The Pale: Volume One by Jacob Long (red novels TXT) 📖

In the middle of a particularly large crowd, Harun shouted to the other two men in Arabic. Adam only understood the meaning when the other two split up and disappeared from sight. The driver turned left, the thug turned right, and Harun continued shoving Adam straight forward. The people of the crowd were standing so close together that El-Hashem actually started using Adam as a shield, a battering ram as he forced his way through. Just as they were about to escape the mess and daylight appeared before them, a man towing a herd of goats on crude leather leashes crossed Adam’s path. In Harun’s haste, he shoved Adam forward, and Adam tripped over one of the small animals. He staggered forward. His arm was pulled from Harun’s grasp, and he tried to steady himself, taking two large steps before falling to one smashed-up knee. The pain was excruciating. By some miracle, he prevented himself from falling flat on his face.

Harun cursed. If he had lost the drone, hopefully that stumble was not enough to draw its attention. He stomped over to Adam and grabbed him by the arm once again before the soldier could get back to his feet. Harun took the lead, towing Adam along in his wake. Adam was yanked to his feet suddenly and struggled to catch himself once more. He regained his footing and followed as best as he could, groaning aloud from the pain.

What Harun hadn’t realized was that tugging on Adam’s arm had given the troop the force he needed to slip his left hand from under one of the loops in the binding. It hurt like hell. The human hand was not meant to bend so sharply in that direction, but it proved to be worth it. The rope wasn’t off, but it was a giant step toward being freed. The rest could be loosened much faster and less painfully.

Adam glared at the back of Harun’s head like the drug lord was already dead. That was two mistakes El-Hashem had made. The first was assisting Adam in releasing himself, and second was taking the lead. Harun held the pistol uselessly at his side, pointed at the dirt, and his eyes stared straight ahead.

Adam seized the opportunity, dropping his right knee into the crook of El-Hashem’s left knee. Harun buckled and pitched forward, his knee striking the ground hard before falling to his face. In shock, he squeezed the trigger and a negligent bullet seared through the air. It embedded itself harmlessly into a nearby building, but the loud report was enough to frighten every pedestrian within a half mile. With screams and clamor, the distraught shoppers scampered away in every direction, clutching however little they owned to their chests and hurrying their confused animals out of the square.

Adam’s gambit paid off, but he, too, was driven into the ground face-first. Quickly, he pushed himself to his feet with his hands, the rope dangling uselessly from his right arm. He lunged forward and kicked at Harun’s wrist, nailing it with the tip of his boot, knocking the pistol from Harun’s hand. The gun skittered across the ground, and Adam gave chase. Grimacing, Harun grabbed Adam’s left foot as he passed, and Adam was sent sprawling to ground once again. Adam managed to catch himself with his hands, and he kicked backward with his free leg. He didn’t manage to hit Harun with his foot, and Harun pulled him back, using Adam to get to his own feet. Harun threw himself on top of Adam, and Adam was slammed into the dirt.

Every muscle in Adam’s body screamed from the injuries he’d already sustained. The ribs on his left side shifted from the impact and made him cry out. The adrenaline in his blood could only do so much. Adam’s head was already killing him by the time Harun wrapped his arms around Adam’s throat.

Luckily, Harun didn’t know how to apply a proper chokehold; otherwise, Adam would have passed out in seconds. He could still see the gun. It was only a few yards away. So he rallied his strength, bracing his hands against the ground. He bucked his rear and pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Adam scurried across the ground in a magnificent burst of speed with Harun still clinging to his back. Adam fell on top of the gun with both hands and quickly aimed it back over his shoulder. Harun moved his head out of the way and released Adam’s neck, trying instead to regain control of the gun. Adam squeezed the trigger, and the bullet was launched into the clear blue sky. Both men were left with ringing in their left eardrums as they struggled over control of the weapon.

Frightened pedestrians huddled around nearby buildings as they watched the spectacle. They could have run, but they needed to see who would win. Harun El-Hashem kept them living under a dark cloud of fear, and they wanted to see him die. They just couldn’t bring themselves to oppose him directly. The terror of that man hung fresh in the air and in their minds.

Adam clung to the gun valiantly, but Harun had the much stronger position. While still struggling for the gun, Harun got to his knees and sat on Adam. Putting his whole back into it, Harun then forced the gun from Adam’s hands. Adam had nothing left. The gun was torn away, and Adam was left defenseless.

Enraged, Harun furiously struck Adam on the back of his head with the handle of the gun. For good measure, he then did it two more times. The blows nearly split Adam’s skull, and he was left whimpering with his face in the dirt.

Harun ran his hand through his hair, the taqiyah long knocked from his head. He sniffled and stood, stepping on Adam’s back to push himself to his feet. The drone operators watched as his glowing white form began stalking around the open square. His head snapped from left to right. All the onlookers and people hiding in adjoining alleyways each received nasty glares from the triumphant drug lord. His teeth slowly bared as he realized why they were so interested in the business that had just taken place. The insult boiled in his stomach until he raised the gun toward them. A woman and her daughter were threatened first. They flinched, and the mother held the girl to her chest in fear. Quickly Harun re-aimed the pistol to menace more folks standing within range.

Arduously, Adam pushed himself from the ground. It felt like his brain was still bouncing around inside his skull, testing out a new pogo stick while jamming out to heavy metal music. Dirt coated the whole front of his body and more than half of his face. He only managed to get to his knees before his strength, and whatever was left of his determination failed him. He ended up falling, sitting on his ankles while his head bowed to spare his concussed brain from trying to process the savage light from the sun.

Harun was still stomping around the square. He shouted something in furious guttural Arabic, and all the onlookers recoiled. “You were hoping for a different outcome, weren’t you?” he barked. “You were hoping against hope that the Americans had finally arrived to save you from your lives here!” Harun indicated the back of Adam’s head with the barrel of the pistol. “This is what you pin your hopes on? This weak excuse for a savior?” He stomped away and pointed to his own chest with the barrel. “I protect you! I own this town! The Americans do not have the strength to defeat me! I bring money into this town! You survive because of me!” He stopped waving the gun around and lowered it to his side, pausing while he considered his next move. “You want the Americans to bring you their democracy? You want them to save you? Look! This is what happens to heroes!”

Harun stalked back over to Adam and pressed the gun against the soldier’s skull. In English he snarled, “Say goodnight, bro!”

Harun pulled the trigger, and the watching drone operators witnessed a plume of warm liquid spray onto the ground. Adam’s body slumped over in a lifeless heap, like sack of potatoes. His spectacle complete, Harun reached one hand into the sky and raised his middle finger in defiance. He knew enough about American culture to know it wasn’t nice. Then being without cover, the drug lord ran down an adjoining street, and the camera followed him until he ducked into a building.

Adam didn’t even hear the gunshot. Before his brain could process it, the bullet pierced his cranium and severed his neurons, scorching them and melting the ends. There was the click of the hammer striking the primer, but then everything went dark. All of Adam’s senses strayed from him, like he was trapped in a dream. The taste of the Afghani sand finally left his mouth. The hot wind stopped irritating his burns. No rogue thoughts troubled his mind. There was a welcome tranquility to the emptiness.

It all just felt like a strange dream, but Adam supposed he was due a little hysteria after all that had happened to him before he blacked out. He hoped in vain that someone would come to retrieve him. Maybe someone already had. He would probably wake up in the hospital soon. Hours would have passed, maybe even days. That’s how it always goes down in the movies. The protagonist wakes up, and they think it’s been a couple of minutes, but really they’ve been delirious for a week or something. You’d think with that kind of time distortion they wouldn’t have any dreams.

The tranquility of the abyss did not last. Suddenly Adam’s heart began to panic. It was that same indescribable feeling of plummeting to your death just before you wake. Normally, that feeling lasts maybe a few seconds before the dreamer is roused, but for Adam, it felt like his heart was being gripped by the hand of the devil, and the prick simply refused to let go. A rhythmic noise broke the silence. It was the sound of ragged desperate huffs of air, Adam’s own terrified breathing. The hollow echoes of it reverberated, lonely in Adam’s ears. Then still suspended in the impermeable abyss, a light wind began to blow through the space. Even without form, Adam could feel it pass over and through him. It started as a breeze and then gradually increased in intensity until a gale buffeted the soldier. The dream was returning his senses, and Adam didn’t know if it was a good thing.

In another moment, that ambiguity was demolished. There was burning, and it didn’t slowly introduce itself the way the breeze did. It was instantaneous, prolific, and unbearable. The source was still unknown. Some twisted, undetectable tormentor was playing with the pain dial on Adam’s dream machine. At first, Adam tried to take the anguish. He grunted and groaned in short, plaintive, protestations. He sucked every breath through clenched teeth. Increasingly colorful curses spat from his lips. Little time passed before he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He screamed aloud with shrill pain-riddled shrieks and thrashed about in the darkness with whatever imaginary corporeal form he possessed. He closed his eyes tight and flailed his arms as if trying to fight it away with violence, but the burning continued regardless.

Adam didn’t know if seconds or minutes or an eternity had passed as he burned. Still screaming and thrashing, he finally opened his eyes to a horrifying sight; green flames engulfed his vision. They encased his entire body. He fell, tumbling through the white-hot fire and endless agony.

“Help me!” Adam shrieked. “Somebody, please wake me up!”

The dream did not cease. The fire crawled onto his eyes and into his skin. Adam tried to close his eyes and shield them from further harm but only to realize he no longer had eyelids. The flames had burned them away. Forced to observe the endless swirling conflagration, Adam slowly became more aware of the hellish world beyond. It was difficult to discern through the fire, but Adam could make out what he believed to be an enormous grinding wheel of green flame, the same flame that immolated his yielding flesh.