The Hum of Taos

By Andrew Duvall

A rash of mysterious murder-suicides in Taos, New Mexico, leads local police to an investigation of a supernatural sound driving innocent people to kill.
 
A Hum is terrorizing the small town of Taos, New Mexico. Those who hear the droning vibration go insane, killing others in a fit of rage before turning their hatred on themselves and committing suicide. Stumped, the town sheriff and deputy call on the state’s foremost Audiologist, hoping to discover some rational explanation. But it soon becomes apparent to all involved in the investigation that the Hum is beyond the scope of science. Was it a paranormal force or some kind of divine retribution? The only thing clear is that as long as the Hum persists, no one is safe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Oct 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781639842940

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The Hum of Taos

By: Andrew Duvall

The Hum of Taos by Andrew Duvall

Copyright © 2021. All rights reserved.

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Published by Pen It! Publications, LLC in the U.S.A.

812-371-4128 

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ISBN: 978-1-63984-073-1

Edited by Cassy Cochrun

Cover Design by Donna Cook

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Dedication

To my mother, I love you.

Prologue

Thursday: 7:00 PM

Dark green trees hover over a dirt path basking it in haunting shadows. With his orange robes billowing out behind him, a monk runs for all his life down this path. His breath comes out in ragged gasps sending wisps of vapor into the air. Sweat pours down his face, stinging his eyes.

His legs wobble as the path turns steep. Just when he thinks he’s going to fall, the trail becomes straight again. There’s evil chasing him. Fear painted on his features. Every line of his face is edged with the fear of what is to come.

The horror he witnessed back at the monastery was unimaginable. His own friends, monks he had known for years, turning on each other, attacking each other. It was getting bad for a while, but he never thought it would get this bad.

For a few years now, they heard it. The Hum of Taos. They thought it was a gift, a tool to help them on their way to the next life. Oh, how wrong they were. It started off, giving them a feeling of overwhelming peace. Then the headaches came a few months after that. Only a tiny number of the forty or so monks came down with these headaches.

The headaches turned into migraines a couple of months later. Then more monks started to get these headaches while the ones who were already feeling them got the migraines.

A few months later, almost a year from when they started hearing the hum, the monks who got the headaches first were now nearly full-blown crazy. They would attack their fellow monks in a fit of rage. One monk actually killed another one of his brothers. Used a tree branch to crack open his fellow monk’s skull.

He can still remember the sound, sounded like thunder. His friend’s brain leaked out of the broken open skull and ran towards him like a river of his nightmares.

Murder; unheard of in his time at the monastery.

The next year was as if hell had arrived for them all. One by one, monks would come down with migraines, slowly turning them crazy. They would have to hold these crazy monks in their rooms. Lock the door, feeding them twice a day as if they were deranged pets.

After months, only a few monks were left standing, while all the others were locked up in their rooms. No amount of praying and no amount of hope was going to save them.

Evil had arrived for them all.

Then early this morning, any hope of containment vanished. The crazed monks escaped from their rooms. The result was almost instantaneous.

Death. Destruction. Evil.

Some of the crazed monks couldn’t even get out of their rooms; they were so severely gone. Others killed themselves long ago; their mangled, broken bodies laid strewn about their rooms. The monks that did get out promptly attacked the remaining monks.

He was in the library when it happened, sending an email on the only computer they had to his friend Dr. Graham.

Dr. Graham was up here two years ago only a few days after they started hearing the hum. If only they all understood what Dr. Graham was telling them, if only they heeded his warning.

The monk stumbles, almost face planting into the dirt path. It’s a long way down to where he needs to go. He has to keep his mind sharp and clear of distracting thoughts. He might be their only hope.

So much death…

He heard them before he saw them, the primeval grunts. The screams of agony as hell came to his monastery. Monks were running after each other, jumping each other, stabbing each other with broken bed frames.

So much blood…

He never thought he’d see so much blood.

After sending the email, he looked out the small library door to see the evil that had escaped. Everywhere he saw monks killing each other or sometimes killing themselves to get away from the hum; to get away from the pain.

He heard it too, a terrifying sound. Seemed to be hunting for him. So he climbed out of one of the windows, running as fast as he could to escape. He needed to warn them all.

He hears the Hum again, sounds like a diesel engine reverberating around him. It grabs him, holds onto to him, becomes him. There’s no escaping the evil that chases him.

The Hum is like waves on a beach, receding for a moment only to come back in full force.

He takes a glance behind him, seeing evil pursuing his every step. His run turns into a full-on sprint.

Please no… Help me… Please…

He can’t hold on much longer. He knows his time is short.

Give me one more chance… Please… One more chance…

With every ounce of energy he has left in his withered battered body, he keeps running. He can’t slow down. He can’t stop.

The Hum is behind him. He can feel it on the back of his neck, can feel it in the beating of his heart. Goose-pimples erupt over every inch of his skin. Fear radiates off of him like steam on a hot summer day.

He has but one choice left and that’s to survive. Survive so others can be warned. Survive so others may live.

They made a mistake. They should have warned them years ago. Warn them what was in store for them all. Please… One more chance… Please…

The path turns steep; his sprint becomes a stumble; his stumble becomes a fall. Rolling down the path, his world turns upside down and then upright again. Over and over, he tumbles down this cursed path.

I’m done… There is no helping those that don’t deserve help. There is no escaping the monster that haunts us. There is no safe haven. Only the hell that we have become. That is what awaits us all…

With a hard crash, he lands in a heap at a flat area of the path. Bruised and battered, he lays there contemplating his life and the decisions he has made, the decisions that have led him to his doom.

Another Hum… More of a growl like that of a Lion.

I’m its prey…

Ever so slowly, he starts crawling to safety.

There is no safety. Never was. Never will be.

The monk grabs one of the tree trunks that’s by him, pulling himself onto his feet. His knees are bleeding; red hot sticky blood drips down his legs. He can feel it burning his flesh. He can see steam rising from where the blood is pooling around his feet.

What’s happening to me?

He needs to warn them. He needs to warn them all. There’s nothing left in him though; he’s an empty vessel. Is he him anymore?

Hard to tell. Hard to see. Hard to think. Hard to feel.

Evil has arrived…

Staggering a few feet from the tree, he loses his balance falling on his bleeding knees, pain courses through his legs up to his chest and into his brain. No amount of praying can save him. He is alone. He has always been and always will be alone.

He hears the Hum again. A calming feeling overtakes him.

Fight it!

Memories from his childhood flood his mind, fleeting images of a happy, giggling kid. He was once… Once what?

I belong to it. I have always belonged to it. I will always belong to it.

The pain is overwhelming. This pain is in every muscle and every fiber of his body. His soul threatens to fly away. Does he have a soul?

Another Hum…

His soul is gone, taken to a place no one wants to be. Others must feel what he is feeling. Others must know what he now knows.

The monk stands up with much difficulty and starts running drunkenly down the path. His legs wobble. His mind rattles. He is no more. Absolute darkness stalks the edges of his vision.

Every step he takes seems to echo around him. Every movement of his muscles shoots an aching pain into his soul.

What soul? I have failed at everything in my life. I deserve what awaits me.

Another stumble…

Another fall… 

There’s nothing he can do; his life is in its grasp. He’s on his back, his breath coming in heavy gasps. In and out. In and out. He’s having trouble catching the air in his lungs. He’s drowning.

Drowning?

Frozen. He’s frozen. So cold. It grabs him. Becomes him.

With much effort, he glances to his left. He’s on the top of a mountain, stretching beneath him is the twinkling lights of Taos, New Mexico.

It’s going to take them all. It’s going to kill them all. There is no help for anyone. Darkness overcomes his vision; it’s terrifyingly simple the way it overtakes you.

He can still hear, but everything sounds muffled as if he’s underwater.

Another Hum…

It shatters what is left of his world. All he is the Hum. All he has ever been is the Hum. All he will ever be is the Hum.

The end has come… Evil is here. Evil…

The monk lays there on the ground. No discernible movement is detectable, no breath coming from his lungs. Dark clumpy red blood oozes out of every hole in his body. The blood steams as it pours out of him burning his skin. This clumpy red blood flows down the path like lava. Pops and crackles echo around the mountain.

Another Hum…

It seems to move with the wind towards the sleepy town of Taos.

Death has arrived for them all…

Part One:

Friday:

Chapter 1: 4AM-8AM

Chapter 2: 8AM-12PM

Chapter 3: 12PM-4PM

Chapter 4: 4PM-8PM

Chapter 5: 8PM-SAT

Chapter One

4:00 AM

An old battered, weathered-looking police car is parked on the edge of a dirt road on the outskirts of the small artsy town of Taos, New Mexico. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains looms large behind casting an ominous shadow. The silver moon hangs in the sky like a watchful eye. Early morning dew lingers on every surface. The hoot of a Burrowing Owl is heard echoing through the countryside. 

Small towns feel peaceful; everyone knows each other; everyone is kind to each other. The air is clean; the wind is calming. Even the summer heat washes away the pain of life. People in Taos live their lives in harmony with the world around them. None wants the hustle and bustle of city life. All enjoy hearing the sound of nature humming in their ears.

A low Hum is heard; it’s coming from the interstate some distance away, a diesel engine. It seems to reverberate around the world.

Sitting in the front seat of the police car reading ‘The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying’ is Native American Deputy Aviaja Esmeralda. Her brown hair cut short. Her dark eyes set deep into her face. Her eyes move left to right in a rhythmic movement as she reads her book intently.

An old computer sits next to her. The interior of the car is old; the seating covers peeling. A sweet musky smell overwhelms the senses. All of this doesn’t seem to bother Aviaja. She sits there, reading her book while biting her fingernails. A breeze rustles her hair through the open side window.

Another diesel engine driving down the interstate. Another Hum.

She takes a glance out the window, sees the tree limbs rustling in the wind. So many trucks these past couple of months. People going about their lives. Aviaja shakes her head. This town used to be quiet, always felt like you were away from the world. Could hide here, forever alone.

Not anymore, slowly, but surely the world is catching up to her small town of Taos. People think that it’s good. More money will come here and then, before they even can blink, their little town will be no more. They’ll miss it, but by then it will be too late. Makes her sad.

Her radio chirps, waking her from her thoughts. Deputy Esmeralda, come in. Over. Her radio squeaks out.

Aviaja rolls her eyes. She was just getting into her book, doesn’t want to stop reading. You can learn everything you will ever need to know from The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. Learn how to be free even though you’re trapped; trapped in this world, trapped in history, trapped in your own mind.

She grabs her radio. Deputy Esmeralda here. Over.

The radio chirps again. I can’t find the sheriff anywhere. Possible Code one-eight-seven. Need you to check it out. Over.

Aviaja marks her place in her book, her hands shake with nerves.

Code one-eight-seven? Can it really be?

She takes a deep breath and puts the book gently in the seat next to her. She presses the talk button on the radio. Copy. Send the address and I’ll head that way. Over and out.

She glances around, looking at her town. A feeling of love engulfs her, this place, her home. She’s been here her whole life. Her parents were from here; God rest their souls. Their parents, and their parents as well. She can trace her lineage back to the natives of old.

What would they say of her now?

Memories of her life flood through her mind, playing catch with her dad in their back yard and taking walks in the woods with her grandfather. He would always give her little nuggets of wisdom. Cooking with mother and grandmother.

Things were easier when she was younger. Not so complicated.

Code one-eight-seven. Murder… Can it really be murder? Is this how officers in big cities feel?

The fear is racing through every nerve of her body. One murder and a cold sweat has already taken hold of her. Her hands are clammy; her brain is running a million miles an hour. Her heart beating out of her chest. She can feel her blood pumping through her veins.

All she ever wanted to do was be a police officer. Ever since she was a little kid, she’d play Cops and Robbers with her dad. Being an only child gave her so much time with her parents. They loved her, took care of her. All she ever wanted to do was pay it forward. Take care of the town she calls home now that she can’t take of her parents.

Her parents died when she was sixteen. She floated in and out of different foster parents, never finding a place she could call home. At eighteen, she was on her own, lived in different communes all over the state, lived on the streets of Albuquerque. She remembered thinking that there has to be more to life than this; she has to do more.

Aviaja moved back to Taos when she was twenty-three. She got a job at a grocery store, applied to the police force and was accepted a year later. She’s been deputy for two years and her life has a purpose now after feeling lost in the wind for so many years. She found her