Eric tried not to seem too freaked out. “So if we see them…they’ll appear as kids like me?”
“No, they grow up with the Makers inside. But you can still tell. See, the Makers do something to the bodies. They make them perfect — too perfect. Their skin, their faces, their hair — everything. They also do something that makes the bodies last a lot longer than they should.”
That was far from the skinny, troll-like creatures Eric had dreamt about. “How much longer?”
Mr. Trouble paused. “We think centuries.”
“Centuries? Are you kidding?”
Mr. Trouble shook his head.
“Well, do you think we’re going to actually see any?”
“My plan is that we don’t.” He smiled and looked over at his sisters. “Fiona, Keira, you’re up.”
Without another word, the girls headed out the back door.
As soon as they were gone, Mr. Trouble led Eric and Maggie to the exit.
“What do you see?” he asked into his radio.
“The area right outside and all the way to the car appears clear,” Fiona answered.
“Excellent.” He looked at Eric and Maggie. “I’ll go first.”
He opened the door and climbed down the steps. When he reached the bottom he did a quick look around, then motioned for Eric and Maggie to come down.
“After you,” Eric said.
“Why? Are you scared?” Maggie asked.
“No, of course not.”
The left side of her mouth moved up in the hint of a weird smile before she started down the steps.
In the field beyond the plane, Eric could see one of the Trouble sisters nearing some trees, and the other one moving off to the left. It was too dark, though, to tell which was which.
“Eric, you want to join us?” Mr. Trouble called out.
Eric glanced down. Maggie and Mr. Trouble were both at the bottom looking up at him. He hurried down the steps.
“Uncle Carl? Uncle Colin? How are we looking?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“We can’t find any of them,” Uncle Colin responded. “It’s like they all disappeared.”
“They couldn’t have all disappeared,” Fiona whispered over the radio.
“Fiona, do you see any of them where you are?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“No,” she said. “But they’ve got to be out here somewhere, don’t—”
Keira cut her sister off. “I see one.”
“Where are you?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“In the woods to the right of the plane,” she replied. “He just came around the abandoned house and slipped into the trees.”
“Maker or surrogate?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“Surrogate, definitely. Too ugly to be a Maker.”
“I see one, too,” Fiona said. “Wait. No, two more.”
“Three just came around the house,” Keira reported. “They’re heading toward the barn.”
Mr. Trouble turned to Eric and Maggie. “We need to get to the car now.”
As they started to move, Fiona let out a short, surprised scream. It was quickly followed by the pffffft of a dart gun.
“Fiona, are you all right?” Mr. Trouble asked.
There was a moan over the radio.
“Fiona?”
“I’m…I’m okay,” she said. “Sorry. He knocked me over.”
“Did you get him?”
“I hit him, but he didn’t go down.”
Eric could see Mr. Trouble frown. “You must have missed him, then.”
“No. I could see it hanging from him, but he kept going.”
Pffffft.
“Who shot that?” Mr. Trouble asked.
Pffffft.
“One just jumped out at me,” Keira said. “The first dart hit him in the chest but didn’t do anything. Got him with another in the leg. That knocked him out. Hold on.”
“What are you doing?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“I said hold on!”
“Fiona, what about the one you saw? Where is he now?”
“He was headed down the line of trees on the left side of the plane. I…I don’t see him now.”
Mr. Trouble pushed Eric on the back and grabbed Maggie’s arm. “Come on.”
He started running toward the sedan.
“I have them on the monitors now!” Uncle Colin announced. “I count…” He went silent for a second then muttered, “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. Eighteen.”
Mr. Trouble nearly stumbled. “Eighteen?”
“No. No, not eighteen. Nineteen.”
“Four just sprinted out of the woods in front of me,” Fiona said. “They’re headed toward the barn!”
That was where the sedan was. By Eric’s count, there were at least seven surrogates headed their way.
“Well, how about that?” Keira said.
“A little busy for riddles right now,” Mr. Trouble told her.
“What? Oh, sorry,” she said. “The surrogates are wearing padding under their clothes.”
“What kind of padding?”
“This guy’s got chest protectors on both the front and back. You know? The kind catchers in baseball wear? My first dart hit it but didn’t go all the way through.”
Eric, Maggie, and Mr. Trouble stopped as they reached the car.
“Fiona, did you get that?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“Yeah,” Fiona answered. “Concentrate on arms and legs, right?”
“Right.” Mr. Trouble pulled open the rear door of the sedan and motioned for Eric and Maggie to get in.
As they climbed inside, he opened the driver’s door. But before he could enter, two surrogates came around the end of the barn.
“You’re not going anywhere,” one of them said.
Mr. Trouble raised his dart gun and fired off a shot. The surrogate in the lead paused mid-step then fell to the ground. Mr. Trouble fired again, but the other surrogate moved quickly to his left and the dart sailed harmlessly through the air.
Mr. Trouble stepped around the open door to get a better angle, but the surrogate retreated to the end of the building and disappeared around the side.
“Give us the boy,” the surrogate called out from his hiding place.
Mr. Trouble lowered his gun and took several steps toward the end of the barn. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”
“That’s too bad,” the surrogate said. “It would be so much easier for you if you did.”
Mr. Trouble crept over to the barn and snuck along the wall until he reached the corner. He brought up his gun, flashed a quick smile back at Eric and Maggie, then stepped out so he could see around the corner.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Pffffft.
Pffffft. Pffffft. Pffffft.
Pffffft.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mr. Trouble yelled as he ran behind the barn out of sight.
Quiet descended over the car.
After nearly a minute, Eric held his hand to his radio and said, “Mr. Trouble, are you there?”
There was no response.
He glanced at Maggie then said, “Fiona? Keira?” Nothing. “Uncle Colin? Uncle Carl? Anyone?”
But the only thing that answered him was dead air.
He turned to Maggie again. “Do you believe me now that something strange is going on? That it’s not just bad luck I’ve been having?”
“Yes,” she said. “I believe you.”
“Well…well, good,” he said, surprised by her response.
“In fact, I think maybe we should find someplace to hide,” she suggested.
“But Mr. Trouble wanted us to wait here.”
“This is the first place they’ll look for us.”
She had a point.
“We could go back to the plane,” he said.
“No. They’d expect that, too.”
“Then where?”
“In the barn. I’m sure there are plenty of places to hide there.”