The Hum

By Sharon Mikeworth

The first time Lee Bennett notices the humming sound in the distance, he believes it is coming from the nearby aviation center. But then he hears it again forty-five miles away at the new home he and his wife, Shelby, just moved into, and realizes it is something else entirely.
He soon learns that he is only one of thousands of people around the world who have detected "the Hum." He observes other bizarre things as well in his quest to find the source of the perplexing noise: something is killing the animals, and people are behaving oddly.
As a deadly sickness begins to plague the nearby town's residents, a freak snowstorm descends, and Lee and others must struggle to find a way to halt the potentially far-reaching events before it is too late.

"Sharon Mikeworth has created a masterful horror tale with The Hum. It's an exciting story with twists and turns that keep the reader "on their toes" and surprised by amazing discoveries. It's a different kind of horror tale that engages your imagination and surprises you with the possibilities that the world as you see it may not be all that exists."
— Readers' Favorite

"Taking inspiration from futuristic films like Twelve Monkeys, Mikeworth’s novel expertly blends mystery with science fiction, plunging her characters into a world teeming with very real terrors.”
— Red City Review

“The Hum is an excellent horror/thriller that takes a very simple phenomenon known as the Hum and turns it into a terrifying entry point for an out-of-this-world thriller. If you’re a fan of the horror genre and enjoy fast-paced sci-fi styled stories that push what can be considered believable, then the The Hum is a good choice."
— Reader Views

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sharon Mikeworth
• Release date: Dec 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310274824

Sharon Mikeworth

Award-winning author Sharon Mikeworth was born and raised in South Carolina, where she resides today. Before discovering her passion for storytelling, she worked in the computer industry as a programmer, instructor, and tutor. In her spare time when not writing, she can sometimes be found hiking and canoeing in the nearby Blue Ridge Mountains.

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THE HUM

Copyright © 2016 by Sharon Mikeworth

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

River Nation Publishing

111 N 3rd Street #1021 Smithfield, NC 27577

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover photograph by Skreidzeleu/Shutterstock

Design and layout by Lighthouse24

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication Data

provided by Five Rainbows Cataloging Services

Names: Mikeworth, Sharon.

Title: The hum / Sharon Mikeworth.

Description: Smithfield, NC : River Nation, 2016.

Identifiers: LCCN 2016943949 | ISBN 978-0-692-73463-6 (pbk.)

Subjects: LCSH: Time travel--Fiction. | Epidemics--Fiction. | Man-

woman relationships--Fiction. | Life on other planets--Fiction. |

Horror tales, American. | Science fiction, American. | BISAC:

FICTION / Science Fiction / Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic. |

FICTION / Science Fiction / Time Travel. | FICTION / Horror. |

GSAFD: Science fiction. | Horror fiction.

Classification: LCC PS3613.I462 H86 2016 (print) | LCC PS3613.I462

(ebook) | DDC 813/.6--dc23.

Excerpt from The Hum on Wikipedia used under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 license. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/

Contents

Copyright Page

Dedication

TitlePage

Epigraph

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

Epilogue

Also by Sharon Mikeworth

Back Cover Image

To Nathan

1

Present Day

The first time Lee Bennett stepped out onto his back deck and noticed the strange rumbling, droning sound, he had never heard of the Hum. He had vaguely heard of people reporting a humming sound that couldn’t be identified, but he had been left with the impression that those people had heard an electrical-type noise inside their homes, and since what he was listening to was more of a deep rumbling sound and it was outside, he didn’t connect it to what he was hearing. Therefore he didn’t attribute it to some phenomenon; he attributed it to the nearby Lockheed plant.

The large industrial airpark where Lockheed Martin was located was only about five miles away, so he immediately chalked it up to jet engine maintenance or testing and didn’t think too much more about it.

Forty-five miles away at the house he and his wife would soon move to, he would hear it again and realize it wasn’t the Lockheed plant at all.

* * *

They had used the first part of the advance to rent the house on Deer Creek Road (with an option to buy). There was a barnlike building in the back he’d be able to work in, and now that he’d quit teaching, he would finally be able to fully devote himself to his writing.

Luckily it was never hard to find a job if you were a competent practical nurse, and Shelby had been able to get on at a doctor’s office not too far up the interstate from their new home. Her salary along with the rest of the money would be enough to tide them over until he got the first check for the new book. And then if the last one earned out its advance and continued to sell, he’d start receiving royalties, too.

Shelby shifted around in her seat, turning to look at him. She regarded him, her expression unfathomable. She was so beautiful. There was something about her—a kind of dark beauty. Even now as she stared at him, shrewdly assessing him, he could barely drag his eyes from her to watch the road.

I don’t see the point of buying this house if it’s only going to be the two of us, she suddenly said.

Lee searched for the words to reassure her again and make her understand without committing to anything. If he could get her to wait a little longer, then they could start a family, after he was an established author when he was making money he could depend on and she could quit her job or they could at least hire some help.

Bernie thinks she can get me a three-book deal the next time. Bernie, short for Bernadette, was his agent.

So?

"So, that means I’ll get a larger advance. The first payment would be a third for each book."

And? Your point?

And that means real money. The other checks after that wouldn’t be as much as the first one, but… it takes time to build a strong base, but we’ll be well on our way.

Shelby stayed silent but he knew what she was thinking: If everyone waited until they had enough money, no one would ever have kids. Lord knows her Aunt Cleda had drilled it into her head enough. But Lee didn’t look at it that way. He’d seen all too clear what having a baby early on without getting a good start in life could do. And right now, with money as tight as it was, there was no way they could afford decent daycare. Shelby would have to go back to work after having it and he’d end up the babysitter. One of the sore points in their marriage was Shelby’s inability to understand that he couldn’t write here and there. He had to have a continuous block of time to fully immerse himself in the story. And if it was coming, he couldn’t hit the Pause button; if he didn’t get it down, it was gone. With working full-time, it had taken him nearly three years to write his last novel. He could imagine what it would do to his productivity to constantly have to tend to an infant. The whole point of moving to this house was for him to have room to breathe and a quiet place to work so he could concentrate and get some real writing done. Having a baby now would completely ruin everything.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t ever want to have kids. He stole a glance at Shelby. She had shifted back around—turning away from him—and was now staring out the window.

The road leading to their two-story farmhouse came up sooner than he expected, and he almost passed it. He hit the brakes, instinctively throwing his arm out across Shelby, and barely made the turn, then immediately had to swerve to avoid a dog ambling along the edge of the road.

Whoa, maybe we don’t need to have kids, Shelby said.

Lee felt a pang, knowing what it must have taken for her to joke about it. She must love him. And she deserved so much more. Slowing down, he reached over and grabbed her hand. I love you, babe.

She gazed back at him—resigned. I love you, too.

* * *

Shelby pushed the screen door open and stepped out onto the porch as Lee went to start up the steps with the last box. Avery had already left after helping unload the heavy things from Lee’s truck. It had taken eight loads over the past two days in all three vehicles to get everything, and he was exhausted. And he still had to set up the bed.

Don’t forget you have to at least put up the bedroom blinds, too, Shelby said.

And put up the blinds. Even though the nearest house to theirs was over a mile away and the only eyes peering in would belong to birds, squirrels, and deer.

He shifted the box, letting it rest on his hip. Okay.

And there’s a cow in the backyard.

Lee blinked. A cow.

Yes, a cow.

Well, Gary’s pasture comes all the way down to the house.

A look of disgust flitted across her face. Our backyard is one of Gary’s pastures?

Well, no, there’s a f—

It’s on this side of the fence.

Are you sure?

She turned her head and gave an exaggerated sigh.

Good grief, was she going to make a whole big thing about some cow she saw across the yard?

Shelby turned back to him, her eyes catching on something behind him briefly before focusing in on him again.

It’s only a c— he started saying, then fell silent at the peculiar expression on her face.

Shelby’s chest heaved and she bit her lip.

But I’ll go check it ou— Something slimy flicked across his elbow. "Aaurgh." Lee jumped and fell up the steps, catapulting the box onto the porch.

Shelby burst out laughing. Lee gaped down at the large brown cow now standing at the bottom of the steps.

The cow stood there for a moment longer, as if debating whether or not to climb on up there with him, and then swung its head around and started moving ponderously away.

Where’s it going? Shelby asked.

I don’t know.

They watched as it slowly crossed the yard and stepped into the road.

It sure looks like it knows where it’s going, Lee said, relieved Shelby found the whole thing funny.

The cow picked up its gait and began moving briskly down the center of the old road. At least it wasn’t heading toward the highway.

Shelby opened the screen door to go back into the house. Should you call Gary?

Uh…

Because we can’t have cows traipsing through the yard all the time. I mean, I know this is technically still his property, for now, but can you imagine the mess?

I’m sure it just got out. But I’ll let him know.

And Shelby? he said as she stepped into the house. She looked back at him questioningly.

Thanks for taking everything so well. And I don’t mean the cow. I mean switching jobs and moving all the way out here like this. It means a lot to me.

Shelby gazed at him for a moment and then smiled wryly. Moving was never what I had a problem with. She let the screen fall shut.

* * *

They both finally climbed into bed so tired they had nothing but rest on their minds, only to turn to each other as they were on the cusp of sleep, as they were sometimes wont to do.

You unpack your pills? he murmured.

What?

Your pills. Did you take your pill?

Yes, I took my damn pill, Lee.

Sorry. I just know you haven’t unpacked everything yet.

I unpacked that box. She rolled away from him and stood up.

Where are you going?

To get some water. She paused in the doorway. Would it be so horrible, having children?

Lee could see the dim outline of her standing with her back to him, waiting for an answer. No, but I think we should w—

"Or is there some particular reason you don’t want to make a baby with me?"

What? Lee sat up in bed. What was she getting at?

Shelby turned around to face him. I think it’s ridiculous the way you are so against having a baby. We’re almost thirty! You say it’s about money, but maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s about something else. Maybe I’m going to stay with you for years and years until I’m too old, and then I will have wasted—

Shelby…

—my whole childbearing life.

Your ‘childbearing life’?

You know what the hell I mean! She stalked back over to the bed. My child-bearing years! Stop being a damn writer!

Lee stared up at her face looming over him, at a total loss. Then reason kicked in. She was tired. Exhausted. It had been a long day. And knowing her, she probably hadn’t eaten much.

He switched on the lamp beside the bed and reached for her hand. Come back to bed. You need some rest. I’ll get you something, a snack or some milk to help you sleep.

She let him hold her hand for a moment and then pulled away. Answer the question. Why don’t you want to have a baby with me?

Shelby, you know why.

I don’t think it’s all about money!

Well, it wasn’t all about money, but it was mostly about money. Most of the other reasons could be fixed if they had more money. Having a baby might be more feasible if they had more money. He gazed at the shape of her, standing over by the window now. Young, thin, healthy. Beautiful. Like Heather had been. Heather. No! Lee pushed the memories away, repeating in his mind don’t think about it, don’t think about it like he always did when he sensed the tidal flood of pain about to wash over him. He lay back down, turning his face into the pillow, and managed to stave off the onslaught of grief. Even now, after all these years, it could still creep up on him and surprise him in an instant. He would think he was okay, that the worst of it was over, and then something would set off a memory of those heady days with Heather when all seemed right with the world as long as they had each other, and it would all come rushing back and he’d feel the same gut-wrenching agony he’d felt at nineteen. Shelby knew, of course, that he’d had a girlfriend when he was young and that she had died, but she didn’t really know. He’d loved Heather more than life itself and had wanted to die with her when she passed. He would probably never love anyone as much as he’d loved her. But a wife didn’t need a shadow like that over her marriage, so he let Shelby think she was the love of his life, never, ever, letting on that this might not actually be the case.

He sat up and spent the next ten minutes trying to reassure her that of course it was about the money, about her being able to eventually quit her job, or at least be able to hire some help and afford decent daycare. But nothing he said worked, and when he came back to the bedroom after getting up to get a beer, which he sorely needed at this point, he found the bedroom door locked against him, something she had never done before.

Turning away from the closed door, he walked downstairs, cast a look at the sofa, and carried his beer out to his study.

He worked for a while doing halfhearted research for the new book while he drank it, and then rested his head down on the desk.

* * *

He awoke to darkness. Shit; he’d fallen asleep out in the building.

And something had awakened him. He blinked in the near-complete blackness. The weak illumination from the back light Shelby had thoughtfully turned on for him despite their earlier argument glowed faintly around the frayed edges of the old curtains.

He reached for the desk lamp, and the noise, the same noise he’d half heard in his sleep, came again. He froze, arm still outstretched, and slowly turned his head toward the sound coming through the window. He’d closed the curtains but had forgotten to shut it. He pushed his chair back and moved over to it.

Swaying tiredly, he replayed the scene with Shelby, listening for the sound, which had ceased again. Of course she wanted a baby. He did too. Didn’t he? He pictured a miniature replica of Shelby with wild curly black hair. Yes, he decided, he did. But everything had to be done right. Or people could die. People could become overworked and unhealthy and have complications and die. Lee felt another niggle of grief, and then it was on him—wrenching pain and loss as though Heather had died yesterday. Oh God. Heather. Lee felt a sob rising up from him. It was too much. He reared back as if to knock the pain away—and the noise came again.

Wait. He’d heard that before. At the other house. That same sound. He tugged the curtains aside and pushed up on the window to raise it all the way. The noise rumbled through the air for another few seconds and then abruptly cut out.

What the hell? Lee listened for another minute. Hearing nothing, he left his study, crossing the wooden floor of the building’s lower level, and pulled open the door.

He stepped outside. Other than the thin pool of illumination coming partway across the yard from the back light, it was pitch-black. There was barely any wind, so he didn’t immediately register the cold, but after a few seconds he could feel it enveloping him, sapping his warmth. He looked up but could see only blackness and the diffuse glow of the moon behind a bank of clouds. He turned away from the house and walked around the side of the building, letting his eyes adjust further to the darkness. He could barely make out the shape of the ground and the shadow of woods beyond. Gary’s cow pasture ran all the way down to the fence marking their property line, but over here on the side, it was nothing but forest all the way down to an old empty house, and then nothing again until you hit the highway.

It was eerily quiet. No barking of dogs or yipping of coyotes, no cows lowing, no night creatures rustling around. Nothing but complete silence.

He turned around to walk back to the house, and the unsettling sound once again cut through the still night air. The outside light flickered, seemed to grow brighter for a second, and then went out.

Lee stopped in his tracks. The distant rumbling noise seemed to reverberate from all directions at once. Ignoring the goose bumps breaking out on his arms, he turned in a circle, trying to pinpoint it.

It was hard to tell, but it seemed to be marginally louder over by the woods. But what was over that way? Surely not another Lockheed plant. But it was the same sound, he was sure of it.

So, not a jet engine being tested.

Then what the hell was it?

The deep hum coming through the night air increased in intensity. Definitely not a jet. He thought of the alien ships looming over the Earth in War of the Worlds and felt the hair stir on the back of his neck.

Something brushed against his leg, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. But it was only their cat, Cookie. She wound around his legs once and then bounded toward the porch steps, a white smudge in the blackness. He followed after the cat, feeling strangely comforted by her presence.

The distant roaring sound continued for another few seconds, and then as quickly as it started, the droning hum stopped, and the light by the back door flickered and then came on, burning steadily.

Slowly, as he made his way across the yard, the normal night sounds resumed—one of Gary’s cows chewing across the pasture, and a deer blowing somewhere back in the trees.

He hurried up the steps and into the house, letting the cat in with him, accidentally kicking the catbox on his way through the enclosed porch, scattering litter across the concrete floor. He looked down at the pet door he and Avery had installed, stepped back out onto the porch, locked the outer storm door, and then went back inside and bolted the inner door.

2

The next morning Lee got up earlier than usual, partly because he wanted to make it up to Shelby, and partly because he could tell his restlessness was bothering her. He had found the bedroom door open once again when he came back in the night before and had crawled into bed beside Shelby a few minutes later and fallen asleep almost instantly. But then he’d awakened right before dawn, the fight with Shelby and the reemergence of the mystifying sound playing through his mind over and over, bringing him unwillingly to wakefulness.

He got the coffee pot going and went out onto the back porch while it perked and sat down at the old worn table they’d dragged out of the kitchen.

Through the windows that wrapped around and enclosed the porch, he watched as the sun rose—purplish-pink and then salmon, spreading out into the sky above the woods on the other side of the pasture. They’d never been able to see the sunrise over at the old place. The slope of the land and the trees around the little house they’d rented had completely blocked the sunrises and sunsets.

He considered waking Shelby up to see it and then decided to let her sleep. Even if she didn’t mind him waking her, he knew what it would lead to. Beautiful sunrises would be another merit of living in this house out in the country, added to the mental list Shelby already had of things that would be great when they had children: the bucolic setting, which would give the kids a safe and idyllic place to grow up in; the large yard, perfect for growing children who needed space to run and jump and play; the clean air, free of pollutants and exhaust fumes; and of course, the two other bedrooms just waiting to be decorated in delicate pink and navy blue. When he’d first suggested taking the advance and moving to a bigger place out in the country, he’d been afraid she’d balk at living in such solitude away from the convenience of the city, but that hadn’t been the case at all. If anything, she liked the idea too much. She saw way more in the house than he did. He simply thought of it as a place that would enhance his work and expedite his writing career, whereas she seemed to see if filled with the spirits of their future children.

Unbidden, a vivid memory reared up into Lee’s consciousness. The look of delight on Heather’s face at the crib he’d bought and put together as a surprise. He firmly pushed the image back down again.

His thoughts turned to the mysterious sound he kept hearing. He’d heard plenty of aircraft in his life, but that hadn’t been what it sounded like. He stood up and went back inside to the coffee pot that was making its last gurgling hiss. Something atmospheric? No, no way. It hadn’t been wind or thunder or anything like that. It had been too… mechanical, disturbing… almost frightening.

Lee shivered and realized he was staring off into space with his mouth hanging slack. He closed it, grabbed a coffee mug out of the cabinet, and filled it with the steaming brew. A weather balloon? Did weather balloons make noise? He added sugar and creamer. Maybe, but a couple of those days at the other house it had been clear out—near dusk, but clear with decent visibility—and he hadn’t seen anything. Maybe some specific set of conditions allowing sound to travel from a great distance? But why only that sound? Why aren’t I hearing other noises?

Shelby walked into the kitchen, startling him. He jerked slightly and took a big sip of his coffee to cover it up, burning his tongue in the process.

He took another smaller sip. He watched as Shelby got out a cup and filled it.

Ignoring the sugar and creamer, she leaned against the counter and gulped her coffee, not even wincing. Shelby liked hers black and hot, too hot, and drank it like it was medicine.

I heard that sound again last night.

Blinking groggily, Shelby gulped at her coffee again before speaking. What sound?

You know, from the other house. The sound from Lockheed. I heard it again.

She blinked at him some more, drained her cup, and refilled it. But I don’t think there’s a Lockheed plant around here.

I know.

An airport or a… what do you call it… an aviator complex?

Aviation center.

Yeah. Is there one of those close by?

I don’t know of one. It was possible. But he didn’t think so.

Anyway, Shelby said, and Lee dragged his attention back to her. Whenever Shelby started a sentence with anyway he could be sure it would end with a litany of worries, complaints, and ultimately chores and errands he’d be expected to take care of.

Anyway, I’m going to finish putting the curtains up, and then later Amber is coming by with Bella.

Lee barely restrained himself from groaning. But he had gotten up early determined to give her a good day, and he was going to try his best to make that happen, no matter what.

He forced himself to smile. Oh, is she?

And I need for you to put what I have piled on the dining room table up into the attic—

Okay.

—and take all the empty boxes off…

Lee nodded attentively, letting her get it all out. Shelby relied on her daily dose of caffeine but sometimes it made her anxious, and he had learned the hard way to take special care with her in the mornings. He had once upset her about a year into their marriage when he’d ignored her as she tried to talk to him about a spider problem they’d been having. She’d been going on about spraying bug killer and plugging holes and cracks and replacing screens—he had planned on caulking everything up and all, one day, just not that day—and not wanting to deal with it right then, he hadn’t really acknowledged her. The more Shelby talked and fretted and worried, the quieter he had become until finally she had gone silent and walked away.

And that had been the end of it—he thought. A few days later, in quiet frustration, she had somehow managed to capture a large spider. And she had taken that freakishly big arachnid, waited until he went to sleep, ripped back the covers, and shaken the nasty hairy thing right out onto his bare chest. And then while he shrieked and threw himself off the side of the bed, she had calmly walked out of the house—and refused to come back in until he captured and killed it!

A lot of people that lived in the Deep South claimed to have Native American blood in their veins, but with Shelby he