Chapters (65)
I put my hand to the door and it creaks as I drag it open. It slides but it’s so rusty I can’t stop it from making a noise.
‘Shhh,’ she says, louder than before.
I get it open far enough so I can climb up. I squeeze through sideways.
‘Julia?’
It’s dark inside. Pitch black. Echoey.
‘Tuva,’ she whispers.
Lights flash on all around me. Spotlights and halogen, security lights, so bright I have to shield my eyes.
The door slams shut at my back.
She’s right there in front of me.
Sat behind a desk with a laptop.
‘Welcome to Visberg Tandklinik.’ She says. ‘Do you have an appointment?’
51
‘What?’
‘I said, do you have an appointment?’
She checks her laptop. Her orange hat is sat next to it.
‘Where’s Emil?’
She points behind me and suddenly there’s an arm at my neck. He’s got my head in an armlock and I’m squirming around. Knife. Stungun. I try to reach for it but his arm has dug deep into my throat. I cough and gasp for air. Just need to get into my bag. I twist and jerk myself and my arm finds the leather of my bag. He starts pulling it from my shoulder but that’s fine, because now I have my stungun in my hand.
My bag falls and I see my hairbrush skid across the train carriage. There’s some kind of plastic sheet on the floor?
I press the button on the stungun and jab it into Emil’s groin. I miss the groin but get his hip. He yelps. But nothing else. No stun. No wounded man convulsing on the ground. I press the button again and jab it into his thigh. Nothing. Like sticking someone with an iPhone.
Julia’s watching all this calmly from behind her desk. Her face is devoid of emotion. She’s tidying the dental-floss samples next to her laptop and she’s looking me straight in the eye.
‘Help,’ I gasp.
She nods and checks something on her laptop.
I’m dizzy. I try to pivot to throw Emil off me, to make him lose balance, but I’m losing my strength. He’s holding me in a vice-like grip and my head is completely still.
My vision blurs at the edges but I take in the room.
Windowless.
Walls made from white shower curtains hanging from the ceiling.
A table with neat stacks of magazines and four green plastic garden chairs in a row. A fishtank full of pondweed. An empty water dispenser.
‘Help,’ I say but there is no noise. My head feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. I’m getting tired.
There’s a poster advertising mouthwash directly behind Julia. And some kind of framed certificate.
The police will help me.
They’ll be here soon.
My body starts to go limp.