HUM by Dan Hawley (chromebook ebook reader TXT) 📕

cracked slightly as she finished her unplanned rant. Tears burst from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks and onto the bedding. She covered her face with trembling hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

Jason grimaced.

He sat up, put his hand on her back, and rubbed soothingly.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said softly.

Her sobs slowed a little at his touch. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to do about it. Are we just supposed to pack up and leave?”

He paused for effect.

“What about my job? What about our lease? Where would we even go? Back to Scranton?” His voice became indignant. “So what? Mommy and Daddy can take care of you?”

Jason’s nostrils flared, and the words tasted sour and hot as they left his tongue. Samantha’s sobs stopped, and she removed her hands from her puffy, wet face. She stared at Jason the way only someone who has been deeply hurt by a person they love can stare. Jason’s hard expression softened at the sight of the pain in Sam’s dark eyes. He looked away with a touch of shame.

Samantha got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. She ran cool water and splashed it over her face. She reached for a towel and dried herself off. Jason heard her blow her nose and then saw her reemerge from the dark bathroom. She got back into bed, turned her lamp off with a click, and pulled the covers up to her chin, facing away from Jason. He sat quietly a little longer, staring at the wall, going over what had just happened in his head. With a deep sigh, he lay down, pulled the covers up, and turned his lamp off as well.

CHAPTER 23

Jason’s body twitched as he floated through the thick and heavy veil between the sleep realm and reality. Disturbing, uncomfortable images faded away beneath him as consciousness stirred and regained control. His brain began the process of firing up to allow his senses to transmit information to it once more.

Jason could hear the wind whipping around the building, coming and going in prolonged bursts; the distant, busy traffic sounds of rubber on concrete and muffled engine roars.

His mouth was dry and bitter, which made him lick his parched lips and swallow in an attempt to summon lubricant.

Early morning light threatened entry on the other side of his closed eyelids. He fought the urge to open them, clinging to the last dregs of sleep.

He filled his lungs through his nose, recognizing the sweet smell of Samantha’s bodywash that he had helped apply to her back the day before. Lavender and honeysuckle; sweet and delicate, just like her.

There was something else, though, another smell. Something dull and metallic. The images that had receded back under the dream veil flashed again in his mind’s eye, quickly and clearly.

Jason instinctively reached out to touch Samantha to make sure she was there. His panic calmed slightly as his hand found purchase. His eyes flew open, and the images receded back down into their watery void.

He lay watching Sam, his hand now resting gently on her stomach. The cotton of her shirt was soft against his palm. She was so still—her face like marble, calm and serene. Jason slowly moved his hand down across Sam’s pelvis to grab the meat of her thigh.

His hand found something wet and thick.

Jason rubbed the pad of his thumb against his forefinger. Viscose liquid, neither warm nor cold. Jason’s banished images crashed back into his mind with a flash of lightning and pain.

His heart sank and fluttered in his chest, skipping beats as it pounded against his ribcage. Beads of cold sweat squeezed through his pores and onto his skin. The complete racks of fear took control. Jason had been elbow deep in enough deer carcasses to know the unique viscosity of blood.

And now it was on his hands again.

But there were no deer, no wild game, not even the hiker. There was only Sam.

Oh my God! His mind raced. His body solid and stuck; it would not move. He could only stare at Sam.

Was she breathing?

He couldn’t tell.

Was her damn chest moving!? Shit! I don’t know! There’s no way. No fucking way!

It’s just a dream, a bad dream about the hiker again, looking up at me with hollow, dead eyes.

Jason forced his hand to move. He had to know. He pulled his trembling hand up and out from under the blanket and stared at it in horror. He could do nothing but stare. Slack-jawed and numb, he stared at his bloody palm, not wanting to believe, but the evidence was right there, right in front of his face, smelling dull and metallic.

He had killed her.

He had killed her in his goddamn sleep.

The images weren’t dreams; they were memories. Memories of killing his fucking girlfriend and—wait. She stirred?

She stirred!

Jason’s thoughts came to a complete and utter stop as his gaze moved from his bloody hand to Samantha. She was looking at his hand now too.

He blinked.

He wanted to talk, to say anything, but he couldn’t. Samantha looked at Jason and then back at his hand with disgusted puzzlement.

“Jay?” she asked, then fainted.

“Sam?” Jason said flatly.

His thoughts were racing. Finally his body sprang into action.

“Babe!?”

Jason reached down, touched her face, and moved it back and forth. His bloody, shaking hand moved from her chin bone to her neck. He pressed two fingers against the warm flesh above the carotid artery. Samantha’s life force bumped against his fingers in slow, powerful waves. Jason sighed with heavy relief.

“Oh, thank God.” He jumped to his knees beside her and threw the blankets back in one quick flail of movement.

“Jesus,” he said as he scanned her body. He had expected to see dark-red gashes surrounded by bright crimson liquid soaking the fabric of her shirt. Images of the hiker’s punctured body raced across his thoughts.

Blood had stained Samantha’s shirt, but only at the bottom. Below that, her shorts, the cute ones with pictures of stars and