Here Comes Mr. Trouble

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Uncle Carl warned. “It could just be a fake and not yours at all. Maybe even a trap.”

Eric examined the key. There was the scratch it had gotten his first week back at school, and the double knot in the cord he’d tied himself a couple of days before the key had gone missing.

“How did they get this?”

“You’re sure it’s yours?” Mr. Trouble asked.

“One hundred percent.”

The four adults exchanged looks, then Mother Trouble said, “Perhaps we should look in the other drawers.”

In drawer five was the old Swedish coin Eric’s uncle had given him two years ago. Drawer six contained the medal Eric had won a year earlier when he was still on swim team. Drawer seven: a five-dollar bill. It could have been Eric’s. He was missing some money. Drawer eight: a big white eraser identical to the one that, until a week or so ago, had been in Eric’s backpack.

And in drawer nine was a piece of paper.

As soon as Uncle Colin unfolded it, there could no longer be any doubts about Eric’s claims to the other items. Wrapped inside was a copy of Eric’s latest school photo. And the paper itself was the actual citation Eric had been given the previous summer when he’d helped the unconscious camper to shore.

“This certainly puts a new spin on things, doesn’t it?” Mother Trouble said.

Eric listened with only half an ear as Mr. Trouble, Mother Trouble and Uncle Colin tossed out and rejected several possibilities. His attention, instead, was on the pile of his personal items sitting on the bench.

He hadn’t actually lost anything.

He’d been robbed.

Until that point, all the talk about the Maker had kind of spooked him, but his fear now disappeared and he was mad.

“Excuse me,” Uncle Carl said.

Eric looked up. “Huh?”

“I need to get by.”

Eric moved to the side so Uncle Carl could slide past.

“Excuse me, again,” Uncle Carl said only seconds later as he came back.

Moving out of the way once more, Eric noticed that Uncle Carl was carrying several tools. Curious, Eric climbed back onto the box so he could see.

Uncle Carl set most of the tools on the workbench, but held onto a thick, foot-long screwdriver. He positioned the blade directly in front of the space between drawer number one and the frame.

Uncle Colin, who had been speaking, stopped in mid-sentence. “What are you doing?” he asked his brother.

“If we can’t pull it open, maybe we can pry it,” Uncle Carl explained. “After finding Eric’s stuff in the other drawers, I think it might be important.”

Though Uncle Colin looked unconvinced, Mr. Trouble nodded immediately. “Excellent idea.”

Not waiting for further approval, Uncle Carl carefully slipped the screwdriver into the tiny gap. The blade went in about a quarter of an inch then stopped. He started moving it up and down.

“You’re going to damage it,” Uncle Colin warned.

Uncle Carl stopped for a second and glared at his brother.

“Right, right,” Uncle Colin said, backing down. “Opening is more important.”

Still, Uncle Colin cringed each time Uncle Carl moved the screwdriver.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. And then–

Creak.

The front of the drawer moved a fraction of an inch.

Up and down. Up and down.

Crack!

While the drawer itself remained in the box, the front fell onto the workbench.

“Watch out! Watch out!” Uncle Carl yelled.

Both he and Uncle Colin dove and ducked like they were going to be hit by some invisible object. They looked up, then left, then right, then up again. Over. Down. Up. Around. It was like they were watching two separate, out-of-control roller coasters. Then all of a sudden both swiveled their heads in the same direction and stopped, staring at Eric.

“Don’t move,” Uncle Colin ordered.

Eric froze. “What? What’s wrong?”

“They’re hovering right in front of you.”

“What’s hovering right in front of me? I don’t see anything.”

“Me, neither,” said Mr. Trouble.

The uncles’ attention was firmly fixed on Eric, or, more specifically, the area directly in front of Eric.

Uncle Colin reached over to the bench, picked up the tongs, then took a step forward. “Don’t…do… anything…to…scare…them.”

“Scare what?” Eric asked, completely confused and not just a little scared. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Colin,” Mother Trouble said. “You’re making him nervous. Now what in the world is going on?”

Uncle Colin ignored her as he slowly extended the tongs, stopping them at a point a foot in front of Eric’s face. He relaxed his grip so that the two ends opened wide, then eased it another inch forward.

“Am I over him enough?” he asked.

“Over what?” Eric said.

“Yes. You’re perfect,” Uncle Carl told him. “Grab it!”

Uncle Colin slammed closed the ends of the tongs. They hit each other with a dull clang, catching nothing but air.

“Wait a minute.” Uncle Colin looked at the tongs, surprised. “I had him.”

Whatever it was Uncle Colin thought he’d had, Eric was too freaked out to stand still any longer. He threw his arms out and started waving them wildly.

“Get away from me!” he yelled. “Get away! Get away!”

“Careful!” Uncle Carl and Uncle Colin shouted in unison.

Both of the uncles started looking all over the place again. Suddenly they stopped, their gazes falling to the floor in one quick movement.

After only a couple of seconds, Uncle Colin said in a near whisper, “They’re gone.”

Mr. Trouble grabbed his uncles by the back of their lab coats and turned them so they faced him. “What’s wrong with you two? There was nothing there.”

Uncle Carl looked at his nephew as if he were insane. “Nothing there? There were hundreds of them.”

“They were everywhere,” Uncle Colin agreed.

“What ‘they’? We didn’t see anything.”

Shaking his head, Uncle Colin said, “That doesn’t make any…” Then he paused and raised a hand to his face. “Carl, the goggles.”

His brother reached up and touched his own goggles. Uncle Colin removed his first, and then Uncle Carl did the same.

“They worked,” Uncle Carl said, astonished.

“Yes. They did, they did!” Uncle Colin replied.

“What are you guys talking about?” Mr. Trouble asked.

Uncle Colin gave him an excited pat on the arm. “The goggles!” He held his out to his nephew. “These are the ones we designed so we’d be able to see the Makers. Remember, your father, he said they worked before he died. He was right. He was right.”

“Are you saying there were Makers in that box?” Mr. Trouble asked.

“Well, I can’t say for sure,” Uncle Colin said, “but we saw something. Like hundreds of bright little discs. They flew all around, and when they started to slow down, they headed toward Eric, hovering all around him. When he