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…
faced down gunmen,
It’s just a rat…
scratching. And a nose pokes
into an abyss, the abyss
Who said that?
Nietzsche?
Depressing bastard…
come equipped with fists
*****
you know
lunchbox, unwrapping
a kidnap or
“You saying you're getting attached
misread me...” Her head tilts. She pretending mockery, but I have her attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's called Lima syndrome, where the captor comes
“So?”
your only friend,
A flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into the napkin and she
why do you keep coming
her chewing, mouth hanging
wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.” I jerk my
to feed you. I assume you do want me to feed you? We can always change that
a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even,
speaking, simply regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've murdered everyone else that
giggling. “So, you're
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 not changed, Larry. I can see right through you. The same heartless bastard that shipped me out to
her seat, arches
mild. “Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who
“Solana…” she hisses.
of it dropping just this side of that painted line, now less than white. Even
her heel, she
coming. Launching myself at the fallen food, ignoring 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,
camera. It hardly matters. My attention is on the wealth
almost untouched, only a single bite taken from the corner. And I have half
anything like
For how long?
idea. Weeks? Months? My sense of time is out
had a
of empanada, then another, I ram the food into my
much. Too soon. Half-chewed pulp goes down the wrong way and suddenly I’m no
my scavenged meal, I barf it up,
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