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.

“Good afternoon, Larry. How are you? I do hope you’ve had the

hair today, long and draped over her shoulders, with deep red lipstick. The dress is long and clingy, with a low cut neckline; designed to show off

eyes, I don’t reply and she awards me a polite little smile, then 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

says brightly. “What are we

fucked if I’m going to let her look down at me while we talk. She watches me, a touch of wariness in her

arms, lean back

but it’s good to get

to talk about? I’m guessing you have a selection of choice topics.” I pace a little, as much as the chain allows, unhinging

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

Fake…

Extensions?

must look after yourself. Exercise. You won’t do well down here if you don’t move about more than I’ve seen you doing the

Two days?

Is there anything you

I pause…

Seriously?

“How about a cup?”

to turn into a weapon or a tool? Finchby and Baxter were stupid, letting your little bitch daughter get hold of a glass bottle. I'm not making that mistake. You have hands.

get a real

have something better to do with your time? Lick it off the wall if you have to. I’m not

your concern for

Larry. I’ve won and you’ve lost. You’re mine now and we’re

they'll be looking for me, the police.

been found dead in his hotel suite after the explosion. And I made sure the police found some clues about you being near my apartment. With the number of bodies they’ll have found around there recently, I’m sure that will perk their interest in

My chest tightens…

“What clues?”

were involved with the gangs. But I think it's more likely they'll say you got caught in the war between the Wolves and the Nightshades. You know…” She makes air commas… “Innocent Tourist Witnesses Gang Murder And Bloodbath. Criminals Retaliate.” The papers love

leans forward onto her knees, her smile widening. “Either way, Larry, they’re not looking for you. You’re dead. Or the man they think you are

so you could plant a corpse

wondering where you are, could I?

“Juliana…”

“Sola!” she snaps.

have you murdered? There were scores of people caught in

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