The Black Pathway

by Mark C Sutton

  “Yeah, don’t you like my mullet?” She said.

  “It’s lovely… it complements all of those missing teeth of yours.” Alex replied. Mary laughed out loud at this. “So, do you fancy coming for a quick drink then? ‘The Stagecoach’ is a pub, by the way, just up by the park.”

  “Well… I should really be getting back home.” Said Mary. “I’ve got work in the morning and… oh, sod it. Okay, I’ll come for a drink with you, Alex. But just a quick one.” She smiled.

  “Nice one.” Alex responded. “Come on, let me show you what it’s like living in a civilised town, rather than some back-of-beyond assortment of wooden shacks and trailers.” He joked. And that was how Mary Broderick met Alex Crennell.

  Chapter Ten

  Alfie Whitehouse had been lying in bed, thinking, or rather pining, for his lost cat, Buttons, when a familiar sound, coming from the kitchen downstairs, cut through the silence of the night. It was the sound of the plastic cat-flap opening, and then shutting. Buttons! It must be Buttons! Thought Alfie, climbing out of bed as fast as he could. Steady on, it might be a stray… that little bugger, ‘Horace’, the flipping grey tom belonging to Mrs Poyner down the road… he’s come waltzing in through the cat-flap before, sneaking into my house and fucking spraying everywhere, the dirty little so and so… but he hasn’t done that in a long time… Buttons scared him off… maybe Horace senses somehow that my cat isn’t around anymore. Alfie put on his slippers that lay by the side of the bed, and left the bedroom. He switched on the landing light; nothing happened, and the stairs in front of Alfie remained in complete darkness.

  “Bloody great. Sodding lightbulbs these days… they don’t last five minutes.” Said Alfie to himself, as he carefully made his way down the stairs in the pitch black. He was halfway down them when he heard another familiar sound coming from the kitchen area; the sound of Button’s small metal food bowl scraping slightly across the floor. It’s got to be him! It’s got to be Buttons! He must have come home! I know what Buttons is like when he’s hungry, he goes at that bowl like a bleeding torpedo, and pushes it halfway across the kitchen… except… it’s empty, because I didn’t think that he’d ever be coming back. Thought Alfie. He shrugged his shoulders; Buttons was probably half-starved, Alfie reasoned, and just desperate for something to eat.

  “Buttons! It’s okay, old pal. I’m coming, I’m coming!” Shouted Alfie, hurrying to the bottom of the stairs, his heart racing with excitement at being reunited with his best friend.

  When Alfie Whitehouse got to the bottom of the stairs, he shuffled through the darkened hallway, towards the kitchen. A little slither of natural light, from the moon outside, shone through one of the glass panels of the kitchen door, slightly illuminating the tiled floor. Alfie could just about make out the metal food bowl, which indeed had been pushed from its usual resting place, close to the oven. It had travelled halfway across the kitchen, and was now near to the back door, and yet there was no sign of Buttons. Alfie made a whistling noise, the one that would usually cause Buttons to come running towards him, but the cat, if indeed it was his cat, was unresponsive. God knows what Buttons might have been through, being away from home for so long… the poor old thing is probably half-scared to death, reasoned Alfie, as he finally reached the kitchen. Alfie felt around for the kitchen light switch, and pushed it down with his finger; the room remained in darkness. Alfie flicked the switch again, then again, but nothing happened. I don’t bloody believe it… this bulb has gone as well… or maybe not. When the other bulb blew upstairs, it probably threw the trip switch… except that isn’t on the same circuit-board as this light down here…

  Alfie Whitehouse walked into the kitchen, slowly, cautiously, feeling ahead of himself with his arms outstretched. He didn't want to crash into anything in the dark, and certainly didn’t want to frighten Buttons, or possibly tread on him.

  “Psssst…. psssst… Buttons… come on, come here. There’s no need to hide. It’s me. It’s your best friend. Come on, Buttons… psssst.” Said Alfie, in a soft voice. He whistled again. Nothing. “Come on, old soldier, come to me, come on. There’s no need to hide, you’re home now, boy. It’s…” suddenly, there was an almighty crash coming from somewhere beyond the kitchen, which caused Alfie Whitehouse to half jump out of his own skin. For a few seconds, it felt like his heart, which was pounding furiously, had somehow dislodged itself and found its way into Alfie’s throat. He swayed slightly in the dark.

  “Steady on, steady on.” He said to himself, taking several deep, long breaths. Alfie’s heartbeat began to normalise. “It’s okay, it’s okay now.” He reassured himself. That crash… it came from the downstairs bathroom… I bet it’s Buttons. He’ll have climbed up onto the window sill at the back of the lavatory, where I keep all of my toiletries. That must have been the crashing sound I heard; he’s gone and jumped up on the bloody window sill and knocked a couple of tins of deodorant over, Alfie speculated. He edged deeper into the kitchen, towards the direction of the bathroom. Alfie took another deep breath; his heartbeat had calmed right down, and was no longer racing. “Psssst, psssst, come on, Buttons. Come on.” He said once more. This time, Alfie’s efforts were rewarded; somewhere close by, he could hear the soft, rhythmic sound of a cat purring.

  Alfie Whitehouse crept slowly forwards, in the direction of the purring, which, as he correctly suspected, was coming from the downstairs bathroom that adjoined the kitchen.

  “It’s okay, Buttons, there’s nothing to be frightened of. It’s okay. Daddy’s here.” Whispered Alfie. He reached the bathroom, then stopped in his tracks; the door was shut. How could that be? How could Buttons shut the sodding bathroom door behind him? Alfie wondered, completely baffled. Maybe that’s what the crashing sound was… the door slamming shut… except the doors in this house don’t just close themselves like that… and that noise was definitely not a slamming door. Alfie’s heart began to pound again. He clutched at the bathroom door handle, but then let go of it. He took a step backwards, away from the bathroom. Something wasn't right, and fear was beginning to creep over Alfie. Then, he heard the purring again, coming from inside the bathroom, and it reassured the old man. Stop being a silly bugger… that’s Buttons in there alright, thought Alfie, and he reached to the bathroom door handle again. He brought the handle down, and then pushed the door open. The sound of the purring was no longer slightly muffled, but strong, clear. Alfie felt for the light switch that was just inside the bathroom, next to the door. He found it, and flicked at the switch, but, once again, the light bulb failed to come on.

  Alfie stood just inside the bathroom, but he couldn’t see a thing; it was pitch-black.

  “Buttons, I’m here. You don’t have to hide from me. Come on, come to dad.” Said Alfie. The purring grew stronger. Alfie tried to focus on where, exactly, in the bathroom the purr was coming from. It was to his left; the bathtub. Howard edged towards the tub, with one hand outstretched. “Buttons! Buttons! Come to me. You’re safe now. It’s going to be okay. You’re home. It’s going to…” Alfie’s voice trailed off. In front of him, in the darkness, a single, small, elliptical glowing light appeared, a dirty yellow in colour. For a second, Alfie didn’t know what it was. He squinted at the object; it was an eye. A small, yellow eye. Suddenly, another eye appeared, glaring at him. At the same time, the loud purring ceased, almost as if it were a sound that had been mechanically switched off. “Buttons? Is that you, Bu…” the pair of yellow eyes began to rise upwards in the darkness. Alfie Whitehouse was momentarily mesmerised by them, frozen to the spot. When the eyes were level to Alfie’s, they began to edge forward, closer and closer to the old man. Alfie’s heart thumped and pounded, and his head began to buzz with dizziness. He stepped backwards, away from the dirty yellow eyes, but they continued to move towards him. The sound of deep, heavy breathing, human, filled the air, and Alfie felt the warmth of the intruder’s breath lick at his face. Alfie took another step backwards, and then another. Then, he turned, and ran out of the bath
room as fast as he could.

  Alfie Whitehouse didn’t get very far; from behind, two boney, but incredibly powerful arms snapped around him, pinning Alfie’s own arms to his sides. Alfie felt somebody draw right up close to him, and once again that unknown person’s warm breath tickled and licked against the old man’s skin, this time on the back of his neck. Alfie felt his heart flutter lightly, before resuming its incessant pounding.

  “Please… please don’t hurt me.” Croaked Alfie. There was no response, other than a slight tightening of the arms that were locked around him. “Please, let go, you’re hurting me. I’m an old man.” Pleaded Alfie. The arms of the stranger tightened a little bit more. Alfie’s chest tightened, and a brief, sharp, stabbing pain shot down the length of his left arm. “Please let me go.” Repeated Alfie Whitehouse, a plea that was met again with silence. Alfie sensed movement behind him, and then felt the mystery assailant’s warm breath, right up close, on his ear. The stranger inhaled deeply, and let the breath out. Alfie felt the force of it push at the hair on the side of his head. Another stabbing pain shot down his arm.

  “You were right about me, Alfie. I did take your cat.” Whispered Howard Trenton. “Don’t worry though. He’s long dead, completely at peace now.” He continued. This revelation caused Alfie to begin to struggle violently.

  “You little bastard… I’ll fucking kill you…” gasped the old man. Howard squeezed Alfie even harder.

  “No, you won’t, Alfie. That’s not going to happen, I’m afraid.” Replied Howard, soft, calmly. The stabbing pain coursed down Alfie Whitehouse’s arm for a third time. He tried to breath in, and found that he couldn’t. Alfie tried again, but it was as if he were suddenly inside a large vacuum, devoid of oxygen. Alfie attempted to speak, but he was unable to mutter a word. His heartbeat pounded, faster, faster, thumping at his chest. Alfie tried desperately to suck in the air around him, but his lungs wouldn’t work. The beating of his heart increased, and Alfie felt as if his head was filling with a rushing river of blood. Then the pounding fell away, stopped, and at that very moment, Alfie Whitehouse lost consciousness. A few seconds later, he was dead.

  ***

  Howard Trenton sat on the edge of Alfie Whitehouse’s bed. The old man lay inside the blankets, still, motionless.

  “It’s a good job for you that you went when you did, Mister Whitehouse. It would’ve been a lot worse… much more painful… if you hadn’t.” Said Howard. “I didn't think that you’d last for very long, but I thought you’d have a little bit more stamina inside you… I’m a little bit disappointed that we didn’t get to party properly, but I suppose that it’s better this way, in the long run. For me.” He smiled. “I remember, last summer, watching the paramedics pulling up outside of here… Lucas told me that you’d suffered a pretty bad heart attack. If I remember correctly, they actually thought that you might not pull through, for the first day or two afterwards. Still, you did, and look where we are now.” Howard grinned. “They’ll just think that your heart’s finally packed up, for good. One day, Alfie, I’ll get caught, but at least this time, it won’t be on account of some wrinkled, miserable old fucker like you.”

  Howard Trenton looked around the old man’s bedroom. “I’m impressed with the way that you kept this place looking so nice… should have been a bit more on top of the house maintenance though, what with all of those faulty light bulbs… which reminds me…” Howard got up from the bed, turned off the bedside lamp, and took one last look at Alfie Whitehouse, before leaving the bedroom. He gently closed the door behind him, and walked, in the darkness, down the stairs. Howard pulled out a small torch from the back of his jeans, and shone it around the hallway. Underneath the stairs was a small cupboard, a place that he had already visited that evening. Inside, was an electrical board. He shone the torch on it, and then flipped up two red trip-switches. His work done, Howard Trenton quietly slipped out of Alfie Whitehouse’s home, and back to his own house, where he slept soundly for the rest of that night.

  ***

  The next morning, Howard encountered Mary in the kitchen. She was sat at the table, eating cereal from a bowl. She looked up briefly at Howard, but didn’t acknowledge him. Mary turned away from Howard, before pushing the bowl of cereal to one side. Howard leaned, awkwardly, against one of the kitchen units, staring down at his feet.

  “My behaviour yesterday was unforgivable.” He said. Mary turned and gazed out of the kitchen window.

  “You’re right. It was.” She said, her voice cold, distant.

  “I don’t know what came over me. That wasn't me, on that beach, Mary. It was completely out of character.” Howard tried to explain.

  “That’s funny, Howard, because it looked like you, and talked like you… hey, it must have just been some imposter, eh? Maybe it was an alien bodysnatcher…” Mary commented, cruelly. Howard stopped looking at his feet and glared at her. “I’m sorry. That was out of order.” She immediately apologised. Howard’s glare softened.

  “I deserve it.” He said. Mary shrugged her shoulders.

  “Maybe… but I still shouldn't have said it.” She conceded. A brief silence fell across the kitchen. Howard twiddled with a loose knob on the nearby oven.

  “How did you get home? You know… from Hingley?” He eventually asked.

  Mary leaned back on the chair and gave Howard a withering look, before answering his question.

  The oven knob that Howard had been twisting and turning suddenly fell off, and onto the floor. It landed on the tiles, and spun for a few seconds, like a miniature spinning-top, before wobbling and falling to one side.

  “Oops.” Said Howard. He knelt down and picked the knob up. Howard tried to put it back onto the oven, but it just fell off again.

  “I had to catch a bus back to Coldsleet.” Said Mary.

  “I’m sorry.” Apologised Howard.

  “And so you fucking should be.” Mary snapped. Then her voice softened a little. “I’m sorry too… if I gave you the wrong impression about us. I never meant to, Howard.” She said.

  “I know that you didn’t.” Replied Howard. He knelt down and picked up the oven knob again. “I’m gonna have to try and fix this, or Lucas will have a fit.” He added, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere between them a little. “So… are we friends again, Mary?” He wanted to know.

  “I suppose… but I meant what I said yesterday, Howard. Don’t ever get abusive with…”

  “I won’t, I won’t. It’ll never happen again, I promise.” Interrupted Howard.

  “It had better not… and as long as you understand, Howard, that we’ll only ever be just friends.” Mary reminded him. Howard felt a horrible sinking feeling at the words ‘just friends’, but he smiled on, regardless.

  “Of course.” He nodded. Mary stood up from the kitchen table.

  “Good. Then we’ll say no more about it. Now, I’ve got to be getting ready for work.” She said.

  “Yes. I need to be off to college soon, too.” Howard responded.

  “Have a good day. I’ll see you later.” Said Mary. She picked up the cereal dish and walked over to the sink, depositing it into some murky water floating in the washing-up bowl. “Bye, Howard.” Mary left the kitchen. Howard listened to Mary’s footsteps as she climbed the stairs.

  “Bitch.” Howard muttered, under his breath. “Dirty fucking bitch.”

  ***

  Howard Trenton sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair, facing Kate Williams. He wiped a tear from his eye.

  “Oh, Howard, I really don’t enjoy seeing you like this.” She said, passing him a tissue. Howard smiled at Elman College’s career advisor, and blew his nose.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Williams. I’m really grateful for you taking time out from your lunch, you know, letting me get all of this Mary business off my chest.” Smiled Howard.

  “That’s okay, Howard. I like to think that we’re friends.” Said Kate, and she put her hand on Howard’s. He looked down at her long, slim fingers, for just a split seco
nd. An image flashed through Howard’s head, of those slender fingers slowly rubbing up and down the length of his cock. Immediately, Howard felt his prick throb hard inside his jeans. An involuntary smirk appeared on Howard’s face. “Are you alright, Howard?” Asked Kate.

  “Yes, yes. I was just thinking about Mary, and what she said to me this morning.” Answered Howard.

  “And what was that?” Kate was interested to know.

  “She said that I was a creep. A slimy little creep.” Lied Howard. “Mary told me that no woman would ever be interested in me.” He continued, laying on the bull-shit. Kate Williams squeezed Howard’s hand.

  “That’s not true, Howard. You’re a very attractive young man.” Kate assured him. Howard gazed up, into Kate’s eyes, and there was something in the way that he looked at her that gave the middle-aged woman a sudden, tingling feeling down below, between her legs. Kate wriggled discretely on the wooden chair that she was sitting on, a warm dampness spreading inside her knickers.

  Kate Williams suddenly felt incredibly flustered, but there was something else welling up inside her, too; lust. Lust for the young eighteen year old man that sat opposite her, his heart broken. I can’t go down this road again, thought Kate, not again. She recalled another young man’s face, this one a little older than Howard, nineteen. He had been slim, like Howard, but slightly taller. Kate remembered what they'd done together, his young, eager cock, swollen, stiff, frantically pushing backwards, forwards, deep inside her. Fuck, that felt good, so good. I was the first real woman that he’d ever had, and that young man… John… he loved every single minute of it, couldn't get enough of me, the randy little fucker… Kate squeezed Howard’s hand again.