera. “The handle feels like metal of some kind. I’m going to pull the drawer open now.”

  Eric could see him tug on the knob.

  “It’s a little sticky,” Uncle Colin said. He continued to pull, his hand shaking a bit as he moved it up and down. “I’m not sure, but it….might….be….stuck.”

  “Let me try,” Uncle Carl said.

  “What difference is that going to make? You’re not any stronger than I am.”

  “Just get out of the way.”


  Uncle Carl shoved his brother’s hand off the drawer and grabbed the handle himself. But he, too, had the same problem.

  “See,” Uncle Colin said.

  Uncle Carl grimaced but made no reply.

  “Why don’t you try a different drawer?” Mr. Trouble suggested.