Thirty-Three Teeth

by Colin Cotterill

“There was no answer. I didn’t hear any sounds. There was no way in Hades I was about to go down that tunnel. So I was just climbing back up the ladder when this big shadow comes over me and bang, something smashes me over the head.

  “I came to and he’s got my flashlight and he’s dragging me through the tunnel by the wrist just like I don’t weigh anything. I was dizzy, but I struggled and screamed and he gave me another thump with the butt of the flashlight. He was incredibly strong. It was a sort of superhuman strength.”

  “You knew who it was straight away?”

  “Dr. Vansana had described Mr. Seua to me. The physical description was the same, but this wasn’t the sociable, likable fellow the doctor knew from Don Thao: this was a maniac. I tried to talk to him, calm him down, but I knew something had snapped.

  “He left me somewhere in the tunnel and went off with the light. That was worse than the violence: the dark. Siri, I’ve never been so scared. I was drowsy from the blow and bloody from all the dragging. And it was so completely black, I was just left with my thoughts.”

  “I know exactly how you felt.”

  “He came back once or twice with stray dog carcasses and squirrels. He’d sit in front of me in the lamplight and rip them apart with his teeth and eat them raw. I’ve seen some disgusting things in my life, but that beat ’em all.

  “Even then, I didn’t know what to expect. I knew about the victims and the tooth marks. But he was a man, a big powerful man but still a man. I supposed at some stage he’d turn into a weretiger once his blood tank was full, and I’d be his next victim. I was convinced when the moon rose, I’d get to witness the change.”

  Siri took a tissue from the roll and dabbed at the tears that streamed down her face into the pillow.

  “Thanks. I had my watch then and I kept thinking about the moon. I knew if I had any chance to escape, it would have to be before midnight. When he was with me he’d beat me, slap me cruelly, for no reason. I was already very weak but I knew there’d only be one chance. He went off once with the light and I mustered all my strength and headed into the blackness in the opposite direction. I believe my nerves had shut off the pain by then. I could barely feel my legs but fear drove me on.

  “I don’t know how long I staggered. There was nowhere to hide. I didn’t know where I was going, but I prayed I’d come to a way out. Then there was a light. I was so happy that in my feverous state, I believed I’d been rescued. I looked through the beam, and there was Seua’s bloodied mouth snarling at me.

  “That was the beating that finished me off. I only remember one more thing after that, waking up to an unbelievable sight. Even now I’m not sure whether I dreamed it, but it seemed so real.”

  “Describe it to me in detail.”

  “Well, the flashlight was on the ground shining directly at Seua. He’d changed since I’d last seen him. Not the metamorphosis type of change, I mean he’d changed his clothes. I realized what had happened. There was no weretiger, not in the physical sense, but he had this secret identity he could change into.

  “He had this fur. Who knows what type of animal—or animals—it was from. It was tied around his body with ropes. It was on his arms and legs too. And there was a hood. That was made of fur as well, black fur with eyeholes cut out of it. He was pretty well covered, but I could tell it was him from the way he moved.

  “On the back of his left hand, strapped there, was a paw. I assumed it was a real animal paw with the claws extended over his fingers. If he’d clenched his fist it would have made a frightening weapon. I can’t believe how clear that all was, how much I remember from those few seconds. On the ground at his feet was the jawbone of another animal, or the same animal. The teeth were really sharp. I got the feeling he’d dropped it. I don’t know how it fitted in with the rest of the costume at all.

  “I became fixated with whatever it was that was happening to Seua. It was incredible. Something had certainly got into him, or into his hood. He was ripping at it with both hands in panic as if some insect or rat or something had crawled inside it. He pulled it off and the claw accidentally raked over his face. It left this deep fast-bleeding wound across his eye.

  “But removing the hood didn’t seem to get rid of the problem, Doc. It even made it worse. He was slapping at his head like whatever had been in his hood was now inside his skull. I was amazed. He took a run, full speed and head first, at the side of the tunnel. Just like that. As if it was someone else’s head he was throwing at the wall. It didn’t work. He smashed his head again, then grabbed his ears.

  “Dr. Siri, it was like he was trying to wrestle his own head off his shoulders. And the Lord Buddha protect me if he didn’t do it. He stood there over me, wrenched at his head with both hands, and snapped his own neck. He almost pulled it clean off. It just flopped down like a puppet’s.

  “I screamed. I remember that much. Then I was out of it. I was swirling around in nightmare-land till I woke up today and saw your fluffy white head on my bed.”

  “That was the day before yesterday.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  All the while, Siri had been mopping up both their tears with a hand towel. Now, as soon as she was done with her story, the tears stopped and she smiled. She wasn’t purged of her demon, but he would be easier to control now.

  “All this time, I’ve been worried I was wrong with the autopsy,” Siri said. “It didn’t make any sense. Who, in any state of mind, would be able to twist off his own head? I had to assume you or some other person had done it. But there was no evidence on his body that he’d been in a fight.

  “The scratches were clearly from his weapon. The blood on his face matched that on the wall. He died from a broken neck, and I could convince nobody, not even myself, that he was the one who did it.”

  “Well, he did, Doc. I’m a sorry witness to that. Did you get anything else at the autopsy?”

  “The claw and the jaw bone were both from a real tiger, and they match the marks we copied from the bodies. God knows where he got them. He’d set up this complicated grip on the jaw so he could use it like a glove puppet. He’d wear it on his hand and he could really bite with it. It must have been confusing for him that he didn’t really materialize into the weretiger he believed he was.

  “The fur was one more example of how much time went into this secret identity you mentioned. It was sewn together painstakingly from the pelts of all those animals I found in the pit: dogs, cats, possums, anything he could lay his hands on. He must have spent all the time between his release and the full moon to set it up.

  “There were nodule growths on his brain: small tumors. I’m ashamed to say they meant nothing to me. It’s all a bit beyond my humble field of expertise. I have no idea what they mean, but I’m not counting out one theory I heard that night. There might be a connection between the moon’s energy when it’s full and the electrical impulses in the brain. It could explain the rapid change in his personality.

  “I’ve taken samples of everything. When you go to Russia, you can take them with you, find yourself a good-looking young forensic scientist, and follow up on this for your thesis.”

  “Yes. Dream On, I and II.”

  “Not necessarily. The next exams are at the end of May. Given what you’ve done already, I don’t see why you shouldn’t get through those easily enough.”

  “They wouldn’t even let me sit.”

  “Your name’s already on the roster.”

  “How the hell did you swing that?”

  “They’re desperate for people with a basic grasp of Russian.”

  “How did you know…? Has my mom been engaging in pillow talk?”

  “Don’t be vulgar, girl. Nothing improper is going on between your mother and me…or Mr. Inthanet.”

  “Jesus, is he still here?”

  “I can’t get him to go home. But I must say, my house is a lot more palatable with other people in it. I don’t feel quite so much like a dowager duchess in her castle. The old fellow’
s stepping out with my next-door neighbor.”

  “Not the creepy guy from Oudom Xay?”

  “No. Dear Mr. Soth moved out under mysterious circumstances. I came home one evening to find him and his family and all their furniture gone. I mean the other neighbor, my own Miss Vong.”

  “Vong and Inthanet? You must be joking.”

  “Not at all. They appear to be getting along very nicely, and it does keep her out of my hair.”

  “Are they, you know, performing together?”

  “Dtui. No. It’s all very proper. They go for motorbike rides down to the river, hold hands listening to her traditional tapes in the back garden.”

  “How sweet.”

  “I think it was all a bit too sickening for my dog.”

  “Saloop?”

  “He’s left home.”

  “I thought you two were inseparable.”

  “Obviously not. I think he’s found himself a—”

  “Siri.”

  “What is it?”

  He hurried across to check her pipes and wires.

  “I saw him. I saw Saloop.”

  “Where?”

  “That day. That day in the tunnel when I came around. It completely went out of my head till you mentioned him. He was just sitting, watching Seua run amok.”

  “You sure you didn’t add him later, in your dreams?”

  “No. ’Cause when I saw him, I remember wondering whether you were around, too. I guessed you’d come looking and brought Saloop with you.”

  “He wasn’t with me.”

  “And you didn’t see him?”

  “No. When I got the flashlight working, I saw the aftermath of the scene you just described, but with one addition. There was an old lady—I mean the spirit of the same old lady that came to our office often when you two had gone home.”

  “You forgot to mention that.”

  “Didn’t want to spook anyone. Well, she was there, or it was there, standing over Seua’s body. I went to do what I could for you, and she vanished. But Saloop; I have no idea how he found his way into the tunnels. I’ve been seeing him in some odd places lately, but he’s definitely gone back to his old street life. He doesn’t even have the manners to come and visit from time to time.”

  “Perhaps he’s afraid of all those house guests, Siri, and he’ll come home when they’ve gone. Doc?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks.”

  “For?”

  “Everything. Thanks for coming to look for me that day. Thanks for taking care of Mom. Thanks for being here now. I owe you big-time.”

  “You can pay me back by passing those exams.”

  “Just as well you don’t want it in cash. What was the secret about paying the bills here you couldn’t tell me?”

  “Dtui, sweetheart, it’s three-thirty in the morning and I have a kidney to dissect at eight. You don’t suppose I could have a little sleep before then, do you? Even if you aren’t tired, I’m exhausted.”

  “Sorry. You’re right. Go get some sleep.”

  “You need anything?”

  She thought about spending the rest of her life with a triangular face.

  “A new perspective? You couldn’t flip my face, could you?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  He took her chin in one hand and her forehead in the other and gently dragged her nose across the pillow to face the other wall. It gave her a brief preview of the pain she’d be enjoying over the next week. Siri sighed and creaked back into his chair.

  “G’night, Dtui.”

  “G’night, Doc.”

  “Oh, Doc?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is it still hot outside?”

  “Damned hot.”

  April New Year

  Vientiane was preparing for New Year on the 14th with its usual verve. Houses had to be cleaned, repairs made, old scores forgiven. It was customary to begin the new year in a state of physical and moral cleanliness.

  March and early April had been the hottest on record, and a lot of people had forgotten what rain felt like. Excluding the Government, everyone was looking forward to a few days of water tossing, and hosing down, and walking around in shorts and rubber sandals. Songkran was Laos’s most joyous and uninhibited calendar event.

  All the splashing generally got Mother Nature in the mood too, and she’d join in with some generous pre-season rainstorms to begin the long process of slaking the thirst of the land. But if old Mother Nature had been in the meeting at the Interior Ministry on the eleventh, she’d probably have become as hotheaded as Civilai.

  He stormed out after the final vote with his glasses steamed up and his two aides scuttling along after him.

  “Fools,” was all he had to say.

  It was Sunday. Inthanet, with the invaluable aid of his lovely assistant, Miss Vong, was making the final preparations for his big show. From his vantage point on the hammock in the back yard, Siri couldn’t help noticing the red flushes on their collective cheeks. Either sewing hems on Royal capes was hot work, or they’d been up to something. Siri didn’t relish getting a mental picture of what that may have been, but he was pleased that Miss Vong finally had a little romance in her life.

  Manoluk lay sleeping on the cot on the veranda. One overworked fan whirled at her feet at the end of a daisy chain of extension cords that brought it out to the garden. Another chain led to the living room, where a second fan swept back and forth drying the new paint faces of a lineup of delighted puppets. A third fan puffed at the ruddy cheeks of the lovers in the back room. The radio played northern flute music live from the army studio. The refrigerator made ice for the lemon tea. The rice cooker prepared lunch.

  The drain on the national electric grid from Siri’s house alone was enormous. He expected a raid at any second. So when the bell rang from the front gate—a bell that only strangers used—he knew the jig was up.

  “Visitor,” Miss Vong called out.

  “So I gathered,” Siri agreed. “I don’t suppose you’d like to go and see who it is, would you?”

  “I’m threading.”

  “Of course you are.”

  The old Miss Vong would have been at the fence with her binoculars and notepad at the first footfall on the front path. Now she didn’t care. Siri reluctantly climbed down from the hammock and shuffled stiffly through the house. The bell had rung with great urgency twice more before he reached the front.

  “Patience, patience,” he said, and creaked open the gate that was neither locked nor latched.

  To his amazement, Mrs. Fah, the wife of his old neighbor, Soth, stood a few paces back from the gate. She’d been crying and was shaking violently.

  “Mrs. Fah. What’s wrong?”

  “Dr. Siri, can you come with me, please?”

  These were more words than they’d exchanged in all the time they’d lived next door to one another.

  “What is it?”

  “My husband is dying, and he says it’s your fault.”

  Siri rode his motorcycle with Mrs. Fah on the back, holding his bag. She gave directions, and he was interested to see that the neighbors had moved about a mile from their old house to a similar suburb. The woman insisted on getting off the bike long before the house came into view and walking ahead, lest her husband see her. In fact, the new house was almost identical to the one they’d left in such a hurry. It was all most peculiar.

  Mrs. Fah hadn’t given Siri any details of her husband’s ailment, so he didn’t know what to expect. He parked in the street and followed the wife through the opulent house to the bedroom. The huge king-size bed contained a remarkably shriveled Mr. Soth at its center. His skin was gray, and his cheekbones stood out on his face.

  “Mr. Soth, what’s happened to you?”

  The man opened his eyes slowly and glared at Siri.

  “As you see, Doctor, I’ve been struck down.”

  “By what?”

  He reached out for Soth’s wrist but the man pulled away.
r />   “I don’t need your medicine. I can afford a dozen real doctors. None of them have helped.”

  “I don’t understand. What caused this?”

  Soth looked beyond Siri.

  “That.”

  Siri turned his head and was stunned to see a trim version of Saloop lying in the corner of the room with his head on one paw.

  “Saloop? Well, I’ll be. So this is where you got to. How are you, boy?”

  Soth’s eyes grew wide. “So you can see it.”

  “Of course I can.”

  “Of course? My wife can’t. The kids can’t. Nobody else can see the damned thing but me. I’ve had three fortune-tellers here telling me it doesn’t exist.”

  Siri stared at Saloop, who showed no sign of recognizing his old master. His eyes were glazed and red like cocktail cherries. His fur was dull. His left ear seemed to sit lower on his head than his right. There was no movement but for the irregular rise and fall of its breath. Siri was overcome with a sudden pang of sadness.

  What he saw there was not his dog; it was the malevolent spirit of an animal that had suffered an unnatural death.

  “It’s dead,” Soth said, and a tear appeared in the corner of his eye.

  “Why’s he here?”

  “It’s here to haunt me. It won’t rest till it sees me on my pyre. It won’t let me eat or sleep. It plans to stay here until I rot away.”

  “But why?”

  “Why? Why? Because I killed it, that’s why.”

  “You killed my dog?”

  “Yes, but because of you. Because you tried to make a fool of me. You didn’t leave me with any choice. I lured it into my yard and brained it with a shovel. It was to get back at you. This is all your fault.”

  “The dog didn’t have anything to do with you or me.”

  “It was your dog. I knew you liked it. It was just revenge.”

  “But of course he’s not going to see a connection. Only man would hurt a third party to get revenge on someone who’d wronged him. It’s against nature. If your grievance was with me, you should have settled your debt with me directly. The dog’s spirit doesn’t know why you hate it.”