Marcus Riddley's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Marcus sat still on his stool and watched the engine. Minutes passed. Then an hour. His back started to ache, but he didn't move. The shop stayed silent except for the clock's steady tick. Nothing happened. No scratching sounds. No tiny footsteps. No gremlins at all. He wrote in his notebook: "Day one. No activity. Bait ignored." The pencil felt heavy in his hand. Maybe they needed more time. Maybe they were watching him first. He stood and stretched, then walked to the door. Tomorrow he'd try again. The next morning, Marcus locked up the shop and drove into town. If the gremlins wouldn't come to him, he needed a new plan. He needed to understand them better first. A dusty library sat at the end of Main Street, unchanged since the 1950s. Inside, the air smelled like old paper and desert heat. Shelves lined the walls, packed with local articles and books. Marcus ran his finger along the spines until he found a section about gremlins. He pulled down three books and spread them on a wooden table. The first page showed drawings of the creatures near machinery. He read about their habits, their favorite hiding spots, the times they were most active. Hours passed as he took notes. His notebook filled with facts about gremlin behavior through the decades. By closing time, Marcus had a new theory. Gremlins avoided spaces that felt like traps. His shop was too clean, too organized, too much like he was waiting for them. He needed to make it look lived-in, natural. He needed to blend in. Marcus closed his notebook and headed for the door, already planning his next move. Back at the shop, Marcus dug through storage boxes until he found what he needed. A tripod work light sat in the corner, its metal frame dusty but solid. He carried it outside and set it up near the back lot where the broken machines waited. The books said gremlins were most active after dark. They liked shadows and movement, places where light shifted and changed. He adjusted the stand and aimed the bulb at his workspace. Now he could work outside at night, tinker with engines while they watched. He'd act natural, focus on repairs, let them see him as just another mechanic. No staring. No waiting. Just work. That evening, Marcus pulled a carburetor apart under the work light. His hands moved steady and sure, cleaning each piece. The desert air cooled around him. Stars appeared overhead. He didn't look for gremlins or listen for their sounds. He just worked like he had for thirty years. An hour passed, then two. His notebook sat closed on the ground beside him. When he finally packed up his tools, Marcus felt different. The library had taught him patience. The gremlins would come when they were ready. Until then, he'd keep learning, keep working, keep trying. Tomorrow he'd be back out here doing the same thing. One step at a time, he'd earn their trust. The next day, Marcus built something new. He found an old metal dispenser in his storage and attached a hand crank to the side. Small clay cups lined the bottom shelf. He filled them with dried fruit and nuts, then placed the whole thing on a table near his outdoor workspace. The library books mentioned gremlins liked small rewards, bits of food they could grab and run with. If he could get them to connect helping with getting treats, maybe they'd learn. Maybe they'd start to understand that fixing things earned better results than breaking them. Marcus tested the crank. It turned smooth and dropped a cup of treats into the catch tray below. He nodded and wiped his hands on his overalls. The pieces were in place now. The outdoor workspace. The lighting for night repairs. The reward system waiting to be tested. He had everything he needed to start training gremlins, once they finally showed up. All he could do now was keep working and wait for them to make the first move.