The Einstein Pursuit

11

David Jones had faced death on every continent and in every condition imaginable. He had been shot in the mountains of Afghanistan, stabbed in the Bolivian rainforest, and left for dead in the desert grasslands of the Gobi. He had endured pain that would cripple a battalion of lesser men, but he kept going back for more because it was his job, his duty, his calling.

He was a MANIAC. A warrior. A killing machine.

One of the baddest motherfuckers on earth.

And yet he had a weakness. A major weakness.

David Jones was scared of the dentist.

Make that petrified.

Years of soda and sugary treats had left him with more than a few cavities. Couple that with his high tolerance of pain, and he would often let things fester for weeks until he was unable to eat. To him, each filling in his mouth was a battle scar. Each represented another time he had survived the horrors of dentistry. The excruciating bright lights. The sadistic tools. The tortuously small paper cups. Just thinking about it made his heart beat faster.

‘You have nothing to worry about,’ the technician assured him as she lowered the chair into position. From his medical history, she knew that Jones was a graduate of the Air Force Academy. ‘Just try to relax. Think about flying one of your airplanes. Just floating through the sky.’

Screw that, he thought to himself. I’d rather be in a fighter jet. At least you can pull the ripcord in an F-16 and eject!

‘Deep breaths,’ she said calmly. ‘It’ll all be over soon.’

What’ll be over soon? My life?

‘Relax. I’m just going to kill the pain with a shot of Novocain, then the doctor will be in to drill the tooth and fill the cavity. Kill, drill and fill, as we like to say.’

Did she just say ‘kill’?

What kind of bedside manner is that?

She tilted the chair all the way back and sat next to Jones’s head. She looked down at him — albeit upside down — as she spread a cloth bib across his chest. Then she prepped the syringe that would be used to anesthetize the affected area.

Jones could only see her eyes — the rest of her face was hidden behind a surgical mask — but they were a remarkable shade of green. Somehow the color gave Jones a deep sense of calm … until he saw her tap the syringe. Then her eyes grew dark, and cold, and sinister. Suddenly she was a beast and he was her victim.

He was half tempted to bite her hand to defend himself, but she was too quick. He felt the pinch of her needle as it pierced his gum. A moment later, the slow burn of anesthetic started to spread throughout his mouth. He felt the poison take hold.

‘There,’ she announced. ‘All done with the first step. That wasn’t so bad, was it? The drug will take a few minutes to take full effect. We’ll be back then to finish the job.’

He groaned in anticipation.

She looked down at him, concerned. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Do I look okay?’

‘Not really. You look kind of pale.’

‘Pale? You think I look pale? What kind of bullshit is that? Never call a black man pale! Look in the damn mirror — you’re the one who’s pale!’

She stood there stunned, unsure how to respond.

Jones quickly realized his mistake. He knew he had overreacted. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I really didn’t.’ He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. ‘I swear, I’m normally not like this. You’re catching me at my absolute worst.’

She nodded and backed away.

‘Seriously, I didn’t mean it. You’re the perfect amount of pale.’

She ignored his comment. ‘Oh, one more thing. Try to keep your mouth closed. The anesthetic is going to numb your mouth and the lower half of your face. The last thing we want is for you to accidentally bite through your tongue. I’ve seen it happen many times. Boy, is it messy! You wouldn’t believe the blood. We’d have to bring in a mop to clean it all up.’

With that, she closed the door behind her.

It was her way of getting even.

Most patients would have freaked out over the thought of blood, but not Jones. He had spilled enough over the years to become immune. Too bad the same didn’t apply to power tools, because the thought of a high-speed drill in his mouth made him nauseous.

‘Calmm dowwn,’ he said to himself, his words suddenly slurred by the Novocain. ‘Whaatt the fuckk?’

He poked his lips with his finger. They were already growing numb. He slipped his finger inside his mouth and pressed down on his tongue. Strangely, his finger could feel his tongue, but his tongue didn’t feel the finger. He moved it around, trying to illicit even the slightest sense of touch. There was nothing. It felt like a dead fish in his mouth.

Just then his cell phone started to vibrate.

He was so unnerved, he nearly bit his finger in two.

‘Shiiitttt!’ he screamed as he yanked the damaged digit from his mouth. It took a moment to wipe the saliva on his bib and pull the cell phone from his pocket. Once he did, he read the text message from Payne.

‘Gaamme onn?’ he mumbled. ‘Thannkk Godd!’

A jolt of adrenalin shot through his body, as if his nerves were on fire. His best friend was in danger and needed his help. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would keep Jones from coming to his aid — especially if it meant getting out of a root canal.

He leapt from the dental chair, grabbed the tray of tools that was blocking his path, and flung it against the wall. They clattered to the floor as he bolted from the examination room and hurried down the hallway toward the reception desk.

‘Mr Jones!’ the technician shouted. ‘You can’t leave yet!’

‘I hawf to go! We’ll hawf to rethedual.’

‘But we’re not done!’

Jones ignored the comment, completely focused on his escape. He threw open the next door with so much force that it crashed against the wall and ricocheted back against his face. If not for the Novocain, he would have felt his bottom lip splitting against his teeth. For the time being, it was merely a minor inconvenience as blood poured from his mouth.

‘Sonnoffabitchh!’

He pushed the door open again, this time with a lot less force, stepped over the threshold and found himself in the waiting room, surrounded by several frazzled patients. He tried to assure them that everything was okay, but a spray of blood and several incoherent words did more damage than good.

‘Mr Jones!’ the dentist yelled from behind. ‘I know you’re wary of the drill, but trust me, the hard part is over.’

Jones ignored him and ran outside like a condemned man fleeing the gallows. Never in his life had he been more thankful to get a life-or-death text from a friend.

Back in the waiting room, a hush fell as everyone wondered what they had just witnessed. A madman on the loose, or a procedure gone wrong?

The dentist smiled to reassure them. ‘Okay, who’s next?’

Not a single patient moved.