Текст книги "The Black Pathway"
Автор книги: Mark C. Sutton
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
“Is Howard at home?” Interrupted the detective, with impatience in his voice.
“No, he’s not. He headed off out, about fifteen minutes ago… look, do you mind telling me what this is all about?” I repeated my question.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mister Trenton, but we’re here to arrest Howard on suspicion of the murder of Alfred Whitehouse.” Said Tom Grogan.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me?” I responded.
“Unfortunately not, sir. Now, would you mind telling me where Howard has gone?” The detective requested.
“You’ve got it wrong. Howard’s not a killer. You’ve met him. He’s not violent, or dangerous… he’s a good kid. I’m telling you, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” I argued. Tom Grogan ignored my defence of Howard.
“We need to know where your cousin has gone to. Now.” The detective ordered. I had no choice but to tell him, not realising that Howard hadn’t gone to Ruthley and the Breardon Hills at all. Instead, he’d abandoned his car down at a car-park near to the beach, and then walked back up into the residential area of Coldsleet, following Alex, Mary, Gary and Shark, up onto the Black Pathway Trail. In order to kill them.
***
Gary Ackley looked back down the Black Pathway Trail, towards the town of Coldsleet. Beyond the town was the ocean. Gary’s eyes scanned along the coastline, to the north, and the Baylin Peninsula. The four of us will have to go there, in the summer, thought Gary, there’s some brilliant stretches of beach over on Baylin… damn it, summer… it feels so fucking far away at the moment… Gary turned his attention back to Alex, Mary and Shark, who were walking up the first part of the trail, towards him.
“Come on, you bunch of slow-coaches!” Gary teased. Alex Crennell flicked him the middle finger.
“Fuck you, Gary.” He said. “We’re not rushing ourselves.”
“I can see that.” Replied Gary, sarcastically. The three others caught up with Gary, who was concerned to notice that Alex was already beginning to break out in a sweat.
“Okay, shall we take a break for a few minutes, look out at the view?” Suggested Gary, pointing back down the trail, towards Coldsleet, and the Irish sea. “I was just thinking that, in the summer, we should take a trip out to the Baylin Peninsula, visit the beaches there.” He suggested. “You can see the Peninsula from here. Look.” Said Gary, and he pointed past the town below, over to the horizon. None of his friends seemed interested in what he was saying. Alex took a bottle of water from out of his backpack and began drinking from it. Mary stood next to him, holding his hand. Shark wandered off the pathway, over to a thin, twisting brook that was running parallel to the trail. She stood on the edge of the stream, then knelt down and put her hands into the icy water.
Shark cupped some of the water in her hands, bringing it up to her mouth. She tasted the liquid.
“Fresh mountain water. Can’t beat it.” Said Shark. Gary Ackley came walking over to her.
“This is Sleet River. Well, it’s not quite a river here, obviously, but if you were to follow it back down the hill, and to the south for ten, eleven miles, this opens out into the Hingley Estuary. That’s another place worth visiting. There’s a nature reserve there, loads of wildlife to see, rare species, that sort of thing… do you enjoy stuff like that, Shark?” Asked Gary. Shark nodded her head.
“Yeah, love it. I grew up in a city, but I’d always been fascinated by the countryside, nature… that’s one of the things that appealed to me when I moved up here with Mike… Coldsleet was right on the edge of all that type of stuff. Problem is, I haven’t really had much of a chance to explore what’s outside Coldsleet, so far.” Said Shark. Gary smiled.
“Well, we’ll soon change all of that.” He told her.
Mary and Alex wandered over to the stream.
“Are you two ready to push on?” Asked Gary. Mary and Alex nodded their heads.
“Okay. Well, the good news is that, once we reach the brow of the hill up ahead, it’s all flatland for the next few miles, until we hit Coldsleet Moor, but even that isn’t anything too strenuous. The really hard work will come tomorrow, when we have to ascend Knighton Mountain.” Gary said, giving a knowing glance to Alex Crennell. Just the mention of Knighton Mountain sent a shudder down Alex’s spine, as he recalled how the climb, and subsequent descent, of the peak, felt, at the time, like it was slowly killing him. No beer tonight, thought Alex, no beer tonight at all, coz I’m not walking up that fucking thing tomorrow with a hangover. “Okay, lads and lasses. Shall we carry on?” Gary asked, in an upbeat voice.
“Let’s go.” Replied Alex, with fake enthusiasm. Shark and Gary took the lead, walking away from the River Sleet, and back towards the Black Pathway, with Alex and Mary following on behind. The four re-joined the trail, continuing their trek up Leeton Hill. Not far behind them, hidden behind a tree, was Howard Trenton.
After a short hike, the four walkers reached the top of Leeton Hill. Ahead of them, was a sharp bend in the Black Pathway, and just beyond that was an aged, stone, hump-back bridge. Gary, Shark, Alex and Mary followed the bend in the trail. Below them, was Sleet River, which had widened considerably.
“This bridge up ahead is supposedly haunted.” Advised Gary, cheerfully; he loved the subject of ghosts.
“What?” Asked Mary. Gary turned to her and grinned. Alex, on the other hand, groaned inwardly. Oh God, not this bloody story again, he thought to himself.
“It’s haunted. By the ghost of James Friery.” Gary went on. Mary and Shark gave him a blank look.
“Who’s James Friery?” Asked Shark.
“James Friery was a thief and a murderer from Salegate, who broke out of Hoffen jail, back in the late nineteenth century. At the time, he was awaiting execution for the killing of a love rival called Arthur Melsey.” Informed Gary.
“How do you know all of this?” Shark was curious to find out.
“I’m fascinated by local history, Shark. I spend a lot of time reading up on Coldsleet and its surroundings. This whole area has a very interesting past to explore.” He said.
“Fucking bookworm. So very punk.” Scowled Alex.
“Hey, there’s fuck-all wrong with reading, Alex. You should try it some time, you brain-dead moron.” Gary shot back at his friend. Alex grunted, but didn’t argue back. Instead, he stopped walking, and took another swig of water from the bottle that he was carrying, whilst the other three continued towards the bridge.
Shark wanted to know more about the haunted bridge.
“So, what happened with this James Friery guy?” She asked Gary.
“Well, James was on the run, at liberty for two or three days. During that time, he’d also managed to find himself a gun. This bridge, however, is where the authorities finally caught up with James, who, understandably, wasn’t too keen on giving himself up. There was a shoot-out, right here, at this very spot. James took out one of his pursuers before getting a bullet through the head. He managed to stagger over to the edge of the bridge, and fell down to the river below, landing on the rocks next to it.” Said Gary. He grinned again. “Rumour has it that the whole, ghostly scene – the shoot-out – has been re-enacted, many times, here on this bridge, late at night. There’s also been reports of walkers claiming to have seen the ghost of James Friery, walking around this general area. A couple of people have even tried to talk to him, by all accounts, but James doesn’t respond to them. He just stares, and then carries on to wherever the fuck it is he’s going to.”
“How would they know it was James, and not just some other walker?” Shark wanted to know.
“James Friery is a bit of a local legend, Shark. Ask most people from these parts if they could describe his appearance, and they’d probably be able to… he’s like the Ned Kelly of Coldsleet.” Laughed Gary. “What a fucking honour, eh?”
Gary, Shark and Mary crossed the stone bridge, with Alex close behind them. Gary turned around to check that his friend was okay.
“You alright back there, Alex?” He asked.
“Fine. I’m fine.” Replied Alex. Or I would be, if this fucking hangover would shift. Oh bollocks… I need a sodding piss now, too. “Guys, carry on ahead, I’ll catch you up… I’ve got to take a leak.” Alex shouted.
“Well, there’s plenty of places to go.” Smiled Gary, referring to the thick undergrowth and trees that lined the Black Pathway. “Are you sure that you don’t want us to hang around for you? It’s not a problem.” He continued. Alex waved his hand.
“Just carry on, man. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.” Replied Alex. Gary nodded. Alex’s three companions carried on with their walk, whilst he walked off the pathway, towards a large clump of bushes. Alex pushed his way inside, so that he was shielded from the rest of the group. When he’d finished taking a piss, Alex emerged from the bushes, and walked back onto the Black Pathway. He glanced back, towards the bend in the trail that they had already walked along; coming over the brow of Leeton Hill was another rambler. Alex didn’t think any more about this, and walked forwards, eager to catch up with his friends. From a distance, Howard Trenton watched his enemy move towards the other members of the group that he was with… which, of course, included Mary. Slutty little Mary, thought Howard, before vanishing off the Black Pathway, and into the adjoining undergrowth.
***
Extract from journal of Howard Trenton
If you're reading this, then you must be a fucking copper. And guess what? I don't like you. Any of you. And do you know why? Well, firstly, let me put your mind's at rest… it's nothing personal. Well, unless your name is Detective Tom Grogan. Be a good piggy, and pass on a message from me to Tom, would you?
ARSEHOLE
Now, where was I? Oh yes, I remember. Why don't I like coppers… well, as I said, it's nothing personal, just a matter of logistics, really; I'm on one side of the fence, and you bunch of tit-heads are on the other. You represent a threat to me, which is an interesting role-reversal, because usually, I'm the hunter. After you've read this journal, then I'll be the hunted, and you will have taken on my former role. Yet the irony is, I'll still be out there, hunting down Mary and Alex. So I'll be half and half; hunter and hunted. Cat and Mouse. Cat and Dog. It's all good fun though, don't you agree? It certainly passes the time of day away.
I do lots of walking; it's always been one of my favourite pastimes, and It's amazing some of the things that you can come across when you're out on a hike. For instance, I've spent many hours just wandering around Skerrington Forest over the years, it's almost like a second home to me. I never get lost in there, either, and I don't really know why… there's always been a familiarity with that forest in particular that I've never quite been able to put my finger on. I suppose that most people, when they're out in the forest and off the main walking trails, see only trees everywhere. I'm different, because I see so much more, and I remember everything, right down to the smallest detail too.
One day, I was mooching around Skerrington Forest, when I noticed, through some gaps in the trees, some vegetation that was growing in an odd manner. Instead of being more 'free-flowing', if that's the right phrase, this vegetation seemed to be clinging to something, which caused it to appear completely mishapen. I walked through the trees until I reached the anomalous bushes, and sure enough, the vegetation was actually growing all over a pretty large object, and looked like it had been for many years. Excited at my discovery, I began to pull at the vegetation to see what was underneath, and was surprised to find an old, half-rotten, wooden shed, right there, out in the middle of the forest, and for no apparent reason, either.
After an hour or two, I managed to completely uncover the door to the shed. It wasn't locked, but access to the inside was difficult, as I soon discovered that the tin roof to the old shed had completely fallen in, and was partially blocking the door. It took a lot of time to get that roof dislodged, so that I could actually get into the structure. The layman would have found nothing of interest inside the shed at all; whoever its owner had been, they'd long since stripped everything from the inside of it. But for me, it was a place of wonder; a small, decaying sanctuary, right out in the middle of nowhere. Just like the other place… the one that I'm not going to tell you about, the one where I hid two b0dies… oh, and Alfie Whitehouse's stupid cat, too.
So, mister policeman, you're probably wondering why I'm telling you all about that little shed that I found somewhere in Skerrington Forest. Well, I'm just trying to do my civic duty, I suppose, you know, 'assisting the police with their enquiries' and all of that shit. You see, when I catch up with Mary, I might, just might, take her back to that little forest pad of mine, and have a bit of a party with her, if you know what I mean… reckon you do, eh? Nudge nudge, wink wink… so, I've given you a clue as to where I could be hiding out, assuming you find this journal in time. And the reason that I've done that for you boys in blue, civic duties aside, is because, believe it or not, I'm actually not all bad. Or at least, I don't think that I am. No, there's definitely a tiny little slither of goodness deep down inside me, and that much I do know. Hopefully, I've proven that, what with this little clue that I've written down for you, but if you still don't believe me, well… that's your look-out. Honestly, I really couldn’t give a shit.
***
Detective Kevin Burrows walked slowly around Howard Trenton’s car.
“Looks like he never went to Ruthley then.” Stated Tom Grogan.
“Unless he caught a bus.” Replied Kevin.
“There’s no bus service to Ruthley from Coldsleet on a Saturday. Only on weekdays. I’ve already checked.” Pointed out Tom.
“Then he must be somewhere in Coldsleet. Perhaps he’s gone to buy supplies before carrying on to…”
“Kevin… it’s almost mid-day. Surely Howard Trenton would have come back to his car by now?” Interrupted the detective. “Trust me, Howard’s abandoned his vehicle and gone to ground.” He said.
“Which doesn’t make any sense.” Argued Kevin.
“Why doesn’t it make any sense?” Asked Tom.
“Let me put it this way… if you decided to try and disappear, and you had access to a vehicle, then wouldn’t you attempt to get as far away as possible in it? I know that I would. Why just drive your car half a mile down the road, and then abandon it? Then there’s the problem of Howard not even knowing that we’re going to arrest him.” Said Kevin, pointing out the flaws in his colleague’s logic.
“Oh, I think Howard knew that it was only a matter of time before we came knocking on his front door. Let me tell you something, Kevin… do you know what I thought, the first time I spoke to him?” Asked Tom.
“Go on.” Urged Kevin.
“I thought that he was a sneaky little fucker.” Observed Tom Grogan. “A clever, sneaky, shit-head.”
The ageing detective yawned to himself as he looked out from the car-park towards Coldsleet promenade.
“Let me tell you what else I think.” Said Tom.
“What?” Replied his colleague.
“I think that you’re partly right, in that Howard dumped his car here, and then caught a bus out of town, though, obviously, not up to Ruthley. That’s good for us, because it limits the places that he could actually run to… there’s buses running to Elman and Knighton over the weekend, but nowhere else. I’ve already been in touch with the lads up at Elman, so they’ll be on the lookout for Howard up in those two locations. Maybe we’ll hear from them soon.” Said Tom, hopefully. At that moment, his phone rang. He answered the call. Detective Kevin Burrows lit a cigarette whilst his colleague chatted on the mobile. After a few minutes, Tom Grogan had finished the call. He was wearing an extremely grave expression as he quickly walked over to Kevin.
“Bloody hell, Tom, what is it?” He asked.
“We’ve gotta get back to the Trenton’s house. Now.” Tom replied.
“Why? What’s up?” Kevin said.
“Some of the boys who’ve been searching there… they’ve found something, and we need to go back and see it for ourselves, urgently.” Tom advised.
“What is it?” Kevin wanted to know.
“It’s a journal that Howard Trenton has been keeping… this is bigger than any of us thought, Kev.” Tom informed him.
“Why? What’s in the journal?”
“From what Don just told me… I think that we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.” Answered Tom.
***
Alex Crennell's explanation to his girlfriend, Mary Broderick, as to the origin of Shark's nickname, wasn't exactly the truth. This was not to say that Alex was deliberately lying to Mary; as far as he was aware, that was the reason why the large, athletic girl with the long blonde flat-top had been bestowed her title, and he had gleaned this from various pub conversations over the past couple of years. Shark was aware of the false story, and happily went along with it; she quite enjoyed being thought of as 'a biter', makes me sound pretty ferocious, not to mention a bit pervy… and it's never a bad thing to have a reputation precede you, well, as long as it's nothing too horrible, considered Shark. She was only one of two people who knew the true origin of the 'Shark' moniker, the other being her ex-boyfriend, Mike Gudden, and he was no longer living in Coldsleet, or anywhere else, come to that, so her secret was safe.
The true reason behind Shark's unusual title lay in the young woman's heritage; born to an English mother and a Hungarian father, Shark's real name was actually Ellen Mako, the latter of which was a common surname in Hungary. It wasn't until Ellen was thirteen years old, and during an English Literature lesson at school, that a fellow pupil and all-round smart-arse called Eric Haynes pointed out the existence of a type of marine animal called the 'Mako Shark', much to the delight of some of the other students in the classroom at that time. For a while afterwards, Ellen's nickname was 'Mako Shark', but this was whittled down to just 'Shark' after a few weeks. Even Ellen's parents and siblings, upon learning of the nickname, began to use it. By the time that Shark left her home, to go and live in Coldsleet with Mike Gudden, she was rarely addressed by her real name.
For a short while, Shark trudged along the Black Pathway just behind Gary Ackley, and in front of Mary Broderick and Alex Crennell, lost in her own thoughts. I can't believe that I'm finally doing the Black Pathway Trail… though I always thought that the first time I'd actually walk it would be with Mike. Shark remembered Mike Gudden for a few moments, and then tried to push his image from out of her head; she couldn't. His grinning face wouldn't go away.
"You always were a stubborn bastard, Mike," Shark whispered. Yeah, and a violent, cheating nutter, too… not that I knew that about you, when we first got together, or even after I arrived in Coldsleet to be with you. Once you'd got me on my own though, away from my home and family, gradually becoming dependent on you, it didn't take long to show your true colours, did it, Mikey? Shark remembered how the first year together with Mike had been; as far as she was concerned, he was the most kind and thoughtful man that she'd ever met, and by a mile too. They’d first begun chatting to each other online, and then Mike travelled down to Shark’s hometown where they met properly. For the next few months, Shark and Mike met up regularly, usually at weekends. Then things got serious; Mike wanted Shark to move to Coldsleet and live with him. Shark had had no doubts about committing to her new boyfriend properly, agreeing to leave the home that she still shared with her parents, and moving in with Mike. In those early days, Shark was certain that Mike Gudden was 'the one' for her. She was wrong.
Three months after they had first met, Shark moved into Mike Gudden’s place, which was a small apartment near to Coldsleet's town centre. Mike had originally tried to rent a flat in Elman, which was where he worked, but there was nothing suitable at all. This wasn’t a major problem; Mike owned a car, and the drive to and from Elman each day didn’t take up too much of his time. More problematic was Shark’s inability to find any gainful employment in the small seaside town that had clearly seen better days. Even when she looked further afield, to Elman, Knighton, Hoffen, Hingley or Salegate, there was nothing. Since leaving college, Shark had always worked, in some capacity or other; now, she was sitting around the apartment in Coldsleet, day after day, bored out of her head. And she was slowly seeing another side of Mike Gudden emerge, too.
Shark Mako knew that Mike liked a drink. It wasn’t a problem; Shark loved alcohol too. It was the norm for the couple to spend their friday and saturday evenings down at ‘The Stagecoach’, meeting up with their friends, getting smashed. That was the done thing. But then Mike started drinking during the week too, sometimes down at one of the local pubs, with his mates, but more often than not, at home. Although Shark didn’t know it at the time, Mike had grown bored with her. He was seeing another woman, an Elman girl called Lizzy Denning, who he had met at work. Shark found out about this affair from a friend, but by that time, Mike had already dumped Lizzy, and was now secretely meeting up with a thirty six year old lady from Hingley called Sue. Shark confronted Mike about his infidelity, which he admitted to. But, he advised Shark, he wasn’t going to change.
“Then I’m leaving. I’m going back home, to my parents.” Said Shark.
“Oh no your not. You belong to me.” Came Mike’s reply. And that’s when the violence began… and the threats, too. “Leave this town, and I’ll come after you, and not just you, but your parents as well. I’ll kill all of you. Your brother and sister too.” And so it went on. The cheating increased. The drinking, and violence, got worse. The threats grew darker. But then one day, Shark had fought back…
Chapter Eighteen
The Black Pathway began to even out, and ahead of the group of walkers was a huge expanse of flat, marshy land, which the trail weaved its way across. To the left of the group was a large, rocky ridge that slowly rose from the flat-lands, running parallel to the trail.
"Some people that walk the Black Pathway do it the hard way." Advised Gary, pointing up towards the ridge, its rocky surface gradually sloping upwards, climbing above the trail. "Instead of sticking to the designated path, they'll take the ridge-walk instead. It's an interesting formation, the result of a huge glacier that pushed across this area back in the ice-age. From what I hear, the ridge gets really narrow at its highest point, which is what attracts the more hardcore loonies that decide to walk up it." He went on.
"Why would anyone want to do that?" Asked Alex, who was feeling generally pissed off and tetchy.
"Because some people enjoy an element of danger, Alex." Snapped Gary. "Not everyone likes a simple, easy ride."
"Yeah, well, they're bloody stupid if you ask me." Replied Alex Crennell.
“Nobody is asking you, buddy." Retorted Gary. Here we go again, he thought to himself, we're not even half a day into this walk yet, and already Alex is starting to get stroppy and argumentative… once the going starts to get really heavy, he's gonna be a real bundle of laughs… just like the last sodding time. Gary walked on ahead of the group, whilst Mary, who had been chatting to Shark, sidled up against her boyfriend.
"Is everything okay? You seem a bit grumpy this morning." Mary asked Alex.
"Yeah, it's like I said earlier, I've got a bit of a hangover from last night, that's all." He answered, before wiping sweat from his brow.
"Okay." Said Mary, satisfied with Alex's answer. "It's beautiful up here, isn't it?" She commented. Alex looked at his surroundings.
"Yeah, it's nice." He replied, telling lies. I'd much rather be in the pub, than doing this… a nice pint in front of me together with a chicken curry and a garlic naan… ah well, once this is all over, I won't be doing this stupid walk again, thought Alex.
Alex thought about home. Dad will be off down to the boozer for his lunchtime pint, right about now. Jammy git. He’ll get back, at around three this afternoon, half-pissed, and then just spend the next few hours slumped across the settee, watching the horse racing on the televison. He might be a bit of a drunken old fart, but he’s a good bloke, my dad. He struggled to bring me and my younger brother, Davey, up, on his own, after my bitch of a mom walked out on all of us when we were little, but we never went short of a thing. Well, apart from the love of a mother, obviously. But fuck her, wherever she is. We might have needed her back then, twelve years ago, when she first left, but we certainly don’t need her now. Me, dad, Davey… we do okay. We always have done. I just wish that dad could find someone to make him happy… but he’s never really seemed interested. Maybe he’s just content with being on his own.
Mary nudged Alex with her elbow.
“Hey, are you sure that you’re okay? You seem lost in thought.” She asked. Alex smiled.
“I was just thinking about my dad. He’ll be off down to the pub now.” Replied Alex.
“I like your dad. He makes me laugh.” Commented Mary. “His jokes are a bit crude, but they’re still funny.”
“That’s because you’ve got a mind like a sewer, Mary Broderick. You come across as all prim and proper, but really, you’re just pure filth. You should get thee to a fucking nunnery.” Joked Alex.
“But I’m as pure as the driven snow!” Protested Mary, in a fake, outraged voice.
“Yeah, right… I’m just remembering what you did to me up in your bedroom on thursday night… I don’t want you to be as pure as the driven snow… I like it when you’re a whore.” Grinned Alex. Mary hit him on the arm, playfully.
“Sshh! The other’s will hear you.” She said. Alex shrugged his shoulders.
“Like they’d care.” He replied. Alex looked towards Shark and Gary, who were not too far ahead, when something, briefly, caught his eye; up on the glacial ridge. There was another hiker. He nudged Mary. “Look… there goes one of those hardcore freaks that Gary was telling us about.” Alex said, pointing towards a figure that was moving fast, high up on the rocky outcrop above them.
“They must be bloody mad.” Commented Mary.
“Yeah, they must be…” agreed Alex, watching the figure disappear out of view, behind some rocks. Up on the glacial ridge, Howard Trenton glanced quickly back at his prey, down below, walking the flat-lands. He smiled to himself, before moving on…
Gary Ackley felt the lace on his hiking boot come loose.
"Damn it." He said, quietly, before kneeling down and re-fastening his footwear. Alex and Mary strolled past him, arms around each other. He might be one of my best friends, but that girl is way too good for him, observed Gary. Still, she'll learn the hard way, once she realises just how petty, whinging, and self-pitying Alex can be. I don't think that a girl like Mary's gonna stand for that sort of behaviour for very long… Gary's thoughts were interrupted by Shark, a woman who he had first met a few months back, during a night’s binge-drinking down at 'The Stagecoach’. together with her friend, Deb Holloway. Gary had known Deb, a fellow punk, for years, ever since they were kids at school. Gary and Shark had got on well, right from the first moment that they met, but he was painfully aware that she was, according to Deb, still getting over her break-up with Mike Gudden, who had upped and left her to go and live with another woman, somewhere down south. As much as Gary had wanted to, he’d never gotten around to asking Shark out.
Shark put a hand on Gary's shoulder, just as he was getting back to his feet, having tied up his bootlace.
"Problems with your boots?" She asked. Gary smiled.
"Nah, just a loose lace. Nothing to worry about." He replied.
"Unlike our friend Alex there." Said, Shark, nodding towards the couple in front of them.
"What do you mean?" Gary asked, slightly puzzled as to what Shark meant.
"Have you not noticed the hiking boots that he's wearing?" She said. Gary looked at Alex's boots, but failed to see anything wrong with them.
"They look perfectly fine to me." He commented.
"Yep, they are perfectly fine, and that's the problem… those boots that Alex is wearing look brand-spanking new." Shark pointed out.
"Yeah, you're right. He only bought them the day before last. I was with…"
"So he hasn't worn them in." Interrupted Shark. "Which means, in an hour or two, his feet are probably gonna start to blister." She advised. "Is this the first time that he's worn them, Gary?"
“Yeah, I think so… he didn't have them on yesterday, down at the pub." Gary replied. Shark rolled her eyes.
"Oh my word, this is going to be fun." She said. Gary looked ahead again, at Alex's new boots.
"Maybe he won't have a problem with them?" He wondered, hopefully. Shark gave him a glance that was full of skepticism.
"I guess that we'll soon find out." She replied. Not too far ahead of them, Howard Trenton was still working his way up the glacial ridge, rising higher and higher above his quarry. Time to make my first move, soon… let them know that they're not alone on the Black Pathway, smiled Howard, looking forward to the hunt that lay ahead.
Gary Ackley was finding it hard to focus on anything other than Alex Crennell's boots.
"What should we do?" He asked Shark. "Should we just abandon the walk?"
"Of course we don't just abandon the walk." Shark replied.
"But if those boots of Alex's begin to cripple him…"
"Relax," laughed Shark, "at the very worst, he's going to be hobbling a little bit into Knighton by this evening. In fact, I'm pretty sure that he will be. Then it'll be a simple case of him and Mary catching a bus or taxi back home to Coldsleet."
"I take it from that then, that you wouldn't be heading back home with the pair of ‘em?" Asked Gary.
