The Hum (4 page)

CHAPTER 6

When the police sirens came blasting into earshot, Kevin forced himself to his feet and ran further into the woods behind the station. He ran for what felt like an eternity, until his side and his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. When he could no longer hear the police sirens, he slowed to a walk, unaware of his surroundings and with no sense of direction in mind.

After walking around aimlessly for another five minutes, Kevin’s mind started working again, and the questions quickly followed from all directions.
Where will I go from here? Did I really kill all of those men back there?
No answers presented themselves, only confusion and anguish.
But at least the loud humming sound is silent, for now.

Kevin knew the police would find his Ford Ranger and track it back to him, so turning around wasn’t an option. He kept asking himself,
why did you panic? Why didn’t you just run back to your truck when that alarm sounded, instead of heading into these blasted woods?

Looking up at the cold October night sky, Kevin noticed the streaks of black splashed throughout the surface of the full moon. They hadn’t been there before, and their presence now sent his heart racing. The scene only added to his fear, as he wandered around in the woods with the police chasing after him, poised to kill if the opportunity presented itself.

When Kevin heard the rustling of leaves and twigs snapping to his immediate front, he monetarily froze in his tracks and held his breath in an effort to get an azimuth on the movement. This was no easy task since his heart was doing double time, and every instinct told him to flee the area.

The movement stopped abruptly, almost as quickly as it had started. When a full two minutes passed without a sound, Kevin attributed it to a possible squirrel or even a nasty possum wandering around in the woods. He’d killed enough of the pesky critters to know they were all over the place in the Appalachia’s. Dismissing his fears, he continued deeper into the woods at a brisk pace.

With dawn slowly approaching and exhaustion consuming his body, Kevin began looking for an area to hide and rest for a while. He made his way into a clearing surrounded by four evenly spaced trees, forming a perfect square. Off to the left of one of the monster oaks, he noticed a small trail leading to what appeared to be a built up pile of underbrush.

Curiosity led him over to that well kempt path, and when he made it to the underbrush he noticed that it was a pile of limbs covering some sort of concrete looking object. More than a few things struck him as weird that day: the pathway was completely clear of any leaves and limbs, the fact that someone had gone to great lengths to hide the obvious entrance to something, and the irony of the two. Why have a trail leading to something you want hidden? With his curiosity piqued, Kevin began the arduous task of removing the limbs, completely depleting what was left of his energy.

With all of the limbs thrown haphazardly around the concrete structure, Kevin noticed what appeared to be a steel handle situated in the center of the circular object. Looking at the thing, he was instantly reminded of a man-hole cover, but the diameter was over four feet. He knew he wouldn’t be able to lift the lid, but something inside him insisted he try.

Kevin took a second to look around the area, just to make sure no one was giving pursuit. He sensed a presence watching his every move, but he quickly wrote it off as just nerves. Satisfied that he was alone, he grasped the cover with both hands and ripped it off like it was nothing more than a paperweight. In misjudging the weight of the cover, he almost toppled headfirst into the black hole below, as the cover flew from his hands and landed five feet behind him. What had initially appeared to be made of concrete actually turned out to be either plastic or maybe even vinyl.

Pulling himself together, Kevin leaned over the entrance to the hole and peered inside. He couldn’t make out more than a few rungs of a ladder connected to the top of the hole, disappearing down into the darkness below. He lowered himself onto his stomach, peering even deeper into the hole, but still failed to see anything more.

Knowing that he needed a place to rest and hideout, Kevin forced his fear of tight spaces aside and hopped in. Making his way down the ladder into the darkness below, his mind tried to drift back to the refrigerator incident with his brother Wayne. Focusing on the task at hand, he remembered the cigarette lighter in the pocket of his slacks.

Leaning in and holding onto the ladder with one hand, Kevin pulled out the small lighter and flicked the thing to life. After readjusting his hold on the ladder, he peered down into the abyss as far as the light would allow. The only thing he could make out was the obvious: the ladder and the dirt floor below. The small glow didn’t provide enough visibility to see much more, so he shut it off and made his way down to the bottom rung, before striking it back to life.

When the flame illuminated his surroundings, Kevin let out a loud scream and shot back up the ladder as fast as his legs would take him. He dropped the lighter in the process of trying to hold on to the rungs at such a high rate of speed. Just as he made it to the top, he heard movement and suddenly what little light the open hole provided was blotted out, as someone dropped the cover back into place.

Trying not to panic, Kevin pounded on the bottom of the cover, thinking he’d either be able to break it or at least throw it back off. When his hand smacked into the bottom of the thing, he let out another loud scream. What was once plastic or vinyl had somehow become solid concrete, and wouldn’t budge.

Nursing a bloodied and possibly broken paw, Kevin screamed for help—although, he didn’t expect anyone to come to his aid. Whoever had placed the concrete cover onto the hole did so with the intentions of keeping him inside.

When his cries for help failed to yield any results, Kevin decided to brave the abyss down below once again. He told himself, “
maybe your eyes were just playing tricks on you. That couldn’t have possibly been what you thought it was. How did they get down there?

As he stepped off the last rung of the ladder, he felt around on the floor of the cavern for his lighter. The earth was cold and slightly damp in his hands, and it felt kind of like clay. His hands guided him, until he happened upon what he thought was his lighter. When he went to flick the wheel to light it up, he realized that it wasn’t his lighter after all. He wasn’t sure what he had in his hand, but it was hard with a few ridges throughout. It also felt sharp and had five little spikes jutting out from a four inch diameter circle—
a circle star
. A sharp prick to the center of his palm caused him to throw the object off to the side, and then he got back down on his hands and knees to continue his search for the lighter.

After what felt like an eternity, Kevin’s hand came across another object that he felt certain was the lighter. When he rolled the wheel with his right thumb, it lit up a small space of about five feet all around him. His attention was immediately drawn back to what he’d thought he’d seen when he first struck the thing to life just minutes earlier. When he saw nothing, he wasn’t sure whether to be happy or afraid; part of him was thankful those shapes weren’t what he’d originally thought, but another part was fearful he might be losing it. He would’ve sworn he’d seen nine bodies lying in a heap on top of each other, not more than five feet from the ladder. Now, there was nothing.

“Aw!” The lighter got so hot it burned Kevin’s thumb, so he had to blow on it to cool it down. He waited in fear and anxiety for the mini torch to cool off, and then he rolled it back to life.

Unsure of what else to do, Kevin crept further south down the cavern. He really wasn’t sure where he was going; he was exhausted and needed a place to rest his weary bones. He felt more afraid and alone than he had been in many years, maybe even as far back as his childhood years with his brother Wayne and his relentless physical and verbal attacks.

Kevin’s curiosity eventually got the better of him, as he began to wonder where this cavern led. The kid inside him told him to explore, while the adult told him to get the heck out of there. Since the latter wasn’t an option with the lid now covering the only exit that he knew of, he chose the former.

About 100 meters further down the cavern, Kevin thought he heard movement. He quickly shut off the lighter for another cool down, and waited to see if anyone was coming his way. When the silence began to overwhelm him, fear forced him to yell out. “Who’s out there? Are you the one who locked me in down here? What do you want from me? I warn you, I’ve got a gun!”

His questions and threats yielded nothing, just echoes bouncing off the cavern walls. With the lighter back in action, Kevin took a few seconds to take in his new surroundings. This section of the cavern stood about six feet high, with the same cold dirt walls closing in all around him. Kevin had always been a little afraid of tight spaces, ever since his older brother Wayne refused to let him out of his parents’ old refrigerator.

CHAPTER
7

LIFE IN A SMALL TOWN

Sheriff Russell Jent marveled at how different his new life really was from his days with the FBI. Nowadays, most of his time was spent breaking up a domestic dispute between a husband, Elmer, who drank too much, and a wife, Melissa, who refused to be quiet while the Sunday football games were on television. He’d been called out to their home at least ten times in the past year for the same occurrence, with the same results.

Elmer liked to drive over to the liquor store and grab a case of beer every weekend, which in itself wasn’t an issue. The problem came when he decided to drink all twenty-four of them that same day. Since Melissa liked to push his buttons any way she could, it made for a dangerous combination.

The previous episode was due to Melissa standing in front of the television while Elmer watched the Dallas Cowboys—his favorite team—play the Sunday night game. By this time in the day, Elmer had already downed eighteen of the twenty-four beers in his case, and he didn’t even want to look at Melissa, much more entertain her mouth during the ‘
Boys’
game.

Russell had gotten the call from their neighbor at around nine-thirty that night. It was a complaint about the normal loud arguing, cursing, and things being broken in the Brown home next door. He’d long ago given up trying to watch Sunday night football himself, because most of his weekends involved hauling in the husbands—rarely the wives—for domestic disturbance, putting them up in a nice room at the jail and charging them a hefty fine before the next day’s discharge.

When Russell pulled up in front of the Brown home, he noticed that every light was on, and the television volume was cranked to the max. He sent up a silent prayer that Elmer would come along peacefully, but he knew the man’s drinking was getting worse, and Melissa’s mouth seemed to be on the same downhill slide as well.

Making his way up on the front porch with his .45 in hand, Russell knocked loudly on the front door of the Brown’s dilapidated old two-bedroom home. He knew this particular home almost as well as he knew his own. He’d spent way too many hours talking to, and arresting Elmer over the years.

The Brown residence was constructed in the

1950’s with rough-cut sawmill lumber covering the outside, as well as many of the walls inside. Some of the rooms inside had drywall, but none of it was finished; the screw holes as well as the ends where the drywall boards joined together were all visible to the human eye.

The exterior of the abode had about twenty layers of paint; the latest was dark blue with silver trim boards around the perimeter. Russell knew the color had been chosen by Elmer himself to show his love for his favorite team, and maybe even to anger his neighbor, a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. The dark hue home was pretty hard to see on most nights without the aid of the moon to help light the way, but Russell could always depend on the loud shouting and cursing to find his favorite couple.

Amidst much yelling back and forth, Elmer yanked open the door.

“What do you want, Sheriff? Don’t tell me my
nosey neighbors
called the cops on me again!” Elmer stressed the words
nosey neighbors
in hope they would hear.

“How many times do we have to go through this, Elmer? What is it this time? Did Melissa change the channel on the television, again? Did she burn the wings for the game? What?”

“That wench in there just stood right in the front of the television and refused to move! She had it coming!”

Elmer barely finished the sentence before Melissa’s voice came yelling through the door from somewhere inside the kitchen, “You better believe I didn’t move! This is
my
house, and I can stand in front of
my television
any time I very well please!”

“Shut up, Melissa! I’ve heard enough from you for the rest of the night! Are you satisfied now that you’ve gotten Sheriff Jent out here, again?”

“A night’s stay down at the jail might do you some good, Elmer. Maybe you’d treat me a little better for a few days, at least.”

Turning back to Russell, Elmer continued, “I warned her Sheriff, but she wouldn’t listen. I swear she does it just to get a rise out of me, at times.”

“So, what did you do to her, Elmer?”

“Oh, I just threw a can of beer at her. It barely even grazed her cheek.”

Leaning in close to Elmer’s left side, Russell yelled into the house, “Melissa? Melissa? Can you step outside here so I can see you?”

When the forty-year-old Melissa came into view behind Elmer, Russell immediately saw the purplish bruise over her left cheekbone and her swollen eyes, possibly from crying, but more likely from Elmer’s physical abuse.

“Step aside and let her come out here onto the front porch, Elmer!”

“There’s really no need for all of this, Sheriff. We’re sorry about this little ruckus, but you’ve been around us long enough to know that this is just the way we act sometimes.”

When Melissa was in front of him, Russell quickly deduced that the swollen eyes were from a combination of crying and more physical abuse, like he’d originally thought. He was so tired of the whole scene that he decided to try a different approach.

“Melissa, I’m sorry about this mess, but it has got to stop. I can’t keep coming out here again and again, just so you can get a few good days of Elmer being nice to you.”

Removing his handcuffs from his belt, he placed them securely over her wrists, to her front. As Melissa stared at him dumbstruck, Russell heard Elmer burst into a fit of laughter from back inside the doorway.

“Don’t get too happy yet, Elmer.”

Amid more shouting and cursing, Russell took Melissa out to his cruiser, placed her in the front seat, and then came back to the door for Elmer. Showing him another set of handcuffs, he said, “Do you want to put these on, or do you want me to?”

“What? I thought you were taking Melissa in this time?”

“I’ve decided to take you both in tonight. Did it ever occur to you that I might like to sit at home and catch a game on the television, too? I’m more than a little tired of coming out here every week, Elmer.”

“I know, I know, Sheriff. Can’t you just give me a break this one time?”

“I’ve tried that, Elmer. Remember last spring when you poured that bottle of Coors Light beer on Melissa’s head because she got the wrong brand when you sent her to the store? If you don’t remember the beer, maybe you can remember the scratches she gave you down the side of your face.”

*         *         *

Sitting in his office at the local jail with his feet propped up, Russell did his best to finish reading his latest Ted Dekker novel. It wasn’t an easy feat, thanks to the bantering back and forth between his latest occupants. Once they settled in for the night, he decided to do the same. Being a small town sheriff often required him to spend a few of his nights at the local jail, while his inhabitants slept off their vices. Unfortunately, the only guest for the past four months had been Elmer.

Russell hoped that bringing in Melissa with him would actually force them to get along, or separate for good. He’d seen many couples like them over them over the years, and he didn’t think they would ever separate. Some people just thrived on drama, and Elmer and Melissa seemed to fit the bill. He just hoped their relationship wouldn’t end with the death of one of them.

After finishing the twenty-third chapter of Dekker’s book
Priest’s Graveyard
, Russell removed his shoes and lay out on the cot he’d placed inside his small office when he first took over as Sheriff there, about five years ago.

Looking around the small space, his mind drifted back to his days with the Bureau. Life in D.C. wasn’t even comparable to the quiet of his small town of Wise, Virginia. For starters, the monthly operating budget at the Bureau was equal to his annual budget in Wise, and his office there was three times the size of the one he currently found himself in. While he had over one hundred and fifty agents on staff at the Bureau, his staff in Wise consisted of three other deputies and a secretary that showed up when she wanted and left the same way.

Bonnie Watts, secretary for the Wise County Sheriff’s Office, had worked for the county for the last thirty-five years, and she answered to no one, especially not
some young kid fresh out of Washington
. She made sure Russell knew the ropes from day one, so they didn’t “
get off on the wrong foot”
.

The older woman of sixty-five knew the system unlike any other. She accomplished more in a few hours than most did in eight. Russell accepted her stubbornness, because her output was well worth it. She knew everything about the town, as well as most of the others around the area. She was an old dinosaur, but she was also a wealth of knowledge.

Bonnie had six grandchildren that lived in the area as well, and they were the reason for her irregular schedule. She often babysat for her two daughters, and adjusted her schedule as needed to fit theirs. She had her small space at the office decorated with over fifteen different pictures of her spending time with her grandchildren.

By the right side of her desk—her office was directly outside of the Sheriff’s office—Russell noticed the one and only picture that she displayed of her late husband, Walter. They were married over thirty-three years, and would probably still be today, if he hadn’t died of an unexpected heart attack about a year ago. Bonnie took the news hard, but she was right back to work the next day, as if nothing ever happened. She was a tough old woman, and Russell was thankful to have her on staff.

Looking on the back wall, Russell noticed his recruit picture from the FBI; he couldn’t get over how young he looked, and how it felt like such a lifetime ago. He remembered how excited he was when the recruiter stopped by the University of Kentucky asking to talk with him, and the joy he later felt at the opportunity to move to Washington and train with the bureau.

Over six years had passed since his days with the bureau, and a small part of Russell still missed it. Sure, the sleepy town of Wise had its share of crime, but it was all small potatoes compared to the real cases he’d dealt with out in Washington. The occasional