The Black Pathway

by Mark C Sutton

  "Whoa, you've lost me Howard, I don't follow what you're…"

  "My mother insisted that it wasn't a human being that attacked her, Mary." Interrupted Howard. He stopped walking.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Asked Mary. Howard gazed past her, staring blankly out at the sea.

  "Mom said that it was some sort of creature… an alien creature, that attacked her up on Wildbridge Hill." He finally revealed.

  Chapter Nine

  A look of disbelief began to spread across Mary Broderick's face at Howard’s revelation concerning his mother.

  "Did you say that your mom claimed to have been raped by an alien?" She asked Howard, who continued looking over her shoulder, at the ocean beyond, almost as if he were in a trance.

  "That's exactly what I said." Howard responded, in an emotionless voice.

  "And what did the police have to say about that?" Mary was curious to know.

  "They didn't believe her. Nobody did." Said Howard.

  "What about you, Howard? Do you believe that that's what happened to your mom?" Asked Mary. This question seemed to break Howard Trenton from out of his trance, and he gave Mary a cold, hard stare.

  "Of course I believe it. My mom told me exactly what happened to her. Why would she lie to me?" Replied Howard.

  "It might not have been a case of lying, as such, Howard. You told me yourself, that your mom was very ill… hallucinations, deep depression… she might…"

  "Are you saying that she imagined it all?" Asked Howard, in an incredulous voice.

  "Well, it's one explanation." Argued Mary.

  "Except, if she hallucinated the whole attack, then that doesn't explain how I'm here, does it? Or the fact that she was found on Wildbridge Hill, half-frozen to death.” Countered Howard, who then walked off, in a strop, towards Hingley promenade.

  Mary caught up with Howard and grabbed him gently by the arm. He came to a stop and turned to Mary.

  “Hey Howard, I wasn’t saying that your mom was a liar or anything like that.” She said.

  “Well, that’s what it sounded like to me.” Retorted Howard. He went to continue walking, but Mary pulled him back.

  “Howard, I’m not suggesting that your mother lied at all. All I was trying to say was that, you know, your mom, she wasn’t very well. I didn’t mean that the attack on her never happened… obviously, it did. All I…”

  “All you meant was that my mom was actually attacked by a man, but hallucinated the alien bit.” Howard snapped.

  “Yes, that’s exactly it, Howard. I mean, you told me about how ill that she was, with, what was it? Schizo-affective disorder… that’s bad, right?” Asked Mary.

  “Yep, it’s bad,” replied Howard. “but my mom wouldn’t lie to me about something like that, Mary.” He went on.

  “No, I’m not saying that she was lying, Howard. In her head, though, she might have just imagined the attacker to be… something inhuman. Maybe it was the stress of the attack that brought that on, or some sort of coping mechanism, or…”

  “Yes, alright, thanks for your analysis, Sigmund.” Sneered Howard, sarcastically. “I suppose that the stress caused her to practically turn into a block of ice, as well.” He added. It was a side to Howard that Mary had never seen before, and one that she didn’t much care for either.

  “Hey!” She shouted. “Don’t start getting funny with me over this, Howard. All I’m trying to do is put things in some sort of context…”

  “My mom wasn’t a liar, Mary.” Whispered Howard, his eyes filling with tears.

  “Oh no, don’t cry Howard, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Said Mary. She moved in close to Howard and put her arms around him. “I didn’t mean to upset you or anything.” Mary continued.

  “It’s just…” mumbled Howard, but he couldn’t continue with what he was saying.

  “It’s okay.” Mary assured him. Howard Trenton wiped the tears from his eyes, smiled, and then he tried to kiss Mary Broderick.

  Mary pushed Howard away from her.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Howard?” She asked.

  “I thought… I don’t know. It just happened.” Replied Howard. “I wanted to kiss you.” He added.

  Yeah, I can see that.” Said Mary. The sea breeze caught at her hair again, blowing it into her eyes. She pushed the hair away, irritated.

  “I thought that you liked me.” Howard muttered.

  “I do like you, Howard. But only as another member of the family. Not in any other sort of way.” Came Mary’s response. Howard’s eyes narrowed.

  “Why, what’s wrong with me?” He asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong with you, Howard. You’re just… not my type.” Mary informed him, with honesty.

  “But we’ve been hanging out together, getting on really well… getting closer. I thought…”

  “I’m sorry Howard, but you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I think that you’re a great guy and all, and I love to chat to you about stuff, but I only see you as a friend, nothing more than that. I didn’t mean to…”

  “Oh, spare me your fucking platitudes, Mary, I don’t want to hear them.” Snarled Howard, with his voice raised.

  “Don’t start getting shitty with me again, Howard. I’m just trying to be straight with you.” Mary snapped back.

  “Fuck you, bitch.” Said Howard Trenton, his eyes darkening. Suddenly, he drew his face close to Mary’s, forcing her to take a step backwards in surprise, and more than a little fear. “Fuck you… you can find your own way back to Coldsleet.” He went on, whilst wearing a spiteful, poisonous smirk across his face.

  Howard turned away from Mary and began stomping towards Hingley promenade.

  “Howard! Don’t you dare leave me out here on my own!” Shouted Mary. Howard twisted around in the sand, and flicked Mary his middle finger.

  “Fuck off, you stupid little prick-teasing cunt.” He seethed. Howard bounced back towards Mary. Once again, he pushed his face close to hers, but this time, Mary wasn’t going to be intimidated; she gave Howard a shove, catching him completely off-guard. He went stumbling backwards, before tripping over, landing arse-first in the sand. Howard looked up at Mary with surprise. She knelt down beside him, and slapped him hard across his gaunt and pale face. A ring that she was wearing on one of her fingers caught against his lip, and a trickle of bright red blood began to run from Howard’s mouth.

  “If you ever speak to me like that again, or try and intimidate me in any sort of way, then I swear, I’ll kill you Howard.” Threatened Mary. Howard didn’t reply; he just stared at Mary with his cold, pale eyes. “Do you understand me?” She asked. Howard started to smirk. Mary grabbed out with her hand, her fingers suddenly clutching at Howard’s throat, fingernails digging into the flesh of his neck. “Do you understand me?” She repeated her question. The smirk fell away from Howard Trenton’s face.

  “Yeah… I understand you.” He replied, slowly. Mary let go of Howard’s throat, and stood up.

  “Good. I’ll find my own way home.” She said, before walking away. Howard watched Mary as she left the beach.

  “Bitch.” He whispered, before standing up and brushing wet sand from off his jeans. Poor old Alfie Whitehouse… I was just gonna do him quickly tonight, but now he’s gonna really suffer… and it’s all your fault, ‘Mary, Queen of Cunts’…

  ***

  Mary Broderick climbed off the bus just after it had pulled in to Coldsleet terminus. As soon as the night air hit her, she began to shiver. Fucking hell, this place can get cold in the winter, she thought, digging her hands into her coat pockets. I need to get out of this dump. I should just go back to Hoffen…

  “Maybe not.” Mumbled Mary, out loud, remembering the reason why she had left the town in the first place; his name was Barney Robbins, the landlord of the small unit of private flats where she’d lived, and he was an out and out, sleazy little creep. An image of Barney passed through Mary’s head. He was a very tall man, with short, greying, wavy hair th
at was receding heavily from off his forehead. Barney wore glasses, and a strange little grey goatee beard. Despite being generally slim, he had a huge pot-belly. He always reminded me of some pregnant fucking pig, smirked Mary, but then she recalled the day, not long ago, when Barney Robbins had tried it on with her, and she began to frown in anger. The dirty little shit… freaky, disgusting pervert…

  ***

  Barney Robbins wiped some sweat from off his brow with the sleeve of his hideous, multi-coloured cardigan.

  “I just need to come in, check the windows.” He said to Mary, staring straight towards her bosom.

  “Why, Barney?” She asked, sighing.

  “Mr Bedford downstairs has reported mould accumulating on the window sill… I need to check the rest of the apartments. I’m just praying that there’s not some major problem here… it’ll cost me an arm and a…”

  “Well, that’s one of the downsides with being a landlord, isn’t it Barney? You know, having to carry out repairs and the like.” Interrupted Mary, sarcastically, and without sympathy.

  “Alright love, there’s no need to be like that. Now, can I come in and have a look at those windows of yours?” Barney replied.

  “Yes,” groaned Mary, “yes, come in.” She said. Barney entered the flat, and walked with Mary though to the lounge. Barney walked over to the lounge window.

  “Have you seen any mould around the flat?” He asked.

  “Can’t say that I have, Barney.” Mary answered. “You’re not going to be long, are you? Only I’ve got some stuff to be getting on with.” She asked Barney, irritated.

  “No, no, not long, not long.” Said Barney, examining the window sill. He turned around and looked at Mary, his eyes drifting towards her bosom again.

  “Well, your lounge window seems to be fine, I’ll just have to, erm, check the bedroom window now.” Barney informed her.

  “What, now? It’s in a bit of a mess… I haven’t made the bed yet. Can’t you come back in half an hour?” Asked Mary.

  “Sorry love. I need to get this checked right away.” Replied Barney, who was already making his way down the hallway and towards the bedroom.

  Mary followed Barney into the room. He walked over to the window sill, and began running his hand across its wooden surface.

  “Well?” Asked Mary.

  “No, it looks fine. I’m guessing Mr Bedford’s mould problem is just an isolated incident.” Barney speculated.

  “Good. Then are you done?” Mary wanted to know. Barney stood close to the window, sweat dribbling down his forehead. He smiled.

  “Yes, yes, I’m done.” He told her. Mary gave him a false smile back. Barney didn’t move from his spot by the window.

  “Barney, I need to get on with…”

  “Has anyone ever told you what an attractive young woman you are, Mary?” The landlord suddenly asked.

  “No.” Mary lied, with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Oh Christ, he’s gonna make a pass at me, she thought to herself; this sort of thing had happened quite a few times before, with other men. It was rarely flattering, just embarrassing, not to mention cringe-inducing.

  “You remind me of that actress… now what was her name? She was French. You’ve probably never heard of her, because you’re too young. Ah, I remember… Anouk Aimee…”

  “You’re right, Barney, I’ve never heard of her. Now, are you finished, or what?” Butted-in Mary, with increasing irritation. Just go away, you ugly, pot-bellied slime-ball. Go on, just fuck off… thought Mary, but Barney continued to stand by the window, rooted to the spot.

  A bead of sweat run from Barney Robbins forehead, into his eye, stinging it. He removed his spectacles, rubbing at the eye for a moment, before replacing his glasses.

  “You look tired, Barney. You should go back to your flat and get some rest.” Commented Mary, who was desperate to get the landlord out of her flat.

  “Oh, me, I’m fine, Mary, I’m fine.” He stared at her, and slowly shook his head from side to side. “You’re such a pretty young thing, aren’t you?” He said.

  “If you say so, Barney. Now, can you go, please?” Mary replied. Instead of leaving the bedroom, Barney Robbins sat down on Mary’s unmade bed. “Er, what do you think you’re doing, Barney?” She asked, with mild outrage. Barney looked up at her and smiled.

  “I’d like to help you, Mary. I’d really like to help.” Barney said to her.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Barney?” Mary asked.

  “What I say. I’d like to help. You know, with your rent and stuff. I mean, it must be hard, making the monthly payments on this place.” Pondered Barney. “Your job couldn’t pay very much, and…”

  “I get by just fine, thanks.” Mary responded, coldly. “Can you go now, please?”

  “Hear me out, Mary, just… just hear me out.” Replied Barney. He gazed at the outline of Mary’s breasts again. In response, Mary folded her arms.

  “Barney, I really need to get on with stuff.” She repeated, but Barney wasn’t going anywhere.

  Barney leaned forward, and began stroking his beard.

  “At the moment, you’re paying me, how much is it? A hundred and twenty pounds a week in rent.” He said.

  “Yeah? So?” Responded Mary, who already knew where this was going.

  “Well, how would you like it if I said to you that I could halve your rent… reduce it to sixty quid a week?” Barney asked.

  “In other words, how would I like to be your prostitute, for the price of sixty pounds, on a regular, weekly basis?” Mary corrected him.

  “Oh, come on now Mary, I didn’t mean…”

  “Yes you did, Barney, yes you did. You’re offering me a reduction in the rent on this place, in exchange for sex, aren’t you?” Scowled Mary.

  “Well, it doesn’t have to be full-on sex. Just a hand-job every now and then would do.” Suggested Barney.

  “Get out of my flat, Barney.” Mary snapped.

  “No, no… don’t be hasty, Mary. Just think about it. You could save yourself two hundred and forty pounds a month. Imagine what you could do with that extra money.” Said the landlord.

  “I don’t want to imagine anything, Barney. Now, will you get out of my flat and leave me alone?” Replied Mary, half-shouting.

  “Aw, come on, Mary.” Barney gently pleaded, and he reached out with his hand, towards her thigh. Mary jumped backwards.

  “Get out of my fucking flat, Barney.” She said, her body tensing, anger about to spill over.

  “But…”

  “Get out, or I swear to God, Barney, I’ll claw your fucking eyes out, you sleazy little shit-bag.” Mary seethed. Barney got up from off the bed, and scurried past Mary. When he reached the bedroom door, he turned back to the young woman.

  “It might be an idea if you started looking for alternative accommodation.” He suggested.

  “You can’t do that!” Shouted Mary.

  “I think that you’ll find I can. These flats belong to me.” Argued Barney, and with that, he was gone.

  ***

  Mary walked past a row of shops that had seen better days. She was lost in thought, recalling Barney the pervy landlord, and how he had tried it on with her, when a voice came from somewhere behind.

  “Hey, Mary… it’s Mary, right?” Said the male voice. Mary turned around. A young man, about nineteen or twenty years of age, with blonde hair, brown eyes, and lengthy stubble that was turning into a full-on beard, stood in one of the shop doorways, smoking a cigarette. Mary didn't recognise the young man at all. She retraced a few steps, walking towards him.

  “Sorry, do I know you?” Mary asked.

  “No, I don’t think that we’ve actually met before… but I’ve seen you around Coldsleet a few times. You’re Kay Trenton’s sister, right?” Asked the young man.

  “Yes, that’s right. How do you know that?” Mary was intrigued to know. The man walked out from the shop doorway. Blimey, he’s really good-looking, Mary thought to herself.

>   “Oh, you walked past me and my friend, Gary, a few days ago, down by the harbour. I asked Gary if he knew who you were, and he…”

  “Gary Ackley? Gary with the blue mohican?” Interrupted Mary.

  “Yeah, Gary Ackley. With the blue mohican. He told me you were Kay Trenton’s sister, and that your name was Mary.” Replied the young man.

  “Oh, I know Gary Ackley. Everybody knows Gary in this neck of the woods. He comes up to my hometown, Hoffen, every now and again. He’s a bit scary looking, but he’s a really sweet guy.” Said Mary.

  “Scary looking? Gary? He looks like a knob!” Replied the young man, laughing. “Nah, he’s one of my best mates, even if he is a pain in the arse sometimes… Gary’s a good ‘un.” The man said, smiling.

  Mary looked up and down the street before turning back to the man.

  “So, what’s your name then?” She wanted to know.

  “Alex. Alex Crennell.” He replied.

  “And what, exactly, are you doing just hanging around an empty row of shops, all on your own, and at this time of night?” Asked Mary.

  “Aw, you know what it’s like here in Coldsleet, Mary… there’s bugger all else to do.” Alex grinned. “Anyway, I could ask the same of you. What’s a nice young lady doing wondering the darkened, lonely, streets of this town at half past nine on a cold, Sunday evening?” He joked.

  “Now that’s a very long story.” Responded Mary.

  “I’m listening.” Said Alex.

  “Well, Mister Crennell, I’m not telling.” Mary teased.

  “Not even over a drink? Down at ‘The Stagecoach’?” Asked Alex cheekily.

  “What’s ‘The Stagecoach’?” Mary was interested to know.

  “Oh, I forgot… you’re one of those yokel inbreds from that weird mountain town called Hoffen… you wouldn’t know what ‘The Stagecoach’ is, would you?” Laughed Alex. “Is it true that you all live in trailer parks up there? Hey, your neck’s looking a bit red.” Mary gave Alex Crennell a playful push.