Flex by Steinmetz Ferrett

Author:Steinmetz, Ferrett [Steinmetz, Ferrett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Sagas, Fantasy, Contemporary, Urban, Thrillers, Supernatural
ISBN: 9780857664600
Google: A1CwoAEACAAJ
Amazon: 0857664603
Publisher: Angry Robot
Published: 2015-03-03T07:00:00+00:00

Twenty

Say Uncle

“Who made this?” Gunza held the Flex above the applicant’s tongue like a priest dispensing the sacrament. The boy glanced over at Paul chained in the corner, legless.

The kid was hard-muscled, lean, looked good in a fight – but the presence of Gunza’s three former guards, alive and hanging from meat hooks, made him visibly nervous.

“You did, Gunza.”

“Who grants this to you?”

“You do.”

“Who tells you when to use the ’mancy?”

“You do, Gunza.”

“God damn right. What happens when you fuck with my ’mancy?”

The kid’s eyes flickered towards his old friends. “Terrible things, Gunza.” Paul counted the days, realized Gunza had hired the kids on the meat hooks three days ago. Gunza was churning through employees faster and faster.

“God damn right.” Gunza lifted the crystal away from the kid’s mouth. The kid stretched his neck after the Flex for a moment, extending his tongue like he was trying to catch a snowflake. Disappointed but obedient, he stepped back into line with the other applicants.

Gunza went for the tray of throwing knives.

“Now, I ain’t never thrown knives,” Gunza murmured, popping the crystal into his mouth. He’d taken to chewing Flex even when he didn’t need ’mancy; Paul was beginning to think he just liked the taste. “Seen a circus guy do it once.”

He flung a knife towards one of the meat hook boys. It cut off most of an ear, more by chance than skill. The kid screamed into the rag stuffed in his mouth.

“Guess I’m no circus guy,” he said.

The other two writhed, moaning apologies.

“Oh, you want luck now?” Gunza slapped them. “You motherfuckers flipped the lottery yesterday. All three at once. From the same fuckin’ store. Didn’t I tell them not to use the Flex until I said?”

Gunza addressed that last sentence to Paul, as always. Paul didn’t know why Gunza even bothered to talk to him, aside from the fact that Paul had become the sole constant in Gunza’s life; he’d spent the last ten days dragging Paul from safe house to safe house, trying to build an empire based on this new drug.

“…you did,” Paul said softly, wearily. “You absolutely did.”

“So, you dumb fucks blew a triple triple! Think SMASH wouldn’t come sniffing after that? When this terrorist bitch has everyone on edge? Place was swarming with Five-0. So, we’re in a different borough, and you’re on meat hooks.”

Gunza threw the knives. The results weren’t pretty.

But they were educational.

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