The Remarkables (The Remarkable Owen Johnson, part 1) (7 page)

“Nevertheless,” Mrs Argyle continued, “i
t isn’t a ‘p’; it’s the Greek letter ‘rho’.”

“I still say an ‘r’ would have made more sense, what
with us not being Greek and all,” Owen said, slightly offended by Mrs Argyle’s sweeping criticism of his age group.

Mrs Argyle ignored him.
“‘Rho’ also signifies a number of other things in the fields of maths and physics that were rather fitting for it being chosen,” Mrs Argyle almost smiled. “Plus I like the shape. But what it symbolised when it was first created, alas it does not anymore.”

“That’s an understatement,” said Ken.

“Quite,” Mrs Argyle agreed. “Once it stood for freedom, and the fight against tyranny. Now it is used by those with similar ideology to those that had been fought against all those years ago.”

“Who are
you talking about?” Owen asked. “Who was being fought and by whom?”

“Those being fought against were the Nazis and their allies,” Ken explained, “and
amongst those who did the fighting are in front of you now.”

“You fought in World War Two
?” Owen asked, staring at the siblings and trying to work out how old they must have been to be a part of the war. “How’s that possible? You don’t look old enough.”

Ken smiled.
“My dear boy, you really must accept that appearances mean diddly-squat where you’re in the company of our kind.”

“You have powers too?” Owen asked, and remembering the strange sound of water earlier, added
: “You made that water appear outside?”

Still smiling, Ken walked up to Owen and held his righ
t hand in front of Owen’s face. He brought his thumb and forefinger together, the tips pointed at Owen, an almost unperceivable luminescence surrounding them. He then brought them slightly apart and from the space between them emerged a jet of cold water, which Ken directed at Owen’s face, who brought up his hands to deflect the cold spray.

Laughing, Ken closed his
fingers and the water ceased. “Yes, Owen; I made the water appear.”

Mrs Argyle threw Owen a towel
which he used to wipe his dripping wet face. Conversely, Owen noticed that Ken’s hands were completely dry. “Nice demo,” Owen said sardonically. Ken bowed in thanks. “How do you do it? And how do I do what I do?”

“It’s fairly simple, but requires a bit of a back story,” Ken said, “and my storytelling skills are somewh
at improved on a full stomach. So what say you go and get the grub in, and then we’ll have enough sustenance to talk into the wee hours and see if we can clear a few things up for you?

“Plus it’ll give me
the chance to sort out some transport for us and Myrtle tomorrow.”

Owen made Ken promise that he wouldn’t hold back on any information,
to which he agreed. He also suggested that Owen use the shower on board to wash the remainder of the blood from his hair.

It took over five minutes for Owen to remove all of the clots that were matted in his hair, along with the thin film of dust that had ingrained itself in his hands. As the water sprinkled down on him from the shower head, he couldn’t help but wonder if the water supply was of Ken’s own making. As soon as this thought entered his head, he decided he’d been washing for long enough and stepped out to dry himself before getting dressed.

The t-shirt he had put on whilst on
the train was already dirty from their journey across the stream, so Ken provided him with a faded black t-shirt with what looked like a prism with beams of light going through it on the front. It fitted Owen well so he didn’t object to wearing it.

After waving goodbye to Ken and Mrs Argyle
and receiving directions to the shop, Owen stepped out of the barge and walked back the way they had come along the tow path.

Passing the field they had
failed to cross, he could see the cow, Myrtle, stood in the middle as before, staring at Owen. Curiosity compelled Owen to have a closer look at this bovine warrior and so he climbed over the fence and into the field.

Myrtle
fixed her gaze on Owen upon his approach, but made no effort to back away as he expected a cow would normally do. Owen continued his advance, until he was about three metres away and then stopped. Up until now Myrtle was standing at a slight angle to Owen, so that he could just about see her hind quarters. As soon as Owen stopped though, Myrtle moved her bulk so that she was directly facing him. Owen took another step toward the cow.

Once again Owen felt the ti
ngling sensation in his hands. He slowly moved another step closer. Myrtle clearly felt that this was a step too far, as she lowered his head and made a rumbling sound from her throat, nothing like the “moo” that you expect to hear from her species.

The rumbling became louder and then
Myrtle threw her head upwards. Owen felt a sudden force against his body, and found himself being thrown several metres into the air away from the cow. His arms flailed around in the air, still tingling and out of his sight until his right hand grabbed hold of something and Owen’s descent was halted abruptly.

Hanging, Owen examined
what it was he had clung onto. For the second time today he found himself suspended in mid-air about a metre above the muddy field. This time he was just holding onto an invisible object rather than standing on it as well. Startled Owen released his hold and fell, landing safely on both feet, impressed that he had prevented Ken’s t-shirt from befalling the same fate as the last two tops he had been wearing and becoming soiled.

Myrtle
had resumed her impassive gaze on Owen, and emitted a loud “moo” in response to Owen’s glare, then turned away and walked over to a feeding trough.

Owen
heard a call from behind him. “Stop playing with the livestock and fetch my dinner,” Ken shouted at him from the other side of the fence. He gave Owen a dismissive wave and headed back towards his barge, laughing to himself.

Owen took another glance at the cow and abandoned any hope
that he had at understanding any of the events that were transpiring today.

Owen walked across the field and back onto the road that he and Mrs Argyle had followed from the station.

He
found the shop as Ken had directed and bought some sausages and eggs, along with a bottle of milk and a bag of apples. He also bought a small torch which he slipped into his bag as he didn’t fancy walking along a tow path should the night draw in quickly. He made his way back towards the barge, travelling the route that Mrs Argyle had taken after abandoning the way across Myrtle’s field.

He arrived at the barge and
stepped aboard, and was about to open the door when he heard the voices of the two siblings talking.

“Just tell him the whole s
orry 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 tr
ust 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 Arg
yle’s anger was puzzling also. Why would his mother’s accident be a taboo subject?

Then there were t
he 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 b
e 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 h
er 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 fe
eling 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 col
d 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 i
dea 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.