The Black Pathway

by Mark C Sutton

  “Go and fuck yourself, Alex.” Came Mary’s icy-cold response.

  Alex Crennell picked himself from up off the floor, his clothes splattered with mud. The rest of the group watched him in silence. Alex pointed a figure at them, collectively.

  “You three fuckers… I haven’t finished with any of you yet.” He threatened. Shark went to move towards him again, but Gary Ackley held her back.

  “Just go home, Alex.” Said Gary, calmly.

  “You’re a fucking big-mouthed shit-face.” Alex hit back at him. He turned to Shark. “No-one gets away with doing something like that to me. Do you hear me?” Alex said. Shark smirked at him. “And as for you,” Alex stared at Mary, “well, you can find your own way back down to Coldsleet… or spend the next two days with this pair of cunts. It’s your choice, bitch.”

  “Just go home.” Gary repeated. Alex Crennell slowly walked back onto the Black Pathway. He pushed past Gary, Mary, and Shark, and slowly began his trek back towards Coldsleet. Alex continued to stare back at the trio, as he disappeared into the mist. And straight into the path of Howard Trenton.

  ***

  Gary Ackley put his arm around Mary Broderick, with Shark standing next to him.

  “Are you okay?” He asked her.

  “Yeah. I’m fine, thanks.” She replied.

  “Well, I suppose that we’d better be heading back to Coldsleet too.” Said Gary. “We can’t carry on with the walk now.”

  “What did you mean, when you said about Alex’s damaged ego being the reason for him wanting to walk the Black Pathway?” Mary was very curious to know. Gary took in a deep breath.

  “He got jealous when he found out that Howard wanted to take you along the pathway. He got even more jealous when he discovered that Howard had walked the trail loads of times before.” Explained Gary. “You know what Alex is like about Howard. There’s no love lost between them at all.” He reminded Mary.

  “I still don’t understand.” She said.

  “It’s because, as Shark said earlier, Alex couldn’t manage to complete the Black Pathway. Me and Alex, we walked the trail the summer before last, and he couldn’t hack it, he got as far as Hoffen, and then fucked off home.” Gary went on. “He hated the thought that Howard had completed the Black Pathway loads of times. All of this… it’s about Alex’s stupid, petty fucking jealousy.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Said Mary.

  “Alex is like a big sodding child at times, and as I said, it doesn’t help that he really hates Howard… and has done for years.” Commented Gary.

  “Yeah, I gathered that much… well, I say bollocks to Alex Crennell. Let’s really piss him off and complete the Black Pathway.” Suggested Mary, with a devilish grin on her face.

  “You’re joking?” Asked Shark. Mary turned to her.

  “No. I’m not joking at all.” She calmly replied.

  Gary wasn’t sure about Mary’s suggestion that the trio continue walking the Black Pathway Trail.

  “Mary, a few minutes ago, you were saying that you wanted to go back to Coldsleet.” He reminded her.

  “Well, to be honest, I can think of other things that I’d rather be doing this weekend than traipsing around in the cold and the mist… but if completing the walk fucks Alex off, then I’m all up for carrying on with it.” Mary smiled.

  “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve just broken up with Alex and…”

  “And nothing.” Mary interrupted Gary. “I’ve got no regrets there, and I don’t feel upset, either. He attacked Shark. He’s a man that takes his anger out on women. He can fuck right off.” She asserted. Gary and Shark nodded.

  “Did you see the look on Alex’s face, just after Shark had done that weird judo throw thing on him?” Asked Gary. He looked at Shark. “Where did you learn to do stuff like that?” Shark gave him a bittersweet smile.

  “A friend taught me.” She replied. “Do you reckon Alex will be okay, getting back down to Coldsleet?” Shark asked Gary.

  “He’ll be fine,” he assured her, “all he has to do is follow the pathway back across the flatlands and down Leeton Hill. Alex will be okay.”

  ***

  Alex Crennell walked as fast as he could along the Black Pathway, humiliated, angry, feet hurting, sweat running into his eyes, and his head banging with a hangover that refused to go away. Those bastards… I’ll make them all pay for this, the bunch of tossers, he seethed. He moved forward, with his head down, lost in angry thoughts, thinking of all the different ways that he was going to wreak his revenge on Mary, Shark and Gary. ESPECIALLY Gary; the friend who had betrayed his trust.

  “Well, you ain’t my friend anymore, Gary Ackley. Those days are over. You’re gonna regret making an enemy of me, you stupid, blue-haired freak.” Alex said to himself, his eyes focused on the pathway in front of him, a trail that was getting increasingly difficult to see as the moorland mist continued to thicken and obscure it. God, I hate this place. I swear, this’ll be the last time that I ever come anywhere near the Black fucking Pathway. Whoever gets pleasure from walking around this shit-hole needs their heads examining… stupid cunts.

  Suddenly, Alex became aware of a noise behind him… footsteps… somewhere behind him were the sound of footsteps. Nah, there’s no-one else up here with me, I’m on my own… all I’m hearing is echoes of my own fucking walking, reasoned Alex. Don’t let your imagination start running riot, Alex, just keep on heading forwards, one step after another, you’ll soon be back at the bridge, and then all that’s left is the walk down Leeton Hill… just think, you can get back home, have a fish and chip dinner, then down to the pub for a much-needed jar or eight. Yeah, that sounds good, a nice little pick-me-up to get rid of this fucking hangover… the thought of beer made Alex thirsty. He stopped walking, and took his rucksack from off his shoulder, reaching inside for a bottle of water. Even though he was now standing perfectly still, he could still hear footsteps coming from somewhere behind him.

  Alex turned around. There was a soft, almost rhythmic crunch of feet against gravel, emanating from somewhere within the mist.

  “Hello? Gary, is that you?” Called Alex. There came no response. “Gary, I swear, if that’s you, fucking around…” Alex’s voice trailed off. The sound of footsteps had suddenly ceased, and the only noise that could be heard was the soft breeze as it pushed through the undergrowth that bordered the Black Pathway. “Gary?” Repeated Alex. Silence. Fuck this, man, let’s get out of here, thought Alex. He began to walk again, and as soon as he did, Alex heard the sound of footsteps behind him once more. Just keep walking, don’t think about it… it’s your imagination… or some weird echo effect… you’re not far from the bridge now… not far at all… then it’s down the hill, and home, away from this dump forever. The footsteps were closer now. Alex stopped walking for a second time, and turned around. This time, there was a figure standing about ten feet away from Alex Clennell. A figure, mostly shrouded in mist, but with slightly glowing, dirty-yellow eyes.

  Alex jumped backwards, his heart racing.

  “Who the fuck…” The figure walked from out of the mist, revealing himself to Alex. It was Howard Trenton.

  “Howard? What the fuck are you doing up here?” Asked Alex. “And what’s wrong with your fucking eyes, man?”

  “Hello, Alex.” Replied Howard. “There’s nothing wrong with my eyes. This is what they’re really like.” He smiled. Alex laughed, nervously.

  “You’re wearing those freaky fucking contact lenses that you can buy… I know a girl called Emma, she wears lenses like those… bright yellow, makes her look like some sodding cat…”

  “They’re not lenses, Alex.” Said Howard, in a flat, monotone voice. He took a step towards Alex.

  “Like fuck they’re not… what are you doing up here? Up on the pathway?” Alex asked for a second time.

  “I’m here to have some fun.” Replied Howard, smiling slightly.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Said Alex. Howard didn’t reply. �
�Hey, are you high or something?” Quizzed Alex. Again, there was no response from Howard Trenton. Alex began to feel very uneasy.

  “Look, if it’s Mary that you’re looking for, she’s with Gary and some bitch called Shark. I know that you were a bit hung up on her and stuff… well, go for it, pal, we’re finished anyway. Me, I’m going home, man.” Alex informed Howard, his throat going dry. “They’re back that way, heading onto Coldsleet Moor.” Croaked Alex, pointing past Howard. This information was met with complete silence from the younger, smaller man.

  Alex Crennell began backing away from Howard Trenton.

  “Look, I know that we haven’t got on for a long time, Howie… maybe, like, we could catch up for a drink or something, try and put things right? For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about all of that shit I said about Kate Williams not long back. I was just piss-taking, and I admit, it was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have said that stuff.” Said Alex.

  “Thanks for your apology, Alex.” Howard finally spoke, though his face remained unmoved, impassive.

  “Jesus Christ, those fucking contact lenses are really freaky, Howard. You’ll scare the shit out of Mary when you catch up with her.” Laughed Alex, nervously. He took a few more steps away from Howard Trenton. “I’ll be down at ‘The Stagecoach’ tonight, if you wanna meet up… first pint will be on me.” Suggested Alex, quickening his pace. Howard showed no sign of following him. “Like I said, the others are just about to go onto Coldsleet Moor. You should be able to catch up with them pretty quickly…”

  “See you soon, Alex.” Cut-in Howard, and with that, he turned his back, and began heading off in the direction of Coldsleet Moor. Alex took a deep breath, watching as Howard Trenton disappeared back into the mist. Thank fuck, he’s gone… what the hell was that all about? Christ knows. Right, I’m out of here, Alex thought to himself. He found that he was no longer just walking back down the Black Pathway; Alex was running.

  ***

  Extract from the journal of Howard Trenton

  How do I know for definite that I was fathered by an alien? Well, I don't. Not one-hundred percent, at any rate. I'm pretty sure that mom was telling me the truth about the creature that attacked her, but that doesn't mean there was any actual alien involvement. Whatever that creature was, it'd be much more likely for it to have just come from this planet. Or so people would argue. I'd disagree with that, and with good reason, too; the memories that I have. Memories of another world. Memories of another world that is out there somewhere, far beyond our solar system, or even our galaxy. Actually, my memories consist of two worlds, neighbouring planets that move in close orbits around their galactic parent, an orange star ten times as large as the Earth's local sol. Two worlds, both of them teeming with a vast and diverse array of life. Two worlds that are almost identical to each other. One of them, I’m not sure which, is my father’s natural, and my spiritual, home.

  So, how can I possibly remember a place that I've never been to? Simple. the memories have been passed down to me through my father's genetic code. Such memory transferrence is one of the popular theories that I've read concerning the concept of reincarnation, the school of thought being that the individual who believes they have lived a past life are actually carrying around with them memories from a chronologically distant, genetic relative. This has to be possible. The memories that I have of my father’s home planet are too realistic to be otherwise… unless. Unless I’m completely deranged. Like my mom was said to be. But that doesn’t make sense… it doesn’t address all of the enhanced abilities that I possess. A chronic mental illness can’t explain that. Can it?

  Chapter Twenty

  Gary, Mary and Shark left the flat-lands behind them, and began ascending Coldsleet Moor.

  “What time is it?” Mary wanted to know.

  “Two thirty.” Replied Gary, looking at his wristwatch.

  “Do you think Alex will be back in Coldsleet by now?” Mary asked.

  “He might be.” Gary answered. “I thought this mist would have cleared a bit by now… but it seems to be getting worse.” He said, changing the subject from Alex Crennell.

  “How far do you think we are from Knighton?’ Shark was curious to know.

  “Why, are you getting tired?” Teased Gary.

  “No.” Lied Shark. “Well, yeah, I am a little bit.” She confessed.

  “We’re about three miles away. This sodding mist might slow us down a bit, but we should be in Knighton for around five, five thirty.” Gary informed her.

  “Hey girls, have you ever heard of Stephen Hartley?” He suddenly asked.

  “Stephen who?” Replied Mary.

  “Wasn’t he that serial killer guy? ‘The slayer of Scarr Mountain’?” Came Shark’s more informed response.

  “Yep, that’s the one, Shark. ‘The Scarr Mountain slayer’, or ‘The Dead Winter Mountain murderer.’” Nodded Gary.

  “Why do you ask?” Shark was interested to know.

  “Well, have you ever heard the rumour about Stephen Hartley and Coldsleet Moor?” Gary asked her.

  “Can’t say that I have.” Admitted Shark.

  “I don’t know who the pair of you are talking about.” Sulked Mary, feeling left out of the conversation.

  “Then let me tell you, Mary! And after that, Gary can tell us of this rumour that I can see he’s just dying to talk about!” Said Shark, putting her arm around Mary’s shoulder.

  Shark talked excitedly about Stephen Hartley, ‘The slayer of Scarr Mountain’.

  “I remember reading about him on the ‘net. He used to kidnap women, usually in their twenties or thirties, and take them back to his cellar, before murdering them. From what I read, even though Stephen was a mass killer, he was actually really tickle-stomached. So, if he ended up stabbing one of his victims to death, he’d have to close his eyes, or turn the other way as he was doing it. He was a proper anorak too… everyone that met Stephen said he was really boring. He was the ultimate nerd… hey, Gary, don’t they reckon that he actually murdered one of his victims using a model train set?” Shark asked.

  “Yeah, I think so.” Gary replied.

  “How did he do that?” Wondered Mary.

  “Fuck knows… but anyway, he used to bury his victims up on Scarr Mountain…”

  “Scarr Mountain? That’s… what… thirty, forty miles from here at the most?” Interrupted Mary.

  “I’d say about forty miles. It’s in west Nethershire.” Gary advised her.

  “So, he used to bury his victims up on Scarr Mountain, or on some moors near to it. How many did he kill, Gary?” Asked Shark.

  “No-one’s really sure, but they reckon it was around twenty women.” Gary told her, as he munched on a chocolate bar.

  Shark turned to Gary.

  “So, what’s Stephen Hartley got to do with Coldsleet Moor?” She asked, with curiosity; Shark knew a fair bit about ‘the Dead Winter Mountain murders’, but had never heard of any connection to Coldsleet or its surroundings.

  “Well, some people around here reckon that there’s been a serial killer operating in this area for quite a while now. There’s been a fair few disappearances and stuff. Have you heard that, Shark? Mary?”

  “Yeah, I have.” Replied Shark.

  “So have I.” Said Mary.

  “Right, well, one theory is that Stephen Hartley was responsible for some of those disappearances, and that the bodies are buried here, up on Coldsleet Moor.” Gary informed the two young women.

  “Nah, I don’t buy it.” Shark instantly argued. “He was caught, two years back. There’s been more disappearances since then.” She stated.

  “I said that Hartley was only responsible for SOME of the disappearances. Rumour has it, there’s another serial killer on the loose in this area.” Explained Gary.

  “I still don’t buy it.” Said Shark, digging in her heels.

  “Why not?” Gary asked.

  “Because it just sounds like bull-shit. Stephen Hartley pretty much confessed to every
thing that he’d ever done. He wasn’t cagey about his crimes at all… sung like a fucking canary, from what I read about him. As far as I recall, he never once mentioned doing anything dodgy in this neck of the woods. Why would he bother keeping stuff secret? He didn’t have anything to gain from doing that.” Argued Shark.

  “Fair point.” Considered Gary, smiling.

  Mary jiggled her shoulders a little, readjusting the backpack she was wearing.

  “Hey, wasn’t there another murderer who lived not far from Knighton? Some farmer who killed his wife and daughter, years back? Maybe he’s the serial killer?” Asked Mary.

  “Oh, you’re talking about Ben Askew. Weird that, coz I was reading about him in the local paper, just before Christmas.” Replied Gary. “No, he’s not the serial killer.” He added.

  “Why not? He was a double murderer, right?” Mary responded.

  “Wrong. He was actually a triple killer. Good old Ben killed his wife and two daughters… they reckon he had some sort of breakdown and just went nuts… gunned his entire family down, the bloody fruit-cake.” Remembered Gary.

  “Well, if he could do something like that, I don’t see why he couldn’t be the one responsible for some of the disappearances around here.” Argued Mary.

  “Impossible. He was banged up in a mental institute for just over twenty years… that’s what the newspaper article I was reading was all about. He was released, just before Christmas, and there was a bit of a fuss about it in Knighton, coz he’d bought another farm, not far from Oakden, and so was living back in the area again.” Advised Gary. “The locals… they weren’t happy… obviously.”

  “I’ve never heard of him.” Admitted Shark, who was the one now feeling a little bit left out of the conversation.

  “It was years ago, Shark. The killings happened before I was even born.” Said Gary.