The HUM: The complete novel

by Michael Christopher Carter

  A glance towards Ebe showed him oblivious as always, and he left. Stomping down the stairs, yanking viciously at the wool on his way past, he slammed the front door hard behind him.

  Carys was left, unsupported and alone to care for Ebe, and endure the unceasing humming.

  Rocking back and forth, she tried to quell her fear for the sake of a pretence at reality she must perform for Ebe.

  Ordering a pizza from the local ‘pizza, burger, kebab, chicken’ shop, she rushed downstairs, clutching her bathrobe closed about her when it duly arrived. She paid and brought it back upstairs, and she and Ebe ate whilst watching a film.

  The sky box announcement it would switch off unless someone pressed ‘back-up’ went unnoticed by the sleeping pair. Now the room was dark, which meant today, the longest of the year, it was late: after eleven.

  Carys stirred, alerted to a sound somewhere. A neighbour coming back from the pub? Or someone slamming a car door? She snuggled back down with Ebe, pulling the covers over them more.

  Searing light broke through the curtains. Carys sat bolt upright. Glancing down at her son sleeping peacefully, she frowned at what the noise could be. A distant siren concluded her consternation. That idiot Marco must have called the police! ‘My wife’s gone crazy, you have to help her,’ she could imagine him exaggerating.

  If they took her away; if they sectioned her, what would happen to Ebe? Would Marco take him, or would he go into care? What had led him to betray her like this? His bloody mother no doubt. Well, she wouldn’t let them take her. She’d leave now.

  Jumping up from the bed, she hunted on the floor for wearable clothes. She wouldn’t need much on this warm night. Getting Ebe ready quickly would be virtually impossible though. The lights brightened. The police car must be just outside the house. She had to go now!

  A clattering made her jump. Was it coming from downstairs? Were they in already? What had Marco told them to make them force entry without knocking? She had to get away, but how? There wasn’t time! To give herself a fighting chance she heaved the wardrobe in front of the door. She didn’t know why.

  Perhaps she could assure them of her well state of mind with enough time to do it. The blockade might give her that. She’d explain how she thought it might be burglars, and she didn’t realise it was the police breaching her home.

  But then it occurred to her, she knew who it was. And why they hadn’t knocked or rang the doorbell.

  She scooped Ebe up, surprised how heavy he was as a dead weight. She was stricken. What could she do?

  Footsteps on the stairs!

  Counting every one, she knew when they’d reached the landing. The distinctive creak of the floorboards that usually meant Ebe was sleep-walking or Marco was on his way to the toilet was unexplainable.

  Unless.

  Someone was there.

  Someone was on the landing.

  The footsteps advanced towards the bedroom door. There was a brief pause spanning an eternity for Carys, as she huddled in the corner of the room, clasping Ebe to her chest, anxious not to breathe after the exertion of lifting her heavy son, for fear it would confirm her presence. Her heart stopped and ached, heavy in her chest.

  The door handle rattled.

  The hinges creaked at pressure on the door, but the bulk of the wardrobe kept it from opening.

  There came no calls for her to “Open up, Police.” No banging of the door.

  Carys couldn’t contain a gasp as the wardrobe began to slide back towards the corner of the room, where she and her sleeping charge were petrified to the spot. She had to become un-petrified quickly, or risk being crushed by the kinetic weight of her wardrobe as it accelerated rapidly.

  Just in time, she sidestepped as it rammed the wall, leaving a silence cleaved only by the echo from the spent force.

  Regretting an involuntary yelp that would have given away her location, she suspected they had always known. Recalling her fear at the police, she felt a fool, wishing it was them in her house, full of concern for her.

  Instead, held back by a meagre two inches of wood, was Carys’s worst nightmare; here again to torture her and have everyone question her sanity.

  She braced herself as the door handle began its descent to the position that in a micro-moment, without the barrier of the wardrobe to protect them, would provide access to her and Ebe by whoever or whatever was waiting on the other side.

  The room filled with the all too familiar, searing white light and the door creaked open as if the hand pushing it was doing so especially slowly for dramatic effect.

  It continued its arc, and for a moment Carys forgot how the wardrobe had moved by itself, and almost managed to convince herself it was falling open naturally, like it had been blown from its catch by the wind and was now simply continuing that motion.

  The doorway appeared empty for a second. Carys stood blinking in the light, steadfast before the inescapable entry of the figures that had plagued her life entered the room and did whatever they wanted. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  And then they were there. The grotesque, bald, pale-skinned, huge-eyed creatures; just as she remembered them. And just as others had described them on The Discovery Channel.

  “Go away!” she screeched. “Leave us Alone!”

  The creatures, she wasn’t counting how many, moved towards her undeterred. Peering down on them, they were considerably shorter than her. She was surprised as she remembered them taller, but of course, she’d been a child when she last remembered seeing them.

  Looking at her son in the same room with them, she shuddered at the intimacy she must have shared to produce him.

  Where were these meandering thoughts coming from? Was it her life flashing before her? Was she about to die? What would happen to Ebe?

  She had to fight. And she had to win.

  Placing her son behind her, she was shocked and relieved that he was still sleeping. With him safely ensconced behind her, she became a barrier, the only barrier, between the creatures and her son.

  Lunging forward, she struck at one of its huge eyes sending it reeling, but prompted the others to rush towards her.

  She made to lunge again, but found she could no longer move. Her arm was stuck at her side, her legs would not do what her mind wished them to.

  The small creatures parted, allowing a similar looking figure, but far taller, taller even than her, to bisect the group and stand before her.

  “You must do as I say,” a thin line of a mouth warbled. “You will remain unharmed if you do as I say.” The creature’s animalistic voice, like a wounded animal, could be heard by Carys, but distantly; as though she were in a box and the creature was outside of it. Inside the box she heard the words in perfect English.

  “You must do as I say,” the creature reiterated needlessly. “We want the boy. You must give us the child.”

  Every muscle in her body strained against her paralysis, to lash out at this beast who wanted to take away from her the only thing that made her life worthwhile. Her limbs cramped, but she achieved no noticeable movement. From her, the creature was perfectly safe.

  “You must give the boy to us. He will not be harmed.” The assurance unexpected and welcome. She didn’t trust them, but given she had no choice, the idea Ebe would be okay was a straw on which to clutch. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to scream at the creature that he couldn’t have her son. That he could go to Hell and leave her alone.

  Was there nothing she could do against her violators’? She had her mind. And she was the wife of a minister’s son, for god’s sake. That must count for something in the realms of the Divine? She prayed. Nothing happened. But then, from the corner of her eye there was movement!

  She allowed hope to flood her mind and imagined an angel with the Will of The Almighty on its side, smiting these demons back to where they came from and freeing her and her son.

  Hope was short lived as she comprehended the movement she’d peripherally witnessed. It was Ebe.
He hadn’t woken. He wasn’t moving of his own volition. More, he was floating, still unconscious, from the falsely perceived safety provided by him having been behind her legs. He floated in mid-air and over her shoulder to within easy reach of them.

  “Nooo!” she yelled, but no sound came out, not even into the space she imagined as a box. The scream lingered firmly within her head. It didn’t matter. She had long since understood she was on her own. Her parents remained sleeping feet away when she’d screamed out as a child. No-one would help her now.

  They didn’t touch Ebe. There was no need to. They simply allowed him to float through the door and away from his desperate mother who remained so paralysed she could not even cry.

  Then they all left.

  The door closed and the light dimmed, leaving Carys welded to the spot in the corner of the room.

  All she could do was stare at the space she’d last seen her son.

  Expecting at some point the paralysis would wear off, she didn’t know what she’d do when it happened. An overwhelming apathy washed over her. Nothing mattered but Ebe. And now she may never see him again. The hollow emptiness in the pit of her stomach could never be filled by mere tears. But none came. Just an ache like she’d never known.

  When at last, the paralysis did lift, she crumpled to the floor, barely able to breath, the depth of her grief a chasm with no end.

  Where had they taken him? What would they do to him? Would she ever see her funny little boy again?

  She lay on the floor after an eternity of silent grief, empty of sobs, empty of hope. Now she could physically move, emotionally, she was spent. She didn’t know if she’d ever move again.

  There was one change she noticed through her numbness that would usually bring fresh hope, but now its absence made her even more desolate. The humming noise had stopped.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The Feather

  in the river

  It returned in the night, but Carys was unaware. She had fallen into a deep sleep that, she would believe upon waking, had been forced upon her. Whether the noise had anything to do with her experiences, and if it ever had, could be argued and probably would be over the coming weeks and months. Especially in relation to Carys’s sanity; or lack of it.

  When she awoke, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She was in bed, but had no recollection of moving from the floor.

  And then she saw him, and wept.

  Ebe lay beside her, breathing peacefully. Her sobbing woke him and he shuffled across the bed to cuddle her. How?! She couldn’t conceive.

  Had it all been a terrible nightmare? No, it wasn’t possible. She may as well believe her entire life had been a nightmare as to imagine last night hadn’t happened. Wasn’t that always the way? They plonked her in bed and put things back to normal. She trembled at the thought.

  Why didn’t they erase her memory? Perhaps they tried, but she wasn’t susceptible. Or maybe they didn’t bother, and just didn’t fear her telling. Her credibility had never been high.

  She considered possibilities. Either it was real, or she was completely insane. Both options entirely plausible to Carys, and both horrifically objectionable. She noticed from the corner of her eye a mark on the wall. It must have been caused by the wardrobe hitting it! Looking to the floor, there were definite scuff marks on the carpet.

  A tear of relief cleansed her eyes and purged her doubts. She wasn’t insane. It was all true. The horror she’d endured her entire life was real, and she was glad. She hadn’t realised, but facing adversity with full use of her faculties was preferable to her lack of faculties being the cause of her adversity.

  Well, it was over for now, and Ebe was lying unperturbed in her bosom. As with her other experiences with her unknown adversaries, she just had to carry on. There was nothing she could do, no-one she could tell.

  She roused Ebe and got him ready for nursery. They walked down the stairs through the wool, partly destroyed by Marco’s flouncing off last night. Carys wondered if the damage to Ebe’s web is what allowed the creatures into their home, and if the parts left undamaged were the reason Ebe was safe and sound.

  Maybe the strange patterns were magical; like crop circles. She’d seen discovery channel’s explanations. A mix of utter scepticism with testimony from hoaxers, while other testimony from equally credible sources declared them to be everything from extra-terrestrial portals, to time machines, to force magnifiers. It was entirely possible that Ebe’s amazing web of shadow casting wool could be just about anything.

  Leaving it in place, she announced they’d have breakfast on the way to nursery. Carys erected the pushchair but Ebe walked beside it. They ambled down the hill, the streets empty and cool in the early morning sunshine.

  Pleased not to be rushing she decided upon an alternative, scenic route past the church to breathe much needed calmness into her shattered nerves. Skirting steep fields to a small rapidly flowing river at the bottom of the valley, she expected Ebe to tire quickly, but he impressed her with his stamina. In one field they passed a horse who plodded over to them for a fuss.

  “Hello, bach,” Carys clucked to the lovely old bay Cob. She took a sharp intake of breath that was almost painful in the cold morning air as Ebe put his hand out to the gentle horse and fed it grass plucked from the ground on his side of the fence. After the complete disinterest throughout his childhood, it was quite the revelation!

  “You like the horse then, Ebe?” she asked enthusiastically. He smiled up at her and actually made a sound. Nothing discernable, but a sound in response to her question. A lump formed in her throat and she struggled to speak.

  “That’s lovely, cariad,” she said, and a large droplet of salty water ran down her cheek and dripped off her chin. She wiped it away with a laugh.

  “Bye bye, Mr Horse,” she said as they left to continue their journey. Continuing towards the stream, they strode down the hill into a copse of trees after which the path would lead along the river.

  They hadn’t gone far before Ebe became agitated.

  “Do you need your pushchair, sweetheart?” Carys asked, but he wasn’t placated. Whatever is the matter, Ebe?” she asked, becoming concerned now. She was busy examining his legs and arms for signs of nettle stings or something similar when disbelief collided with her expectations once more.

  “Oh!” shouted Ebe. His first almost-word before his utterances became too much for Carys to bear, and she broke down into joyous sobs.

  “There’s a wuffer in the wooper!” Ebe exclaimed. Carys could barely regain her composure to answer before he spoke again.

  “There’s a wuffer in the woooper!!” he said more agitatedly.

  Carys calmed herself enough to realise that Ebe was pointing. She followed his finger to a point in the river. Water rushed, white, over a pile of rocks in the centre, and something else. Something white, of no significance to Carys, but she strained to see what it was.

  A feather, large and white, trapped between the rocks, being battered by the rushing water.

  “Oh No!” Ebe yelled now. “There’s a wuffer in the wooper!!” And it clicked.

  “There’s a feather in the river!” Carys cried. Ebe nodded in agreement.

  “There’s a wuffer in the wooper” he said again, but calmer now.

  “It’s okay Ebe,” his mum reassured. “The feather can’t feel any pain or anything. Maybe a bird will fly down and use it for its nest or something. Don’t worry though. It’s just nature. We should leave it as it is.”

  Ebe was perfectly reassured by his mother’s quickly, cobbled explanation and sat happily, ready for them to continue their journey to nursery.

  And they were Ebe’s very first words.

  By the time he’d reached nursery he’d said all sorts. “Is there nonan in my gink?” he had said with his drinks bottle in his mouth. After many repetitions, Carys deciphered that to mean ‘is there orange in my drink?’

  And then she cried again, when for the first time in his three years
on the planet he uttered the word she had been yearning to hear every day: “Mummy.”

  When Ebe said it, he elongated the sound to ‘mumaaay,’ and repeated himself over and over to the point where Carys suspected that very soon she would be harking back to the good old days of silence.

  The nursery staff were soon in tears as well when they heard Ebe talk for the first time.

  “What’s happened to him?” one of the less senior nursery workers inquired reasonably. Carys didn’t know, and what she suspected, she was keeping to herself.

  She returned home with Ebe later in the day and began the laborious task of removing the wool. Untying it proved more difficult than she’d imagined. Once she’d given full appreciation for Ebe’s incredible dexterity and knot knowledge to be able to tie them in the first place, she began cutting each one with a small paring knife.

  Ebe gave no objection to the removal of his whatever-it-was, and happily sat watching the television news. As Carys snipped and cut away, she realised just how much time and effort it must have taken to construct it.

  A new wave of wonder immersed her as she looked across at her remarkable son, watching television unremarkably; apart from the choice of programme: he’d never shown much interest in children’s programmes.

  A flush of excitement reddened her cheeks at the thought of showing Marco Ebe’s incredible development. As if reading her thoughts, Ebe jumped up.

  “Mummaaay? Mummaaay?” he repeated a few times to make absolutely sure he had her full attention before asking, “Where Marco?” It was perhaps the clearest thing he had said. Carys supposed he’d heard her calling Marco more than Marco had referred to her as mummy.

  “I suppose he must be at work, cariad,” she suggested, realising her assumption that everything would be okay between them might be optimistic.

  “Marco angwee,” Ebe attempted. “Him not like Ebe’s wool formation,” he said matter-of-factly.