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 but 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—”

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