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 pokes
into an abyss, the abyss will
Who said that?
Nietzsche?
Depressing bastard…
comes equipped with teeth and whiskers. I come
*****
do you know what Stockholm syndrome
over her eyes. She takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her
label for a psychological condition where, in a kidnap or hostage
you're getting
attention. “… But there's
“So?”
I your only friend,
my friend?” The napkin produces a brigadeiro. A flake of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into
why do you keep
mouth
wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera
feed you. I assume you do want me to feed
that were the only reason, you could leave me a bag of potatoes and come once a week. Or even, once
and swallows, not speaking, simply regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've
“So, you're
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
back in her seat,
not claiming to have changed. Who ever really changes?” I raise my gaze again, look into her face. “Have
“Solana…” she hisses.
lap. The contents spill and scatter over the rancid concrete, some of it dropping just this side of
her heel, she stalks
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
my eyes adjust to the green blink of the camera. It hardly matters. My
is almost untouched, only a single bite taken from the corner.
eaten anything like this for…
For how long?
Weeks? Months? My sense of time is out of
I had a
another, I ram the food into my
down the wrong way and suddenly
swallow, gagging on my scavenged meal, I barf it up, where it plops in a saliva-coated mess
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