“Videoproducties met een krachtige en duidelijke boodschap”
Jack hadn’t eaten in two years. There was no point – his digestive system no longer worked properly. Even so, this afternoon his stomach was churning.
Or he imagined it. The mind is a funny thing.
Is this what nausea feels like? he asked himself, rattling his leg up and down to shake out the nerves; his knee cracked musically. Drawn by curiosity, his waiting room companion – there was only room for two – regarded Jack from the corner of his eye then quickly turned away.
Jack knew the man was afraid.
It was a grimy room he’d found himself in, feeling so dismally nervous and well aware that this theater company was far beneath him. He was surrounded by the supporting evidence: the minuscule waiting room, sparsely furnished and lit only by a frail yellow bulb in a plastic lamp, and in a building that smelled of stale dust with a tinge of something sour – like week-old dirty dishes. But this was it, the last hurrah.
“When there’s no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.”
“In the brain and not the chest. Head shots are the very best.”