IMPURITY Ray Clark (types of ebook readers .txt) 📖

Well, if he thinks he’s calling the shots anymore, he’s got another think coming. Fuck Summers! I’m not waiting around in this dump any longer for him to come and sort me out.

Myers had tried phoning Harry Clayton, but he hadn’t returned from his holiday.

You never know with Clayton. He’s as sly as the rest of the bastards. Maybe it’s him. Maybe Summers is using Clayton to sort out the rest of us. Come tomorrow morning, I’m out of here. Fuck the landlord, he can whistle for his rent. Fuck Summers, he knows what he can do with his underpaid jobs. From now on, it’s Frank Myers that counts. To hell with the rest of the world.

The sound of a car engine outside startled him from his thoughts. Once again, Myers heaved himself out of the chair, puffing and panting, grimacing from the pains in his knees as he hobbled toward the window. With a quick glance, he noticed the car had been parked half on the pavement.

“About fucking time.” Myers watched, impatiently. “Well, come on then, what are you doing?”

He noticed Jenny Price walk past the car. Bleeding whore! Aye, it were your bastard mate as done for me. Myers paused his thoughts, irritated by his hunger. “For fuck’s sake, will you hurry up?”

Jenny Price disappeared from view. Myers’ thoughts turned to her mate. Carol summat-or-other. What did it matter now? The bitch had died last year. AIDS.

Too much whoring around, I shouldn’t wonder. Before she’d died, she’d turned tricks for Myers. She was dirty, and it had cost him, but he had loved it at the time. Wasn’t so happy now.

Despite the low volume from the TV, he could hear the orgasmic groans, reminding him the tape was still playing. As he turned from the window, he noticed the driver’s door opening. He walked over and stopped the DVD, then returned to the window. The street was deserted. It was still snowing. A trail of footprints led to the front door of the flats.

Downstairs, Myers could hear the deliveryman taking the stairs, one at a time, slowly and deliberately. Chinky bastard! I’ll teach you to take your time. Myers reached the door as the knock came. He unlocked it, opening quickly, hoping to surprise his visitor with a mouthful of abuse before refusing to pay.

It all happened in the time it took him to blink.

Myers staggered backward, caught off-balance by the speed of the assault. “What the fuck have you done?” His eyes roamed down across his body to the source of the pain. It wasn’t really hurting, more of an irritation. Then he saw it. “A needle… fucking stabbed me!”

Something was wrong. He was slowing down. He tried to direct his right arm to remove the syringe, but it wouldn’t co-operate. Myers was suddenly aware that his body was traveling in a different direction. Backward. He was falling. His eyes finally came to rest on the ceiling.

His attacker came into view, staring down at him.

Myers lay on the floor, trying to rationalize what was happening to his body. His breathing was erratic. He could see. He could hear. But he couldn’t feel anything. His whole body was paralyzed. He couldn’t move a muscle.

He heard movements around his flat. Then the door closed. Realization dawned on him.

He was trapped! Unable to talk, move, or defend himself. Whoever had stabbed him with the syringe – filled him full of whatever – he was now at their mercy. His attacker appeared suddenly, dressed in black jeans, a jacket, and a balaclava with eyeholes.

“Hello, Frank.”

Myers didn’t recognize the voice. It certainly wasn’t Harry Clayton. The build was too small. From what he could see and hear, it was no one familiar. But it had to be someone who knew him. Otherwise, how did they know his name? It had to be someone they all knew. And if it wasn’t Clayton, there could only be one other suspect. Summers.

“I expect you’re wondering who I am. What I’m doing here, what this is all about. All will be revealed, Frank.”

Myers was frustrated. Why the hell couldn’t it have been tomorrow? He’d have been out of here by then.

“The stage you’re at now, you’re probably wondering what was in the syringe.” His attacker paused. “Well, even if you’re not, I’ll tell you. It’s called curare, Frank. I won’t bore you with detail. It’s a muscle relaxant, which is why you’re paralyzed. Exactly the correct amount, of course. Too much and I’d have killed you. I don’t want you to die too quickly. Or pain-free. Not after what you did to me.

“I do believe you’re thinking about it, now, Frank. You’re wondering who I am, what you’ve done to me. Perhaps you should also be thinking... when?”

He was surprised when his assailant’s next move was to straddle his body and sit on his fat belly. “Cosy this, isn’t it, Frank? Are you as comfortable as I am? I do hope so. Not hurting you, am I? Oh, silly me. You can’t talk, can you? Bet you’d like to.”

Myers’ temper flared.

When it wears off, you’d better be fucking quick, or you’re dead. No one fucks with me and gets away with it! Apart from Carol whatshername, of course!

“I bet there’s a few things you’d like to say to me. It’s the perfect opportunity, really, now we’re on our own. Not like that night all those years ago. The last time we met.”

Myers wondered where his Chinese takeaway was, realizing that the longer the situation went on, the more chance they had of being disturbed. He saw his attacker checking the time.

“I’ve almost outstayed my welcome, Frank, so let’s get down to business.”

Myers saw another syringe appear. It was held aloft, and a small amount of clear liquid was pumped out. He became