Back in the lounge, Cara is sitting on Mitch’s knee. “Getting into practice?” I ask.

Hope and tears war in her voice. “I suppose.” Then as Cara stretches chubby arms out to me. “I think she wants a hug.”

My baby daughter gives me a gummy smile as I pick her up, cradling her to my chest and bouncing her a bit. “You been a good girl then?”

A burble is my only reply, but Georgie looks at me a little oddly. “You never used to do that with me.”

“In fact, Georgie, I did. But your mother didn't like it. She always took you away from me when she could.”

She frowns. “Mom stopped you picking me up?”

“That’s right.”

“But…why would she do something like that?”

I shrug. “I suppose she wanted control of you.” I speak off-handedly, but suddenly, the conversation is uncomfortable. “Mitch I’m making tea. Peppermint for you?”

*****

Klempner

Nightmares…

The world spinning…

A face… Juliana, grinning at me… Her teeth sharp and pointed, like a cat’s.

Pain… Something gnawing at me, some monster biting at my ankle.

I know I’m in a nightmare, but I can’t jolt myself out of sleep. Sickeningly, the world spins and wavers around me. I want to retch, but my sleep-bound body won’t let me.

*****

Harsh white light filters through my lashes to stab at crusty eyes. The world still revolves. Or is it me that’s turning?

Consciousness returns only slowly, one sensation after another settling enough to make sense of them.

The spinning around me slowly dies and my world settles. I’m chilled and numb. Pain stabs behind my eyes and as I move, my stomach threatens rebellion. Gradually, it comes to me that, while my shoulder muscles burn, my hands are free.

A male voice: “He should be awake now, shouldn’t he?”

A female voice: “Yes. I didn’t give him much. He should be awake by now. He’s probably faking it.”

Just lie here…

Eyes closed…

Listen…

I’m lying on some cold, hard surface, slick with damp, coated with Christ-knows-what unnamable muck. And for some reason, I’m stretched out full-length, one arm reaching out above my head.

The male voice again: “Wakey, wakey, Larry.” And something plants itself in my ribs, whoofing the air out of my lungs.

Instinctively I roll, snatching for a foot, a leg, a fist: but I catch only empty air. Then I pull up short, with the clink of metal and something biting into my ankle.

What the hell…?

The air stinks. A fetid smell; stagnant water and the rank scent of decay, washes over me. All without meaning to, I react, covering my mouth and nose with my hand before realising that my hand is part of the smell, foul with slime and muck.

Somewhere close by: a trickling sound, and the slap of water against hard sides.

Where the fuck am I?

Oddly out of place, the smell of fresh paint tickles my nostrils.

The male voice again. “He’s awake for sure. He opened his eyes just then, but closed them again.” The words sound far away, as though carried through a tunnel. My eyes won’t focus properly. Nor my head: stuffed and unclear.

to see you awake again. How it’s going?” The female

at my ankle competes with the rebellion of my stomach. My guts heave and the sad remains

mouth and spatters my chin. Wiping it away with the

Someone giggles.

sticky with something besides the filth: white,

?

of me screams protest as, stiff-muscled, my body torpid, I try again to raise myself into a sitting

That bite at my ankle

padlock. With leaden fingers, I feel at the metal, probing sluggishly: it’s good quality, the steel polished and new. My feet are bare; there’s

finally I look up and around,

and white, But it quickly fades, illuminating only a small area around me,

wooden chair. Jose stands beside her. Between them and me, trickled over muck and slime,

her lips. “You won’t escape that padlock, Larry. I

it to Jose, who hangs

stand a little distance from me, smirking. “Don’t worry, the nausea will pass… Or…” She sweeps an arm around… “Or maybe it won’t. I’d like to think you get

to a channel containing an uncertain

Sewers?

from a single overhead bulb, marks out the confined space with sharp dark shadows. And set in the wall behind Juliana, towards the ceiling,

some saliva from my cheeks before I speak, “You’re consistent, Juliana. I’ll say that for you. You imprisoned Jenny below ground in primitive conditions.

about it, Larry. I’ve done it.” She squats down, noticeably well to her side of the

you or that bastard Jenkins…” Her lips curls…”That fucking perv you put in charge… Whenever either of you felt

those cellars so well. We all spent time there; with the rats for company and knowing the bodies of the ones who disappeared were down there in the dark

I don’t comment, don’t move, try not

to me, then continues…”That’s good. I can see you do remember. Since you’re so fond of tunnels and dark places, this is your life now… for

inject some venom, but it’s false bravado and we

still have his gun

“Of course.”

“Give it to me.”

turns it over in her hands, examining it, as though she has never seen such a thing before. Then, holding it loosely, almost negligently, she waves it through the air,

She won’t shoot…

She’s a gloater…

doesn’t want

Not yet….

But my breath holds…

barrel swings, apparently randomly, first one way, then the other, but always over

at my forehead. “I might just shoot you dead. Bang! Bang!…” She mimes firing… Fake recoil with each Bang…

cocks her head at me, as though it were a genuine question,

stares upward, as though addressing the ceiling. “What do you think, Larry? A foot maybe? Perhaps the one

force myself to

In… Out… In… Out…

these games: making the

“Which will it be, Larry? Left or

Fuck this…

right, Larry?

Keep calm…

Don't panic…

Baxter…

I think…” Her face splits into a pumpkin smile and she widens her eyes at me… “… It's not as though you’re going to need it again. I'll leave you the other one for a bit. You’ll

chilled skin streams cold. “Leave me with gunshot wounds down here, Juliana, and they'll be infected within hours. I'd be dead of sepsis or gangrene within days. I'm guessing that would spoil your

muzzle of the Glock. “Quite right, Larry.” She gives a quick, sharp nod. “It's good we understand each other...” She looks toward Jose, “…What do

folded, legs akimbo; radiating machismo. “All your enemies are dead

to keep you that way.

tone, “You think I’m the one in trouble, Jose? If your only use to Juliana was to make me her prisoner, your life expectancy is

stay out late. “… Sola can do what she wants with you. No one else knows you’re here. She has her revenge. And she’s

the smile. She moves closer to him, slides one hand over his cheek, then around his neck, as though to kiss him. “As you say, Jose, only we know he’s here.” He doesn’t watch

he not see

smiles in his belief that they are

Dumb bastard…

“Hey, look out. She's...”

he’s too wrapped up

and I’m

the muzzle of the Glock

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