Owen Pendragon

Their dad found a news channel reporting on the goings-on in town and decided to listen to what the reporter was saying. “These are the scenes in the town of Llangollen this morning as soldiers took control of the hillock, Dinas Bran, behind me. As you can see from these images, a large tarpaulin has been erected over a sizeable area of the hillside. It was last night when a local earth tremor occurred that the Royal Welsh Guards moved in to secure this site…” “That’s some area!” said dad. “Like a whole side of the hill,” Owen replied. “Never gave a thought about that shaking last night.” “A lot of parents probably did with the goings-on in Cornwall.” Owen thought back ten days to the first incident in the Cornish town of Camelford and the reports of five children going missing; they were last seen on CCTV cameras joking around while buying goodies in the local shops. The next day eleven children vanished in Bude. Each disappearance began with a localised earth tremor and after searching the area, a large gouge was found in a nearby field accompanied by huge boot prints. Even the setting up of a Quick Response Unit made up of police, scientists and the army didn’t stop the disappearance of more children. It wasn’t until the fourth day that the culprits were spotted. A local man filmed giant creatures with large clubs snatching up another eighteen from Padstow. On the fifth day, a raid in Wadebridge met with the first resistance as locals and those driving through the town blocked and threw whatever was to hand at the monsters. It worked as no children were reported missing, but the main road was a mangled mess of cars and lorries. The terrifying images shown on news reports around the world led to an influx of people wanting to get in on the action. However, the next two days were raid free, giving hope that resistance was the key to beating these invaders. Those hopes were dashed on days eight and nine when eight children were taken from Stratton and Holsworthy. Nevertheless, last night there were no raids or reports of missing children, just the armies moving into the North Wales town of Llangollen. The news reporter snapped Owen out of his meandering thoughts. “Are we seeing a pre-emptive move to where the raids are about to happen? Why did the armed forces move in before the tremor, and has there been a way to predict where a raid will take place? These and lots of other questions are being asked now as we go into the eleventh day since the terrifying raids began.” “Tanya, have there been any reports of raiders there?” asked the newsreader in the studio. “Bill, there have been no reports or sightings here in Wales, but we can only speculate on what happened until more information is provided. As you can imagine, all sorts of ideas and suggestions are being bandied about – but, as yet, nothing concrete.” “Thank you, Tanya. In other news…” “In other words, they have no idea what’s going on.” Owen shook his head. “Well, if it was a raid, it was a failure,” his dad replied. Owen’s mobile buzzed. He opened a text from John that just read, Aliens. “John? Aliens?” asked his dad. Owen laughed. “Is he that predictable?” “Right up his street, this lot. I’m surprised that phone of yours hasn’t been ringing non-stop considering what’s going on.” “No ambulances, police cars though. Bryn’s phone, on the other hand, will be ringing like crazy, even if he’s on holiday in Spain.” Owen and some of his friends’ parents were in the emergency services. Bryn’s mum and dad were in the police force, and John’s and Owen’s dads were in the ambulance service. They quite often got calls if a lot of police and ambulances were around to see what was going on, which was stupid really as they knew nothing either. On the TV, Tanya was repeating herself about the situation in Llangollen when the newsreader interrupted her. It wouldn’t have caught the attention of Owen and his dad under normal circumstances, but this would have attracted anyone’s attention. “Tanya, Tanya, I have to cut you short as we’re receiving a report of a raid taking place in Cornwall.” The reporter’s shocked and surprised face was replaced by the newsreader’s. “We are receiving reports of a raid in the village of Tintagel. We will now cross over to our local correspondent, Peter Robinson, who is making his way to the scene.” The picture changed again to show Peter walking down a country lane with reporters from other stations. The sound, what Owen thought must be gunfire, could be heard in the background. A squad of soldiers ran by and the news crews made a passage for them to get through, then a number of empty coaches crept their way along the cramped lane. It was the reaction of the reporter as he reached the corner and looked around to see what was happening that piqued Owen’s interest. He fell silent; his face went as white as a sheet. It wasn’t until the cameraman caught up a few seconds later and focused on what had silenced the professional reporter that Owen could understand his reaction. He would have most likely responded the same. “Good grief,” said his dad. The camera caught it all. Soldiers, locals and no doubt others that had come in to help were in a ferocious battle with the invaders – the same ones that were filmed in Padstow.