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,

It’s just a rat…

scratching. And a nose

say if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between us,

*****

do you know what Stockholm

her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her

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

you're getting

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

“So?”

I your only friend,

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

why do you keep

her chewing, mouth hanging a

was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.” I jerk my chin up to the blinking

have to feed you. I assume you do want me to feed

bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once

continue. “Am I your only

“So, you're my friend are

“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 not changed, Larry. I can see right through you. The same heartless bastard that

arms, sits back in her seat, arches

say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever really

“Solana…” she hisses.

The contents spill and scatter over the rancid concrete, some of it dropping just

her heel,

the jab of pain in my ankle as the chain snaps taut, I snatch up the discarded meal from the filthy concrete, scrabbling to grab broken fragments of meat in one hand, a cake with

camera. It hardly matters. My attention is on the wealth

bite taken from the corner. And I have half of a

eaten anything like this for…

For how long?

sense of time is out

I had

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

goes down the wrong way and suddenly I’m no longer eating,

it up, where it plops in a

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