HUM Dan Hawley (good inspirational books txt) 📖

reveal her forearms, scarred with thin lines. There were fresh wounds also, Samantha observed, covered by reddening gauze. Samantha’s shocked eyes looked back up at the woman’s face.

“What happened? Who did this?”

The woman allowed her sleeves to drop once more as she reached a hand around the boy’s shoulders.

“Him?”

The woman nodded.

“But why?”

“I don’t know why.” The woman’s Irish accent was thick in Samantha’s ears.

“Stuart is a fine young lad.”

The boy looked up at the woman with tired, remorseful eyes.

“But something changed in him when we moved here. Just small, attitude issues at first—talking back and being moody. He wasn’t sleeping well and started doing the strangest things at night. I woke up a few times to find him standing against the wall. Just standing there with his ear pressed up against it. At first I thought he was trying to eavesdrop on our neighbors, but when I called out to give him hell, I woke him up and he must have been confused and frightened, so he lashed out and got me pretty good.” The woman gestured at her forearms.

“I took him to see the sleep doctor, hoping that we could fix his sleep, which would perhaps fix his other problems too.”

The woman looked down at Stuart as she caressed his shaggy brown hair.

“But when the lift opened tonight and I saw the man from the sleep clinic looking so crazed and frightened, something clicked. And when you exited on the same floor as us, I knew. I knew it was not Stuart’s fault. It was this place. There is something wrong with this place and it is ruining us!”

Samantha remembered Chester’s story about the couple who had lived in the apartment before she and Jason. How they seemed so in love and ended up hating each other. She thought about the parallels between how Jason and the boy changed, slowly, when they moved in here. But what caused it? Samantha thought. Surely it had to be the hum, but how, and why? What the hell was it?

“Is he ok?”

Samantha’s thoughts were broken by the woman’s question. Sam looked back to where the woman was staring.

“Physically? I think so.”

The weight of the situation suddenly struck Samantha and her eyes filled with liquid. She began to sob, staring at Jason’s limp body. The woman placed a warm hand on Samantha’s back and rubbed soothingly.

“You’re going to be alright.”

Samantha turned and threw herself into the arms of her neighbor, tears running down her cheeks.

“You’ll be ok,” the woman repeated softly. “But you need to get out.”

The woman grabbed Samantha’s shoulders and held her at arm’s length.

“You must get out. Get him away from this wretched place. Leave as soon as you can, alright?” Samantha wiped her eyes and nodded. “Alright.”

EPILOGUE

THE ROAD HOME

Samantha read the sign—Welcome to Idaho—as she drove past on the I-90 headed east. It would be a long drive home, but the further she got from Seattle and the apartment with the evil hum, the better she felt.

She put the window down a crack and breathed in the fresh mountain air. The road through Spokane Valley and the mountains was gorgeous. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky and looked like it would stay that way until they reached Missoula in a few hours.

Sam looked over at Jason. He was sleeping soundly in his seat, half reclined, a thin pillow under his head.

Initially she thought Chester had killed him the night before. Jason looked dead when she opened the broken bathroom door to see him lying in a heap, bleeding from his head. But shortly after speaking with the woman at the door, Jason had groaned and stirred on the floor. He grasped for his head and pulled himself up to a kneel. He pulled back a wet, warm hand and looked at the blood in confused horror.

“What happened?” he mumbled, wincing at the pain. Jason looked away from his crimson hand and saw Francine lying by the door. His dazed eyes looked up at the hole.

Realization dawned on his face as he looked up at Samantha, who was glaring at him, terrified and angry.

“What did I do!?” Jason gasped.

“You don’t remember?” Chester asked as he eyed Jason with suspicion. Jason’s eyes went from Sam to Chester and back to Sam.

“It’s…foggy. I don’t.” His eyes dropped to the floor, and he began crying. Samantha knelt beside him and put her arm around his shuddering shoulders.

“What the fuck is wrong with me, Sam?” he cried. “Did I try to hurt you?”

He looked up and saw the red lines on Samantha’s throat that were beginning to turn purple and swell. His eyes widened.

“Oh shit, Sam. Babe. Did I do that!?” he asked in shocked horror as he stared into her eyes. “I couldn’t have, no way, I…”

“It’s ok,” she whispered. “It wasn’t you, Jay, not really.”

He continued to weep as his tears mingled with the dark blood, now beginning to clot where Samantha had scratched him.

“This place is evil, Jay. We have to get out. Now.”

Her voice was calm and firm, but Jason needed no convincing.

“Can we leave right now?” he asked meekly.

“Soon, sweety,” she cooed. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Samantha grabbed the paper cup from the middle console and took a long drink. She put it back down and allowed herself to feel a small pang of guilt. She shouldn’t be drinking caffeine, but there were a couple hundred more miles to drive, and she felt like she hadn’t slept in days. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Her thoughts shifted back to the night before as she zoned out on the road ahead.

Chester had helped her move a busted and bloodied Jason from the floor to the bathroom. Jason sat dazed on the toilet while they cleaned his wounds with alcohol and bandaged him up the best they could.

“Those lines will scar,” Chester said as he inspected their work.

“I had to.”

“I know.” Chester shot Samantha a sympathetic look. Samantha turned