Here Comes Mr. Trouble tfc-1

by Brett Battles

  “Dad.”

  Mr. Trouble nodded. “We believe he’s been touched.”

  “Will he be okay?”

  “There’s seldom any long-term damage so he should be fine.”

  That wasn’t as comforting as it could have been.

  “What about the Makers? Who are they?”

  “It’s not really who,” Keira said.

  “She’s right,” Mr. Trouble said, looking at Eric in the mirror. “The thing is, Trouble Makers aren’t—”

  Suddenly, the cylinder began to shriek.

  15

  “Level-seven hit,” Uncle Carl said, looking at the display. He glanced out the front window, then back at the cylinder. “Go left at the next street.”

  Mr. Trouble did as instructed, but immediately the shriek began to die down.

  “I don’t understand,” Uncle Carl said. “Go back, go back.”

  Mr. Trouble turned the car around and got back on Leann Lane.

  “Aren’t what?” Eric asked, still focused on the pre-shriek conversation. “What are they?”

  “They’re Makers,” Keira said, as if their name itself should be enough.

  Mr. Trouble pulled to a stop near the point where the cylinder had originally started shrieking, but it was silent now. He turned in his seat and looked at Uncle Carl. “False reading?”

  Uncle Carl looked concerned. “No. I’m sure it was real.”

  “Then why isn’t it going off again?” Fiona asked.

  “Because whatever it picked up isn’t there any more.” He paused for a moment. “Circle the block.”

  “Uncle Carl, we don’t have time for mistakes,” Mr. Trouble said.

  “It’s not a mistake. There was something. I guarantee it. Ronan, please, just go around again.”

  Mr. Trouble stared at his uncle for a moment then started driving again. “Two minutes,” he said. “If we don’t find something by then, we move on.”

  “Fine, fine,” his uncle replied.

  As they headed toward the end of the block, Eric said, “I still have no idea what the Makers are.”

  Mr. Trouble said nothing for a moment as he turned the corner, then he shrugged. “That’s the problem. No one really does.”

  “Have you ever seen one?” Maggie asked, sounding like she thought they were all crazy.

  Mr. Troubles hesitated. “We’ve all been in the presence of Makers. We’ve seen the forms they’ve taken. But what they actually look like?” He shook his head.

  “I don’t understand,” Eric said. “Forms? What they actually look like? If you see them, you see them.”

  “Why don’t you just capture one of these things?” Maggie asked.

  “There’s been only one time a Maker has even talked to one of us outside of a confrontation.”

  “Ronan. Are you sure they need to know that?” Fiona asked.

  He ignored her and said, “We call him Maker Larkin. He approached…a previous Mr. Trouble and gave him information about the Makers we couldn’t have gotten otherwise. We’re not sure why he talked to us, but what we do know is that so far most of what he told us has been true. He’s as close as we’ve ever gotten to knowing the real Makers.”

  Maggie snorted. “Oh, you guys are really good at this.”

  Fiona turned to face her, her face hard and serious. “Our first and most important job is to protect the client. It’s not to capture a Maker.” As she sat back, she added, “But my brother’s wrong. If we’re going to be completely open, someone has seen what a Maker actually looks like.”

  “Who?” Eric asked.

  She paused for a moment then said, “Our father.”

  There was an awkward moment of nothing.

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Keira said, breaking the silence.

  “Of course we do,” Fiona argued. “Just before he…finished the job, he told the client to tell us Uncle Colin’s goggles had worked.” She turned to Eric. “Those goggles were designed to see Makers. Dad couldn’t have meant anything else.”

  “He didn’t tell you later what he saw?” Eric asked.

  More silence, then–

  “Stop!” Uncle Carl yelled.

  Mr. Trouble hit the brakes. Even before the car stopped rolling, Uncle Carl had detached the cylinder from the wires and jumped out.

  “Don’t go anywhere without me,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  With the increase in room, Eric scooted off Maggie and Fiona’s laps and into Uncle Carl’s empty spot.

  “What’s he doing?” Eric asked, looking out the window.

  “Makers leave traces of measureable energy wherever they spend a lot of time,” Mr. Trouble explained. “Usually you have to be very close to detect it, but when they get upset, that area expands and you can get a reading from two or three blocks away sometimes. What we’re looking for is their hideout. They usually rent a house in a nice neighborhood, someplace expensive.”

  Maggie forced out a deep, loud breath. “Are you really believing this? Makers? Mind-controlling people? Seriously. This is crazy. And tell me this — how could something that’s not human rent a house? Or do one of these surrogates do it for them?”

  “That’s not what they use surrogates for,” Mr. Trouble said, shaking his head.

  “She does have a point, though, doesn’t she?” Eric said. “How do they rent a house?”

  “I never said the form they take wasn’t human.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s easy, isn’t it?” Maggie said. “So basically I could be a Maker. Or Eric, or you, or any of us. But even if we were, and you were looking right at us, you wouldn’t know what a Maker really looks like? Makes complete sense to me.”

  For the first time, Mr. Trouble looked like he might lose his temper. “I understand that this might be difficult for you to believe. That’s fine. But this is our life, not some game of pretend. No, Maggie, I couldn’t be a Maker. Not you, either. Not Fiona or Keira or even Uncle Carl. Eric, on the other hand, is a perfect Maker candidate.”

  Outside, Uncle Carl walked around the corner of a house and out of sight.

  “Keira, go with him,” Mr. Trouble said.

  “Why me?” she said. “Why not Fiona?”

  “Because I told you to go.”

  “You sound like Mom,” she said, then opened the door and got out. “You’re not Mom. And you’re not Dad, either.”

  “Keira!” Fiona said. But it was too late. Her sister had already slammed the door shut. She looked over at her brother. “She didn’t mean it.”

  “Of course she did,” Ronan said. “And she’s right. I’m not Dad. But I am Mr. Trouble now. She needs to remember that.” He paused for a second. “And so do you.”

  Fiona looked away suddenly, part of her lower lip slipping into her mouth.

  “Are you trying to say I’m a Maker?” Eric asked.

  “Of course not,” Mr. Trouble replied. “And if I have anything to do with it, you never will be. The thing you need to remember, Eric — they can’t take you if you don’t let them.”

  “But I won’t let—”

  “This is ridiculous,” Maggie said. “Eric, let’s go home. It’s getting late.”

  “No one’s going anywhere until I’m sure it’s safe,” Mr. Trouble announced. “But I promise we’ll drop you all off at Maggie’s house in plenty of time for dinner.”

  “What do you mean ‘you all’?” Maggie asked suspiciously.

  “You and Eric and Fiona and Keira.”

  “Whoa. Why would you drop your sisters off at my house?”

  “Because they’re spending the night,” he said.

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

  “He’s not joking,” Fiona said. “Your mom’s already expecting us.”

  “No way. You’re lying.”

  Fiona shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s true. Mom set it up while you were all in the lab letting the Makers know where we were. Eric’s staying overnight, too.”

  “Me?”
r />   “But he’s…he’s a boy,” Maggie said.

  “Homework slumber party,” Fiona said. “For that big test we’re having next week.”

  “What big test?” Eric asked.

  “The one that’s not really happening,” Fiona replied. “But Maggie’s mom and your dad were very impressed with the idea and were more than okay with it.”

  Just then, Uncle Carl and Keira rushed across the yard and climbed back into the car. This time Maggie ended up on Eric’s lap.

  “What happened?” Mr. Trouble asked.

  “They were definitely here,” Uncle Carl said. “Up until probably thirty minutes ago.”

  “About the time we abandoned base camp,” Fiona said.

  Uncle Carl nodded. “I think they must have thought their surrogates were going to succeed so they went someplace else to wait for the package to be delivered.”

  “What package?” Eric asked. “I thought they wanted—”

  The four members of the Trouble family were now staring at him.

  “Oh,” he said. “I’m the package.”

  “Think of it this way,” Keira said. “You’ve never been so popular in your life.”

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Mr. Trouble announced. “Uncle Carl, I’m going to leave you here to keep an eye on the house while I drop everyone else off at Maggie’s. Then I’ll come back and maybe we can catch them returning.”

  Uncle Carl sucked at the inside of his cheek but didn’t get out of the car. “There’s something else.”

  Mr. Trouble looked both curious and annoyed. “What?”

  “I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”

  16

  No one wanted to wait in the car so they all got out and followed Uncle Carl to the house.

  As they were walking, Eric noticed that Fiona looked like she wanted to say something to her brother, but she stopped herself and moved over to whisper something to Keira instead. Keira frowned at her then picked up her pace so they weren’t walking together any more.

  He was about to walk up and ask what was going on when Maggie tugged at his shirt. He slowed and joined her at the back of the pack.

  “We should get out of here,” she whispered. “These people are insane.”

  “They just want to help,” he said.

  “Help with what? You’re having some bad luck, that’s all. There’s not some make-believe force doing this to you. That kind of thing doesn’t really happen. This isn’t one of those stupid comic books you read.”

  “They’re not comic books,” he said quickly. “They’re manga. And they’re not stupid.”

  “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

  “I know the difference between fantasy and reality. But you didn’t see what happened at the library, and you weren’t there this afternoon when they tried to kidnap me. And what about my mom?”

  “She’s on a business trip! Why would your dad lie about that? This other stuff they’re feeding you is just make-believe.”

  “It’s not make-believe, Maggie. There’s something going on here and these guys know what it is. If you want to go, go. I won’t stop you.”

  “Hey! Hurry up,” Fiona called out. She and the others had just passed through the gate into the backyard.

  Eric looked at Maggie. “I’m staying.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll stay, too. But only to prove to you how crazy this is.”

  “Fine.”

  As soon as they joined the others, Fiona shut the gate.

  “This way,” Uncle Carl said.

  He led them along the back of the house and over to a set of concrete steps that descended to a basement door.

  Uncle Carl knelt down and pointed at a small black dot on the top of the retaining wall that kept the backyard from falling into the stairs. “I didn’t notice until too late.”

  Mr. Trouble hunched over next to him to see what he was talking about. After a moment, he patted Uncle Carl on the back. “Could have happened to any of us.”

  “What is it?” Eric asked Keira.

  “A Maker motion sensor,” she said. “If there’s one, there’s more. It means they’ll already know we’ve been here.”

  Mr. Trouble stood back up. “And that means they won’t be coming back.”

  “So they’re gone?” Eric asked, suddenly hopeful. “They’ve left town? They won’t be bothering me any more? What about my mom? Will she be coming back now?”

  Mr. Trouble stepped over and put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t clear. What I meant is that they won’t be coming back here, to this house. So waiting for them to return would be a waste of time.”

  “Oh,” Eric said, disappointed. For a moment there he’d thought it was all over, that everything would go back to normal.

  Mr. Trouble must have sensed this because he smiled and said, “Don’t worry. We haven’t lost a client, or a parent, yet.” He turned back to Uncle Carl. “You could have told us about the motion sensors in the car.”

  Uncle Carl struggled back to his feet. “Of course I could have. But that’s not really what I wanted to show you.” He headed down the stairs then looked back at everyone. “Well, come on. We don’t have all day.”

  Keira went first, then Fiona.

  “You go ahead,” Mr. Trouble said to Maggie.

  She looked at him suspiciously but followed the girls anyway.

  Eric didn’t move. Going down the stairs was something he’d hoped to avoid. He knew he was being dumb, but basements had always given him the creeps. All those horror movies couldn’t be wrong, could they?

  Mr. Trouble tapped Eric on the shoulder. “You first or me?”

  Eric took a breath. “I’ll go.”

  He headed down and could hear Mr. Trouble right behind him. By the time they reached the bottom, the others had all gone inside. How Uncle Carl had gotten the door open, Eric had no idea. It certainly didn’t look like he’d used any force.

  The basement at Eric’s house was only half finished and used mostly for storage. The one at his grandparents’ farm was dark and cold and smelled like dirt. This one, though, was not like either of them.

  If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought he’d just walked through the front door upstairs. There was a couch and chairs and tables. On one wall was a large television, and on the others, photographs and paintings were arranged in a way Eric thought his mother would have liked.

  “Over here,” Uncle Carl called out.

  He was standing next to a set of stairs. Once he was sure everyone was heading his way, he went up.

  Eric had to admit this house was pretty nice. The lights and the carpets and the pictures and the furniture all had that expensive look that made him afraid to touch anything. Even the handrail on the staircase felt rich.

  The door at the top led to a wide hallway with high ceilings and more pictures on the walls.

  “Uncle Carl?” Fiona shouted.

  He was nowhere in sight.

  “Uncle Carl?” she repeated.

  His head poked out from a doorway halfway down the hall. “Over here,” he said and disappeared back inside.

  The room turned out to be a bedroom with a large black dresser and an even larger matching black bed. Uncle Carl was on his knees on the other side of the bed, with only the back of his head and his shoulders visible. The others moved around to join him.

  “Look, look,” he said.

  Mr. Trouble was the first to stop in his tracks. A second later, his sisters did the same.

  “Is that a…?” Fiona trailed off.

  No one spoke for several seconds.

  “What’s the big deal?” Maggie whispered to Eric.

  “I don’t know,” he replied.

  Set against the wall in front of Uncle Carl was what looked like a miniature set of drawers. It was maybe a foot across by a foot tall and perhaps four inches wide. Along the front were nine identically sized drawers, like a game board for tic-tac-toe. Th
e frame of the box was painted dull yellow, while the drawers alternated between neon pink and bright lime green. There were black characters, like letters, on each, but nothing Eric recognized. Perhaps strangest of all, the box seemed to be attached to the wall by a layer of some kind of white paste.

  Eric glanced around at the Trouble family. They were all still staring at the object.

  “It’s just a box,” he said.

  Without looking away, Mr. Trouble said, “It’s not just a box. It’s a Maker’s box.”

  Eric looked at it again. “What’s it for?”

  Mr. Trouble finally broke out of whatever trance he’d been in and knelt down next to his uncle. “That’s a good question. We’ve found signs of them on almost every job. The wax they use to hold them in place leaves a nice square impression, always the same size. But we’ve only found two other actual boxes. One in 1895 outside New Orleans, and one in 1957 in Memphis. But so far we haven’t been able to figure out their purpose.”

  “Eighteen ninety-five?” Maggie said, obviously not believing it.

  Mr. Trouble looked back at her and smiled. “Great-times-three granddad Robert. He wasn’t Mr. Trouble for long but he sure achieved a lot in his limited run.”

  “What’s in the drawers?” Eric asked.

  Mr. Trouble shrugged. “The others were empty so my guess is nothing.” He glanced at his uncle. “Have you checked?”

  Uncle Carl shook his head. “Not yet.” He looked like he really wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  “No time like the present,” Mr. Trouble said, reaching for the top left drawer.

  Both Fiona and Keira sucked in deep breaths. But before Mr. Trouble touched the drawer’s knob, Uncle Carl grabbed his hand.

  “We should wait until we have it in the workshop,” he said. “Just in case there is something in one of the drawers. That way, we’ll be in a position to contain it and analyze it right away.”