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

It’s just a rat…

dark openings, more scratching. And a nose

you gaze long enough into an abyss, the

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

my case, the abyss comes equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between us, we settle

*****

you know what Stockholm syndrome

takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her usual dainties from a napkin. “What

kidnap or hostage situation, the

you're getting

I have her attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's called Lima syndrome, where the captor comes to

“So?”

your only friend,

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

why do you keep coming

mouth hanging a little

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

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

only reason, you could leave me a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a

speaking, simply regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that

swings her head, giggling. “So, you're my friend

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.

crosses her arms, sits back in her seat, arches

my voice mild. “Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever really changes?” I raise my gaze

“Solana…” she hisses.

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

on her heel, she stalks

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

my eyes adjust to the green blink of the camera. It hardly matters. My attention is on

taken from the corner.

eaten anything like this for…

For how long?

sense

had

of empanada, then another, I ram the

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

my scavenged meal, I barf it up, where

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