HUM by Dan Hawley (book club reads .TXT) 📗

hit pause on her recording, stood up, and walked over to Jerry’s desk for a stretch.

Sleepwalkers weren’t a rare occurrence, but they were rare enough that it was still interesting to watch. Sleepwalkers would typically get up, walk around, maybe stand around for a bit, and then go back to bed, blissfully unaware of their strange actions.

1:34 a.m.—Subject sits up in bed.

Jerry made a note and then started the video again.

“Maybe he’s just going to the bathroom,” Amanda said as she leaned in closer to the screen. Maybe he would leave the door open, and she’d get a better view of Mr. Steele, she thought. He was handsome, after all. Jerry caught the look in Amanda’s eye and said in an annoyed tone, “Nah, I stopped the video when he was just sitting on the edge of the bed. Oh, there he goes.”

1:37 a.m.—Subject stands and walks slowly to the middle of the room.

Amanda frowned as she watched. A few minutes passed, and her attention waned. She thought about going back to the recording of the child who had rolled over a few times but had done nothing else of note so far.

She moved to leave but then froze, eyes glued to Jerry’s screen. Mr. Steele was on the move again, his head slightly cocked as if trying to hear better.

1:40 a.m.—Subject moves to the wall opposite the bed.

A step, and then another, and then a few more until the sleepwalking man stopped, staring sightlessly at the wall. He reached out with both hands and ran his palms across the smooth paint.

Then something neither Amanda nor Jerry had ever seen before happened: The man pressed his ear up to the wall.

1:41 a.m.—Subject… listens to the wall?

Jerry looked up at Amanda. She looked down at him and then back at the screen.

“Well, that’s new.”

They continued watching for five minutes until the man moved again.

1:46 a.m.—Subject returned to bed.

On the recording, Jason could be seen climbing back under the covers. He pulled them up to his chest and appeared to go back to ‘sleep.’

“So weird,” Jerry scoffed. “I wonder what this guy’s brain scan looks like. I bet it’s a mess.”

Amanda straightened up, still staring at the screen, watching Mr. Steele lying in the bed.

“Yeah,” she said absentmindedly. “Let me know if he does it again, would you?”

Amanda turned and left the room rather than directly returning to her station. Jerry watched her leave, only turning back to his work once she had disappeared into the hall.

Amanda turned on the bathroom light and closed the door behind her. She locked it, pulled down her pants, and sat down on the cold toilet seat. As she passed water, she pictured Mr. Steele with his body and side of his face pressed up against the wall.

She shivered, wiped, and flushed. She pulled up her pants and washed her hands, lathering the soap between her palms.

Amanda had seen some weird stuff before. She had seen a little girl have a full-blown tea party with three invisible guests. She had seen a lady fight off a figment of her imagination that was apparently trying to hurt her. She had even seen people play with themselves or even commit sex acts with furniture in the room.

But there was something about Mr. Steele listening to the wall that chilled her to her core. Something about how his vacant eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as he stood there.

She shivered again. Most people’s eyes were closed when they sleepwalked.

She finished rinsing her hands, turned off the tap, and gave herself a reassuring nod in the mirror. The whites of her green eyes were sporadically laced with thin red lines. She thought she looked older than she was when all that showed were her eyes and forehead—her youth hidden beneath the light-blue surgical mask. The mask pressed against her open mouth as she took in a deep breath and went back to work.

“Everything working properly?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. Jerry had a way of getting on her nerves. He wasn’t terrible-looking, she thought. If he would cut the BS jokes all the time, some girl might even want to date him. “Everything’s fine, Jerry.”

She walked over to her chair and sat down. “Anything else from 2D?” she asked hesitantly, attempting not to sound too interested. It worked. “No,” Jerry replied flatly. “Not yet anyway.”

Amanda grabbed her mouse and clicked play on her recording. The strange little boy was still, curled up in a ball. She sped up the feed. She watched the shape under the covers for a while until he suddenly sat up. The mouse clicked as Amanda paused the feed then backed it up to where the boy was lying in bed again. A few moments passed. Click.

1:36 a.m.—Subject sits up in bed.

Amanda’s pulse began to beat against her neck forcefully. Cold sweat started to bead on her upper lip. She licked it clean and started the recording once more. The boy sat like that for what seemed like hours to Amanda. She stared at the screen, unable to avert her eyes. The boy stirred. Click.

1:39 a.m.—Subject stands and walks to the middle of the room.

Amanda licked her dry lips. Her throat suddenly felt tight and hot. She let out a quiet croak.

“What’s that, Mandy?” Jerry asked but didn’t look over from his desk. Amanda’s hands trembled, and a shaky finger clicked once more.

She watched with horrified fascination as the boy just stood there, staring at the wall.

Suddenly, and she knew what was coming next, the boy cocked his head. Click.

1:41 a.m.—Subject moves to the wall opposite the bed and…presses ear against it.

There was nothing for Amanda to do but press on. She fumbled with the play button, clicking around it twice before successfully advancing the video. Her pulse smacked against her neck, thudding loudly in her ears. Shivering gooseflesh spread across her skin. No amount of licking would keep the small beads