The Black Pathway

by Mark C Sutton

  “The terminus is on the edge of town, opposite a pub called ‘The Knighton Arms’.” Answered Gary.

  “Right, and where’s that?” Alex wanted to know.

  “I can’t remember. It’s been ages since I last came to this place.” Replied Gary.

  “Oh, for fucks sake… look, just try and remember, okay?” Suggested Alex Crennell.

  “I can’t.” Gary responded. “We’ll just have to ask somebody for directions.”

  “Who? Who are we going to ask? There’s nobody a-fucking-bout.” Alex moaned.

  “Shut up, Alex, yeah? Just stop the fucking whining, man. Look, I promise, we’ll find someone, okay?” Gary said, trying to placate his friend. “Come on, we’ll just carry on heading in this direction. If the worst comes to the worst, I’ll go and knock on somebody’s door and ask for directions to the bus-stop.” He continued. Alex shrugged, then threw the backpack over his shoulder. “You’ll be back home before sunset.” Assured Gary. Alex didn’t reply.

  Eventually, the hapless duo located the bus-stop.

  “Thank fuck for that. The last thing that I wanted was to be stuck in the middle of nowhere for the night.” Said Alex, with relief. Gary laughed at this.

  “Hoffen isn’t in the middle of nowhere. You make it sound like the back of beyond. It’s not a bad place at all, especially on a night out. There’s some decent pubs and stuff in this neck of the woods. If I remember right, the girls aren’t bad here either. You’re always putting down things that you know fuck all about.” Criticised Gary.

  “Nice pubs? What, like that one, just over the road there?” Alex asked, in a sarcastic voice. He gestured towards ‘The Knighton Arms’ public house, which was boarded up, and covered in graffiti.

  “That’s just one pub, Alex, and you know it.” Argued Gary.

  “Yeah, and doesn’t it look just lovely? What say we go in there, get a nice pint? Oh, I forgot, we can’t, because it’s fucking dilapidated, and closed. Jesus Christ.” Alex whined on. Something caught his attention, further on up the road; a bus was approaching. As it drew closer, he saw the name ‘Coldsleet’ displayed on the front of the bus. “Finally… I’m looking forward to getting out of this dive.” Said Alex who, mentally, was already back home in Coldsleet, loitering around the bar at ‘The Stagecoach’ pub.

  Gary Ackley looked awkwardly at his friend.

  “So, I’ll see you in a few days then?” He asked, wincing a little in anticipation of Alex’s response.

  “What are you talking about?” Alex snapped.

  “I told you, Alex. I ain’t coming back to Coldsleet. Not tonight. I’m gonna spend the evening here, and then finish the Black Pathway Trail tomorrow.” Gary informed him.

  “I thought that friends were supposed to stick together.” Remarked Alex.

  “Stop being such a stupid, childish cunt, Alex.” Replied Gary, and before Alex had the chance to say anything back in response to his friend’s slur, the bus pulled up to the stop. “I’ll see you in a few days… now go home, and get some rest.” Said Gary. Alex grunted, and then boarded the bus. Treacherous little arse-hole, Alex thought, as he boarded the vehicle. Wimpy, whining, poncey blonde-haired snot-rag, reflected Gary, as he watched the bus pull away with Alex on it, it’ll be nice to finish off the walk without that prat whinging and moaning all of the way to the finish… thank fuck he’s going home. Gary walked away from the bus-stop, and headed, with confidence, towards the guest house where he planned to spend the night. Gary Ackley knew his way around the town of Hoffen just fine; he’d only pretended that he didn't just to piss off his annoying friend.

  ***

  Howard Trenton looked out of the corner of his eye at Lauren Derby and Sally Wood, who were sat next to him in the lecture hall. They’re definitely laughing at me about something or other, thought Howard. He turned to Lauren, a pretty girl with long, tied-back blonde hair, and soft, mischievous green eyes.

  "What's so funny?" Asked Howard, in his strange, droning voice. Lauren giggled, and turned to her friend, Sally. Howard didn't like this. He nudged Lauren's arm with his bony elbow. She turned back to him, with more than a hint of anger in her eyes.

  "Do you mind not doing that, Howard?" She responded. Howard offered no apology.

  "I said, what's so funny? Tell me." Repeated Howard, his face cold and emotionless. “The pair of you are taking the piss out of me, aren’t you?” He suggested. Despite being angry at Howard for his nudging her, Lauren couldn't help but burst out laughing. Several other students in the lecture hall craned their necks in order to see what all of the sudden fuss was about.

  Before Lauren Derby could answer Howard's question, her friend Sally, who was also giggling, chipped-in.

  "It's your face, Howard. There's blue ink all over it." She advised him.

  "No there isn't." Replied Howard.

  "There is, Howard. There's ink all over your lips and chin." Said Lauren, before laughing again. Howard looked down at the biro he had been chewing on earlier, and which was now sitting on the desk in front of him; there was a small puddle of ink next to the nib, which possibly corroborated Lauren and Sally’s statements. Howard rubbed his fingers across his lower face. He looked at his fingertips, which were now smeared blue.

  "Damn. I need to go and wash my face." Said Howard, standing up. He began to walk towards the lecture hall door, to the merriment of his fellow students. Just as he reached the exit, Howard's tutor, Mister Rossiter, entered the hall, almost crashing into the small, wiry teenager.

  "And where do you think you're going?" Asked the tutor, a tall, elderly man with unfashionably long grey hair, and a pronounced stoop.

  "To the washroom, Mister Rossiter. I've got ink on my face." Advised Howard, which warranted a long, hard stare from his tutor.

  "So you have." Mister Rossiter confirmed, smirking a little at his student. "Go on then, hurry, go and wash it off." He went on, waving towards the door. Howard nodded, and left the lecture hall, angered by the jeering from the other students as he made his departure.

  Howard Trenton stared at his reflection in the washroom mirror. His face was now clean from the ink that had caused such feelings of joy in Lauren Derby and Sally Wood. Howard was eighteen years of age, and just about to turn nineteen, but the sombre, deadpan expression that he often wore, especially when around those who were unfamiliar to him, made the young adult look much older. Smiling wasn't really in Howard's nature; it never had been. He didn't do ‘fun’ very much. This was not to say that Howard was depressive, or negative in his outlook. Far from it. Howard liked to think of himself as an optimist, and he was reasonably happy with his lot in life. Granted, he did feel a bit directionless at times, but Howard was aware that many others of his age shared that same sense of drifting around a vast, deep ocean in a boat without a rudder.

  Although many of those who had encountered Howard over the years considered him somewhat strange, distant, perhaps even possessing an air of arrogance, pretty much all of them agreed that he was, if nothing else, reliable and dependable. There were others, a handful of people, who got to know Howard Trenton well, and who discovered another side to him. These people, who were, admittedly, few and far between, found a surprisingly caring, sensitive, and affable individual underneath Howard’s outwardly distant and impassive exterior. Unlike some other young men living in Coldsleet who were also considered to be ‘a bit odd’, Howard Trenton had never been short of female admirers. Sometimes Howard was aware of such adoration, and it excited him. On other occasions, he was completely indifferent to it. On yet other occasions, Howard was capable of becoming completely fixated with a member of the opposite sex. Most of the time, that fixation would fizzle out, usually due to Howard’s attentions being diverted elsewhere. But not always…

  Howard continued to gaze at himself in the washroom mirror. Then he did a strange thing. The young man reached out with his hand, towards his reflection. Howard traced the shape of his reflected face with a finger, whilst wearing a fixed,
blank expression. He pulled his finger away from the mirror, and tilted his head slightly to one side, in curiosity.

  "What are you?" He asked, speaking to the reflection. “Just what are you, Howard Trenton?” He repeated. “Because sometimes, I think that I know the answer but then… on days like this… I really haven’t got a clue.” There was no reply from the reflection. Or from himself, come to that. He had no answer. Howard stared at himself in the mirror for a few more moments, then he shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the washroom, his question unanswered, back towards the lecture hall and the delights of Mister Rossiter’s science lesson.

  Mister Rossiter had a question for his students.

  “Has there ever been any direct evidence that suggests life exists outside of our Earth?” He wanted to know. Leroy Swinton, one of the more knowledgable students in the classroom, put his hand in the air. “Yes, Leroy?”

  “There has, sir.” Advised Leroy.

  “Really, Leroy? Really?” Asked Mister Rossiter, somewhat incredulous at Leroy’s answer. “Then perhaps you’d like to enlighten the rest of the class?” He suggested. Leroy nodded.

  “Certainly sir. There was a Martian meteorite…”

  “Ah, you mean ALH84001.” Interrupted the tutor.

  “Yes, that was the one. They, erm…” said Leroy, stumbling slightly with his words.

  “Go on, go on.” Urged Mister Rossiter.

  “They erm, found fossilised life…” before Leroy could say any more, Mister Rossiter put his hand up in the air, gesturing for the student to stop talking.

  “They did NOT find fossilised life, Leroy. What was discovered in ALH84001 was microscopic chain structures that some suggested could be fossilised forms of bacteria. The case has not been proven either way, and therefore, Leroy, you are wrong to suggest that this is direct evidence of life existing outside of our Earth.” Advised the lecturer.

  “Yes sir, but…”

  “No ‘buts’, Leroy. ALH84001 is not definitive proof of extraterrestrial life.” Said Mister Rossiter, cutting his student short.

  Sally Wood had her hand in the air.

  “Yes, Sally?” Asked Mister Rossiter.

  “There was a signal, sir… a radio signal, received from space. They called it the ‘wow signal’, because…”

  “Stop right there, Sally. Stop right there.” Said the lecturer. He looked around at the rest of the class. “Now, has anybody else heard of this so-called ‘wow signal’?” He wanted to know. Half of the students in the hall put their hands up. “And would any of you care to tell me why the signal is NOT direct evidence of extraterrestrial life?” Asked the tutor.

  “Because it could have come from Earth.” Replied a buck-toothed student called Joe Lake.

  “Or it may have been a signal originating from a natural source… maybe a pulsar?” Suggested another student, Diane Morrow, who had a striking mane of bright ginger hair. Mister Rossiter smiled.

  “Exactly. There are other possible explanations concerning the ‘wow signal’ that would suggest that it didn’t emanate from little green men with a big radio transm…”

  “Don’t use that term.” Shouted an angry voice from the corner of the lecture hall. “I hate it when people use that term.” Everybody turned around and looked at the protester; it was Howard Trenton.

  Mister Rossiter walked over to where Howard Trenton was sitting.

  “What seems to be the problem, Howard?” He asked, noticing that the young student was trembling slightly with agitation.

  “It’s your use of that phrase, sir… ‘little green men’… I find it… offensive.” Replied Howard.

  “Oh, and may I ask why?” The tutor wanted to know. Howard let out a long sigh before replying.

  “Because it’s the same old crap, sir. The same old crap. Every time I watch a news article about the possibility of extraterrestrial life, which is something that I find really interesting, they end up mentioning those three little words… ‘little green men’… usually to a back-drop of the sodding ‘X-Files’ theme tune, or some cheap and crappy variation of it… it makes the whole subject look silly and trivial, when it’s not. It annoys me, sir. It really bloody annoys me.” Howard informed Mister Rossiter.

  “Well, it’s good to hear that you feel so passionately about…”

  “Don’t patronise me, sir.” Snapped Howard, his voice raised, angry.

  “Howard, I’m not…”

  “You stand here, in front of this class, trying to teach a subject that you actually know bugger all about. It’s annoying.” Interrupted Howard.

  “Is that so?” Asked the lecturer, himself now getting angry with Howard’s attitude.

  “Yeah, it is.” Stated Howard, and at this point, he stood up and looked around at his fellow students.

  Howard Trenton felt both irate and nervous, suddenly finding himself being stared at by the rest of the class, but he felt compelled to make a stand against Mister Rossiter’s ignorance.

  “It’s very easy to make light of the prospect of alien life. That’s because you don’t understand…”

  “Sit down, Howard.” Ordered Mister Rossiter. “I’ll not have you disrupt my session like this.”

  “No. No, I won’t sit down.” Replied Howard, in defiance. “Would you like me to tell you something, Mister Rossiter? Something that might surprise you?” He asked his tutor.

  “Just sit down.” Mister Rossiter responded. Howard Trenton completely ignored him.

  “There’s already extraterrestrials… here, on Earth, right now…and they’re not what you would imagine, either… in fact, if you ever saw one, then you probably wouldn’t even realise that you were looking at an alien.” Said Howard. “You’d think that it was some sort of cryptozoological freak of nature… but not something from out there.” Said Howard, gazing up at the ceiling. The other students stared at him like he had gone mad.

  “And how would you know this, Howard? Is it something that you’ve read about on the internet? Some silly conspiracy theory website?” Mocked Mister Rossiter. Howard responded with anger to this.

  “Shut up, you silly little man. You know nothing. You’re clueless. You’re…”

  “Get out of my class now, Howard.” Ordered the tutor, finally losing his cool, and pointing towards the lecture hall door. Howard looked helplessly at his fellow students. Most of them were grinning, enjoying the argument. Ignorant twats… they’re not worth enlightening any further, thought Howard. “Did you hear me, Howard. Get out of my class. I will not have you talking to me in such a manner.” Repeated Mister Rossiter. Howard gave his tutor a withering look, and then he stomped out of the room. His lecturer followed Howard out of the classroom and into the corridor.

  Mister Rossiter shut the lecture hall door behind him, so that the rest of the students couldn’t hear what was being said.

  “Just what was that little outburst all about, Howard? It’s unlike you to be so… argumentative.” He asked. Howard dug his hands into his pockets, and refused to look Mister Rossiter in the eye.

  “I told you. I’m annoyed by your flippancy, sir, and the way that you make light of a serious subject.” Howard responded.

  “Well, I’m sorry that I offended you, Howard. That wasn’t my intention. Regardless of that though, it doesn’t give you the right to talk to me in the manner that you just did.” Said the lecturer.

  “Yes. I know, I’m sorry.” Replied Howard, staring down at the floor. “I shouldn’t have called you silly or clueless.” He went on.

  “No, you shouldn’t have, Howard.” Commented Mister Rossiter. Howard looked past the tutor, down the corridor. Somebody had caught his attention; a woman in her mid-forties, called Kate. She was a careers advisor based at the college.

  “Well, like I just said… I’m sorry.” Repeated Howard, suddenly feeling distracted. He watched Kate disappear into one of the classrooms.

  “Okay. I accept your apology. Now, are you coming back into the lecture hall, Howard?” Mister Ro
ssiter wanted to know. Howard finally looked into the eyes of his tutor.

  “No, sir. No. I’ll give the rest of this study period a miss, if that’s okay.” He replied. “You know what the other students will be like if I go back in there… they’ll spend the rest of the session taking the piss out of me.” Howard commented.

  “Are you sure?” Asked the lecturer. Howard Trenton nodded. “Okay. Fair enough. I’d better go back in. I’m sorry that I offended you, Howard.” The young man forced a smile.

  “It doesn’t matter, sir.” He said. Mister Rossiter disappeared back into the lecture room. Howard walked off, down the corridor, in the direction of where he had just seen Kate.

  Chapter Two

  Kate Williams was looking through some leaflets concerning an upcoming jobs fare in the nearby town of Knighton, when she heard a gentle rap on the classroom door. She looked up. One of the college students, Howard Trenton, was outside, smiling at her through the glass panel on the door. Kate smiled back. She beckoned for Howard to enter the classroom, which he did.

  “Hi, Miss Williams.” Beamed Howard.

  “Hello, Howard. How are you today?” Kate asked. Howard grinned.

  “I’ve just caused a bit of a to-do in one of Mister Rossiter’s lectures.” Confided Howard.

  “Oh, did you now? Sit down, Howard, sit down.” Said Kate. Howard pulled up a small wooden chair, and sat near to Kate’s desk.

  “Yes, I did. He annoyed me.” Advised Howard.

  “That’s unlike you, Howard.” Observed Kate. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d seen Howard annoyed before; he rarely seemed to get passionate about anything. “What did Mister Rossiter do to upset you?” She asked, with curiosity. Howard waved his hand.

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just say that we had a little disagreement about matters of science.” He smiled.