Dark City (Repairman Jack)
F. Paul Wilson
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Dark City is the second of a new prequel trilogy, Repairman Jack: The Early Years by F. Paul Wilson.
It's February 1992. Desert Storm is raging in Iraq but twenty-two-year-old Jack has more pressing matters at home. His favorite bar, The Spot, is about to be sold out from under Julio, Jack's friend. Jack has been something of a tag-along to this point, but now he takes the reins and demonstrates his innate talent for seeing biters get bit. With a body count even higher than in Cold City, this second novel of the Early Years Trilogy hurtles Jack into the final volume in which all scores will be settled, all debts paid.
come here, you must be looking for us, because, just like Visa”—his arms shot out in an all-encompassing gesture—“we’re everywhere you want to be!” The guy reddened. “Fuck you.” Preston threw his hands up in mock praise. “Hallelujah! That can be arranged, sweetie.” He fluttered his lashes again. “Pitcher or catcher?” The guy had at least fifty pounds of solid muscle on Preston and looked like he was ready to charge. “Everybody quiet,” Ishii-san said. “Everybody quiet. We begin lesson.” As
Can’t believe these things are still on the road.” “Want a ride?” Jack said, jerking a thumb toward the narrow backseat. “Bring back old times?” The cop’s face took on a wistful look. “Used to call mine Sarah. Got laid for the first time in a backseat just like that. Named the car after her.” He shook his head. “But my back would never forgive me for getting in there. You got a name for this one?” That hadn’t occurred to Jack, but a name leaped immediately to mind. “Yeah. Ralph.” He frowned.
one. “Looky-looky,” said another. “Nunchuk Barbie!” Even Jack couldn’t suppress a smile. Pres did look totally ridiculous: red-streaked whiteface, a kimono, and pink nunchaku. But Jack was smiling for another reason. The nunchaku meant he wouldn’t have to get involved here. He’d seen Pres work out with them. These guys had no idea what they were asking for. “They aren’t Barbie,” Preston said as he struck a pose. “They’re Hello Kitty, bitch.” Jack moved up beside the hanger-on. “You’re
Freak? Fringe dweller? Me? Nah! Then again, he’d killed two people in the past year. He guessed that would tend to put someone on the fringe of society. But he didn’t think Pres was talking about that. What was he talking about, then? 5 When Kadir returned home from the Al-Kifah center, he was surprised to find Hadya sitting on his couch, listening to a tape. She had a yellow pad on her lap and was taking notes. He wanted to shout his joy to Allah but restrained himself. He did not want to
up. No physical harm done, but knowing he was getting into her home whenever he felt like it was freaking Rosa. Julio had reached the breaking point. His proposed solution was to take the Louisville Slugger he kept behind the bar and apply it repeatedly to the hijo de puta’s skull until he’d reduced it to the consistency of rice pudding. To keep Julio from landing on Death Row, Jack had followed Zalesky to Rosa’s one night. Unseen, he had orchestrated a nasty fall that resulted in multiple