These days the factories were empty and served as adventure playgrounds, as drug and weapons stashes, and as meeting places for sex in exchange for payment. Jobless old men fucked away their monthly benefits there, and young girls fucked there to get a bit of affection. Ditto for a handful of homosexuals. Karen and Don often watched people having sex in the factories, which they found disgusting. When they weren’t spending their time on the main road, watching grime videos at a playground, or creeping around factory buildings, they got up to things that involved annoying passersby, stealing things, or fighting with other groups of kids. With the help of YouTube tutorials, Don had from the age of six practiced martial arts in Mandale Park, which was empty aside from a few homeless people who were too drunk to pay her any attention. Wasn’t such a brilliant park. More like an indeterminate cluster of scrubby trees and shrubs. Don had really gotten into Krav Maga. A technique that was very effective and could ensure survival. Like the shooting classes Don had watched online, the tutorials by FARC rebels on how to kill or build a shelter. Don found it exciting to look at pictures and videos about armed resistance. Women who could assemble a machine gun in seconds flat or finish off an enemy with a quick jerk and turn of the head. She’d found something that made her burn with desire, something bigger than her. She trained hard, and her body changed and grew. In width. Compact, like a pit bull. Thought Don.