The Hum (3 page)

CHAPTER 3

Kevin was more than a little hurt by Wayne’s admission that he wasn’t wanted. Not knowing what else to do, he turned and left the room without another word. When he got back to his own room, despair settled in, and he started entertaining Wayne’s idea of running away.

Maybe I could run off to Santa Fe and live on the streets there. The town is a good two hour’s drive south, and the other kids at school have nothing but good things to say about the area. They have a Wal-Mart, so that’s a plus. Or maybe I could move in with Tommy and his family. Would they allow me to stay with them, if I told them the truth? They’d probably just call my parents, and then everything would come out in the open. But was that really such a bad idea? What if mom and dad do find out?

Kevin quickly dismissed the idea of moving in with Tommy. He couldn’t bring anyone else in on his madness, his personal hell. He continued wrestling with the nightmare his life had become, until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

Hearing movement inside his room, Kevin slowly opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them as he did so. He saw the pillow coming towards his face just in time to turn on his side and bound out of bed. When he got to his feet, he saw his brother Wayne with that same maniacal look in his eyes, coming after him with pillow in hand.

“What are you doing, Wayne?”

Whispering, Wayne said, “I just thought I’d help make you disappear. Think about this for a minute, Kevin. If you’re dead, you won’t have to constantly be looking over your shoulder. You won’t have to worry about what I will do next. Because I can guarantee you that I won’t stop until you’re gone.”

“Do you even hear yourself? You’re talking about killing your own brother, your only sibling. Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m well aware of what I’m doing here, Kevin. Now, lie down and go peacefully.”

Seeing that his brother had finally lost it, Kevin knew he had to get out of there, quick. Noticing his old wooden bat lying off to his right side, he made a lunge for it. With slugger in hand, he turned to swing it on Wayne, but his brother was no longer there. All he heard was the sound of his bedroom door closing, as Wayne slipped out.

With pure adrenaline flowing through his veins, he gathered himself up off the floor, and collapsed on the bed, in a heap. And then he started to cry. All the years of anguish at dealing with Wayne flooded out through his eyes, soaking his pillow. He cried for what seemed like an eternity, until he heard his mom calling from downstairs, saying dinner was ready.

When Kevin made it to the table for dinner, his mom immediately asked, “Are you okay, son?”

“I’m just not feeling too good.”

“I hope you’re not coming down with something.” Wayne decided to take another jab, as he said,

“Maybe it was from that pillow fight we had earlier.”

Giving him a look of death, Kevin said, “Pillow fights are better when you actually know you’re having one.”

No one else in the room but Wayne understood the comment, but Kevin didn’t care. He decided that very minute that he would find a way to end their little game for good. The humming inside his head seemed to take on a joyful note once he made the decision to take Wayne’s life; almost as if it were celebrating the idea.

About three months later, Kevin happened upon a pile of rat poisoning that his dad had put out to keep the rodents away from the straw they’d stored up to feed the cattle through the winter. He’d seen movies where the stuff had been used to poison humans, so he thought it might work on Wayne. He quickly dismissed the idea, and was actually a little ashamed that he’d even thought of it in the first place. Later that same afternoon, Wayne tripped him and shoved him headfirst into the back door as they were coming in from the fields.

Sitting on his bed rubbing his head, Kevin plotted how to get the poison into Wayne’s food. For dinner that night he volunteered to help set the table. He’d snuck out earlier, taken six pellets of the rat poisoning, grinded them down into a greenish looking powder, and placed it in a small crayon box from his room. “Can I go ahead and scoop everyone’s food onto their plates, mom?”

“I usually like to let everyone serve themselves, Kevin. You never know who wants what around here.”

“Please, just this one time, mom?”

“I guess so, since you’ve been such a big help with dinner tonight.”

Making sure his back was to his mom, Kevin quickly scooped Wayne out a hearty helping of chicken, and mashed potatoes filled with
rat poison
. With the contents of the crayon box completely emptied out in the potatoes, he quickly stirred them up, to hide his sin.

When his dad prayed a blessing over the food, he almost lost his nerve and called the whole thing off. But seeing the smirk on Wayne’s face as he looked over at him caused him to dismiss his doubt. Wayne tore into the chicken and potatoes with such vigor that Kevin actually began to wonder if he’d put enough poison in them.

Throughout the meal, and afterwards while they had dessert, Kevin kept a watchful eye on his brother. When he saw Wayne grab his stomach, he prayed no one would figure out what he’d done. The guilt and fear held him in its grasp for many long hours following the dreadful episode.

As the night droned on, Wayne eventually excused himself for a bathroom break. That break lasted over twenty minutes, the longest twenty minutes of Kevin’s life. His mind ran through a gambit of thoughts on what was going on behind that closed door, none of which brought him joy.

“Are you okay in there, boy? Your dessert’s getting cold. You can’t let apple pie sit out like this, son.” Kevin’s dad yelled, causing him to jump.

Kevin immediately pictured Wayne lying face down next to the toilet, dead.

When no reply came, his father got up to investigate.

Kevin listened in, as chaos broke out in the Black home. He heard his dad yell for his mom, but everything around him felt surreal. He now imagined Wayne collapsed dead in the floor near the toilet, with his dad holding his head in his lap. He was snapped out of his trance by his dad shouting for him to help carry Wayne to his room.

After laying Wayne’s weakened body onto his bed, Kevin felt the full brunt of what he’d done. While his dad thought Wayne was coming down with the flu or something and just needed to sleep it off, Kevin knew the truth. He looked down at his older brother before exiting the room, and the humming planted a thought in his head,
at least now I won’t have to worry about locking my door at night
.
You had it coming!

It was different this time too—it was peaceful almost, satisfied.

Emboldened by the thought of finally being able to live a normal childhood, Kevin smiled a bit at the knowledge of what he’d done. Sure, he still felt guilty, but at least he didn’t have to look over his shoulder every minute of the day and night. The added bonus of seeing Wayne in his current state was that it seemed to make the horrible humming sound in his ears happy, and for that Kevin was thankful.

The chaos throughout the old farmhouse was worse the next morning when his mom went in to wake Wayne for school. Kevin heard the yelling, but he couldn’t force his legs to move in that direction. Heart pounding and sweat breaking out all over his body, Kevin felt plastered to his small bed. A few minutes elapsed before his mom burst through his door and frantically yelled, “Kevin, didn’t you hear me? I need you to go to the fields and get your father, now!” It was obvious that his mom was losing it, and Kevin knew the reason why before she even said it. He

did his best to put on a look of concern.

“Tell him to come immediately! It’s an emergency; Wayne’s not breathing!”

Feigning surprise, Kevin said, “What?” “Just go get your dad, Kevin! And hurry!”

Kevin ran out the door to look for his dad, and settled into a slow jog once he made it out of view from the farm. A myriad of emotions attacked him as he made his way through the tall fields of wheat.

Guilt was ever present in his heart, but it was slowly being replaced with relief, and dread was also creeping in; he wondered what the future looked like without Wayne to help out on the ranch. He also dreaded the funeral, and having to look upon his brother’s dead body. Acceptance finally made its way into his mind, when he saw his dad’s old tractor plowing down the straw.

It wasn’t long after Wayne died that their father decided to move to Michigan, of all places. Kevin understood the logic of moving to get away from the bad memories, but why all the way up to the land of cold and misery? He was accustomed to the heat in Taos, and the thought of moving so far away and living in a place where it snowed in feet and not in inches, didn’t sound very appealing to the soon-to-be nine-year-old.

CHAPTER 4

Kevin still felt guilty for killing his brother—almost twenty-two years later—even though he didn’t think he had a choice at the time. He had to stop the humming and end the angst of being in the same room with Wayne, and at the time, he fully believed it was the only way.

There were many sleepless nights for Kevin over the years, plenty of nightmares about killing Wayne, and the others of course. Living with the guilt of taking someone’s life is almost impossible to overcome, doublefold when it’s one of your own family members. In one of the many bad dreams he had afterwards, Kevin even allowed Wayne to smother him to death with that pillow. It was the only way he thought he’d be able to clear his conscience, to wash his hands and actually be clean for a change.

For the first few years following Wayne’s demise, Kevin showered viciously in an attempt to clean himself of his sin; almost to the point of removing skin. He refused to look at any of his brother’s old photos around their new home in Michigan after he thought he saw Wayne reach out to grab hold of him. That image was often rehashed in his nightmares as well, and it was normally the one that scared him the most.

It wasn’t until Kevin started college that he found other ways of putting his brother’s death—murder—behind him. He drank, rebelled against his parents, and partied every chance he got, in an effort to hide the ever present guilt in his heart. It didn’t help much that his dad seemed to spend more and more of his time hunting at some cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with a few of his buddies. He was rarely around, making it easy for Kevin to become the smart mouthed punk that he now was.

CHAPTER 5

A young policeman appeared at the door of the ambulance and assisted the EMT in getting him out and into the hospital proper. As they wheeled him in through the double doors, Kevin came back to the present, albeit a little heavier at heart.

Kevin didn’t know why they were going through all the trouble of taking him to see a doctor, because he felt fine. The only thing he could figure was that they’d found him knocked out and decided he needed further evaluation. Maybe they feared a possible lawsuit against the city if he ended up with a brain aneurysm or something.

It took a good four hours for the hospital to run the necessary tests on him, to ensure he was okay. Once they gave the policeman the thumbs up, the young officer made his way over to Kevin, and said, “Well it looks like it’s off to jail for you.”

“But I didn’t do anything. I already told you that I heard Amanda screaming and went running into her apartment to help her. When I entered into her bedroom, she’d already been stabbed.”

“What about your blood all over her, Mr. Black? And the bruises on your forehead?”

“My nose started bleeding. Look, it happens to me quite often.”

“What about the bruises?”

“That I’m not too sure about. The last thing I remember was having this awful migraine headache, and then it felt like I ran into a tree.” Kevin knew the truth, but he wasn’t about to tell a policeman that he decided to intentionally headbutt the bedpost to relieve his aching head. They’d send him right back to the nuthouse in Michigan, and that’s the last place he wanted to be.

“I demand my phone call! My attorney will have a field day with this madness!” Kevin said, as soon as the officer led him towards the back of his patrol car. He didn’t have an attorney, or the money to hire one, but he hoped the threat would scare some sense into the policeman.

“In due time, Mr. Black. First, we’ve got to get you processed, and then you’ll get your call.

“Get me processed? What for? I haven’t done anything wrong!”

The deputy turned on the radio, cranked the volume up high enough to drown Kevin out, and smiled back over his shoulder at him. The speakers blared AC/DC’s Highway to Hell, and Kevin was beginning to think that was exactly where he would end up.

Riding in the back of the patrol car wasn’t anything new to Kevin, but doing so for a crime he didn’t commit was. He was fuming as his mind went back to his previous ride, a ride where the humming had come back to visit him once again. He hadn’t heard it for nearly twelve years, when all of a sudden, it crept its way into his head.

*         *         *

Kevin departed his small travel trailer around midnight en route to the 24-hour Shell Service Station. He hopped inside his 1984 Ford Ranger pickup, sent up a silent prayer to no one in particular for it to crank over, and eventually departed the area a few minutes later when it roared to life. Roared to life was exactly how the old truck sounded at the late night hour. It’s funny how things always seem louder when you’re trying your best to be quiet, and Kevin wanted to keep a low profile indeed.

Glancing out his window at the small town of Wise, Virginia, Kevin noticed how quiet things felt all around him. The night seemed to sense what he was about to do, almost like it was trying to talk him out of it. It sounded silly, but there was a tangible something in the air whispering “don’t do it” into his ear. It didn’t matter though—the hum had a way of drowning out all other sounds. The slightly overcast sky and the full moon with streaks of red splattered randomly throughout only added to the dreary atmosphere.

The gloomy night almost made him turn around and go back home, but the never-ending humming inside Kevin’s head pushed him forward. He was beginning to make out faint words masked inside the hum, urging him on, pushing him to kill again. He tried dismissing such silliness as tricks of his mind in dealing with the fear of what he was about to do, but it didn’t stop. He even tried slapping himself in the face a few times in an effort to remove the haze, and hopefully snap out of his crazy thoughts—no luck there either.

With no other vehicles on the road at such a late hour, Kevin turned up his bottle of Jack Daniel’s Whiskey. Feeling the burn of the stuff going down his throat, he thought it actually heightened his senses and helped ease the tension in his body. Truthfully, it only dulled his nerves to the night’s madness, and the adrenaline was what set his senses at full alert.

As the Ford Ranger rolled to a stop on the right side of the service station, he repeated the plan out loud to no one in particular. “Go in, get the money and the video footage, and get back to the truck—fifteen minutes tops.”

As he made his way to the front door, Kevin pulled his long jacket flaps up close around his face, and blew warm air into his cupped hands in an effort to get some feeling back in them. The long October nights were averaging between mid-twenty to thirty degree temperatures, but he thought this night felt more like low to mid teens. The adrenaline flowing through his body was actually causing him to break out in cold sweats, which might help explain how chilly his bones were currently feeling. This was something he’d grown accustomed to over the years, thanks to the nightmares.

Kevin still couldn’t believe he was living in the small town of Wise, Virginia. He’d gone from Taos, New Mexico to Michigan, spent a brief two months in Illinois, a year in West Virginia, and somehow ended up in the sleepy redneck town of Wise. It didn’t offer much in the way of entertainment, shopping, or anything else for that matter, but it provided a man in his position a good hiding spot, and he was definitely in need.

Glancing down at his watch, Kevin noted the time was a half past midnight. With such a short timeline, he prayed no other cars would stop by the station until he was long gone from the area. He couldn’t afford to get caught, or he’d end up doing some hard time for sure. Heaven forbid they tie him to the other murders he’d already committed.

As he gingerly stepped inside the door of the station, the scene laid out before him dropped down into slow motion. It felt like one of the older model pickup trucks with a stick shift gear being thrown into low without warning.

Scanning the room, Kevin noted three men total: two of them white, heavyset with burly beards and bald heads, the third, a black guy, medium build, wild looking afro streaked here and there with either bleach or hair dye. All three gave him a suspicious look as he made his way to the counter.

“Can we help you?” The one behind the counter

was the first to speak.

“I need a little bit of what everyone else has been leaving out of here with night after night.” Kevin replied.

The other two made their way over to the counter and stood next to their supposed leader. The black guy said, “We have plenty of beer and snacks to choose from. Help yourself.”

“I wasn’t talking about anything on the shelves. I’d like a little of what you have in the back.”

The three of them eyed Kevin for a few seconds, sizing him up. And then the black guy said, “Do you have what it takes?”

“Will this suffice?” Kevin said, smiling as he opened up his jacket, exposing the one thousand dollars in cash he’d taken from the cashier at the local drug store before he left West Virginia.

Two of the men came out from behind the counter and motioned for Kevin to follow. The back room had a single hanging light that looked like it belonged in someone’s garage. The entire scene screamed trailer park, not a well established service station.

A stocky looking gentleman seated behind the desk in the back room stood up when his two ‘
workers
’ walked Kevin over in front of him. He looked like he’d been using too much of his own product, as evidenced from his red eyes and nose.

“Well, who do we have here? I haven’t seen you around these parts, mister.”

“The name doesn’t matter. I need five grams.”

“Actually, it does matter. How do I know you’re not working for the local authorities?”

“I’m not working for anyone—I just need something to take the edge off. I brought the cash, do you have the goods or not?” Kevin replied, as the humming intensified. He could feel it egging him on, almost sensing what was about to happen.

The man eyed Kevin suspiciously before bending down and grabbing his order from a locked drawer on the left side of the desk. As he went to set the goods on the desk, Kevin pulled out a shotgun and sent a burst through the man’s chest. It was the first time he’d shot another man, but had there been an eyewitness at the scene, they would’ve said he looked like a professional.

The other two men attempted to rush him, but he quickly pumped rounds into each of them also. By the time the gentleman out front made his way back to the room, Kevin had the weapon waiting for his entrance. The burst from the shotgun picked him up and threw him back about five feet. He landed with a thud against a rack of Lays Potato Chips.

Surveying the damage, Kevin smiled at the ease with which he’d taken out the drug dealers. Making his way over to the desk, he removed all of the drugs and shoved them into the small bag he had inside his jacket. Moving the picture behind the desk aside, he stood gazing at the safe. After securing the key off the dead body of the man that had given him the drugs, he opened it up and removed over $50,000 in bundles of twenties.

On his way to the front door, Kevin heard movement near the rear of the store, and watched as the backdoor slammed back into its frame. Training the shotgun in that direction, he walked over and peered outside. Within seconds of the door closing, the station’s security alarm went crazy, causing him to panic. Without thinking, he made a beeline for the woods directly behind the place.

Running on rubber legs only got Kevin about

500 yards into the woodline before he crashed face-first onto the ground. With leaves smashing into his cheeks and forehead, he slowly rolled over onto his back and attempted to gain control of his breathing. Reaching up, he pulled some of the leaves that had somehow stuck to his cheeks free, and tossed them back to the ground.

He quickly noticed that his tongue was rooted to the top of his mouth, and he felt as if he’d been running through the Sahara Desert during the hottest time of the year. Kevin’s tired body was drenched with sweat, as he slowly made his way back up onto weak knees.