So, I never raped Mandy. What I did do, instead, was try to save her, bring her around from her unconsciousness. I thought that the best way to do that would be to warm her up, coz her whole body was trembling with cold, after being in the ocean for fuck knows how long. I rolled Mandy onto her side, and then I took my T-shirt off, placing it over her upper body. Then I cuddled up behind Mandy, wrapping my arms across her body, pulling her close to me, in the hope that my body heat would transfer across. There was never anything sexual about any of this. I simply thought that, if I could warm the girl up, then she’d come around. The intention was to save Mandy, not kill her. Except that’s what I ended up doing, and completely by accident. I killed her.
At that point in my life, I didn’t know what had really happened to my mom, and so had no idea about my father, or one of the powers that he’d passed on to me through his genetic code. I huddled up to Mandy, trying to make her warmer, but the exact opposite started to happen; she started to get colder, and at the same time, so did I. When I first realised what was happening, I tried to pull away, but it was as if my body wouldn’t let me do that. Instead, I just hugged at her even harder, and with that, the coldness between us intensified. I felt a new sensation, one that I’d never experienced before… it was similar to sexual arousal… no, it felt exactly like sexual arousal… but in a different way to, say, what had happened a bit earlier, when I’d touched at Mandy’s breasts, or how it was with Kate Williams, up in her bedroom, when she fucked me. With this new, strange form of arousal, I just wanted to pull Mandy closer and closer to myself, because I knew that as I did, the cold… the icy, beautiful sensation of cold… would increase. The colder that we both became, the more my heart raced and my body trembled, just like it does when you’re about to shoot your load, during ‘normal’ sex. We were both freezing cold, and I couldn’t stop pulling Mandy closer, closer… it was like the ice was welding us together. Then it happened… a feeling like something being ripped from deep within my guts, and jolting across, into Mandy. The whole sensation was real; I actually felt her body jerk, just once, but hard, really hard, as the whole experience reached its peak.
I lay there, with Mandy, for another ten or so minutes, feeling exhausted, yet exhilarated at the same time. I started to feel warmer, but, to my dismay, Mandy remained the same; frozen. I let go of the young girl, pulled right away from her, thinking that might help, but it didn’t. I checked her pulse again. For just a few, short seconds, I felt it flutter inside her, and then there was nothing. Mandy was dead. That was the moment that I realised I had killed somebody for the very first time, even if it was by accident. I stood up, and looked down at the young girl, not knowing what to do next. That’s when my instinct of self-preservation kicked in. I knelt down and hoisted Mandy over my shoulder, walked away from the sand-dune, and carried the girl back to the ocean. I knew that, if I threw Mandy back into the water, it would wash off any incriminating evidence that I might have transferred to her, so that’s exactly what I did. I flung the dead girl into the sea, and then I watched as the tide began to drag her body away from the secluded beach. I walked away, back towards Coldsleet, passing the rock-pool that Mandy had been half-submerged in. I caught my reflection as I looked down at the water; my eyes were glowing a dull, dirty yellow.
They never did recover Mandy. Sometimes, I try and guess what might have happened to her body, but I can’t. I don’t like dwelling on the whole incident too much, really, because it should never have happened. It wasn’t a murder, but no-one will ever see it that way. At least I know the truth though, in my heart, that I was actually trying to save her. There was one time, about a month after the whole event had occurred, when I seriously considered writing a letter to Mandy’s heartbroken parents, just to put their minds at rest, give them some closure, so that they could start over again, and get on with their lives. In the end though, I thought it was too risky, and just left the whole matter alone; self-preservation again, I suppose. I didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to myself.
I found out Mandy’s name the next day, in the local newspapers. She wasn’t from the locale; Mandy was a holidaymaker, on vacation with her parents and younger brother. She’d gone out swimming, but had gotten into difficulty, and was carried away by the strong currents around the Hingley coastline. I was shocked to discover that this had all happened the day BEFORE I found her. Mandy must have been tough, to survive all of that time in the sea, before being washed up on the shore near Keln. That just made what happened to her all the more sad, in my eyes. If I hadn’t interfered, she might have made it. But no, I had to get involved, and do more damage than good. It took me a long time to get over that. I carried around a lot of feelings of guilt. Unfortunately, I also carried around a growing desire to experience that feeling, the one of a frozen, intoxicating union, with a female, again. I resisted my inner temptations for about a year, before that resolve completely collapsed. You know what happened next, and once it did, well, I just couldn’t stop after that.
***
There are two different types of murder that I carry out. The first are the ones that stem from that initial experience, when I was thirteen, with Mandy. For example, the murder of Kate Williams falls into that category. I suppose that you could call them ‘sex killings’, even though there’s no conventional sex involved. Let's not beat around the bush here; I derive a sort of sexual satisfaction from those type of murders… I receive gratification, just not in the normal way, but that’s only because I’m NOT normal. Because of what my father was, I carry with me two forms of sexuality; the human, and the inhuman. You could literally say that I have the best of both worlds…
The second category of murder that I’ve committed is much more conventional, appeasing that blood-thirsty and sadistic part of my personality. When I caused that old cunt, Alfie Whitehouse, to die from a heart attack, I got a real thrill from it. It’s a power thing, pure and simple. I like having the power of life and death over overs. One of the people up at the old derelict farmhouse… I strangled them, but really slowly… I even let them think I was going to not actually kill them, at one point… but it was all just a great big game. Fuck, did I get a kick out of that though, squeezing the life out of them until, at the very last moment, I loosened my grip, allowed them to breath again… I even whispered an apology into their ear… before squeezing once more, harder, more ferocious, than the last time.
It’s true, I like to torment some of my victims… I mean REALLY torment them. Deep down, I know it’s wrong, but I do it anyway, and that’s because I enjoy it. It’s a bit like when you’re young, and you steal a pound coin from out of your mom’s purse, then hotfoot it down to the local shops and blow your ill-gotten gains on some sweets, or a comic-book. You know that you’ve done a bad thing, and you feel guilty, ashamed, but at the same time, you’ve enjoyed gorging on the sweets, or reading the story in the comic… and that guilt, well, it certainly doesn’t stop you from robbing another pound coin off your mom, a few days later, does it? That’s how I see this category of murder. I DO, honestly, feel disgusted with my actions, sometimes, but it’s always over-ridden by how much enjoyment I derive from making other people suffer. I guess that makes me pretty sick, eh? Well… so fucking what?
Chapter Twenty Five
Mary and Shark were stopped in their tracks by a fast-flowing river, cutting through Skerrington Forest.
“Shit! What to do we do now? This fucking river’s too wide to cross, and that bastard isn’t far behind us.” Panicked Mary.
“I tell you what we do now, Mary… we lose Howard Trenton for good.” Grinned Shark.
“Oh right, and how are we going to do that?” Mary asked, with skepticism.
“By getting right into that water and swimming in it. IF Howard Trenton can really track us by our scent, then he ain’t going to be able to once we’re in the river.” Advised Shark.
“What? Do you really think so?” Asked Mary.
“Hopefully, yes. I re
member watching some film once, years back when I was a kid. There was this guy, being hunted down by a pack of bloodhounds, for some reason or another. That’s how he lost them… he found some water, and jumped right in… this river here might just be a godsend.” Replied Shark. “Shall I go in first? Or do you want that pleasure?”
“It’s going to be sodding freezing!” Exclaimed Mary.
“Like I said before… better than being raped. Or dead.” Mary said, before wading into the river.
Mary followed Shark into the water, which was only knee-deep.
“Keep your backpack free from the river, Mary.” Instructed Shark.
“Why?” Asked Mary. Jesus Christ, girl, use your brain, thought Shark.
“Well, I take it that you packed yourself some changes of clothes for this wonderful, pleasant and relaxing three day excursion?” Asked Shark.
“Yeah, of course I did.” Replied Mary, her whole body shivering.
“Well, we’re gonna have to get into some dry stuff once we’re out of this water, or we’ll probably both die from hypothermia… did you pack yourself any towels?” Shark asked. Mary nodded.
“Three or four.”
“Good. Just make sure that your backpack doesn’t get wet, like I said, otherwise your other clothes, towels… they’ll be next to useless.”
“Okay.” Mary replied.
“Fuck, we ain’t gonna be able to stay in this river for long. It’s so cold in here.” Admitted Shark. “Let’s just hope that this works. If we can lose Howard, then that’s half the battle won. All we have to do then is survive the cold, and find some help. Hey, I wonder if there’s any mobile reception yet?” Pondered Shark. She took her phone from out of her jacket pocket; there was still no signal. Mary did the same. Nothing. Something occurred to Mary.
“Wouldn’t the police be able to track us by our phones?” She wondered.
“Does yours use GPS?” Replied Shark.
“No, I don’t think so.” Mary advised.
“Mine neither. It’s old. I’m not sure if our mobiles will be sending signals out or not… if they’re picked up, then the police should be able to get a rough idea of where we are… using triangulation, I think it’s called… depends on how many phone masts are around here though… I’m guessing not many.” Said Shark. And she was right. The police search had already tried to track them by their phones; the exact location of the groups devices were impossible to pinpoint.
***
Ten minutes later, Howard Trenton arrived at the stretch of water which Shark and Mary had jumped into. He turned the music that he was listening to off, and placed the earphones back in his coat pocket. Shit! I didn’t know that there was a fucking river running through this part of the forest! He thought. Howard raised his nose to the air; the scent of Mary and Shark trailed off at the edge of the water, and then completely disappeared.
“Fuck it!” He cursed. Howard paced up and down at the edge of the river for a few moments. “Those fucking bitches! I don’t believe this. They’ve got away. I can’t track them.” He whined. “Now what am I supposed to do?” Howard asked, losing his temper. He looked down at the river, and then further on, into the darkness of the forest. I’ve lost them. I’ve gone and fucking lost them! I don’t know which way that they've gone! This was supposed to be my last night of fun… now I’ve fucked everything up.
Howard began to walk along the edge of the river, heading south. Maybe I’ll pick up their scent again, at the point where they get out of the water… but then that might be on the opposite fucking riverbank… or in the other direction. Bollocks. I’ve blown all of this, big-style. Howard stopped walking, listening out for a sound, anything, that might give him a hint as to the whereabouts of Mary and Shark. The only noise that he could hear was the distant buzz of the police helicopter. Howard decided to do a quick health-check; he looked down at his broken arm, trying to move his fingers; there was no sensation in them at all. He reached around, with his other hand, to his lower back, feeling at the stab wound, which was scabbed, congealed, but, more importantly, dry. There was no blood. Ah well, at least that’s something. Looks like I’m not gonna bleed to death after all. Howard felt up, to his face, where Shark had hit him with the portable radio. There was a large lump, just above his cheekbone, but otherwise, no damage. His lips, which had been split open, were now scabbed over and sore. Apart from my arm, I’m still in relatively good working order, Howard thought, before continuing with his walk along the river’s edge.
***
Mary and Shark scrambled out of the freezing cold water, and up a muddy riverbank. They were no longer in Skerrington Forest. Shark gave a quick glance across the field that they found themselves in.
“We’ve got to get out of these soaking wet clothes right now, or we’re gonna catch our death.” She said. “Did you manage to keep your backpack out of the water?”
“Yeah.” Answered Mary.
“Good. Come on, let’s get dried off and changed, and then get out of this place. We’re too exposed out here.” Said Shark in an edgy tone. She looked nervously around the field, which was partially illuminated by the moonlight.
“It’s a shame that the helicopter’s not around… they’d spot us out here, for sure.” Commented Mary, pulling a towel from her backpack.
“Yeah, and so would Howard Trenton.” Pointed out Shark, her teeth chattering from the cold. “We can’t hang around here.”
“Do you think that we’ve lost him, Shark?” Asked Mary, with hope in her voice.
“Maybe.” Replied Shark. “Maybe.”
***
After ten minutes of walking, Howard realised that he was no longer in Skerrington Forest. If the girls have come this way, then I’m probably fucked, because the village of Oakden’s not too far from here. That’s if they came this way at all. Howard walked a little further along the riverbank, and then something caught his attention, just to his right. Howard walked away from the water, into a small field.
“What’s all this then?” He said out loud, as he moved across to a small pile of soaking wet clothes that lay on the grass. Howard knelt down, and picked up a soggy jumper, that he recognised straight away as belonging to Shark Mako. Howard looked around, breathing in the cold air through his nose, searching for the scent of his quarry. A familiar smell filled his nostrils, and Howard Trenton smiled to himself.
“I’ve found you, girls. I’ve found you.” He said. Howard threw the wet jumper back down onto the grass, and began to follow the scent of his victims once more. “Looks like we might just be having that little party after all.” He smirked.
***
Mary and Shark found themselves descending a gravel track, bordered by two large hedges.
“You don’t think that we’ve stumbled back onto the Black Pathway, do you?” Wondered Mary.
“No way. This track… look at the hedges, Mary. They’re well-maintained. I think that this might be a part of somebody’s property. If that’s the case, then maybe, just maybe, that person has got a residence somewhere nearby. Fucking hell, I hope to God that we find it… if I’m right that is.” Said Shark. Up ahead of the two women, the gravel track twisted to the left. They followed it around, and that’s when a small farmhouse came into view. “Do you see what I see, Mary Broderick?” Asked Shark, with a huge grin on her face.
“I do, Shark.” Mary responded, and then she put an arm around her friend. “We’ve made it. We’re gonna be okay! Everything’s going to be okay, Shark!” Beamed Mary.
Mary and Shark hurried along the gravel track, and then turned left, up a short stone path that led to the side of the farmhouse. They walked around the perimeter of the building, making their way to the front door of the property.
“There’s a light on, look!” Said Mary, pointing to one of the ground floor windows.
“Thank God. I tell you something, Shark… for a while back there, in that bloody forest, I really thought that we were a goner.” Confessed Mary.
&n
bsp; “Same here. Mind you, I won’t feel safe until we’re inside this building.” Replied Shark, who rapped on the front door of the farmhouse with her scratched and swollen knuckles. They heard movement inside the building. Shark knocked on the door again.
“Hang on!” Shouted a male voice.
‘Fuck, imagine if it was somehow Howard inside th…”
“Don’t even joke about it, Mary.” Whispered Shark. There was the sound of a door-bolt being pulled back, and the old, wooden front door opened up. A tall old man, with piercing blue eyes and a shock of thick, grey hair, stood before them.
“Do you realise what time it is?” He asked, wearing a scowl. “It’s almost midnight.”
“We’re sorry sir, but you’ve got to help us.” Replied Shark. “There’s a killer out there in the forest, and…”
“Oh.” Interrupted the elderly man, with a look of surprise. He looked the two young women up and down, noticing their dishevelled appearance. “Is this something to do with the police search? Up on the Black Pathway?” He asked. Shark and Mary both nodded at the same time. “Are you the two girls that they’re looking for?” The man queried further.
“Yes. Can you help us, please?” Mary asked. The elderly man smiled, his blue eyes softening.
“Of course, of course. Come in. Please come in.” He replied, before ushering the two young women into the farmhouse.
***
For a few minutes, Mary and Shark stood in the hallway of the farmhouse, recounting the events of that day to the man, who appeared to be horrified at their plight. After this, the elderly man led Mary and Shark into a small, cozy lounge, and then introduced himself as Stan. He asked the girls what their names were. He raised an eyebrow at Shark’s response.
The Black Pathway Page 25