HUM

by Dan Hawley

  He dressed quickly, suddenly hungry and missing Samantha, and headed out the door.

  Three of the doors were open in the hallway.

  All except 2B. The room where he had seen the boy the night before. That strange little boy dressed like a grown man. He had looked like a grown man, really—a grown man in a child’s body. Jason shivered as he passed the closed door, anxious to get home.

  * * *

  Samantha poured a glass of orange juice and took a long drink. The sweet wetness coated her mouth and cooled her throat as it fell to her stomach. She gasped a little from holding her breath, took in another deep lungful, and finished the glass. The sugar and vitamins seemed to invigorate her instantly as she stood in the kitchen.

  Jason had just texted; he would be home soon.

  Thank God, she thought. Being alone was difficult enough, but tack on a pandemic and the pregnancy and this damn apartment with the constant hum.

  Jason hadn’t mentioned anything; he had just texted,

  “Be home soon.”

  Sam moved to the window and looked out at the harbor. The sun’s reflection on the water looked like thousands of diamonds shining brilliantly upon a blue blanket. People were milling about below, out for their Sunday morning walks.

  Some shops were open now, as long as they sold food, but their capacities had been greatly reduced, creating long lines outside. On a day like today, though, standing outside was a gift. The notorious wet and dreary Seattle spring weather had lived up to its reputation this year, so a gorgeous break like today felt amazing.

  It felt like hope.

  Hope that a vaccine would come quickly. Hope that things would get back to normal. Hope that Dr. Luu could do something for Jason, and even if he could not, a sliver of hope that she could convince Jason to move home.

  Home and away.

  Away from the rain and clouds. Away from the isolation. Away from the visions of the hiker that had tainted her memories of the mountains. She didn’t care if she ever saw mountains again.

  We were happier at home, she thought. It wasn’t perfect, but at least we had family and friends. We had support.

  If I told him how sad I am, how lonely, surely he—the locking mechanism inside the door came to life, and its insides moved with metallic clicks.

  Samantha gathered her white robe and her senses and went to the door, wondering how long she had been standing at the window.

  “Hey, cutie!” Jason smiled as he entered the apartment. Samantha smiled back easily but impatiently waited for him to touch her. Jason put down his duffle, kicked off his boots, and grabbed Samantha tightly around the waist. She let out a quick squeal as Jason lifted her into the air.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply and with intent.

  “Well?” Samantha was out of breath as he put her down. “How was it?”

  “Weird. Really weird. Just an odd place filled with odd people. The only normal person there was Dr. Luu, and I only saw him for a minute.”

  “Oh?” Samantha turned and walked into the kitchen to make breakfast.

  “Yeah, it’s all good. They just hooked up a machine to my head, turned the cameras on, and left me alone.”

  Jason pulled out a stool and sat down on it.

  “I was pretty beat by then, so I basically went right to sleep. I asked the guy in the morning, the nurse I guess, if he saw anything, and he said no. I’ll bet he was asleep at the wheel all night. He seemed well rested anyway.”

  Yellow scrambled eggs seared loudly against the hot pan. Samantha threw the empty egg carton out into the blue bin under the sink, then rinsed her hands. She popped a few pieces of bread into the toaster and turned to face Jason.

  He smiled.

  He looked good, she thought. Like a night away from this damn apartment was all he needed to get back to the Jason she knew before.

  “Your follow-up is Wednesday?”

  “Yeah, I wish it wouldn’t take so long, but I guess it takes time to go over the data and the video recording and all that.” Jason paused for a moment. “And there were at least three other people there, on my floor. Four rooms. And there are another four rooms on the third floor, I think.”

  Jason licked his lips.

  “God, that smells good. Thanks for taking care of me, babe.”

  Jason’s voice turned sentimental.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Sam stirred the eggs and turned off the burner.

  The bread had become toast, so Sam grabbed each piece nimbly and ran butter across their faces.

  In a flash of movement, the food was on the plates. She she sat down beside Jason and poured them each a glass of orange juice.

  “I don’t know what you’d do without me either,” Sam teased.

  “Well, I wouldn’t eat as well, that’s for sure,” Jason said with forced machismo.

  He picked up a warm piece of toast and popped it into his mouth.

  * * *

  “Do you miss home?” Samantha asked as they lay in bed. The day had been well spent. The couple relaxed in the morning and then made love in the shower. They had gone for a long walk, since the clear morning had turned into a beautiful and warm afternoon. They shared an order of fish and chips from a takeout restaurant on the seawall and followed it up with a cup of gelato. When they returned home, they had made love again, but on the couch this time, the tall, uncovered living room windows allowing the late-day sun to warm their naked bodies.

  After dinner, they had watched a couple of funny movies while cuddling on the couch, occasionally snacking on chips from a bowl on the coffee table.

  A near perfect day, Sam thought. But even so, her heart yearned for home, and she wanted to know if Jason’s did too.

  “Yeah.” Jason paused. “But it’s pretty sweet out here, don’t you think?” Sam frowned, but Jason was on his back, staring at the ceiling.

  “I mean, this COVID thing kinda fucked everything up, and I guess the thing on the mountain wasn’t great. And I haven’t been sleeping very well at all…” Jason trailed off.

  Samantha waited; was he now realizing this place wasn’t “pretty sweet” at all? Surely he had to see how bad things had been.

  “But I dunno. There are a lot of cool things out here, and without the pandemic, I think we’d be having a great time right now.” Jason’s words were sincere and hopeful. He looked over at Samantha, who hadn’t responded at all.

  “But this COVID thing did mess everything up, Jason.”

  Her words were sharp and stated matter-of-factly. “It’s kept us trapped in this tiny apartment, isolated and alone. I can’t find work right now; you don’t seem all that interested in what you do.”

  “Hey now,” Jason tried to interject, but Samantha would not relent. She sat up and stared into his eyes.

  “Well? You don’t. You’re like a damn zombie in there staring at the screen. Is this really what you want for yourself? For us?” Her voice became shrill, and the pace of her words quickened.

  “I’m scared, Jason! Really scared! Of this place, of what it’s doing to you! How you are, what you’ve become. Shining your goddamn shotgun in your sleep? What the hell is that!?”

  Samantha’s voice cracked slightly as she finished her unplanned rant. Tears burst from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks and onto the bedding. She covered her face with trembling hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

  Jason grimaced.

  He sat up, put his hand on her back, and rubbed soothingly.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” he said softly.

  Her sobs slowed a little at his touch. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do about it. Are we just supposed to pack up and leave?”

  He paused for effect.

  “What about my job? What about our lease? Where would we even go? Back to Scranton?” His voice became indignant. “So what? Mommy and Daddy can take care of you?”

  Jason’s nostrils flared, and the words tasted sour and
hot as they left his tongue. Samantha’s sobs stopped, and she removed her hands from her puffy, wet face. She stared at Jason the way only someone who has been deeply hurt by a person they love can stare. Jason’s hard expression softened at the sight of the pain in Sam’s dark eyes. He looked away with a touch of shame.

  Samantha got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. She ran cool water and splashed it over her face. She reached for a towel and dried herself off. Jason heard her blow her nose and then saw her reemerge from the dark bathroom. She got back into bed, turned her lamp off with a click, and pulled the covers up to her chin, facing away from Jason. He sat quietly a little longer, staring at the wall, going over what had just happened in his head. With a deep sigh, he lay down, pulled the covers up, and turned his lamp off as well.

  CHAPTER 23

  Jason’s body twitched as he floated through the thick and heavy veil between the sleep realm and reality. Disturbing, uncomfortable images faded away beneath him as consciousness stirred and regained control. His brain began the process of firing up to allow his senses to transmit information to it once more.

  Jason could hear the wind whipping around the building, coming and going in prolonged bursts; the distant, busy traffic sounds of rubber on concrete and muffled engine roars.

  His mouth was dry and bitter, which made him lick his parched lips and swallow in an attempt to summon lubricant.

  Early morning light threatened entry on the other side of his closed eyelids. He fought the urge to open them, clinging to the last dregs of sleep.

  He filled his lungs through his nose, recognizing the sweet smell of Samantha’s bodywash that he had helped apply to her back the day before. Lavender and honeysuckle; sweet and delicate, just like her.

  There was something else, though, another smell. Something dull and metallic. The images that had receded back under the dream veil flashed again in his mind’s eye, quickly and clearly.

  Jason instinctively reached out to touch Samantha to make sure she was there. His panic calmed slightly as his hand found purchase. His eyes flew open, and the images receded back down into their watery void.

  He lay watching Sam, his hand now resting gently on her stomach. The cotton of her shirt was soft against his palm. She was so still—her face like marble, calm and serene. Jason slowly moved his hand down across Sam’s pelvis to grab the meat of her thigh.

  His hand found something wet and thick.

  Jason rubbed the pad of his thumb against his forefinger. Viscose liquid, neither warm nor cold. Jason’s banished images crashed back into his mind with a flash of lightning and pain.

  His heart sank and fluttered in his chest, skipping beats as it pounded against his ribcage. Beads of cold sweat squeezed through his pores and onto his skin. The complete racks of fear took control. Jason had been elbow deep in enough deer carcasses to know the unique viscosity of blood.

  And now it was on his hands again.

  But there were no deer, no wild game, not even the hiker. There was only Sam.

  Oh my God! His mind raced. His body solid and stuck; it would not move. He could only stare at Sam.

  Was she breathing?

  He couldn’t tell.

  Was her damn chest moving!? Shit! I don’t know! There’s no way. No fucking way!

  It’s just a dream, a bad dream about the hiker again, looking up at me with hollow, dead eyes.

  Jason forced his hand to move. He had to know. He pulled his trembling hand up and out from under the blanket and stared at it in horror. He could do nothing but stare. Slack-jawed and numb, he stared at his bloody palm, not wanting to believe, but the evidence was right there, right in front of his face, smelling dull and metallic.

  He had killed her.

  He had killed her in his goddamn sleep.

  The images weren’t dreams; they were memories. Memories of killing his fucking girlfriend and—wait. She stirred?

  She stirred!

  Jason’s thoughts came to a complete and utter stop as his gaze moved from his bloody hand to Samantha. She was looking at his hand now too.

  He blinked.

  He wanted to talk, to say anything, but he couldn’t. Samantha looked at Jason and then back at his hand with disgusted puzzlement.

  “Jay?” she asked, then fainted.

  “Sam?” Jason said flatly.

  His thoughts were racing. Finally his body sprang into action.

  “Babe!?”

  Jason reached down, touched her face, and moved it back and forth. His bloody, shaking hand moved from her chin bone to her neck. He pressed two fingers against the warm flesh above the carotid artery. Samantha’s life force bumped against his fingers in slow, powerful waves. Jason sighed with heavy relief.

  “Oh, thank God.” He jumped to his knees beside her and threw the blankets back in one quick flail of movement.

  “Jesus,” he said as he scanned her body. He had expected to see dark-red gashes surrounded by bright crimson liquid soaking the fabric of her shirt. Images of the hiker’s punctured body raced across his thoughts.

  Blood had stained Samantha’s shirt, but only at the bottom. Below that, her shorts, the cute ones with pictures of stars and half-moons she slept in, were wet and thick with blood.

  Jason stared at Sam’s pelvis with confusion. It was blood, that was clear. But it wasn’t the fresh, bright blood of a newly opened wound. No, this was something different, something from inside, from—“The baby!” Jason said with sudden realization and horror.

  “Oh, no, oh no.”

  Sorrow and pain smacked him dumb as he fully realized the consequences of the bloody shorts.

  “Fuck,” he said as he moved to grab his phone from the nightstand. He picked it up and began to punch in his passcode, smearing the screen with blood.

  “Jay?” A soft whimper of a voice.

  Jason turned around. Samantha was staring at him with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. Her hands had instinctually went to her stomach, holding it, protecting it.

  “You’re ok, babe. You’re ok.”

  Jason rolled back and knelt beside her. He touched her face.

  “I’m calling 911 right now; you’re ok.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “No, no ambulance, Jason.”

  “But we have to go to the hospital!” Jason roared out in anger marked with fear.

  “We will. You can drive me. Just let me get cleaned up.”

  Samantha’s words came calm and authoritatively. The contrast was stark against Jason’s frantic, pleading tone.

  Samantha sat up and looked down at herself. Jason watched her as her face remained calm. Calm but sad and without any fear. Jason relaxed some as he realized she wasn’t in any immediate danger. She was conscious and coherent. She wasn’t bleeding to death. He hadn’t stabbed her sixteen times and left her for dead in the woods.

  “Ok,” he said flatly.

  Samantha got up and headed to the laundry room, leaving Jason staring after her dumbly. She removed her soiled shirt and shorts and deposited them into the washer. She threw a detergent pod in with them and turned the machine on, doubting the clothes would come out clean. She emerged from the laundry room naked and made her way to the bathroom, where she found her tampons, took one out, inserted it, and cranked on the shower.

  She got in quickly and shivered against the cool water as she waited for it to warm. Jason got up from the bed and stripped it of its sheet. The blood had soaked through to the mattress cover, so he removed that as well. He took the fitted sheet and mattress cover to the washing machine, opened it up, stopping the cycle, and added the sheets. He tossed in another pod for good measure and restarted the machine.

  As he passed the bathroom, he looked inside. Samantha was sitting cross-legged under the cone of water. He paused a moment when he heard soft, slow sobs coming from the shower.

  Jason thought to ask her if she was ok but decided against it. The best thing he coul
d do right now, he thought, was to get ready to take her in.

  * * *

  The visit to the hospital was long and stressful. There were questionnaires and surveys to complete and sign. COVID posters hung on the walls with colorful depictions of the virus, a red “X” drawn to show the virus wasn’t welcome here. There were warnings posted everywhere, along with several security guards. Even though Samantha and Jason had arrived at the emergency department early in the day, there were already many people in the waiting room.

  Jason helped Sam find a place to sit and then went to the desk to register. The nurse was visibly stressed and anxious. It was clear to Jason that the staff was stretched thin and overworked during the pandemic. After registering, the tired nurse asked Jason to take a seat and wait to be called.

  The couple sat waiting for hours as sick and desperate people came and went, wearing masks and sanitizing their hands constantly. Some people wore expensive respirator masks and goggles, their hands wrapped in gloves. The tension in their muscles was visible. The fear in their eyes was palpable.

  It was scary to even look at, like witnessing a nuclear holocaust or chemical warfare.

  Dressed in two layers of scrubs, wearing gloves, N95 masks, and face shields, nurses would periodically call a few names before disappearing again behind the big, automatic doors.

  Finally, the nurse called Samantha’s name, and they too were invited back behind the doors.

  The room behind the doors was large and filled with beds. Around each bed and its accompanying small plastic chair hung a long, blue curtain. The nurse led them to their destination and drew the curtain around them as they waited for the doctor. Jason sat on the small plastic chair, and Samantha hopped up on the hospital bed, the fresh paper crinkling and crunching beneath her as she moved.

  They could hear everything that was going on in the emergency room: someone had been stabbed in the leg, someone’s husband beat them up, a little boy had broken his arm falling out of the top bunk. Jason thought he heard hushed talk from a woman complaining to a doctor that it burned when she peed. Jason cringed and looked up at Samantha. She was lying back with her hands clasped and resting on her belly, staring up at the ceiling. She felt Jason staring and looked over at him and smiled. Just a soft, “I’m ok, babe” kind of smile.