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, soldiers,
It’s just a rat…
scratching. And a
enough into an abyss, the abyss will
Who said that?
Nietzsche?
Depressing bastard…
my case, the abyss comes equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come equipped with
*****
know
lunchbox, unwrapping one of her usual dainties from a
a kidnap or hostage
sniggers. “You saying you're getting attached to
her attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's called Lima syndrome, where the captor comes
“So?”
your
you’re my friend?” The napkin produces a brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into the napkin and she dabs it up
you keep
her chewing, mouth hanging a little open.
watch me rot, you have your
assume you do want me
reason, you could leave me a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once a month. But, so far as I can
your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've murdered
giggling. “So, you're my friend
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 dig up potatoes for the rest of my life. Along with all the
crosses her arms, sits back in her seat, arches her brows. “I am making
“Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever
“Solana…” she hisses.
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 side of
on her heel, she
I snatch up the discarded meal from the filthy concrete, scrabbling to grab broken fragments of meat in one
to the green blink of the camera. It
a single bite taken from the corner.
not eaten anything like
For how long?
sense of time is out of the
I had a
empanada, then another, I
way and suddenly I’m no
swallow, gagging on my scavenged meal, I barf it up, where it plops in a saliva-coated mess onto
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