The Remarkables (The Remarkable Owen Johnson, part 1) by A. D. Elliott Read Free Book Online

where he struggled to stand back up.
    Mrs Argyle gave one last push towards him with her arms and he blasted through the doors and into the garden, landing through the roof of the shed which in turn collapsed in on itself. Mrs Argyle knelt and rested on one hand, looking down toward the ground.
    Owen could hear that her breathing sounded laboured. He ran to her side, asking if she was okay.
    Mrs Argyle paused, and then stood up effortlessly. “Right as nine-pence,” she declared, taking a few steps towards the kitchen. The entire room was encased in a thick layer of ice, as if it had been sitting in a deep freeze for months, a thick layer of snow covering the floor. Owen skidded on the floor and had to use Mrs Argyle to stop himself from falling over.
    “ What the bloody hell?” Owen asked, referring both to the man and the sub-zero environment that had manifested itself the space of minutes.
    Mrs Argyle didn’t answer at first, as she was busy scanning the remains of the garden shed for any sign of the expelled man. “We should leave,” she announced, brushing the ice off of her coat.
    “Dad,” Owen said, remembering that his father was missing under mysterious circumstances.
    “Where is your father?” Mrs Argyle asked. “I presumed that he was at home, what with his car being on the drive.”
    “No, the pl ace was empty when I got home; the front door was wide open too.” Owen remembered the note, which he handed to her explaining where he had found it. Mrs Argyle frowned and went pale. She screwed the note up in her hand, and then slipped it into her coat pocket.
    “We should leave,” she repeated.
    “What about D ad?” Owen asked, concerned at how anxious his usually unflappable neighbour had become.
    “ Your father is in danger and so are you. Where does he keep his car keys?”
    “Usually in the drawer of that cabinet in the hall. How is he in danger?”
    Mrs Argyle ignored him and walked to the drawer in which she rummaged for the keys.  Retrieving them she beckoned for Owen to follow her. “Come on, you can drive”.
    “ I haven’t had any lessons yet,” Owen pointed out.
    Mrs Argyle’ s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well I can’t,” she replied in a manner that implied that the merest suggestion that someone of her age might have learned to drive at some point was the height of absurdity. “Why haven’t you learned yet?” she countered.
    “I’m sixteen, ” Owen explained, although he felt that an explanation really wasn’t necessary. “I think you’ve had more opportunities than me,” he added, then remembering what had occurred just moments before: “And what happened in the kitchen with the man and the flash? And the ice? And what’s happened to my dad?!”
    “Plenty of time to explain all that,” she said firmly, and then with a smile, “please Owen, you must trust me.”
    Owen stared back at the woman he had known for most of his life and decided to put his faith in her, as his father had done on so many occasions in the past. He nodded and walked towards her.
    Mrs Argyle nodded in response then marched out to the car and pulled at the car handle. She looked up at Owen quizzically, who by now was at the passenger door.  “It’s locked”.
    “You hav e to press the button on the key,” he explained. Mrs Argyle fumbled with the key and the doors clicked open.
    “Oh that’s very clever ,” she declared, beaming at the little piece of plastic in her hand. The fact that Mrs Argyle was impressed by a car remote and unfazed by today’s events had not escaped Owen’s notice. He shook his head at her in bewilderment.
    “Get in then ,” she called from the driver’s seat, where she had just clicked her seat belt in to place. Owen climbed in beside her.
    “Now then ,” she said to no-one in particular, then after locating where the key went and managing to start the engine she cried “onwards!”, as if she was going into battle.

Wreckage
     
     
     
    Mrs Argyle