Klempner

My resources: The clothes I’m wearing. A notebook and the stub of a pencil: A book on herbal toxins. A small supply of sweet water. An infinite supply, for any practical purpose, of foul water, slime and garbage. And of course, one small potato.

I’d like to give in to despair. There’s something alluring about despair, something seductive. Perhaps I should simply not play Juliana’s game; let her kill me.

But if I’m dead…

Mitch…

My beautiful green-eyed Mitch.

So alive. So energetic.

So full of courage.

So vital.

Vitale

Stay alive...

So, eat the fucking potato…

I prise it out from its bed of sludge and slime with a slight sucking sound. It’s small; perhaps half the size of my fist. On the other hand, adhered muck aside, it seems sound; firm, mid-brown, no sprouts or green parts. I have a vague idea that I’ve read that green potatoes are unsafe to eat.

Hauling myself up from my concrete seat, lifting my chain in one hand, with the other, I hold my meal under the water inlet, thumbing away the dirt under the clean water.

Time to live…

And I bite in.

*****

With no warning, the light blinks on and without meaning to, I groan, hiding my eyes behind my hands.

Juliana emerges from the darkness. “Good afternoon, Larry. How are you? I do hope

is long and clingy, with a low cut neckline; designed to show off a figure which I suspect is being enhanced with well-chosen underwear. A

sits, on her fold-up chair, hands neatly folded. She could be in school, waiting for a favourite teacher to begin the lesson. Or perhaps in the audience at some small town hall, for a talk on jam-making or how to grow dahlias. At least she could if Morticia Addams had

“What are we going

talk. She watches me, a touch of wariness in her eyes. Momentarily,

arms, lean back

to get off the

selection of choice topics.” I pace a little, as much as the chain allows,

me a bright little smile. “And…” She aims

Fake…

Extensions?

Larry. You must look after yourself. Exercise. You won’t do well down here

Two days?

Is there anything you

I pause…

Seriously?

“How about a cup?”

Finchby and Baxter were stupid, letting your little bitch daughter get hold

get a

Lick it off the wall if you have to.

your concern for my

you’ve lost. You’re mine now and we’re playing by

realise they'll be looking for me, the police. By now they'll know

been found dead in his hotel suite after the explosion. And I made sure the police found some clues about you being near

My chest tightens…

“What clues?”

the gangs. But I think

widening. “Either way, Larry, they’re not

explosion just so you could plant a corpse to stand in for

wondering where you are, could I? That would spoil our fun

“Juliana…”

“Sola!” she snaps.

I spit back. “How many have you murdered? There were scores of people caught in that explosion. All

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