He started to sit up but immediately fell back onto the others’ laps, dizzy.
Mr. Trouble gave him a quick glance. “Hold on there, buddy. Pace yourself.”
From somewhere beyond the car, Eric could still hear the loud rumble he’d noticed before. Whatever it was, it was really whining away now.
“What…happened?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Uncle Carl asked.
Eric tried to think back. “The helmet vibrating on my head.”
“It’s not a—” Uncle Carl started to say.
“Shhh,” Fiona cut him off. To Eric, she said, “Go on.”
“Someone asked me if I was doing okay,” Eric continued. “And…and…and I was asleep. Then there was some shaking, and you guys woke me up.”
“Technically, you weren’t sleeping,” Mr. Trouble said.
“Then what was I doing?”
The look on Uncle Carl’s face was about as serious as Eric had seen it. “Enforced stupor.”
“Enforced what?”
“Stupor. A suspension of your conscious mind. Not asleep, but not awake either.”
“Enforced by who?”
“The Makers, of course,” Uncle Carl said. “Who else?”
“There they go!” It was Keira’s voice. Apparently, she was the one sitting in the front passenger seat.
Everyone turned to the windows. Eric pushed himself up so he could see, too. He was still a bit dizzy, but not nearly as much as he’d been a minute earlier.
They were driving up the side of the valley toward the ridge from where he’d first seen the Trouble family’s mobile headquarters. Only now the Lady Candice was racing down the makeshift runway.
“Who’s flying it?”
“Mom, of course,” Fiona said.
“But why? What’s going on?”
“Bug out,” Uncle Carl told him.
Eric looked at him, not understanding.
“It means retreat in a hurry,” Fiona explained.
“Retreat? Why?”
“Because the Makers found out where we were camped.”
“How did they do that?” he asked.
“You told them.”
13
“Watch out!” Keira yelled.
Mr. Trouble whipped the steering wheel to the left, sending the sedan off the dirt road and into the grassy field beside it. They’d been approaching a blind turn that dipped down into a shallow ravine, but just before they got there a bright red SUV came speeding out of it, directly into their path.
The sedan bounced wildly as Mr. Trouble drove in a wide arc around the SUV and back onto the road. Keira and Fiona looked out the rear window.
“They’re turning around,” Keira said.
“Would have been surprised if they didn’t,” Mr. Trouble replied.
He increased their speed as they shot through the ravine then up the other side. Unfortunately, the SUV was faster.
“Here they come!” Fiona warned.
“Who are they?” Maggie asked.
“Maker surrogates, probably,” Uncle Carl said.
Mr. Trouble glanced into the rearview mirror. “Everyone, hold on!”
The sedan suddenly rocked forward as the SUV hit its rear bumper.
“They’re going to kill us,” Maggie said.
“No,” Uncle Carl told her. “They don’t want to kill us. Well, they don’t want to kill him.” He nodded toward Eric. “That would defeat their purpose.”
Eric was wide awake now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Fiona said.
That was the last thing he wanted to hear. “I’m tired of no one telling me anything! Tell me what’s going on or I’ll…or I’ll…”
“Or you’ll what?” Keira asked. “Jump out?”
“Keira! That’s not helping,” Mr. Trouble said. “Eric, right now isn’t the time to explain everything so you’re going to have to continue trusting us for a little longer.”
Outside, the land was whipping past the window.
Eric was angry, and he was annoyed, and he was frustrated. But what choice did he have?
“How did they know we were going to be here?” Maggie asked.
“The talisman,” Uncle Carl said, as if that was answer enough.
“You mean that tiny gold ball?” Maggie said. “How could that have anything to do with the car chasing us?”
Uncle Carl muttered something to himself then looked at her. “Eric had direct skin-to-talisman contact for more than sixty seconds. That was plenty of time for it to mark him. Unfortunately, the scanner must have triggered the mark and that gave them our location.”
“The voice,” Eric said.
“What voice?” Fiona asked.
“When I was asleep, or in the…stupor, or whatever you want to call it, I heard a voice. It asked me where I was.”
“And you answered it?”
“I think all I said was something like ‘I’m here’ or ‘I’m right here.’ That’s it.”
“That would have been enough,” Uncle Carl said. “You gave them a temporary link into your mind. From that they could see where you’d gone.”
“A temporary link into his mind?” Maggie said, smirking. “Like that’s even possible.”
“Here they come again,” Mr. Trouble said. “Brace yourselves.”
While everyone else grabbed parts of the car, the only thing Eric could grab on to was Fiona.
Whack!
The back end of the sedan skidded a couple of feet sideways. For a split second it seemed like the car was going to spin all the way around. But Mr. Trouble fought the wheel, straightened out the sedan, and got it back on the road.
“We’ve got to get away from them,” Fiona said.
Keira looked back. “Nothing like stating the obvious.” She smiled at Eric. “You can let go of my sister now, if you’d like.”
Eric had forgotten he was holding onto anyone, and immediately released his grip. As he did, he caught sight of Maggie glancing at him. She had a strange look on her face, almost…sad?
“What?” he asked.
But she just shook her head and turned away.
“There’s the highway,” Keira said.
Mr. Trouble adjusted himself in his seat. “All right, everyone, I’m going to try to lose them up here. You’re going to have to hang on tight because it might get a little…well, just hang on.”
This time, instead of grabbing Fiona, Eric turned so that he could hold on to the back of Keira’s chair, then positioned himself to be able to see out the front windshield.
The highway was just ahead, separated from the wilderness by a wire fence that was only open where the dirt road passed through it. They’d be there in less than a minute.
Eric glanced over his shoulder to see where the others were and immediately wished he hadn’t.
“They’re going to hit us again!” he yelled.
Keeping his eyes on the SUV, he braced himself. But just before the truck could ram into them, Mr. Trouble swerved the sedan into the field.
The SUV rushed past but stayed on the road, racing ahead toward the opening in the fence. As soon as it got there, it skidded to a halt and blocked the entire exit.
“We can’t get through,” Eric said.
“Of course we can,” Mr. Trouble told him.
“But he’s in the way!”
Mr. Trouble just smiled and kept driving across the field, straight at the fence.
“You’re going to hit it,” Maggie said as they drew closer.
“I certainly hope so.”
Eric ducked behind the seat.
There was a loud whap as the car slammed into the fence. Eric expected the crash would bring them to a sudden stop, tangled up in wires and posts, but they kept moving.
A second later, as the ride smoothed out, he poked his head up and saw that they were on the highway. Looking back, he spotted the section of fence they’d hit. It was on the ground bu
t not in a twisted pile. It had fallen as a single piece.
“We’ve learned in our business to be prepared,” Mr. Trouble said, catching Eric’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Uncle Colin and Uncle Carl are in charge of alternate escape routes. They fixed up that bit of fence last night.”
“Wait. You expected to be chased?” Maggie asked.
“Of course not,” Uncle Carl said. “But you never know, do you? That’s what being prepared is all about.”
“I hate to mention this, but we haven’t actually gotten away yet,” Fiona said, looking out the rear window. “They’re still following us.”
Sure enough, the SUV was on the highway, trying to catch up with them.
“Uncle Carl?” Mr. Trouble said.
“On it,” Uncle Carl replied. He started pushing Eric off him. “You’re going to have to move.”
“Where do you expect me to go?” Eric asked.
“I don’t care, just not on me.”
Eric wiggled around and repositioned himself so that he was only on Maggie and Fiona. Freed, Uncle Carl turned around and undid the latch holding the back of the seat in place. With lots of grunts and groans and awkward twisting, he pulled the back all the way down and crawled through into the trunk.
For the next several seconds, they could all hear him moving around and muttering.
“You’d better hurry,” Mr. Trouble said.
Eric glanced out the rear window. The SUV was only a few car lengths back.
“When I say ‘now,’ pop the trunk,” Uncle Carl yelled.
A few seconds later, Mr. Trouble said, “He’s getting closer.”
“Any time, Uncle Carl,” Fiona told him.
“He’s still getting closer,” Keira said.
“Uncle Carl?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“He’s almost—”
“Now!” Uncle Carl yelled.
Mr. Trouble reached down and hit the button that opened the trunk. Eric could see the lid jump up a few inches. It stayed there for half a second and then it suddenly thrust all the way up, blocking everyone’s view of the SUV.
From inside the trunk came a combination hum-whirl that grew in intensity until—
PAAAA-HEEEEEW!
Several seconds passed, then the trunk lid slammed shut. And while the SUV was still behind them, it was a long way back now, stopped in the middle of the road.
“How did he…?” Eric asked.
“Pulse gun,” Mr. Trouble said. “Point it at a car and pull the trigger. Kills all the electronic circuits.”
Uncle Carl climbed back into the passenger area, closing the seat back again.
Once he was settled, he said, “I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use a bite to eat.”
14
Contrary to Uncle Carl’s wishes, Mr. Trouble had other ideas.
“Get the detector,” he said. “The Makers are going to be agitated. This might be our best chance to find out where they’re hiding.”
“One burger, that’s all I ask,” Uncle Carl said.
“Later.” Mr. Trouble’s tone made it clear his mind was made up.
With a sigh, Uncle Carl went through the whole process of getting into the trunk again. When he returned this time, he was holding a small case. From inside, he removed a cylinder the same size as a can of soda. It had a series of buttons ringing the bottom, a display screen in the middle, and four thin wires coming out of the top.
At the end of each wire was a tiny suction cup. He stuck one to the window next to him then gave the rest of the wires to Keira and Fiona, who stuck them to the other windows. When they were through, wires were attached to all four sides of the car.
He touched one of the buttons on the bottom of the cylinder and said, “Okay, it’s running. Now, does anyone have a candy bar, or maybe a piece of gum?”
Maggie pulled a granola bar out of the side pocket of her backpack. “You can have this.”
He took it from her and immediately started ripping open the package, but he hadn’t gotten the bar all the way out when Fiona reached over and tapped him on the back of the head.
“What?” he said.
She gave him a look and shifted her gaze to Maggie.
“Oh, right.” He turned to Maggie. “Thank you. That was very…kind.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem,” Maggie said, annoyance returning to her voice.
When they reached Tobin, Mr. Trouble began driving up one street then down the next. Every ten seconds or so, he would glance at Eric, then back at the road, then back at Eric again.
Finally, as they turned off Patrick Place onto Leann Lane, he said, “Here’s the deal. The trouble you’ve been having? It’s not the normal kind of trouble a kid your age would have.”
“Yeah. That’s not exactly news,” Eric said.
Fiona sat up. “Ronan, I don’t think we should—”
“He deserves to know what’s going on,” Mr. Trouble said.
“That’s not the way Dad would have done it,” she said.
“Dad’s not in charge anymore. I am.”
Silence.
Eric frowned at Fiona. “This is my life we’re talking about. I have a right to know what’s going on.”
“You do,” Mr. Trouble said.
When Mr. Trouble didn’t go on, Eric said, “So, tell me.”
“Right. Okay, uh, let’s see. What’s the best way to—”
“Just tell me!”
“Okay. In a nutshell, you’re being hunted.”
“I’m being what?”
“Hunted.”
“You mean like ‘let’s go deer hunting’ hunted?”
“Well, sort of. But without the gun part.”
For some reason that didn’t make Eric feel all that much better. “Why me? What did I do?”
Mr. Trouble was about to answer when the cylinder in Uncle Carl’s lap beeped twice.
“Something?” Mr. Trouble asked, suddenly tense.
Uncle Carl looked at the screen on the side of the cylinder and said, “Just a weak trace. They may have come through this way, but they’re not here now.”
Mr. Trouble relaxed and glanced back at Eric. “Okay, where were we?”
“You were going to tell me why I was being hunted,” Eric said.
“Right. See, you’ve recently done something that brought attention to yourself.”
“Not that I know of.”
“That wasn’t a question.” Mr. Trouble nodded once at Fiona. “Tell him.”
She took a deep breath, not looking particularly happy, then said, “Okay. See, part of my job as your point of contact rep is to do some research on you and try to figure out your triggering incident.”
“Triggering incident?”
“The thing that made them take a closer look at you,” she said. “Last summer you went to camp for a week. One of the kids did a belly flop into the lake and knocked himself out. You swam him to shore and saved his life.”
“I was right there when he hit,” Eric said, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “A few feet to the side and he would have landed on top of me. All I did was reach out and turn him over.”
“And swam him to shore,” Mr. Trouble reminded him.
“There was an article in your local paper,” Fiona went on, “with your picture.”
“What was the quote from his mother?” Mr. Trouble asked.
Fiona closed her eyes, thinking. “‘We’ve always told him to be aware of his surroundings and be a doer, not a watcher. We’re very proud of him.’”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Mr. Trouble said. “That’s your triggering event. A little life blip that made you stand out from the crowd. It doesn’t, however, guarantee you will become a target.”
“What makes the difference?”
“Your skin.”
Eric’s face twisted in shock. “My skin?”
“In the cells of your skin, actually.”
“You mean DNA?”
“Not DNA, but something like that. We call
it the Maker Marker.”
“Oh, that’s cute,” Maggie said sarcastically. “Who thought that up?”
Eric’s eyes narrowed. “That scrape Uncle Colin took from my finger. He was testing me?”
“We had to make sure you had the marker.”
“And I do?”
He nodded.
“But how could the Makers test my skin?”
“They don’t need a laboratory. They use this.” He touched his nose. “They just needed to get close to you and take a long whiff to know for sure. Once they did, and knew for sure you had the marker, that’s when your troubles began.”
“Peter,” Eric said, making the connection. “The sniffing.”
“Yes,” Mr. Trouble said, somewhat hesitantly.
“But what happened last summer — what does that have to do with anything?”
Mr. Trouble was silent for a moment. “All fruits are not apples, but all apples are fruits.”
“Huh?”
“All the people who would do something like you did at camp don’t have the marker, but all people who have the marker would do something like you did. Understand?”
Eric thought for a moment then nodded. “So I’m one of the lucky ones the Makers want.”
“Officially, we call them Trouble Makers. That’s with a capital T and a capital M.”
“Trouble Makers,” Eric said to himself.
“Can you think of a better way to describe them?”
“No, I guess not,” Eric said. “So Peter Garr is one?”
Mr. Trouble immediately shook his head. “No. Peter Garr isn’t a Maker. He’s being used as what we refer to as a Maker surrogate. He may be a bad guy, but he hasn’t been in control of the things he’s been doing to you lately. The other day in the library, at Maggie’s house last night, the attempted kidnapping today — he’ll have no memory of any of it.”
“So the Makers have sniffed me out through him?”
Mr. Trouble hesitated. “We think the smelling is less precise when they use a surrogate. Kind of like breathing through a heavy scarf. The surrogates use your smell to track you, but the initial whiff, the one that confirmed you were a target, a Maker did that himself.”
Eric though for a moment, then said, “Peter isn’t the only one giving me a hard time.”
“All the people who have been directly bothering you lately are surrogates. The Makers take temporary control of them, using them for whatever they need.” Mr. Trouble paused. “Some are easier to manipulate than others. Those are the ones they use for their hardest work. Peter, for instance. Some are less so. A Maker might only use them to plant a suggestion or idea in their mind. Like having someone believe his wife has gone on a business trip.”
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