Hot Revenge Box Set 4

Chapter 52

Klempner

What's the obsession with potatoes?

I called her Potato Face when she was a kid.

What does she look like now?

Jenny was no looker at that age…

… But she matured. Bloomed.

Juliana... Never the same twice.

I scratch at my beard. I’ve never liked facial hair in hot climates, but I don’t have a choice right now. Even so, the flourishing colony of lice that has stowed aboard adds an extra edge of irritation.

Lice…

Where the fuck did they come from?

Can rat lice live on humans?

Having a fucking good go at it…

I catch one, squeezing the revolting thing between my fingernails. It bursts with a Pop!

Only another 999 to go…

*****

The boredom’s the worst. Endless hours. Endless days and nights. I’ve no idea how long.

The only breaks in the monotony are Juliana’s visits: just long enough to sit, eat something at me, toss a potato at me.

No, not Juliana: Solana.

Why's she so obsessed with the name?

How many names have I used over the years? Worn like a suit of clothes to be discarded when the weather changes and something different is needed.

I’ve never been defined by my name.

But she sees it differently…

Something skritches and I jerk a look sidelong

It’s a rat…

Just a rat…

down gunmen, soldiers,

It’s just a rat…

scratching. And a nose

an abyss, the

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

whiskers. I come equipped with

*****

you know

her eyes. She takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of

the label for a psychological condition where, in a kidnap or hostage

you're getting

me...” Her head tilts. She pretending mockery, but I have her attention. “… But there's

“So?”

your

chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into the napkin and she dabs it up

why do you

in her chewing, mouth hanging a little open.

If all you wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.” I jerk

do want me to feed you? We can always

and come once a week. Or

your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've murdered everyone else that might get

giggling. “So, you're

at me, “You think someone's going to come and save you, Larry? You believe you're worth saving? That there's anyone out there who thinks you're worth it? The daughter you had slated as a sex-slave when she was a kid? That middle-aged hooker? You've

sits back in her seat,

say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever really changes?” I raise my gaze again, look into her face. “Have you

“Solana…” she hisses.

her lap. The contents spill and scatter over the rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this side of that painted line, now less than white. Even under the heavy make-up, her colour has changed. White-faced, white-lipped,

on her heel, she

fallen food, ignoring the jab of pain in my ankle as the chain snaps taut, I snatch up the discarded meal from the

green blink of the camera. It

almost untouched, only a single bite taken from the

anything like this

For how long?

I’ve no idea. Weeks? Months? My sense

I had

mouthful of empanada, then another, I ram the food into

Half-chewed pulp goes down the wrong way and suddenly I’m no longer

on my scavenged meal, I barf it

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