The HUM: The complete novel

by Michael Christopher Carter

  The wool around the ceiling light and back to the low protuberances of the room she had seen in the hallway was repeated here, wrapping round and round the stack of chairs making them immovable.

  “How on earth have you done this?” she asked out loud. He couldn’t reach, could he? He couldn’t possibly lift one of those chairs onto the table, and then another one even higher, with skill and core strength to balance them?

  She glanced at the centre ceiling light. How could he reach? Could he have used a broom handle or something? She couldn’t imagine what level of dexterity would be needed to tie or loop the wool to the broomstick, and then release it keeping it secured to the light.

  Relieved that nothing was damaged, it seemed as dangerous as the height Ebe had tied wool, and the risk from the huge weight of the heavy chairs slipping, or even from manoeuvring them in the first place, he probably hadn’t come to any harm.

  Carys walked through as best she could, pushing aside carefully Ebe’s astonishing work as she went. Fighting her way from the kitchen, back through the hallway and past the toilet, she arrived at the lounge. No furniture sculptures bedecked the family room. Everything was in its place but similarly festooned with a web of wool.

  With a gasp of joy, she saw her son at last, sitting happily on the rug in the middle of the floor; and in the middle of the wool web looking thoroughly pleased with himself. A thrilled, almost electric look burned in his brown eyes, turning them a vibrant hazel colour.

  “What have you done, Ebe?” He made no sound in response, but smiled immensely at her. She had never seen him happier. Despite the inconvenience of the wool web, and the anxiety she had momentarily felt, seeing Ebe’s delight was infectious and she began to laugh. At this Ebe delighted even more and began chuckling too.

  It was a deep chuckle that didn’t fit his slight frame. The incongruence amused Carys, and she laughed harder. Before long the pair of them were hysterical with mirth. Carys’s sides ached with the exertion and she gasped for breath. She forced herself to calm down, and found they were in the same position they had been before the hysteria, with Ebe grinning up at her from the centre of the room.

  He launched himself from his sitting position and hugged Carys hard. Taken aback after the distress displayed at last night’s bedtime, she squeezed him back. She loved this funny little man with his big head and dark eyes (not so dark today though!)

  They enjoyed little rapport: Carys understanding only his basic needs for food and drink preferences, and not his innermost thoughts and dreams.

  Today’s construction was a revelation. She couldn’t begin to imagine how, or why he had done this strange thing.

  “Let’s tidy this away, shall we?” she asked, whilst moving to what appeared to be the beginning of the web tied round the lounge door handle. As she touched it, intending to untie it, Ebe rushed to her and stopped her by placing his hands on hers.

  He didn’t say “No,” or make any sound to indicate his distress, but Carys got the message and moved away from it. All the furniture was covered by wool. The doors were blocked too. She had little option but to join Ebe on the floor.

  “What’s this all about, cariad?” she cooed. He wouldn’t answer, of course. His communication problems had become more troublesome the more information he tried to give, and he was getting more and more distraught with his failure to convey his feelings.

  He had received a diagnosis of a ‘speech and language disorder,’ by the paediatric specialist. You don’t say! Carys scoffed when they told her. It meant that once a week, she was able to take Ebe to a class at the hospital for some lessons.

  There had so far been nothing to report regarding any sort of progress. They were beginning to give up on Ebe speaking and started declaring him mute. There was no obvious physical reason for his disability, but eventually they had been forced to concede, he probably wasn’t ever going to speak.

  As she daydreamed about Ebe’s lack of progress, she was unaware of him getting up. He fiddled with some of the wool in the hallway. Carys’s maternal instinct to panic roused her to jump up and stumble towards her son. Before she reached him the front door, apparently in response to whatever Ebe was doing, burst open, flooding the room with bright sunlight.

  Somehow, the direct light from the kitchen window combined with sunlight from a different angle flooding through the front door, had a most curios effect on the shadows cast by the wool upon the walls; and in particular, the centre of the floor where Ebe was again sitting, grinning.

  The pattern, indiscernible looking at the wool, but in looking at the walls and floor of the lounge appeared very mathematical. The perfect circle in the middle was clearly planned. Surely not, Carys quickly rationalised. The light must have cast the shadows before and Ebe must have noticed.

  Scouring the room to see what could be causing the gap in the shadow, it was a mystery. So perfectly round, so something already round like one of the light fittings made sense. Carys waved her arms in front of different lights to try to impinge on the area of non-shadow, but couldn’t find the source. It was baffling.

  The sun had already begun its move in the sky. The shadow would be very different before long, and Carys desperately wanted to understand what it was. As the shadow moved slowly across the carpet, Carys spotted the silhouette of something else, she recognised as the kitchen door. She now knew the direction she had to look.

  Waving her arms confirmed it. The circle pattern: the perfect circle of light in the centre of the lounge was being cast by the sculpture creation of chairs on the kitchen table. Carys swooned with the incredulity of it all.

  Had Ebe really planned this? To use wool to make an incredible pattern whilst creating a small circle with heavy chairs across the hall? And why? It seemed preposterous.

  Putting her in mind of an ancient stone construction, she shook her head. How did they do it? Impossibly heavy boulders, weighing several tonnes, balanced on one another, even heavier upright rocks by supposedly primitive people who didn’t possess the technology to possibly achieve what they did.

  She remembered briefly, and pondered the significance, that the bluestones forming the inner circle of the world famous Stone Henge, originated from the Preseli hills here in Pembrokeshire! They were clearly visible from her parent’s house, and from the nursery window upstairs. The kitchen chairs were not ancient megaliths, but to a three year old, a skinny one at that, they might as well be.

  After a while, the sun moved further round the house, as it tended to do, and the shadow picture was lost. Ebe got up from the floor and came over to Carys. “Are you hungry, bach?” Neither of them had had breakfast, and it was well after lunch now.

  Carys looked around the wool filled kitchen and decided preparing lunch impractical. “Do you want to walk, or go in your push chair?” she asked, planning on buying them lunch. “Don’t walk there, then insist on being carried back, because Mummy’s tired.” She had to decide without any input from Ebe, so she took the push chair and let him walk beside it. If he didn’t need it, she could use it as a little shopping trolley.

  Walking down through The Drang she felt a horrible self-consciousness at the memories of her mental breakdown. It was years ago now, but she always worried who had witnessed her fall from sanity. And who had she assaulted? She was hopeless with faces. It could be anyone: someone serving her in Spar, or in Liz’s bakery, or in the post office?

  Not knowing made her uneasy. And whilst she’d be the first to admit to being paranoid, some of the whispering she heard whenever she came across the good people of Narberth was likely about her.

  Marco made things better. He seemed well liked in the community. But today, walking with Ebe, the two of them were ripe for gossip. The ‘Nutter,’ and her alien looking, mute son. Why did she even care what these strangers’ thought of her? She wouldn’t recognise them again. Such superficial judgements meant nothing.

  As they made it past the war memorial with its views of the castle, and then past th
e town hall with Rebecca’s cell underneath, she shuddered, struggling to swallow down the nauseous bile which sprang from her belly.

  “What food do you want, my love?” she hiccupped, pointing at pies in the butcher’s window. The scent of olives and Mediterranean food meats drew her into the deli, whose toilet had been where she’d first glimpsed the little line that indicated Ebe was growing inside her. Opting for a takeaway selection, she didn’t fancy mingling with the crowd.

  Food in hand, she walked with Ebe to the town moor. Deciding against the dilapidated playground, with its crowds of rowdy children and accompanying mums, she wanted as little social interaction as possible.

  Instead, she followed the path into the small wood at the edge of the moor. The mouth of the woods, dark and unknown, threatened to swallow her. It’ll be peaceful inside, she coached herself. It’s not scary, and there are wonderful views of the valley on the other side.

  Ebe, perhaps detecting her trepidation, began clambering to get in his push chair. Strapped in, he felt safe, regarding the world with dark saucer eyes. A field of cows jostled for their attention just before the path veered into the woods. Carys paused a moment for Ebe to look at them, but he showed no interest.

  Sighing, she pushed his chair over the ruts in the muddy path, threatening to dislodge her carefully selected Mediterranean lunch. Tutting, she screwed the bags tighter in her grip and endured the eerie quiet of the wood.

  The sound of cows mooing gave way to birdsong, and it wasn’t spooky at all. Carys stopped to listen. No traffic, no boisterous children, just nature at its most splendid. She baulked at the hammering of a woodpecker above her head. Realising at once what it was, she smiled.

  “Mummy’s really on edge today, Ebe!” Skurfing hair from her face, she leaned into her son. “Do you hear that, Ebe?” He wore a wry smile, but his expression didn’t change in response to his mother’s voice. “We’ll be through the woods in a moment, bach,” she persisted. “We can have our lunch then.”

  After a pleasant meander through mixed deciduous and coniferous woodland, the path yielded to the open hilltop. The valley in bright sunlight took Carys’s breath away. A farm house, a mile away, cast stark shadows on the green pasture, accented by fluffy clouds of sheep, and sparking white-blue of the stream, snaking its way along the valley floor.

  Basking in the quintessential Welshness of her surroundings, her thoughts caught her as she realised today’s date: the twenty first of June - Summer Solstice! Had Ebe built his woollen construction because of that?

  A smile at her failing comprehension turned abruptly to a grimace of abject terror as the humming, from nowhere, filled the valley.

  Isolated and vulnerable, she had to protect Ebe.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Night Terrors

  It was loud. Whatever was making the noise was close. Carys imagined the quintessential UFO from films: an enormous saucer, bright lights glowing from every surface.

  Thrusting the unopened sandwich bags into the basket underneath Ebe’s stroller, she pushed for the safety of the woods; the best place to hide from a flying object.

  Civilisation was but a brisk few minutes away. The chatter of rowdy children, and even condescension from the mums held an unprecedented appeal to Carys, recoiling from the vibration filling her head.

  The hum grew suddenly louder. Carys’s racing mind prayed it was what it often appeared to be to those not giving it their full attention: just a diesel engine, or a helicopter. But Carys knew the noise well enough not to risk stopping to listen for its unfindable source.

  ‘Keep going. Not much further.’ Rushing past the cow field, the hum was deafening to Carys’s ears now. Nothing else could penetrate her senses. Tears streaming down her face, she squealed as the wheels on Ebe’s pushchair seized up in the dusty path. Dragging the immobile frame up the hill, she was desperate for the safety she hoped a crowd could offer.

  Reaching the clubhouse for the Royal Antediluvian Order of Buffaloes, (known locally as the RAOB, and more affectionately as ‘The Buff Club’) a group of female patrons sat outside partaking in their nicotine addiction.

  “You alright, bach?” a large, shorn headed woman asked.

  Grateful for the safety even speaking to the small group potentially offered, Carys hesitated. “It’s this bloody noise. Doesn’t it bother you?”

  The women looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s just a helicopter,” one suggested.

  “Or a tractor,” said another.

  “No.” said Carys. “If you listen…” They listened. “It has no source. It’s not coming from anywhere.”

  One of the ladies shuddered. “That’s well creepy, that is!” ‘Thank you!’ Carys thought. But didn’t say out loud. Instead, she smiled her appreciation of their ratification.

  The group began discussing among themselves some possible causes of the noise, the orange glow of cigarette tips adding to their gesticulations.

  People around was better than alone on a hill, but a pang for her home surged her forward. The hum followed her all the way, the rise in volume had settled to a consistent droning.

  Throwing open the front door, she struggled to manoeuvre Ebe’s push chair though the gap. “Shit! What are you doing?” she berated. Unstrapping Ebe outside and folding the frame made a lot more sense. Rushing through had cost her a valuable minute; one that, to Carys, seemed vital.

  Forcing the buggy through, scraping against the wall and catching her blouse on the front door handle, she slammed it shut with a sigh of premature relief. Sanctuary wasn’t achieved as she had foolishly expected. Why would it have been? As a child, she’d been removed effortlessly with no chance of deliverance, while her protective parents slept only feet away and she screamed her broken heart out.

  Far from being refuge in fact, the house may well be the last place she should be. But she had no choice. There was nowhere to hide; nothing to do to keep herself or her son safe.

  If she ran, they would find her. How could Ebe cope then? The distress of her panicking would be as hard to endure as whatever was to come. She had to provide as convincing a façade of normality as possible.

  She decided to clear the wool. Marco would be home soon, and she couldn’t cook dinner with it as it was. The moment she touched a strand, Ebe screamed at her. His vocal expression was so unusual, she conceded to his desire.

  Might the woollen web offer protection from their would-be abductors? Maybe the very particular design interfered with the frequency they operated, and they’d be forced to retreat.

  She almost laughed at the absurdity of an alien invasion thwarted by wool, but left it in place, for Ebe. That way, any silly thoughts of a woolly force-field could exist unjustified by her struggling mind.

  Now without the distraction of cooking dinner, Carys had little option but to venture back upstairs. She ran her and Ebe a bath for something to do. She expected it might relax her, but it wasn’t enough. They lay together wrapped in towels when Marco arrived home after a long day at work.

  “What on earth…!” he exclaimed in reaction to walking into unanticipated wool. “Carys?! Where are you?” he called.

  “Upstairs.” She answered. “We’ve just had a bath.”

  Sounds followed of Marco fighting his way through the woollen impediment and walking up the stairs.

  “What happened here?!” he yelled. Guilt Carys may have felt for her husband coming home to the mess and no dinner dissolved by his irksome tone. He didn’t know what she’d been through today. And he didn’t seem to appreciate how amazing Ebe was.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t speak to me in that tone of voice before you’ve heard the explanation.” Marco looked as if no explanation would suffice, and when she had elucidated his face was even more scathing.

  “Ebe did not do that. It isn’t possible!” Marco fumed.

  “I know. That’s what I thought when I came downstairs.”

  “But, it’s not possible. You must’ve done it. Maybe you did
it in your sleep.” He ignored Carys gesticulating her dissention.

  “Whoever did it, why the f…” he controlled his language by biting his lip, “is it still there?!”

  “Ebe built it. I don’t know how. When I started to tidy it he was so upset. After the turmoil your mother caused…”

  “My mother was just trying to help! She was trying to save our marriage!” he said, and regretted it instantly.

  “Me caring for my baby is jeopardising our marriage, is it? Well, I suggest you just fuck off then,” she answered calmly and coldly. “Because there is no way I’m distressing Ebe for your comfort.” Marco winced.

  Heartened by the effect, Carys continued. “When I tried to tidy it, Ebe screamed out. I thought it must be important. We went out for some lunch and the humming noise… do you hear it?” Marco shook his head. Carys tutted and carried on. “That awful noise started when we were in the woods. And other people noticed it too because they were sitting outside the Buff club. They agreed it was really strange.”

  Marco was losing patience, but forced himself to listen.

  “It was driving me crazy, and I had to get home. I wanted to clear the wool and cook, but that’s when Ebe screamed. I half wondered if the web of wool was offering protection...” Marco couldn’t help but interrupt again.

  “Protection from what...? Oh, let me guess, UFO’s by any chance?” Carys sat stony faced, incensed by the mockery. “You’re mad! You are actually insane,” Marco fumed. “Do you need to go to the nut-house? Should I call the doctor? Or the police?”

  “No!” Carys squealed.

  “I won’t bother asking what’s for dinner! I can smell, or rather I can’t smell. It’s nothing isn’t it?” With that, he grabbed a holdall from under the bed and proceeded to chuck clothes into it.

  “I’m going to my ‘terrible’ mother’s for some food. Don’t expect me back.” He paused, noticing tears trickling down his wife’s face, but it was too late. He’d had enough.