Major Karnage

Начало книги

Karnage woke strapped to his bed. It was a welcome change from the straitjacket and the Hole, but the catheter still stung like a bitch and he had to scratch his nose something fierce. The sickly pink glow from the overhead fluorescents was giving him a headache. He shut his eyes. The smell of rotting piss and shit from dirty bed pans filled his nostrils.

So, Karnage thought, this is retirement.

He could hear Heckler’s hysterical laughter coming from elsewhere in the ward. One of the nurses—probably Fridge— barked at Heckler to shut the fuck up. There came a shout of “fuck you” from Velasquez, followed by a much more colourful stream of invectives in Spanish—the kind only Velasquez could conjure with that magic vocab of hers. Fridge—it was definitely Fridge—shouted at Velasquez. Velasquez shouted back. Karnage did his best to shut it all out. He knew where it was all going to end: sooner or later, out would come the stun gun, and after a long series of screams, Heckler and Velasquez would be electrocuted into silence.

Читать дальше →