“Just tell him the whole sorry tale and be done with it. It’s far too exhausting trying to separate truth and fiction.” Ken sounded weary.
“Telling him everything will only make him into the angry young man you used to be, and I’ll be damned if I’m having a hand in providing this tattered world with another one of you.” Mrs Argyle’s voice was getting quieter then louder, leading Owen to assume that she was pacing the narrow cabin.
“I’m amazed he hasn’t demanded a full explanation already. To follow you as blindly as he has done so far either shows great trust or great stupidity.”
“People can trust one another you know, Ken. Just because you haven’t ever formed a meaningful relationship with anything other than a stack of vinyl discs and a cow doesn’t mean the rest of us cannot.” Mrs Argyle sighed. “But you’re quite right. If I know the boy he’ll only accompany us without any reasoning for what has transpired for so long. Maybe it would be best to tell him a few select truths to see how he handles it.”
“Capital idea. But where to begin? Well, so far we’ve told him that his elderly next door neighbour is a decorated war hero. Perhaps we should add to the mix that we’re - how old are we now? One hundred and thirty years, is it?”
“About that.”
“Right, and how about we also tell him about the Provenance, their tower, him being the most powerful Remarkable I’ve encountered since the war, and as for his mother-”
“Enough!” Mrs Argyle snapped. “You may jest but you go too far. There are things that aren’t to be spoken of; you should know that just as well as I do. The boy will be back soon, we’ll decide tomorrow how much he is to know.”
“And this evening?”
“Bore him with your music; at least it’ll help him sleep”.
With that Owen heard Mrs Argyle’s footsteps move away. Owen delicately stepped off the barge and perched on a mooring post a few boats away from the Beggar’s Banquet. How could they be as old as they claim they were? Owen had seen the effects of plastic surgery and they rarely made people look convincingly younger. Had anyone ever lived to over one hundred and thirty? Owen didn’t think so.
And the brief mention of his mother that brought on Mrs Argyle’s anger was puzzling also. Why would his mother’s accident be a taboo subject?
Then there were the references to Owen being a powerful Remarkable, which seemed unlikely to him based on how he felt that his powers paled in comparison to what Ken, Mrs Argyle and the man in the trilby were capable of.
A loud and distressed sounding “moo” from behind him made Owen stand and turn. His hands were suddenly tingling again and a light was coming from the field, along with the sounds of an increasingly agitated cow. The door of Ken’s barge opened further along the tow path.
“Myrtle!” Ken called out, and Owen saw him sprint towards the field, followed by Mrs Argyle, both of whom failed to notice Owen sitting in the near-darkness close by. They were soon out of sight so Owen ran to the fence at the edge of the field, leaving the groceries behind.
From the middle of the field Owen could see the silhouette of Trilby, basked in light that seemed to be emitting from all around him. His arms were out in front of him, held up towards the cow which in turn was crouched down on its front legs as if to pounce. Suddenly a great torrent of water knocked Trilby sideways.
Ken was running towards him, his hands held forward in a similar fashion to how Trilby was holding his. Trilby landed on his side but shot to his feet as if bouncing off a trampoline and held an arm towards both the cow and Ken. Ken’s watery attack was no longer affecting its target, seemingly being absorbed by the white light which was now surrounded by a cloud of steam. Owen looked around quickly but could not see Mrs Argyle.
The cow was now backing away from Trilby, and once he had taken about five steps he turned and galloped towards the edge of the field. Trilby moved his arms and concentrated his strange attack on Ken.
Ken seemed to sag from this change of focus, his knees appearing to buckle under the strain but he maintained his heavy stream of water against the man that had followed Owen and Mrs Argyle all this way, the steam billowing out across the field.
Ken seemed to be losing the fight as he was now on his knees as Trilby started walking towards him. Owen leapt over the fence to try and help but no sooner than his feet had hit the ground he saw a shape shoot through the air above him.
Like something out of a superhero comic, Mrs Argyle was streaking through the sky, balancing herself with both hands pointed down by her hips and one leg tucked behind her. As she neared Trilby she leant forward and had both arms before her as if pushing something. The speed she was moving was incredible, and her sudden appearance seemed to surprise Trilby, who turned to face her too late as he was soon sent shooting backwards as he had earlier in the day in the Johnsons’ kitchen.
Mrs Argyle slowed and landed beside her brother, and lifting him to his feet, dragged Ken away from the scene of the battle. Trilby landed on his back, but rather than disappearing as he had earlier in the day he was back on his feet in a heartbeat and sprinting towards the fleeing siblings.
Mrs Argyle must have sensed his approach as she deftly dropped to one knee and brought her hands up above her and somehow managed to flip Trilby in the air, and, by adjusting her arms pushed him away. Unfortunately the direction that she pushed him was directly at Owen.
Trilby turned his head and spotted Owen, then lifted his arms and emitted the same bright light towards him. Owen glanced at Mrs Argyle who had also spotted Owen, a sudden shocked look of realisation on her face.
Trilby looked like he was going to attack, but as the light got closer to Owen and illuminated him fully Trilby paused and cocked his head. His arms snapped down and he ran towards Owen.
Trilby was very close by now, so Owen turned and vaulted over the fence, his hands burning with a much more intense feeling than the mild tingling that he had been experiencing throughout the day. He must have misjudged the vault though, as he was much higher in the air than he had anticipated, and on his current trajectory he would probably land in the canal.
Instinctively he pushed down with his feet which met something solid in mid-air. Using all of his strength he pushed upwards, propelling himself tens of metres into the air, the barges below shrinking in size. Reaching out he felt handholds in mid-air and hauled himself onwards.
He moved so fast that the cold air was biting at his cheeks. Not bothering to check if Trilby was behind him he brought his knees toward his abdomen and then extended them, again meeting something solid and pushing himself forward. Maintaining this pattern he moved through the air in a way that Owen thought must have resembled how some primates dash through the jungle.
The lights below him moved at a great speed as Owen continued his incredible escape. Somewhere in Owen’s head he knew that he should have been terrified by this, indeed by most of the things that had happened so far today, but it was exhilarating.
Owen had to admit, that being able to dash through the air was pretty incredible-, no, remarkable, as Ken had put it.
Owen’s revelry was replaced by sudden concern for the brother and sister, who he had left to fend for themselves. Looking over his shoulder revealed no sign of Trilby on the ground or in flight (Owen had no idea what other powers he possessed), so Owen started to turn in a wide circle back towards where he had started his airborne escape. He recognised the church of the town near to Ken’s barge and headed towards it.
Speeding up his movements, he felt every fibre in his being pulse with the most incredible sensation, like he was having sunshine poured through his body. With just four movements he was nearly at the church which had a flat top to its steeple, with a parapet raised on one side like a castle.
It suddenly dawned on Owen he had no idea how he could stop himself. Ceasing his movements he felt gravity win its battle against him, and start to drag him down towards the top of the steeple at a terrifying rate.
He flayed
his arms around, his hands grasping at invisible objects but failing to make a decent grip. Within seconds of being about to hit the flat roof, he managed to grab onto something which slowed him down but also caused a sudden and excruciating pain in his left shoulder. Spinning around in mid-air he landed on his side and rolled, the wind knocked out of him. His ungainly descent was finally halted by his head making contact with the stone wall.
Blackness swiftly followed.
Pillow
Owen was floating through the clouds at what seemed like a gentle pace. Cumulonimbus, he identified the clouds as being, recalling one of his geography lessons. Or were they stratocumulus? It didn’t matter; whatever they were they looked very pretty against the bright blue sky.
Owen wondered what it would feel like to fly through a cloud. Only one way to find out! He angled his body and reached towards them, dragging himself effortlessly into their fluffy embrace.
Surprisingly, the inside of a cloud looked very much like the countryside near his house. In fact it was the outskirts of his very home town! There was the reservoir that he used to walk around with Mrs Argyle and feed bread to the geese and swans; much like the lady kneeling beside the water below him was doing now. He glided down, doing his best impression of a swan.
It was Mrs Argyle! Owen went in for a closer peak, moving his arms using the butterfly stroke he was so fond of in the swimming pool. She was kneeling on the stony sides of the reservoir, just below the waterline that showed how full it was after the wet April they’d just experienced.
“Mrs Argyle!” Owen called out. She didn’t seem to hear him, as she appeared to be concentrating on pulling something out of the water. As he got closer though Owen saw that she wasn’t actually dragging something out of the water but was holding something below the surface.
Owen landed silently behind her and peered over his shoulder. It was a girl! Why was she doing such a thing? Owen went to grab Mrs Argyle to stop her, but he couldn’t get hold of her, a cold wind pushing his arms away. He ran at her to try and knock her over but he instead was knocked off his feet, landing beside the water’s edge. He looked at the girl and recognised the face.
“Katie!” Why was Mrs Argyle doing this to his friend, his beloved?
Owen thrust his arms into the water but his hands went through his friend’s arms, as if she was just a reflection. He splashed into the water trying to get hold of her torso. Before he had a chance he was pulled deeper into the reservoir, the water gushing past him along with some very startled looking fish.
He turned around so that he was facing in the direction of the current. There was a light directly ahead of him, a figure silhouetted in the brightness, just like Trilby. But this person wore no hat, and his face was clearly visible, as were his arms which here held in front of him and from which disturbances in the water were appearing. A pair of spectacles and a trimmed beard came into focus.
“Ken?” Owen bubbled. Ken smiled and moved his arms to the side, moving Owen along with the change in the direction of the current. Ken said something to Owen as he passed, but all that he could hear was a series of gurgles. Owen was now heading at some speed towards the surface of the water.
Skywards he erupted, but the picturesque blue sky had been replaced with heavy and brooding dark grey clouds as far as the eye could see. In the distance Owen saw lightning illuminating the clouds from within. He moved his arms and reached out, changing his direction towards the clouds. Below them he could see a cluster of grey buildings. The power station where his father worked!
Owen angled for his descent, hoping that his father was at work and hadn’t been abducted after all.
The five cooling towers of the power station below were arranged as if they were on the face of a die, and as usual the outer four were billowing steam whereas the centre one was standing idle, as it always did (for “future capacity”, his dad had explained to him).
The ground around the plant was different though, with the car parks and other buildings replaced with strange black tiles with vicious looking spikes on them. From the spikes shot up large tendrils that headed straight towards Owen. One of the tendrils was about to grasp Owen’s legs, so he propelled himself higher into the sky.
Alas he was not quick enough and the tendril wrapped around his leg, small spikes digging into his skin.
Owen made to climb higher into the air, but his arms could not grasp hold of anything, flailing uselessly before him. The tendril dragged him out of the sky and tossed him into the inactive cooling tower, then released him so that he plummeted downwards.
The inside of the tower was black except for a speck of light in the centre of it. Owen fell and fell, passing beyond where the bottom of the tower should have been.
Further into the Earth he fell, the light gradually getting larger and brighter. The air was becoming warmer and more humid, to the extent that it was making Owen sweat and feel very uncomfortable. As he fell he passed through gaps in a network of brightly coloured string. He reached out to try and grab one but it snapped in his hands, a sad moan emanating from it as he did so.
The light was starting to fill his entire field of vision, the heat becoming unbearable. He looked at his outstretched hands and to his horror saw that the skin was becoming black and charred, with small cracks appearing, and was becoming so tight all over his body he feared that it would peel away. By now the light was everywhere, except for a tiny shape before him of a man in a hat.
“Owen?” a voice called out. Owen looked about him but couldn’t see who was speaking to him.
Suddenly Owen jolted in the air, and felt a strong pair of arms around his waist, holding him from behind. Looking over his shoulder he saw a woman with bright blue eyes smiling back at him, her hands stroking his face. Even though their touch was freezing cold, they made him feel warm inside.
“Mum!” His mother, whom he had not seen for over ten years, was right next to him, tears forming in her bright blue eyes. As they streamed down her face they turned to steam. She moved him around so that he was facing back upwards and pushed him away. Looking back he saw her falling to the light, her skin turning black as Owen’s had. She diminished to a small dot and then with a loud crack the light was consumed into the space he had last seen her.
A force blasted Owen into the air making him spin and roll. Between the jerking movements he saw that the cooling towers were being consumed by the black tiles, which were also spreading out into the countryside like blood seeping from a wound.
Owen’s ascent had reached its zenith, and he was starting to fall. Looking down he could see every type of landscape beneath him, ranging from deserts, mountain ranges, an icy tundra, and a tropical rainforest with a large tower protruding from the middle of it, rays of light emerging from its tip. The tower then vanished, the space which it stood instantaneously being filled by trees, before they disappeared only to be replaced by the tower once more. It all looked very surreal, so Owen picked out an expanse of land that looked most like home and less likely to vanish and headed towards it.
Bisecting the green fields that he was getting closer to was a winding road, along which something was moving quickly. A car!
Owen positioned himself so he would fall directly towards it, hoping that he would land on its roof. Faster and faster he fell towards what he now saw was a green Land Rover that luckily had an open sunroof.
Behind the wheel were Mrs Argyle and her brother! Owen tried to slow himself but couldn’t grasp hold of any of the invisible handholds that had helped him thus far. He just managed to spin his body forward so that he landed surprisingly softly on the back seat. Mrs Argyle turned around and smiled at him, apparently unaware that she had blood on her top and hands. Ken also turned around from the driver’s seat and gave a grin, keeping one hand on the wheel.
“Owen?” That voice again. It sounded like Mrs Argyle but her lips weren’t moving.
Owen felt so comfortable that despite being jolted about he curled up and closed his
eyes.
“Owen?” the voice repeated.
If only they’d let him sleep!
Parallels
“Owen?”
Owen opened his eyes. He was lying on the back seat of an old and very rural smelling Land Rover, and was covered from his chin down by a tatty red tartan blanket.
Ken was driving, with Mrs Argyle sitting in the passenger seat beside him. Owen found the experience of waking from a dream to find himself in the same unlikely predicament quite unnerving.
He made to sit himself up but realised that something was holding him in place. He pulled aside the blanket and saw that he had been tied to the back seat with a rope around his waist. His rucksack had been placed on the other side of the seat next to him.
“Helen predates luxuries such as seatbelts somewhat,” Ken said, looking at Owen in the rear view mirror. “Sorry about the rope. After you slid off the seat for the umpteenth time, I had to do a bit of improvising.”
“Helen?” Owen looked about him, soon realising that Helen wasn’t a new member of their increasingly eclectic party, and was in fact their mode of transport.
“Helen Wheels.”
“Who? Oh, the car. Cute name.” The bumpy ride and noose-like rope around his waist made the car’s moniker very apt.
Owen felt around the rope and found the knot. Busying himself trying to untie it he looked out of the window to see where they were heading. He assumed that they were on a main road as there were lights in the central reservation, with cars passing frequently on the other carriageway. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“We’re off to London,” Mrs Argyle replied, turning around in the seat to look at him. “How’s your head?”
Owen felt his skull with both hands. He couldn’t feel any bump or cut that might have been caused by his collision with the wall, a fuzzy image of a tower appearing in his mind. “It seems okay. Did I land on a church?”
The Remarkables (The Remarkable Owen Johnson, part 1) Page 7
