The Black Pathway

by Mark C Sutton

  “I see… so, is there anything that I can do for you today, Howard?” Kate wanted to know.

  “Nothing really. I just popped in to say ‘hi’… are you busy today, Miss Williams?”

  “No more than usual. I’m glad it’s Friday though… I’m looking forward to the weekend, Howard.” Said Kate.

  “Me too, Miss Williams. Me too. Have you got anything nice planned?” Howard asked.

  “Well, I’m planning on a quiet night tonight… but tomorrow I’m meeting up with an old friend that I used to go to college with.” Kate advised.

  “Oh, that’s nice. What’s her name?” Responded Howard.

  “Actually Howard, it’s a ‘he’. He’s called Jake.” Replied Kate, and with this revelation, Howard felt his stomach tighten with jealousy.

  Howard Trenton forced a smile.

  “Oh… that’s nice. So… Jake… is he an old boyfriend or something?” He asked. Kate smiled. Howard gazed at her. He loved Kate’s smile. Howard loved Kate. He had done for a while now, not that she was aware of that, of course. Though Howard would have been very pleasantly surprised if he knew exactly what Kate thought of him. Very pleasantly surprised indeed.

  “Jake? No. He was just a very dear friend… with a brilliant sense of humour. I’m looking forward to finding out what he’s been up to for the past twenty years.” Replied Kate.

  “How did you get back in touch with him?” Howard asked, with curiosity.

  “Over the internet.” Kate informed him. Howard’s expression darkened.

  “Well, just be careful, Miss Williams.” He warned.

  “Pardon?” Kate responded, slightly puzzled.

  “Be careful. People can change, Miss Williams. Especially over the period of twenty years. This Jake… he might no longer be the fun-loving young student that you remember.” Cautioned Howard. Kate shot him a slightly irritated look.

  “Well, Jake seemed pretty much the same when I chatted to him online the other evening.” She pointed out.

  “Yes, but that’s different. It wasn’t face-to-face… anybody can hide behind a mask when they’re talking via e-mail or messenger, Miss Williams.” Snapped Howard. He stared hard at Kate, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She shuffled the jobs fare leaflets in her hands, awkwardly.

  “Well, thanks for your advice, Howard. Now, if that’s all… I’d better make some preparation for my next meeting.” Kate said.

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Replied Howard, standing up. “I hope that you have a good weekend, Miss Williams.” He added.

  “You too, Howard.” Kate responded, trying to smile, but unable to. Howard Trenton gave Kate a short, cold stare, and then he left the room, leaving the careers advisor feeling somewhat unnerved. And aroused.

  ***

  Howard came to live with myself and my wife, Kay, about three years ago, not long after his mother, Loretta, passed away. I used to see Howard and his mom around Coldsleet all of the time; it’s not the biggest of towns, so everyone is always bumping into everybody else, it’s inevitable. Howard’s mom, she was a nice woman. A little jumpy and anxious maybe… my mother, who is, or was, Loretta’s sister… well, she told me that Loretta had had a lot of mental problems from when she was very young, and then, on top of all that, something bad had happened to her when she was in her early twenties. I never found out just what that was until recently, when all of the stuff about Howard came out. Loretta was assaulted… sexually assaulted. Or so she told everyone. Not everybody believed that that was what really happened, because Loretta was quite well-known for telling the odd tall tale, here and there. One little rumour that I heard from somewhere or other, when I was younger, and which I didn’t want to ask my mom about at the time, was that they found Loretta up on Wildbridge Hill, which overlooks Coldsleet, half frozen to death, even though it was the middle of summer. When Howard was finally exposed as a killer, what he’d written down in his journals seemed to confirm that rumour. I actually asked one of the investigating officers working on Howard’s case… a nice guy, called Tom Grogan, if he could confirm that rumour. He did a little research, and came back to tell me that it appeared to be true, though he stressed that WHAT, exactly, had happened to Loretta up on Wildbridge Hill was never established. Certainly, no charges were ever brought against anyone in connection to the alleged sexual assault.

  When her time came, Loretta didn’t die easily. She was diagnosed with advanced bowel cancer; there was nothing anyone could do for her, except try and ease her pain a little. It took Loretta six long months of suffering before she finally passed away and, hopefully, found some peace. My mom cared for her during her final months, and occasionally I’d go with her, over to Loretta’s house, to help out. It was rough watching a pretty, intelligent and sensitive person wither away to nothing more than an incoherent, mumbling skeleton, wracked with pain. I remember well the day that Loretta passed away. It was a Saturday. I was over at her house with my mom. Loretta had been awake all night, screaming out in agony. My mom called the doctor in. He went upstairs and gave Loretta an injection, you know, to ‘ease the pain’, except we all knew that it was a little bit more than that. The doctor came back downstairs and left. Fifteen minutes later, when my mother went up to check on her sister, she was dead. Nobody ever seems to talk about or admit it, but doctors do that sometimes; they help people to pass over to the other side, if there is one, that is.

  After his mother died, it was clear that Howard couldn’t continue to live in their house all on his own. I mean, he was only fourteen or fifteen at the time. So, Howard moved into our home, and my mother arranged for Loretta’s house to be put up for sale. It sold pretty quickly. The proceeds from the sale were put into a trust fund for Howard, for when he reached eighteen years of age. Not long before, you know, the bad thing happened with Howard, he took inheritance of all that money, but do you know something? He hardly touched a penny of it. Money didn’t seem to motivate Howard at all, from what I saw, he couldn’t have cared less about it. In fact, thinking back, I’m not sure what, exactly, really motivated Howard. He was like, just there, but not really there, if you know what I mean. Howard always appeared to have a slight disconnect from the rest of the world. Yeah, sure, he had his interests and hobbies, and sometimes Howard would go on and on about them for ages, but… I don’t know, his delivery on such subjects was always… flat, without any real spark, or true passion. He always came across as a bit… dead inside. When you spoke to Howard, for most of the time, it was like conversing with an empty shell, as if his real self, his SOUL, was off somewhere else. Or maybe there was never any soul there in the first place.

  So, Howard came to live at our house. At that time, there was me, Kay, and my mother living here. Even before Howard had moved in, my mother was already in the process of gradually moving out. She’d met a man called Phil, who lived in Elman, which is a town not far from here. Phil owned his own home, and my mother was spending more and more time there with him. About a month after Howard came to live with us, my mother finally moved out the last of her stuff and went to live with Phil permanently. He’s a good man, decent, kind, and Phil is my stepfather now too, because him and mom got married just over a year ago. My mother found happiness. That can only be a good thing, right? Of course it is. I don’t think mom’s ever looked back, and from a personal viewpoint, I’m just glad that she wasn’t around when all of the shit hit the fan following the revelations about Howard.

  Once mom had moved away, there was just myself, Kay, and Howard living at home. There was never any problem with Howard residing with us. He didn’t cause any sort of trouble at all. He’d spend most of his time up in the bedroom, though he’d occasionally join us downstairs, usually at the weekend, on a Friday or Saturday night, where he’d sit and watch the odd movie with myself and my wife. Very occasionally, Howard would put a bit of his music on; I don’t know who it was that he used to listen to exactly, but it was soft, repetitive, ambient stuff, almost dreamlike. Kay quite liked it
, she’s into that sort of hippy, trippy shit, but me, I found it really depressing, not that I ever told Howard that, because he could be quite sensitive about his music. Sometimes, I’d try and get Howard into the sort of stuff that I liked; rock, metal, grunge, punk… he wasn’t interested though, and didn’t enjoy it at all. He used to say that it was ‘a racket’, which was fair enough, I suppose, if you’re not into that style of music. Most of the younger kids around Coldsleet, they like the same sort of music as me. There’s quite a big punk and metal scene going on in this whole neck of the woods. Howard though… nah, not interested in the music, or the fashion style that went with it, at all, he really wasn’t. One thing that you could definitely say about my cousin; he was very much an individual, and never went along with the herd.

  In the winter months, Howard would spend a lot of his time outside, in the back-yard, with a telescope trained towards the stars. He was interested in astronomy (though, as was typical with Howard, he would never talk about the subject with any sort of real, fiery passion), and told me that a clear night during December, January or February, was the optimum time for star-gazing. Howard explained that we were quite fortunate, here in Coldsleet, because there wasn't really much in the way of pollution. There was, he said, pretty good atmospheric visibility whenever he viewed the moon, stars, and planets through his telescope. Howard once told me that his favourite planet to look at was Saturn. He said that it was beautiful, like a jewel in the sky. One night, he tracked Saturn through his telescope, and let me have a look at it. Howard was right; it was beautiful. It was made up of different bands of colour, and then, of course, there was those rings around it.

  “You’re right, Howard, it is like a jewel.” I said to my cousin. He smiled at me.

  “There’s far more beautiful planets than that out there, Lucas… but they’re too far away for us to ever see.” He had replied. I asked him what he meant, because astronomy wasn’t really my sort of thing. “We call them exoplanets, Lucas. Worlds that orbit other stars, far outside of our own solar system. We’re discovering new ones all of the time. They even think that some are a lot like our Earth.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that, Howard.” I had responded. Howard looked up at the stars.

  “Yes, they’re all out there, somewhere.” He said. Then Howard turned to me, wearing a dreamy expression. “Do you want to know something, Lucas?” He asked.

  “Sure. What?” I answered, interested to hear what Howard had to say.

  My cousin stared back up at the sky.

  “There’s one exoplanet… it’s part of a planetary system that revolves around a large, orange coloured star… a star that is much larger than our sun… ten times bigger, easily. Do you know what a ‘habitable zone’ is, Lucas?” Howard asked me. I shook my head. “Well, a ‘habitable zone’ is a location… an area… of a solar system where the conditions are just right for life to exist. Our Earth is in such a zone… and possibly Mars, too, though that appears to be a dead world, now. Anyway, the orange coloured star that I was telling you about… it has three planets circling it that all fall into a habitable zone. One of those planets, just like Mars, is dead. There’s nothing on it. But the other two… they’re both thriving with life, Lucas. Intelligent life. Life like you wouldn’t believe.” Howard told me. I looked at him skeptically.

  “How do you know all of that?” I asked. Howard continued to gaze upwards.

  “Oh, there’s a lot of things that I know, Lucas, a lot of things. It doesn’t matter how I know… I just do.” He responded. Howard stared at me, and for the first, and only, time, I actually saw some real passion in his eyes. Then Howard patted me on the shoulder, smiled, and left me in the back yard, all on my own. We never talked about the subject again.

  Later that night, I lay in bed, chatting to Kay about Howard. I mentioned what he’d told me earlier, about the two exoplanets with life on them. Kay found it amusing.

  “I’m sure that it’s just guesswork on Howard’s part. There’s no way that he could know stuff like that for sure.” She commented.

  “Yeah, I know that, but it’s the way that he said it… all deadly serious, and with such conviction.” I replied.

  “He’s probably just trying to come across as interesting, mysterious and enigmatic.” Kay said. “Let’s face it, as much as I love Howard… he is pretty dull.”

  “Aw, don’t say that. He’s a good kid.” I said, giving Kay a mild ticking-off. “I don’t know… it’s just not really like Howard to talk about something in that manner, with a spark in his eye… with some excitement. Usually, he doesn’t really try to come across as, well, anything… he just tells you things in that flat, matter-of-fact voice of his.” I reflected. Kay’s eyes widened.

  “Say, you don’t think he’s been smoking anything weird, do you?” She asked, joking.

  “Who? Howard? You’ve got to be kidding. He’s definitely not the type to do drugs… or booze, come to that.” I said to Kay. She snuggled up to me. It felt good being close to her; she made me feel warm and secure.

  “Perhaps Howard’s a secret addict. Let’s face it, getting stoned off your face would perfectly compliment that music he likes.” Kay grinned.

  “I thought that you quite agreed with Howard’s taste in music?” I commented.

  “I do, and that’s how I know that it’s proper stoner stuff… but only for when you’re on a big come-down.” Replied Kay. “A couple of girls that I was at college with, Lindy and Samantha, they were a right pair of drugees… they’d listen to the same music as Howard, but always at the end of the evening, when coming off a high.” She laughed.

  “Nah, there’s no way Howard’s getting up to anything like that. He’s too straight-laced for those sort of shenanigans. Actually, I dread to think what he might be like if he ever did get wasted.” I said. Now it was my turn to laugh, thinking about the prospect of a shit-faced Howard Trenton.

  ***

  The bus trundled slowly down Leeton Lane, past Saint Bernadette’s church, and into the town of Coldsleet. Howard Joseph Trenton stared out of the bus window, as a small, disused industrial estate came into view. It was, up until recently, in the process of being demolished, but then the local council had run out of money. Some of the buildings remained, covered with graffiti, whilst others had been reduced to nothing more than rubble. A number of the residents in this part of Coldsleet had started to use the site as a dumping ground for all manner of household and garden waste. Howard gazed at a large pile of torn, black bin bags, that were stacked up against a partially collapsed wire-fence, which surrounded part of the industrial estate. A couple of rats shot out from under the bags. One of them slipped through a hole in the fence, whilst the other hurried away up a grass bank, towards an overturned sofa, away from the sound of the bus. Howard smiled at the sight of the rodents; they represented decay… he liked decay.

  Howard Trenton got off the bus at Coldsleet Terminus. He took in a deep breath of cold sea air, tasting the nearby ocean. Instead of heading straight home, Howard walked in the opposite direction, towards a row of shops, all of which were in varying states of disrepair; Godwin’s Launderette, M Turner and Daughter’s Convenience Store and Off-Licence, Angela’s Snips, Coldsleet Books… Howard approached the stores, and spotted the sign of one that he was seeking in particular… ‘Steve’s Vinyl’. Behind Howard, the bus that he’d travelled back to Coldsleet on pulled away from the bus Terminus, beginning a re-tread of its journey to the neighbouring town of Elman. Howard stopped for just a moment and glanced back at the bus, before carrying on towards Steve’s Vinyl music shop. He pushed open the door, and a little bell that sat near the top of it gave a metallic jangle.

  Inside the shop, behind a counter that was covered with trays containing compact discs, sat the owner, Steve Rushton, a short, portly man with heavily receded, long black hair, and a chinstrap-style beard. When Howard entered the shop, Steve smiled.

  “Ah, Howard. Good to see you, my friend.” He greeted the t
eenager. Howard smiled back and nodded.

  “You too, Steve. How’s business today?” Howard asked. The smile fell away slightly from Steve’s face.

  “Same as it always is these days, Howard… not very good.” Replied the shop-owner, with blunt honesty.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Steve… maybe things will pick up in the spring, you know, when the tourists come into town.” Suggested Howard, in a small attempt to offer the record shop a slither of hope for the future. Steve gave a small, cynical laugh.

  “In case you haven’t already noticed, Howard, Coldsleet doesn’t get many tourists these days.” Steve pointed out.

  “Well, maybe this spring will be different.” Smiled Howard, optimistically.

  “Maybe it will.” Responded Steve, with little confidence in Howard’s optimism.

  Howard walked over to a series of horizontal, wooden racks, containing hundreds of vinyl albums that were separated out into alphabetical order. His eyes sought out those listed under the letter ‘G’, and then he began to flip through the albums. Steve came out from behind the counter and walked across to Howard.

  “Are you looking for anything in particular?” He asked.

  “Yeah. There’s a new album out by ‘Godjite Puls'. They’re an Albanian band… instrumental. They usually do all of that hardcore techno crap, which I can’t stand, but I was reading in one of the music mags that they’ve released some new ambient, organic stuff… the review I read gave it a nine out of ten… I thought I might have a listen, see what it’s like.” Said Howard. Steve shook his head.

  “You’re not gonna find it in there, Howard. I’ve never heard of Godjite Plus…”

  “Puls.” Corrected Howard.

  “Godjite Puls. I tend to only stock UK and US music.” Continued Steve. Howard stopped flipping through the vinyl, and turned towards the shopkeeper.