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, soldiers,
It’s just a rat…
more scratching. And a nose
if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back
Who said that?
Nietzsche?
Depressing bastard…
whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between us, we settle
*****
know what Stockholm syndrome
flickers over her eyes. She takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her usual dainties from a napkin. “What
a kidnap or hostage situation,
you're getting attached to
I have her attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's called Lima syndrome, where the captor comes to empathise with
“So?”
I your only
chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into the napkin and she dabs it
why do you keep
in her chewing, mouth hanging a little
coming? If all you wanted was to watch me rot,
do want me to feed you? We
reason, you could leave me a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a month. But, so far as I
your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've
giggling. “So, you're
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 dig
in her seat, arches her brows. “I am making you
my voice mild. “Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever really changes?” I raise my gaze again, look into
“Solana…” she hisses.
concrete, some of it dropping just this side of that painted line, now less than white. Even under the heavy make-up,
her heel,
discarded meal from the filthy concrete, scrabbling to grab
eyes adjust to the green blink of the camera. It hardly matters. My attention is on the wealth
only a single bite taken from the corner. And I have half of
not eaten anything like
For how long?
no idea. Weeks? Months? My sense of time is out
had
another, I ram
the wrong way and suddenly I’m no longer
to swallow, gagging on my scavenged meal, I barf it up, where it plops in a
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