Chapter III: Flashbacks
(March 6th, 2006):
Owen went unseen by his parents as he moved towards the staircase, he cast an embarrassed look to his mother, who in turn, met the steady gaze of her son and smiled bitterly. "Owen, please excuse us, there's something Craig and I need to talk about. Go upstairs," She said. Like I need your permission, he thought lamely. Owen's brown eyes fell on his father, who sat silently at the dinner table his gaze meeting Michelle's. Owen retreated upstairs to his bedroom and locked his door. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared out his window. Night had fallen, he listened to the rain beat against his window as the thunderstorm raged with a fury the neighborhood hadn't seen in weeks. He was glad, lately the whether had been far too dry and hot for his tastes. If he listened hard enough he could hear Craig throwing a thousand obscenities at his mother who always retaliated with glass objects hurtling towards Craig's head. Owen crept out the house through his window, praying that lightening didn't strike the tree while he climbed down.
On nights like these, the outside was as much a comfort as sleeping in his car was when his parents fought. Owen landed on the ground in a crouch, standing up, stumbled backward, nearly loosing his footing. Righting himself, he jogged away from the tree. As Owen approached car he paused in mid-step, he cast a look towards his open window and wondered if his parents had sensed his absence yet. Owen eyed the front door for a minute, Craig would be storming out of it any second now. The last thing he wanted was his father trying to coax him back into the house. Heaving in irritation he resumed his approach toward the Mustang. Hopefully his parents were too wrapped up in their own problems to even hear him pulling out of the driveway. He slid into the drivers seat with a sigh. "Time to hit the road, buddy," Owen said, turning the key in the ignition.
Moments later, Owen was sitting comfortably inside his car, attempting to see past rain that saw it fit to drench his windshield. Flipping the windshield wipers up to their highest mode, he urged his car onward until he reached the desert highway. The empty space put him at ease, and it was a welcome respite. Owen drove for what seemed liked hours, enjoying the sound of The Doors filtering out of his radio. He shivered at the chill that swept through his being, a sure sign that he was going have to stop soon. The radio station he was listening to crackled in and out through the static interference, the teen grumbled in irritation as he struggled to hear 'Riders on the Storm' through the interface. He tried adjusting the station but to no avail, static reigned supreme before the radio died. Owen punched his radio in frustration. "No good piece of...shit!" A loud bang rang out overhead, Owen's heart skipped beats as his body fell into the clutches of fear. Another bang echoed mere seconds after the other and this time he felt an aftershock. The Mustang jerked to the left, Owen struggled to keep from driving off the road, he virtually had no control over his vehicle anymore. Turning the steering wheel to the right, the vehicle shuddered and began to swerve out of control. The radio roared to life with a terrible screech, Jim Morrison's vocals became indecipherable wail akin that of fingernails raking against a chalkboard.
His ear drums felt like they exploded, Owen clamped one hand to the right side of his head as the windows shattered. Owen barely caught the sight of two objects crash landing not far from where he was approaching, and then the ground began to tremble. Hs eyes snapped shut to shield themselves from the jagged shards of glass. Lost in the chaos of confusion, Owen barely had second to realize what had happened to his car, by then it was too late. He was thrown violently against the door of his car, his head collided with the steering wheel.
The Mustang tumbled off the road onto desert land, rolling until it was brought it a halt by an unsuspecting boulder. Owen hung upside down in his car, saved by his seatbelt. Every nerve in his body was on fire, Owen hurt in places he'd never thought could sustain injury. "Help… help me…," Owen choked on his words, blood bubbled out between his lips, running down his face into his nose and eyes. The car shuddered like it was being rocked by an earthquake and Owen was vaguely aware of anything, not even his pitiful gurgling screams. His body tensed and he cried out in pain, the car was rocked violently from side to side, Owen screamed louder. "Irritating fleshling," Owen turned his head just as a towering figure lowered itself to his level. Owen nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of a seemingly mangled face trapped in a steel muzzle. His mouth hung agape allowing the blood to flow freely down his face onto the ceiling of the car. Holy crap...! A long slinger claw came toward him. Owen was frozen with fear, the sharp end of 'finger' pressed against his stomach piercing the surface of the skin. The last thing Owen remembered was his head bouncing against the headrest.
"Is he alive?"
"Yeah, but only just. Primus, human are fragile, I might broken something getting him out that belt. Grab his car, we've got get him to the proper medical facilities."
"That's easier said than done. What I am gonna do with his car?"
"Leave it somewhere close by. A busy intersection perhaps?"
"No, they'll be questions about how he got out the car."
"They'll be more concerned about his injuries than how he got out the car. Just do it."
The memory of blistering pain came back like a thousand bee stings, jolting Owen out his sleep. The reality of his situation came rushing back to him when his head collided with the ground, Owen drew in his lips so that they did not touch the floor. The laughter of his classmates had him standing in record time only to sway and fall down again. Owen had smacked his head on the ground a second time. Serves me right, he thought wincing. "Mr. Armstrong, I would've thought you got enough sleep, given your lateness," Mr. Abrams mused. Owen gave his teacher a sort of pitying expression as he sat back down in his chair, after giving his recorder a quick look to check if it was still on; Owen slouched in his chair. "I'm sorry Mr. Abrams, my mom kept me up all night," Owen supplied lamely. More laughter erupted from the class, Owen stared blankly at the veins visible on his hands.
Mr. Abrams scoffed. "With what?" His teacher inquired. Cognitive therapy with Dr. Baroness, what else? Owen simply shrugged slouching further into his seat, he wasn't going to answer that question in front of the whole class. His cheeks were burning hot now. Mr. Abrams pushed the issue no further than he did and only gave Owen a brief mention of staying behind after class to have a word with him. Owen participated in the remainder of the lesson with a hood over his head, listening to both the idle whispers of the classroom and Mr. Abrams.
His mind drifted to the nightmare repeatedly, the red eyes burning holes into his very being. Beforehand, Owen remembered being unable to recall anything, he hardly remembered his waking day in the hospital. Michelle sat by his bed, a sobbing mess. She told him he had been involved in a hit and run accident on the hospital. A car had come driving through the entrance of the building injuring several others in the process. According to the doctors assessment of his injuries, he suffered massive head trauma, had broken several ribs, along with his arm and leg. The doctors were saying it was a miracle that he was even alive after such a collision, but Owen did not see his fate in such a light. Nightmares and pain beyond the touch of morphine were all that welcomed him the waking world, he couldn't fall back into a coma if he wanted to. His mother rarely visited him, she couldn't bare to see in him in such a helpless state. Owen suffered alone in a crowded hospital. He underwent physical rehabilitation with the help of the hospital's nurse, Alison R. Hart-Burnett (Lady Jaye to Owen). She took care of the teenager, providing an surrogate mother relationship in the absence of Michelle. Their relationship started simply and progressed into a friendship Owen would value for the rest of his life. The thought of asking her out crossed his mind but Allison confessed to Owen, weeks before his final evaluation, that she was going to marry a man named Kup. Bummer. Within the required timeframe Owen recovered to a point the doctors were comfortable with and he was discharged from the hospital. Feeling as though she owed him, Allison took Owen home. Immediately, his uneasiness in the vehicle was noted. The only thing that welcomed Owen home was a depressed mother, and a fully repaired Shelby Mustang. He could remember the conversation with his mother well...
"Mom, it would've cost a fortune to get that thing repaired. How'd you do it?" Owen was not one for looking a gift in the mouth, but the near-mint condition of his car aroused a great curiosity in him that it distracted him from the crutches under his arm. "What thing?" Michelle looked at her son with confusion then stared out the kitchen window. Owen felt his heart skip when his mother's face mirrored his surprise. "I didn't fix the Mustang, that thing was totaled. It should be at the junkyard now," She said.
"Totaled?" Owen squeaked. The Mustang had been killed. "What do you mean, 'totaled'?"
"Just what I meant, it was beyond repair. I'm not even ---" Michelle waved her hand dismissively. "Maybe one of your friends fixed it..." She trailed off, rushing over to the microwave.
"Mom, you know as well as I do, I don't have any friends," Owen retorted. The Mustang had been killed, it was the only thing that repeated in his mind.
"Well you should work on that. It's not healthy for boy your age," Michelle mumbled, sniffling. "Maybe one of the neighbors did it. Just be glad, you didn't have to pay a cent for it." Moving toward her son, she stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Owen welcomed the affection. "I'm glad your home sweetheart." With that, his mother shuffled back upstairs to drown her woes in green tea. His curiosity not yet quelled, he ventured outside to visit the nosey neighbor's daughter, Cindy. To his surprise, Cindy was less help than he imagined. She told him that the Mustang rolled up into the driveway one night, followed by sleek looking royal-fuchsia '94 Pontiac (Firebird) Trans Am.
"I saw a man in the car," She had said. "I assumed it was you, with some hot chick in the other car. It wasn't until after I heard from daddy that you were still in the hospital that I began to suspect something. Its been there for weeks so it wasn't stolen." While the act of bringing his car back from the grave to his house sounded mightily good-Samaritan, something stuck Owen as wrong about the whole thing. He looked his Mustang over; making sure it was the genuine article. Every single detail about his car was there on the mystery vehicle, save for the strange mask-like insignia in the middle of the steering wheel, which also replaced the cobra emblem on the front of the car. Cindy's story of a stranger bringing his 'totaled' car home made him wonder if his mother wasn't pulling his leg. Owen remembered staring out his window at the car for hours that day like it was cursed.
It was beginning of his reluctance to leave his house.
The one place where nothing could hurt him.
(TBC)
Authors Note: Next chapter, Sam, Mikaela, and the Autobots are introduced.
