“We were in the car three blocks away and it got Uncle Carl.”
Uncle Carl looked embarrassed.
“Had to give him a shot to wake him up,” Mr. Trouble said.
“But, then, what about you? It didn’t put you to sleep?” Eric said.
“No,” Mr. Trouble replied, but didn’t explain further. “I’m sorry, everyone. I should have known they’d try something like this. We should have been prepared. That was my fault.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Uncle Carl said. “We’ve never seen anything on a scale like this before. One or two people put under at the same time, yes. Four, once, if the records are to be believed. But a whole neighborhood? Even your father wouldn’t have expected it.”
Mr. Trouble looked unconvinced, but he said nothing.
Fiona had Ronan’s dart gun propped on Maggie’s legs and was refilling it from the box that had been under the seat. Without pausing what she was doing, she said, “Uncle Carl’s right. Your plan was fine. How could any of us expect to encounter this many of them at one time? No one ever has before.”
“This many what? Surrogates?” Eric asked.
“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant,” Fiona said. “Makers can only control a few surrogates at a time. And we’ve never encountered more than three Makers working together. So that means we should never face more than seven or eight surrogates at one time.”
“Nine is possible,” Uncle Carl corrected her.
“But there were
“And at least six others Ronan and Uncle Carl saw wandering the neighborhood.”
“Sixteen?” Eric said. “That means there are at least, what, six Makers?”
“Unprecedented,” Uncle Carl said to himself. “Impossible.”
“Not impossible, apparently,” Mr. Trouble said, glancing at Keira. “Uncle Carl, why don’t you wake up the girls?”
“What? Oh, yes. Good idea.” Uncle Carl looked down at his jacket, realized he was holding the injection gun, and shoved it into Eric’s hands. “Hold that.”
He then searched inside his jacket for several seconds. “I thought it was right here.”
“I threw it into the glove compartment after I got what I needed to wake you,” Mr. Trouble said.
“I’ll get it,” Fiona said.
She handed Mr. Trouble’s dart gun to Eric, then scooted under Maggie’s legs and squeezed between the two front seats. Stretching, she reached for the glove compartment.
Just as she popped it open, a car shot onto the road ahead of them. Mr. Trouble stamped on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left to get around it. But the other driver immediately pulled in front of them again.
“Hey,” Fiona said. “Hold it steady.”
“We’ve got company,” her brother explained.
She pushed herself up and glanced over the dashboard. “Oh, great.”
“Not just them,” he said, pointing at the rear window with his thumb.
Everyone looked out the back.
Two cars.
One was directly behind them, and another was coming up fast on their side.
22
Fiona made another try for the glove compartment.
“Got it,” she said, holding up a small rectangular box.
“They’re trying to block us in,” Mr. Trouble said. “Everyone, grab onto something. I’m taking the next right turn.”
But before they even got close to the next street, the other three cars slowed as one, forcing Mr. Trouble to do the same.
“This is not helping us get away,” Fiona said.
Mr. Trouble shot her a quick look. “I’m well aware of that.”
He eased the sedan forward until their bumper tapped the car in front of them.
“Brace yourselves,” he warned, then he slammed the gas pedal to the floor.
Whatever the person driving the front car had been expecting, that wasn’t it. The car jumped forward, creating just enough of a gap for Mr. Trouble to squeeze the sedan through.
“Here we go!”
Eric leaned to the side, anticipating the turn. But instead of racing left into the gap, Mr. Trouble went right, into a driveway entrance, then made a sharp turn back to the left, and ended up half on and half off the sidewalk that paralleled the road. The sedan bounced wildly on the uneven ground.
“Not…exactly…comfortable,” Fiona said, still stuck between the front seats.
On the street, the other cars had slowed to pace them, knowing Mr. Trouble would have to come back onto the road at some point. Mr. Trouble increased his speed just a little bit. Instantly, the other three cars did the same. He increased again, and they copied him once more.
“I’m going to try something,” he announced. “So whatever you’re hanging on to, don’t let go.”
He increased his speed one last time. As soon as the others followed his lead, he slammed on the brakes and pulled the wheel to the left just as they reached another driveway. The other cars were going too fast and had already passed the opening.
The sedan flew into the street, then Mr. Trouble whipped the wheel to the left again and they were racing off in the opposite direction.
Eric grinned broadly. “You did it!”
“Don’t get too excited yet.” Mr. Trouble nodded toward the back window. “They’re turning around and coming back.”
Eric took a look. Sure enough, the other cars were doing just that.
“Eric,” Mr. Trouble said. “This is your town. We need someplace where we can make a few random turns and come out in another part of town, preferably the north end. The road coming up — should I turn on that?”
Eric studied the road then shook his head. “Not that one. That’ll just take you around so that you come out behind us a couple of streets.”
“Okay. What about the one right after that? What do you think?”
Eric shook again. “That one’s not so good, either.”
“We
“I know,” Eric said.
He scanned ahead, playing where they were against the map of the town in his mind.
“I hate to be Miss Negative,” Fiona said, “but those cars are getting closer.”
“Since when do you hate being Miss Negative?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“There,” Eric said, pointing down the road. “The one on the left after the house with the minivan in the driveway.”
“You’re sure?” Mr. Trouble asked.
“Yes. It goes into this big neighborhood with lots of twisty streets. There’s a way through it that’ll bring us out next to Riegel’s Pizza Parlor near the north side of town.”
Mr. Trouble smiled. “Perfect. Everyone, do I need to tell you to brace yourselves again?”
“Please don’t,” Fiona said.
For the next five minutes, they took turn after turn, sometimes doubling back, sometimes racing ahead. Finally, when Mr. Trouble was satisfied, Eric guided him toward the way out.
Once it seemed they weren’t going to be making any more sudden turns, Fiona settled back into the rear seat and gave the box she’d taken out of the glove compartment to Uncle Carl. He removed a glass tube from inside and inserted it into the injection gun Eric had happily returned to him. “Who’s first?” he asked.
