Marcus Riddley's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

Marcus needed supplies if he was going to keep this up. The library books had given him ideas, but his shop lacked the right equipment. He grabbed his keys and headed into the main district of Gremlin's Gorge. The streets were busy with other mechanics and traders, all dealing with the same problem he was. Broken machines lined every block, waiting for repairs that wouldn't last. Marcus walked past the hardware store and the machine shop, looking for something specific. Then he saw it—a small surplus store wedged between two larger buildings. The window displayed old tools and odd mechanical parts. He stepped inside. Rows of shelves held everything from vintage gauges to springs and gears. This was exactly what he needed. If gremlins loved taking things apart, he'd need backup parts and ways to track what they did. Marcus filled a basket with small measuring tools and extra bolts. He paid and walked back to his truck, already planning how he'd use each item tonight. That evening, Marcus spread his new tools across the outdoor workbench. He pulled out the carburetor he'd been cleaning and set it under the tripod light. His hands worked through the familiar motions, wiping each part down with a clean rag. Hours passed. The desert cooled. Stars filled the sky above. Then he heard it—a soft clink of metal on metal. Marcus kept his eyes on his work, but his heart beat faster. Tiny footsteps scurried across the concrete behind him. More sounds followed, like a dozen small hands grabbing at things. He fought the urge to turn around. The noises moved closer to the carburetor parts he'd left on the far end of the bench. Then came rapid clicking and the gentle scrape of tools being moved. When Marcus finally looked up, he saw something that made him stop breathing. The carburetor sat there completely reassembled, every piece in place, gleaming and perfect. Small scratches covered the metal surface where tiny hands had worked it over. The gremlins were gone, but they'd left proof behind. They could build, not just break. Marcus picked up the carburetor and turned it in the light. This changed everything. If they could do this once, they could learn to do it again. The next morning, Marcus walked the reassembled carburetor into town. People needed to see this. He pushed through the door of a tavern where locals gathered for breakfast and coffee. The place smelled like fried eggs and bacon. Old vinyl seats lined the booths along the walls. Marcus set the carburetor on the bar with a solid thunk. The mechanic next to him glanced over, then did a double take. Others turned to look. Marcus pointed at the tiny scratches covering the metal. "Gremlins did this," he said. "Put it together, not apart." A woman in coveralls picked it up and turned it over. Her eyes went wide. Conversations stopped at nearby tables. Someone asked how he'd done it. Marcus explained his outdoor setup, the patient waiting, the way he'd acted natural instead of hunting them. The tavern owner leaned across the bar, listening hard. By the time Marcus finished his coffee, three other mechanics were asking questions. Word would spread fast in a town this small. Marcus spent the afternoon driving to every machine shop and garage he knew. At each stop, he showed the carburetor and told the same story. Some people believed him. Others shook their heads and walked away. But enough listened to make it worth the effort. By evening, he'd planted a seed in the minds of a dozen mechanics. The gremlins weren't just pests. They had skills that could change everything in Gremlin's Gorge. On his way back home, Marcus spotted something at the edge of town. A vintage road sign stood near the highway, its paint faded and peeling. He pulled over and walked up to it. The sign read "Gremlins Are Real!" in bold letters that still caught the eye despite the years. Someone had put it there long ago, probably as a joke. Marcus stared at it and smiled. This sign could do more than warn travelers. It could invite them in, make them curious about what was really happening here. He made a note to come back and clean it up, maybe add some information about his research. Marcus drove home as the sun set behind the desert hills. The carburetor sat on his passenger seat, proof that his thirty years of wondering hadn't been wasted. Gremlin's Gorge was the perfect place for this work. Everyone here lived with the problem. They knew machines broke constantly. They understood the frustration. If he could show them a solution, if he could prove gremlins would help when treated right, this whole town could change. He pulled into his lot and parked. The outdoor workspace waited under the tripod light. Tonight he'd leave out a transmission, something bigger and more complex. Each repair the gremlins completed would teach them more. Each success would bring him closer to his goal. Marcus grabbed his toolbox and headed for the workbench, ready to begin again.