HUM by Dan Hawley (chromebook ebook reader TXT) 📕

sure he would, at least eventually; he wasn’t happy either. COVID had thrown a wrench in the plan, but even without the global pandemic, Sam knew she would not have been happy out here.

Moving during a pandemic would probably be difficult, she thought, and likely dangerous. They could catch the virus at the gas pumps, at restaurants, at hotels. The thought of that saddened her. How we took life before for granted, she thought as she rolled over onto her other side, plugged in her phone, and set it on the table.

She clicked off the lamp and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. With a deep breath, she pulled the blanket up to her chin and allowed her eyes to close.

* * *

“How does that feel?” the nurse asked as she stepped back from affixing the last probe to Jason’s face. She turned to the machine she had wheeled in earlier and began clicking buttons and toggling switches.

“Not too bad,” Jason replied. “Although I feel a bit like some kids’ science experiment.”

Jason chuckled. His nerves were showing more than he would have liked, but the nurse didn’t seem to notice or care. There were eight probes taped to his face. Eight wires sprouted from under each piece of medical tape, then hooked into a small black box fastened to his chest.

The box blinked with two small lights, and Jason found himself smiling.

“I look a bit like Vader, don’t you think?”

His nerves calmed as he pictured himself strong with the force.

The nurse turned and bent over him again; her breasts strained against her clothing as she adjusted a probe that wasn’t picking up signal.

Jason could see nothing else but her chest, a few inches from his face. He tried not to look and even considered closing his eyes, but he was only a man after all. His shorts grew under the thin blanket as the perky breasts floated in front of his face, teasing him.

She’s doing this on purpose! he thought. She didn’t need to be right in my face with those; she could stand off to the side. What does she think? I’m just gonna grab her and pull her onto the bed, on to me? Tear her tight shirt and constricting bra off to get a good look at those puppies?

His groin grew again at the thought.

Like what? She’s just gonna jump on top of me and start riding me in front of these cameras? Put on a show for the perverts?

His member stood at full attention now, ready for action, warm with blood.

What a slut!

His thoughts were interrupted when the nurse finished attaching the new probe and leaned back to look at it. Jason quickly and discreetly tucked his hardon under the waistband of his shorts to hide it. The nurse leaned back and pushed a button on the black chest monitor. She seemed satisfied as the machine beeped and the lights turned from red to green.

“There we are,” she said as she tinkered with the machine on the cart. “Now, just relax and let the monitor do its thing. If you need anything, please press the button on the remote attached to your bed, and someone will be in to help. You can sleep however you normally sleep, the probes shouldn’t come off, and if you need to go to the bathroom, that is fine as well. Again, we ask that you stay in your room until the test is concluded in the morning.”

She waited for a moment, her glassy eyes piercing his as if searching for what lay behind them.

“Oh…ok, thank you,” Jason stammered.

He suddenly felt very guilty about his thoughts. Could the machine pick up what he was thinking about? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Imagine if people could read each other’s thoughts…then we’d know just how sick everyone really is!

“Any questions?” she asked, eyes still piercing.

“No, I think I’m good here, thanks again.”

The nurse bowed her head slightly and then left, closing the door behind her with a click. Jason stared after her. His eyes moved to the black box on his chest, then to the camera.

It was watching. Constantly. Judging him.

Jason looked away quickly. He grabbed his phone, texted Sam goodnight, and turned off the lights—quite tired and ready for sleep.

* * *

Samantha’s eyes flew open, but no other part of her body would move. Her eyes rolled around in her unmoving head feverishly. Pure terror grasped her and held her still. She fought against the fear; she fought against the invisible hands holding her down. She tried to scream or yell for help, but all that escaped her lips was soundless air. A single, shiny tear fell from her eye and streaked her cheek with salt. It was as if all the breath inside her had been taken and not allowed back in.

She had fallen off the jungle gym again; the wind knocked completely out of her. She gasped and struggled like a drowning goldfish. Her lips puckered and pursed in a futile effort to draw breath. Her skin turned purple, and veins popped against the strain.

Find your breath, Sam, find your breath. It’s a night terror; you’ve had this before. You’re ok. You’re ok.

Suddenly the invisible hands let go, receding into the night. Her lungs again accepted air as she sucked it in greedily. She sat up and clutched her chest, her breathing heavy and labored. She continued to sit until she calmed down once again. Her heart rate eventually slowed and normalized. Saliva came back to moisten her dry mouth. The few beads of sweat on her forehead dried in the night air. Her breathing relaxed and became natural again, but instead of silence in the gaps between inhale and exhale, she heard only the hum. Samantha sat still for a moment, listening. She hated that sound. She hated hearing it, and she hated what it was doing to Jason.

“Fuck you, hum,” she said quietly as she lay back and turned on