“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.