BooksBarbecue
Back Bad Apples
Chapters (65)
  1. 1
  2. 2
  3. 3
  4. 4
  5. 5
  6. 6
  7. 7
  8. 8
  9. 9
  10. 10
  11. 11
  12. 12
  13. 13
  14. 14
  15. 15
  16. 16
  17. 17
  18. 18
  19. 19
  20. 20
  21. 21
  22. 22
  23. 23
  24. 24
  25. 25
  26. 26
  27. 27
  28. 28
  29. 29
  30. 30
  31. 31
  32. 32
  33. 33
  34. 34
  35. 35
  36. 36
  37. 37
  38. 38
  39. 39
  40. 40
  41. 41
  42. 42
  43. 43
  44. 44
  45. 45
  46. 46
  47. 47
  48. 48
  49. 49
  50. 50
  51. 51
  52. 52
  53. 53
  54. 54
  55. 55
  56. 56
  57. 57
  58. 58
  59. 59
  60. 60
  61. 61
  62. 62
  63. 63
  64. 64
  65. Acknowledgements

I screw up my eyes as tight as I can. I will not allow Tobias to implant one of my teeth into Emil’s mouth. It’s evil.

‘I understand your reservations,’ says Tobias. ‘But we can’t make a dental omelette without breaking a few teeth, now, can we? These two,’ he points to the tray, ‘were milk teeth. Straightforward to pull. Yours, on the other hand, will be rather more challenging.’

I start bucking against my chair. Too exhausted from all this. I feel like I’m going to pass out.

‘Nurse.’

He hands her the hand mirror.

‘It won’t take long,’ she says, holding up the mirror. ‘And when it’s over, you’ll get a gift from the doctor.’

She points the mirror so I can see Emil.

He has a trickle of blood flowing out of the corner of his mouth.

Behind him sits a half-deflated bladder-balloon.

Unpainted.

Rotting.

That was the terrible stench.

And the source of the liquid pooling under Emil’s unconscious body.

Next to the mirror I notice Tobias squeezing anaesthetic from the needle.

‘Little scratch,’ he says.

63

Tobias injects anaesthetic into the gum on the other side of my mouth. I need to be patient. Bide my time.

‘I’ll let that start to work and then I’ll be back in a few moments to start the transplant.’

He smiles and pulls his bloodstained face-mask down under his chin.

I stare up at the ceiling.

The shower curtain separating this part of the carriage from the fake reception area ripples as he passes through and I yank up my wrist. I heave at the tapes, lifting my hand, straining, and the tape rips. I drag my wrist back and forth and free my hand completely from the sun-lounger armrest.

Stay calm.

Keep quiet.

I shake my wrist around to get the blood flowing again and then I put my free wrist under the blanket and pull off the tapes on my left hand. I have to be careful not to make too much noise. They rip. I now have both wrists free. Hidden by the blanket, I rip off the tapes securing my chest, waist and hips. I can’t reach the knee or ankle-tapes without pulling off the tapes securing my head to the lounger. I still can’t sit up. But I’m free now, from neck to hip. Do I untape the rest and run for it? They’ve got a rifle in reception and there’s no other way out that I know of other than through the door I came in by. If I let him transplant one of my teeth into Emil’s mouth what will happen to me afterwards? Will they sedate me like they did with Emil? I can’t believe they’ll just let me go and tell my story to the police. More likely they’ll do to me what they did to Arne Persson.