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

into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

comes equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet.

*****

know

her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her usual dainties from

kidnap or hostage situation, the prisoner forms an attachment

“You saying you're getting attached to

attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's called Lima syndrome, where the

“So?”

I your only friend,

chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping

do you keep coming

pauses in her chewing, mouth hanging a little open.

wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.”

I assume you do want me to feed you? We can always change that

potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a month. But, so far as I can

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

head, giggling. “So, you're my

as a sex-slave when she was a kid? That middle-aged hooker? You've not changed, Larry. I can see right through you.

arms, sits back in her seat, arches her brows. “I am making

I keep my voice mild. “Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who

“Solana…” she hisses.

she says no more. Instead, she stands, the lunchbox tumbling from her lap. The contents spill and scatter over the rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this

on her heel,

premonition to know what's 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

of the camera. It hardly matters. My attention is on the wealth in my

only a single bite taken from the

anything like this for…

For how long?

Months? My sense of

I had

another, I ram the food into

much. Too soon. Half-chewed pulp goes down the wrong way and suddenly I’m no longer eating,

on my scavenged meal, I barf it up,

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