Red's CD Project Part 7

Note: We pick up the pitch in terms of pace and violence in this part. I thought about having the first two sections here one long part, but I decided to break them up. This is the start to the quick burn that has to be made to reach a resolution. I have five more parts to go and a lot of things to get done, I hope I've paced myself correctly. 



Disc 2
Track 1
Hands Open
Snow Patrol
Eyes Open

Well, it makes it easier to know exactly what I want.

The thuds started an hour into the drive back. Loud and persistent was the sound of rubber souls banging against the carpeted interior of the Sedan’s trunk. Hal could make out the muffled cries over the hum of the engine and during the breaks between songs of the Rolling Stone’s “Forty Licks” CD he had bought before leaving for Chicago earlier that day. It was the fourth shuffle through the first disc of the album, which contained the songs he really wanted to hear, when the sounds from the back started.

Hal had known this one would put up the biggest fight. The man didn’t seem to hold any sort of job. He was an antagonist like Abdul, but he was much more comfortable with violence and using extremes. Countless members of the local, national and global Muslim community funded him. Even so, he lived in a meager apartment with three rooms a few miles south of the Loop. Hal had waited for three hours inside the apartment for him to return. Hal had broke in easily enough. It was a poor area where neighbors kept their eyes away from peepholes and other people’s business.

When the man showed up, it was a blur of fists and kicks until the butt of Hal’s revolver found the man’s temple.

Still the guy came to when Hal dumped him into the trunk with the man’s hands bound and mouth gagged. Hal gave him another shot, this time between the eyes, which knocked him cold again. That lasted until a few minutes before they were going to pull off the interstate. The muffled screams were increasing in volume and the kicks more panicked.

“Man, this guy just won’t let it go.” Hal said under his breath.

Hal reached over and turned the dial up. His blood rushed through his veins as he sang along. The sounds in the back were drowned out.

Hal sang.

“You better stop, look around. Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes…”


Disc 2
Track 2
What If We Could
Blue October

On a park bench. On a skyscrape. On a mountain. Oh yeah, whatever it takes.

“I look inside myself and see my heart is black.” Mick Jagger’s voice blared as Hal killed the Sedan’s engine behind the barn at his father’s farm. The farmhouse, the buildings and the land were all Hal’s now. At least, it was his until he decided to sell it. To his surprise, everything was quiet from the trunk.

It was nearly pitch black, the yard light was nearly blocked out by the huge, old white barn. Out on the barren surface of the early spring field, a triangle formed of shadow where the light reached over the barn’s roof.

Hal retrieved a flashlight from the glove compartment and drew his revolver.

“This is sloppy.” He scolded himself.

He walked to the back of the car wondering what sort of scene he would find in the trunk. He more than hoped that the man had choked on his gag. Taking one last breath, he balanced the gun and flashlight in his right hand and slid the key into the lock with his left. He turned it until the mechanism clicked.

The trunk burst open, hitting the gun and flashlight out of his hand. Hal fell backward, as the man jumped out. Hal had forgot to bind his legs. The man connected with a kick to Hal’s groin forcing him to his knees. The man landed another kick to Hal’s ribs before making a run for it.

Hal’s hands started searching the weeds for his gun or the flashlight. He found something else first. It was round, hard with a smooth surface. Hal stood and made out the man clumsily trying to run through the empty field. A couple blows to the head had made the man unstable and uncoordinated.

Hal was thirsty for action. In high school, he had been an All-State sprinter. He was to his feet in an instant and after the man. The object in his hand felt like the shot that the big guys put during the field events. Hal, however, had no plans of tossing this object.

Right on the line where the light started to reach over the barn’s roof, Hal caught the man and knocked him down. Hal jumped on top, pinning the man face down to the ground. With the object grasped in his hand, Hal started to pummel the back of the man’s skull and neck.

Hal counted 38 strikes with wet thuds and cracking skull and bone accompanying each one. His hand was soaked in a sticky warm fluid. It squished between his fingers and the object. The whimpering from the blows had stopped after the second one, but Hal’s adrenaline continued to flow.

Off in the distance, a howl sounded.

The cracks and snaps continued.

Hal’s breathing was heavy, almost a growl as he gasped for air.

Hal left the body in the field that night. He walked up to his parent’s house, retrieved the key from a hiding place behind a windowsill with his weapon still grasped in his hand. Once inside, he switched on a light. Blood soaked his sleeve up to his elbow. A smooth gray stone, stained red, twice the size of his fist was in his hand. He had to peal his fingers off it. His grip had been so tight.

He slept in his old room that night. He slept well and took care of the body in the morning.


Disc 2
Track 3
What Goes On
The Velvet Underground
The Best of the Velvet Underground

What goes on in your mind? I think I am falling down.

Misba,

Our people should never have come to this forsaken land. That much is clear to me now. I am sure the Americans have sealed their deal with the devil with the blood of our people. I plead for you to leave before they get to you, my innocent one. I fear, though, that there is no escape even in the safest haven or the holiest of lands.

I, a man humbled before Allah, feel compelled to move in ways completely foreign to my being.

Misba, I am compelled.

All night, the snake hisses now. The bars of this cell shrink around me. When I close my eyes, when I dream, I see the teeth barred and the blood dripping till it flows like a river. Terrified and repulsed, I am yet thirsty. The howl calls me.

I am compelled.

Abdul