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.

seconds, the Click Click of heels on concrete, then Juliana emerges from the darkness. “Good afternoon, Larry. How are you? I do

for black 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 a figure which I suspect is

streaming 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

“What are we going to

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

my arms, lean back

it’s good to get off the

a selection of choice topics.” I

know, you’re right.” She gives me a bright little smile. “And…” She aims a long painted fingernail at

Fake…

Extensions?

yourself. Exercise. You won’t do well down here if you don’t move about more

Two days?

there

I pause…

Seriously?

“How about a cup?”

a weapon or a tool? Finchby and Baxter were stupid, letting your little bitch daughter get hold

get a

better to do with your time? Lick it off the wall

touched by your concern for my

you’ve lost. You’re mine now and

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

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

My chest tightens…

“What clues?”

passport not too far away, close enough to link you to the spot.” She sighs, stroking a hand over her hair. “I suppose they might decide you 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

Larry, they’re not looking for you. You’re dead. Or the

rigged that explosion just so you could plant

shrugs, looking away. “Couldn't have people wondering where you are, could I? That would spoil our

“Juliana…”

“Sola!” she snaps.

many have you murdered? There were scores of

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