HUM by Dan Hawley (chromebook ebook reader TXT) 📕

not make eye contact, but Jason noted that she looked just as tired as the boy.

There was something else, though.

Behind the tired, wrinkled face was fear. Jason could sense it right away; how she grabbed the kid and recoiled from Jason’s presence. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, Jason saw the fear in those eyes.

Maybe the kid was delivering newspapers in his sleep, Jason mused.

Normally he would smile to himself after a joke like that, but the child and his mother were so pathetic-looking that it seemed cruel.

Hopefully they get the help they need, he amended internally.

“Good day, can I help you?” The receptionist was an older lady with grey curls cut short. Jason wondered if there was a specific age when women cut their hair short or if it was more of a feeling they got rather than a hard-and-fast rule. She looked at him through the plexiglass with sharp blue eyes. A white surgical mask covered her face, while a white, knitted sweater covered her bright red scrubs.

“I have an appointment at four with Dr. Luu?”

More of a question than a statement. “Jason Steele,” he added after noting she would likely need his name. “Dr. Luu will be with you shortly, please have a seat.”

The receptionist’s voice was high-pitched and nasal, and it sounded far away through the holes in the plexiglass.

Jason nodded, said thank you, and sat down on a chair near the Ficus—on the opposite side of the room from the boy and his mother.

As Jason sat down, he looked up to see the lady looking at him now. She stared at him with her beady black eyes and hard face while clasping the boy close. Her black mask covered most of her face, but Jason pictured a big, witchy nose and a snarling mouth, half filled with decaying teeth. Probably unfair, but he didn’t like how she was looking at him. She held his gaze until Jason started feeling uncomfortable and looked away. He pulled his phone out as people do when bored, needing to look busy, socially awkward, or scared of human interaction. It was the latter for Jason currently. He definitely did not want to interact with those two.

“Sir?” said the nasal voice from far away. “Sir, you can’t have your phone out in here. Sorry. It’s for privacy concerns. Thank you.”

The steely blue eyes penetrated the plexiglass all the way through to Jason’s nerves. They gave him the willies. “Oh, sorry,” he said as he dumbly noticed the several signs on the wall showing a picture of a cell phone with a line through it. He deposited the phone back in his pocket and sat back.

The red plastic chairs were remarkably comfortable, as if made for his exact ass shape. There was no tv on the wall and no magazines. He couldn’t use his phone and hadn’t brought a book. The woman was still observing Jason with an offending glare. There was only one thing left to do—close his eyes and try to relax.

Green blurred all around Jason as he ran. The thin brown path ran under his feet like a dirt treadmill. Jason ran and ran. He gasped for breath, and his lungs burned and wheezed.

On and on the forest passed as he sprinted. His muscles screamed from the exertion as his heart pounded blood through his veins. His face was calm though, almost serene. His dark-blue eyes were fixed on the path ahead. He knew what he was looking for, and he was on the right track.

Up ahead, in a small clearing, his eyes found the prize, splayed out amongst the dirt, rocks, and dead leaves. The deer had run out the last of its strength and collapsed here, succumbing to its injury. The bullet hole oozed dark crimson, which was beginning to pool on the ground.

The young doe struggled to breathe; snot and steam poured from her nostrils while her tongue hung limp and lifeless from her mouth. Jason approached her, and she didn’t have the energy to escape. She simply lay there with one terror-stricken eye staring up at him.

Where had he seen that before?

Jason bent over with his rifle in one hand, looking down, into the eye.

Where had he seen that before?

So familiar.

He watched with morbid fascination as she struggled to hold on to life. The pool of blood grew and grew and started to swirl. The swirl hypnotized Jason. He stared, his face expressionless and dumb. He felt cold and weak, and his rifle fell to the ground.

“Jason!” shouted a familiar voice from far away behind him. “JASON!” Was that Samantha?

“SAM!” he screamed.

He drew a deep breath, and his bloodshot eyes refocused on the pool of blood that continued to swirl. But the swirling pool was no longer fed from the hole in the deer; it was flowing from the front of a woman; the hiker. The liquid was pouring from so many holes, like a dozen bloody streams feeding a red lake of death.

Jason recoiled in horror.

“Oh God, what the fu…”

He fell back onto his tailbone, sending a shooting pain into his skull.

“No, no, no…”

His eyes slowly made their way up her bloodied torso to her face. He was terrified of what he would see, but he couldn’t stop himself. Finally, past the pale, sunken cheeks and blue lips, his eyes locked with hers. Dull and deep, her eyes locked him in and wouldn’t let go. Jason stared, breathing sharp, deep, and labored breaths.

Into the abyss.

He felt it call to him, beckoning. It seemed…peaceful. Even the cold nothingness would be better than this hell.

He succumbed.

Jason’s taut muscles relaxed, his breathing slowed, the beads of sweat dried on his brow, and he fell in.

CHAPTER 16

“Jason.” The name seemed familiar.

“Jason?” The voice was echoey and distant but soon drew nearer. Jason opened his eyes to the bright lights of the sleep clinic waiting room. Realization dawned on his face and he took in a deep breath—the kind you take after holding your breath underwater