The Hum

by D. W. Brown

  “I just don’t want you to get caught up in anything, honey. We’re finally moving forward with a normal life, and I’d hate for something to come along and change that.”

  “I will be extra careful, babe. I’m hoping to be back by tonight, or at the latest, tomorrow night.”

  With a mixture of fear and anguish in her pretty brown eyes, Sam said, “Well, you better eat a big breakfast before you head off to save the world. There’s no telling when you’ll get to eat again.”

  After enjoying a hearty breakfast with his family, Russell headed out the door en route to meet Eugene. He settled back into the leather seats of his police cruiser—a new Dodge Challenger—which was actually a pleasant surprise for any small town sheriff. The previous sheriff had somehow gotten the town council to budget in the beauty, and Russell was thankful they had. It wasn’t the same as the Chevy Suburban’s he was accustomed to in the Bureau, but it had grown on him over the past five years.

  The inside of the cruiser had racing gauges that actually lit up in orange at night, and the beast registered 200 miles per hour. Russell rarely got the chance to get the car up past seventy-five, but on occasion he liked to drive out to the old Peterson farm and see what she’d do. He’d gotten it up to 135 miles per hour on the Peterson’s twenty-five acre tract about a year ago, and it scared the heck out of him. The force of the vehicle alone plastered him to the seat, and the rear of the car fish-tailed quite a few times as it hit some of the low spots on the old dirt road.

  Glancing over at the middle of the car, Russell took in the new state of the art communications system. He had a GPS that was programmed for the entire Appalachian Region, a military-style tracking system called a Blue Force Tracker, which no one seemed to understand how to operate, and a CB radio to communicate with the station and his deputies.

  The money spent on the car, along with all of the high tech tracking devices, was definitely not needed for Russell’s small town. High speed chases would imply a perpetrator had a vehicle with enough speed to attempt a getaway; most of the automobiles in the area were lucky to even be on the road. Car bondo and duct tape wouldn’t fare too well at speeds in excess of 100 miles per hour. Russell figured since the government was spending taxpayer dollars so freely as of late, why shouldn’t some of the smaller counties and states do the same?

  CHAPTER 9

  PRESENT AND PAST

  Once they made it to the police station, the policeman led Kevin to his new living quarters. Truthfully it was hard to complain about the living conditions, because they were actually better than the roach motel he’d just come from. The floors were clean, and the twin comforter lying on the bed actually felt softer than anything he’d ever laid out on before. The bedding in his motel was similar to a super-sized sheet of sand paper; it doubled as a skin exfoliate and comforter.

  After looking around the small area, Kevin plopped down on the bed and kicked his feet up. He had no idea how long they’d hold him or whether he’d ever be released or not. Fortunately, he was used to wasting the day away locked up, so it didn’t irk him too bad. It was the part about actually being innocent of this attack that bothered him. That normally wasn’t the case. Kevin’s mind decided to step away from the jail cell and go back to the horrible cavern, the turning point in his life of crime.

  * * *

  Back inside, Kevin found himself staring out into nothing as the place forked in two opposite directions. He closed his eyes and wondered quietly which way to go. He was sweating once again, his hand throbbed from striking the concrete cover, and the nice slippers he’d chosen to wear for the heist were leaving monster blisters on his heels. He decided to rest on his seat for a few minutes, in an effort to think through the craziness of the past twenty-four hours.

  As he sat there on the cold damp floor, he wondered once again how his life has gotten to this point. He was somehow voted most likely to succeed in high school, and yet here he was, a thief and a murderer, on the run from the police. The questions eventually faded as did Kevin—sleep overtook him as he spread out right there on the floor of that musky tunnel.

  In the dream, Kevin was running from his past through tall fields of corn nearby the old farmhouse his father had left him after he died. He knew he’d done an awful thing, and he had to get away before being caught. He had blood all over his hands and clothes, and that familiar feeling of needing to cover up another crime.

  Looking down at his hand, he noticed the six inch kitchen knife he’d used to commit the awful murders. He’d taken it with him when he fled the scene with thoughts of burying it somewhere in the woods behind the old farm.

  Kevin ran for about 500 yards before he came upon the burned out hull of an old maple tree. He’d seen this particular tree on numerous occasions as he made passes with his dad’s old farm tractor through the corn fields. Now he decided it would make a perfect marker to hide his sin, just in case he ever needed to find it again.

  As the winded and scared young man of twenty-five dug a two foot hole to bury the knife, Kevin heard the rustling of corn, like someone running through the field behind him. He quickly shoved the knife in the earth and threw the dirt back over it to conceal his heinous act. After throwing some of the loose twigs and dried grass back over the now disturbed ground, he ran out of the field to meet whoever was coming his way.

  Seeing his wife Jeannie running with his kids Rosie and little Kevin in tow, he stopped cold in his tracks. When they were within five feet of him, his legs came back to life and he took off in the opposite direction. The faster he ran, the closer they got to him. When he felt his wife’s hand graze over his shoulder, he let out a loud scream.

  Kevin awoke, and bolted upright on the cavern floor, sweating like a pig. He could still hear his own screams echoing throughout the cavern. The dream— if you could call it that—left him shaken for the next few minutes, so he thought it best to get back up and continue his blind reconnaissance. He had no idea where he was heading, or what awaited him at the end of it all. All he knew for sure was that he didn’t have any other option but to press further into the darkness.

  Glancing at his watch under the glow of the lighter, he saw that it was now 1:00 in the afternoon. He couldn’t believe he’d slept away six hours on that damp floor.

  Standing at the fork, Kevin decided to take the left tunnel, because in his mind he’d never been right before, so why go that way now. He couldn’t believe how hard his life had been over the past ten years. How had things gotten to this point? First his family, then his job, and now he was on the run again. He was starting to see his life as one of forever being on the run. He cursed himself for moving to the small town, for thinking he’d ever be able to hide from it all. He knew now that it was impossible to hide from the humming sound—it owned him.

  He continued walking for over thirty minutes in darkness, feeling his way through the tunnel by dragging his hand across the wall as he stumbled forward.

  When his hand began to feel wet from touching the wall, he quickly wiped his palm across his slacks and flicked the lighter back to life to investigate.

  The sight of what appeared to be blood forced a small yell from Kevin, and caused him to viciously wipe his hands on his pants in an effort to remove the substance. Holding the lighter closer to the wall, he saw only damp earth there; no blood in sight. Fear and confusion gripped him, and temporarily froze him in his tracks. Questions bombarded his mind, as he struggled to figure out what was going on.

  Was his mind playing more tricks, or was that really blood on his hands? Where did it all go? He was sure he’d felt it on the walls, but now it was nowhere to be found. Shining the light back down to his pants, he noted that they were still smeared in blood, or at least something that resembled blood.

  Kevin shook his head from side to side in an effort to rid himself of some of the haze. Nothing made any sense, so
he decided to continue further into the tunnel. With the lighter now extinguished, he couldn’t believe how dark the place really was. He’d heard stories from some of the soldiers deployed to Iraq about the pitch black darkness in the area, and Kevin imagined this place compared quite well. According to the reports, a few of the soldier’s had actually ran into the big twelve foot concrete barriers—Texas Barriers they called them—and had suffered broken noses or even lost a few teeth. He was thankful for the soft earthen walls, if nothing else. At least he wouldn’t lose any teeth during his wandering; now his mind, that was a different story.

  The quiet and the darkness were really wearing on Kevin as he pressed further down the tunnel. He was no longer gliding his hand along the wall as he continued on. After walking around in a daze for another thirty minutes, Kevin caught glimpse of a small flame of light up ahead. He quietly made his way to the source, and was surprised to find an old style lantern hanging

  from the tunnels wall.

  The light illuminated the tunnel about fifty to sixty feet to the front and rear of where he’d found it. Knowing that the light hanging on the wall didn’t just magically appear, Kevin decided to try a different tactic in order to get something from whoever was down in the tunnel with him.

  “Hello. Hello, my name is Sheriff Jent—he’d made it a point to look up the law in the area, when he first moved to town because he wanted to know what he might possibly come up against later on. “Who are you? Do you know a way out of this place?”

  It wasn’t what the voice responded back with that scared Kevin, it was the voice itself.

  Grabbing the light off the wall, Kevin took off at a full sprint back the direction he’d just come from. He didn’t stop to see if he was being followed, he just took off. When he made it to where the tunnel forked, he chose the opposite side and ran in that direction.

  His shoes quickly became too much for him to take, so Kevin tossed them to the side and ran in his socks. He noticed right away that the cold floor actually felt refreshing on his feet. He ran until he couldn’t run anymore, and then he collapsed on the earth’s floor. Struggling to regain his breathing, he prayed that the owner of that voice wouldn’t find him in his current state.

  * * *

  It was around 7:30 by the time Russell pulled into the parking lot of the service station where Deputy Ramos stood anxiously awaiting him.

  “Good morning, Ramos. How are you holding up?” Russell asked.

  “Been better. There’s a lot of blood in there, Sheriff.”

  “Any suspects? Any idea who killed them? Other drug dealers?”

  “That old Ford pickup over belongs to a man named Kevin Black. No priors—just moved here from West Virginia about four months ago. He’s our only lead thus far.”

  “Anything else? Did they have a surveillance camera? Video footage?”

  “Sure did. It shows a man—I’m thinking it’s our Mr. Black—walking into the station and waving money in front of the gentlemen running the joint. They all disappear into the back room for a few minutes, and then shotgun fire blasts throughout the tape. Even though it doesn’t show what went on behind that closed door, the sound of bodies slamming to the hard surface as a result of gunfire, make it pretty obvious that our perpetrator went on a killing spree.”

  “Did the video show which way he headed?”

  “Out the back door, into the woods. He was carrying what I assume to be some cocaine and a bag of money. He was pretty spooked when he headed out.”

  “Have the men combed the woods?”

  “Deputies Rosewood and Carlson went over every inch of those woods, and came back empty handed.”

  “Good job, Ramos. Give me a few minutes to walk through the scene, and the woods. In the meantime, get me that report on Mr. Black. If he is our man, I want to know everything about him.” Russell said.

  The day seemed to fly by, but the progress of the investigation didn’t follow suit. They had nothing but an abandoned truck and a video tape to go on. They were able to compare the picture in Kevin Black’s file to the video and confirm that he was the perpetrator, but it didn’t do any good if they couldn’t find the man.

  Before he knew it, daylight turned to dark, and everything from the crime scene was bagged up and taken back to the lab. After placing the Do Not Cross tape all around the station, Russell decided to take a walk in the woods himself. He’d spent a lot of his youth hunting deer and various fowl, and had become a pretty good tracker. If Mr. Black was out there, he’d find him.

  Popping the trunk, Russell grabbed his flashlight and police baton for the late night investigative hike.

  CHAPTER 10

  It wasn’t more than fifteen minutes before the perpetrator came stumbling forward, causing Russell to make a split second decision on his next move. He could shoot the man, but then he might never figure out what this mess was really all about, or he could tackle him and take him in. Since he didn’t see a weapon or anything else for that matter in the perpetrator’s hands, he chose the latter. When the man came within arm’s reach, he dived towards his mid-section, sending them both flying through the air and eventually landed hard on the cold ground.

  Russell somehow managed to get on top of the perpetrator, while the man thrashed about madly. He appeared not to be struggling to free himself, but to look at the area behind him.

  “If you don’t calm down Mr. Black, I will be forced to shoot you right here and now!”

  Surprised at being called by his name, the man suddenly stopped, and said, “How did you get down here? Can you help me get out of this place?”

  “What do you mean by down here? We’re about two miles to the east of the Shell Service Station that you robbed last night.” Russell was surprised at the perpetrator’s reaction when he pointed to the direction of the station. It was obvious he hadn’t a clue what Russell was talking about. The bewildered man asked, “How did you get the concrete cover off of the entrance?”

  “What concrete cover? What are you talking about, Mr. Black? Have you been taking some of the cocaine that you stole back there?”

  Scanning a full 360, realization began to dawn on Kevin that he was no longer inside the tunnel and the policeman in front of him obviously thought him mad. “I’m telling you, officer, I was locked inside some cavern with a concrete cover. See my right hand? Look at this? Do you think I did this to myself?”

  “I’m not sure I know or care what you’re talking about Mr. Black, but I do know you’re under arrest for the murders of those four clerks at the station back there.”

  “I’ll gladly be under arrest, if you’ll just get me out of here. Oh, and for the record, you and I both know that they weren’t store clerks.”

  Russell could see the fear in the perpetrator’s eyes, as he continued to look back in the direction he’d just come.

  “What are you so afraid of, Mr. Black? Who was after you back there?”

  “It’s that place. It knows what I’ve done. It knows everyone I’ve killed in the past. I don’t know how it knows, but it even has the dead bodies to prove it. It wants me to go back home, to Taos. The voice said the humming would stop if I go back.”

  Thinking the perpetrator had lost his marbles, but curious about the other murders he’d alluded to, Russell decided to delve deeper into the subject. He rolled Kevin into a sitting position and took a seat directly across from him, careful to keep a watchful eye on his every move.

  “Mr. Black, you mentioned everyone that you’ve killed. Were there others before tonight?”

  “It started with my brother Wayne, and then my wife and kids. I knew I wasn’t cut out to be a family man, but she really had me. We weren’t married any time before we had kids. She had to have two, said the ideal American family consisted of a husband, wife, and two children.”

  “We�
��ll have time for all of that later, Mr. Black. For now, I want to know if you killed them.”

  “Yes, I did. I stabbed them all three, and I still don’t know why. I’ve often questioned why I didn’t just leave after the incident? Why didn’t I ask for a divorce? You know Sheriff, it has been seven long years now, and I’m glad to finally get it all out in the open. They’re not the only ones that I killed, though.”

  “Since its confession time, you might as well tell me about the others.” Russell said, more than a little interested.

  “My madness began with my rotten brother, Wayne. I started hearing the hum shortly after he attacked and beat up one of my friends. Even though I regret killing Wayne, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel better after I committed the act. For some reason he just never liked me. We went back and forth for many years, until I decided to poison him. I was only eight years old at the time, but I knew enough to understand that killing was wrong. That’s why I wrestled with it for so many years later. In the end, I can assure you that Wayne had it coming. It really was survival of the fittest around the farm that we grew up on. If I didn’t get to him first, he would’ve eventually killed me.”

  “Are there any more that you’d like to tell me about?”

  “After I killed my wife and kids, I tried to move on and start a new life. But the humming came back, and it demanded I do it again.”

  Russell couldn’t believe the way this guy was spilling everything so nonchalant, so matter-of-fact. It was like sitting down talking about the weather, but this wasn’t the weather, it was murder. He said.