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.

How it’s going?”

with the rebellion

chin. Wiping it away with the back of my hand succeeds only in smearing foul muck

Someone giggles.

I realise my fingertips too are sticky with something besides the filth: white, already

?

Every part of me screams

my ankle again, something clinking as

for my ankle, finding a steel cuff, snapped closed. And as my vision clears, I see a padlock. With leaden fingers, I feel

short gasps, finally I look

only a small area around me, three

waiting, sitting on a fold-up wooden chair. Jose stands beside her. Between them and me, trickled over muck and slime, a thick white line is

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

it to Jose, who hangs it on a nail banged into the concrete wall, clearly

“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 the benefit of the accommodation I’ve chosen for you.” She pauses, I assume

away to a channel containing an uncertain depth of oozing water. Rusted metal grates obstruct narrow black unknowns:

Sewers?

marks out the confined space with sharp dark shadows. And set in the wall behind

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. Now you plan to

“There’s no plan about it, Larry. I’ve done it.” She squats down, noticeably well to her

Jenkins…” Her lips curls…”That fucking perv you put in charge… Whenever

again, 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 the rats for company and knowing

pauses. I don’t comment, don’t move, try not

dark places, this is your life now… for as much of it as you have left.” She leans closer, hissing the words. “What

the words at her, trying to inject some venom, but it’s false bravado and we both

turns to Jose. “You still

“Of course.”

“Give it to me.”

though she has never seen

She won’t shoot…

She’s a gloater…

doesn’t want me

Not yet….

But my breath holds…

one way, then the other, but always over

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 that…”

though it were a genuine question, as though, waiting for

the other hand…” she muses… “… I could take you a piece at a time.” She stares upward,

force myself

In… Out… In… Out…

all about these games: making the

feet. “Which will it be, Larry? Left or right? If you don't

Fuck this…

or right, Larry? Time to

Keep calm…

Don't panic…

Baxter…

the right one, 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

wounds down here, Juliana, and they'll be infected within hours. I'd be dead of sepsis or gangrene within days.

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

folded, legs akimbo; radiating machismo. “All your

long as Solana chooses to keep you that way. I don’t

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

out late. “… Sola can do what

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 her other hand and what

he

arms around her, smiles in his belief that they are

Dumb bastard…

“Hey, look out. She's...”

he’s too wrapped up in his

I’m too

of the Glock pressed

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