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

you gaze long enough into an abyss,

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

case, the abyss comes equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with

*****

you know what Stockholm syndrome

from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her

in a kidnap

saying you're getting attached to

But there's

“So?”

I your

skirts her lips. “Friend? You think you’re my friend?” The napkin produces a brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping

why do you keep

pauses in her chewing, mouth

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

want me to feed you?

come once a week. Or even, once a month. But, so far as I can reckon, you're

“Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've murdered everyone else

swings her head, giggling. “So,

hooker? You've not changed, Larry. I can see right through you. The same heartless bastard that shipped me

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

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

“Solana…” she hisses.

the lunchbox tumbling from 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

her heel,

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 the other before,

eyes adjust to the green blink of the camera. It hardly

bite taken from

eaten anything like this for…

For how long?

I’ve no idea. Weeks? Months? My sense of time

I had a

another, I ram the

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

gagging on my scavenged meal, I barf it up, where

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255