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.

Good to see you awake again. How it’s

gummy eyes, I try to haul myself upright. But a stab of pain at my ankle competes with the

away with the back of my hand succeeds only in smearing foul

Someone giggles.

realise my fingertips too are sticky with something besides the filth: white, already drying, crisping at the edges. Cautiously, I

?

too. Nothing makes sense. Every part of me screams

bite at my ankle again, something clinking

finding a steel cuff, snapped closed. And as my vision clears, I see a padlock. With leaden fingers, I feel at the metal, probing sluggishly: it’s good quality, the steel polished and new. My

coming in short gasps, finally I look up

quickly fades, illuminating only a small area around me, three or four

chair. Jose stands beside her. Between them and me,

watches me, a slight smile playing over her lips. “You won’t escape that

it to Jose, who hangs it on a nail banged into the concrete wall, clearly visible, but well beyond my

the nausea will pass… Or…” She sweeps an arm around… “Or maybe it won’t. I’d like to think you get the benefit

walls and floor are concrete. Beside me, the floor drops away to a channel containing an uncertain depth of oozing water. Rusted metal grates obstruct narrow black unknowns:

Sewers?

the confined space with sharp dark shadows. And set in

my cheeks before I speak, “You’re consistent, Juliana. I’ll say that for you. You imprisoned Jenny below

She squats down, noticeably well to her side of the painted line,

Locked up in your cellars at Blessingmoors, whenever you or that bastard Jenkins…” Her lips curls…”That fucking perv you put in charge… Whenever either of you

the snarl washing from her face. “Oh, yes, you like cellars. I remember that about you. I remember those cellars so well. We all spent time there; with

comment, don’t move, try not to

Since you’re so fond of tunnels and dark places, this is your life now… for as

inject some venom, but it’s

Jose. “You still

“Of course.”

“Give it to me.”

his pocket, passing it across grip first. She turns it over in her hands, examining it, as though she has never seen such a thing before. Then, holding it loosely, almost

She won’t shoot…

She’s a gloater…

doesn’t want me

Not yet….

But my breath holds…

way, then

you? I haven't decided properly yet, you know.” She aims at my forehead. “I might just shoot you dead. Bang! Bang!…” She mimes firing… Fake recoil with each Bang… “…Just like

her head at me, as though it were a genuine question, as though, waiting for an

piece at a time.” She stares upward, as though addressing the

force myself

In… Out… In… Out…

I know all about these games: making the victim collaborate in their own

the barrel drifts between my feet. “Which will it be, Larry? Left or right? If you don't choose, of course,

Fuck this…

right, Larry? Time

Keep calm…

Don't panic…

Baxter…

me… “… It's not as though you’re going to need it again. I'll leave you the other one for

wounds down here, Juliana, and they'll be infected within hours. I'd be dead

muzzle of the Glock. “Quite right, Larry.” She gives a quick, sharp nod. “It's good we understand

radiating machismo. “All your enemies are

me… “You’re only alive as long as Solana chooses to keep you that way. I don’t think you have more than a

your only use to Juliana was to make me her prisoner, your life expectancy is down

late. “… Sola can do what she wants with you. No one else knows you’re here. She has

Juliana‘s lips curve, but Jose doesn't see the knife in the smile. She moves closer to him, slides one hand over his cheek, then around his neck, as though to

can he

in his belief that they

Dumb bastard…

“Hey, look out. She's...”

too wrapped up in his

I’m too

muzzle of the Glock pressed

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