Dying to Live

Chapter 31 - How Do You Feel?

I open an eye and nearly die when I see Mookjai staring at me. His face is so close I can smell his breath; prawns and garlic, if I'm not mistaken. Is he about to kiss me or is he listening to see if I'm breathing? I snap my eyes tight closed, hoping the darkness will help me work out what the fuck's happening. My mind fizzes with psychedelic fireworks and all I can smell is garlic, what sort of surreal nightmare am I in?

"Mr Mooray, you unconscious for twelve hours. How you feel?"

I hear the words but I can't make sense of the question. How do I feel? How do I feel? I should feel fucking dead, but I don't.

"How you feel?" he repeats.

I scream, but this time not the scream of the damned, this time I scream the scream of the fucking terrified. Am I in some sort of weird hell? What the fuck has happened to me? What the fuck is happening to me?

Mookjai rests his hand on my chest. Another hand is resting on my left arm. It's Marty. I scream again.

"Dave, it's okay. Everything is okay." His grip tightens on my shoulder. I hear his words. Is this actually happening? The red mist swirling about my brain is starting to clear and the voices in my head are beginning to make sense.

"Dave, talk to me."

"What the fuck's going on?"

"That's my boy," he says, pulling me up to a sitting position and giving me one of his hugs; hugs I'd grown to love.

"Am I dead?"

"Of course you're not dead, in fact, you're very much alive. And we got you out of prison and you're home free," he says. "Well, you're free, we still need to get you home."

"I don't understand. The plan was to get me transferred..."

"That story we told you," says Mookjai. "You had to believe plan fail. You had to believe execution happening. You had to be frightened or plan not work."

"Frightened? Frightened? I was scared shitless."

"Dave, I hated doing it this way but keeping you in the dark was the only way the plan would work."

"What fucking plan? What happened to me being transferred to the airport?"

"Sit still and listen, I'll explain," says Marty. "Are you ready?"

I nod even though I'm not sure if I'm ready for anything right now.

"The doctor was at the heart of the plan," says Marty. "Mr Mookjai bribed him to administer something which would mimic the lethal injection... without the lethal bit, of course."

"Doctor then pronounce you dead," continues Mookjai. The little man is more animated than I've ever seen him, I guess he's pretty chuffed with himself. "Doctor puts you in body bag and we claim body. We bring you here and authorities think job done. They not look for you. To them, you dead."

"It's brilliant, Dave. He's bribed the doctor and a few guards, and you're out."

"I also bribed two officials to get your passport."

I'm flabbergasted. I've changed from dead to free, and all while I was asleep. I hug Marty. I hug Mookjai. I can't believe the bad things I thought about these two stealing my money. I blame it on the demons and hug them again... Marty and Mookjai, that is, not the demons.

"What now?" I ask.

"Well, no fly from Bangkok," says Mookjai. "No one looking for you but not worth risk. Your name may be on some computer system or maybe a policeman recognise you. Just not worth risk."

"Or you might get caught with drugs again," says Marty, never one to resist an opportunity to make a joke at my expense.

"I've organised car to Kuala Lumpur. From Kuala Lumpur, you fly London; thirteen or fourteen-hour flight. You sort out tickets in Kuala Lumpur."

"It sounds easy but then again so did the 'transfer story'. Are you lying to me again?"

"No," says Mookjai. "This how you get home. No deception this time."

"Dave, Mr Mookjai told me all about the fake execution. He explained that the only way it would work was if you believed you were going to die. I know it must seem heartless but the lie was for your own good."

"I know, I can see that. Thanks. Thank you both."

Hugs all round again.

"Okay," says Mookjai. "Time to go."

He leads us to our car. It is in fact a rickety old van which looks as if it mightn't make it to the end of the street never mind the thousand miles to Kuala Lumpur.

"Low profile," says Mookjai, as if he's read my mind.

We're introduced to Jack the driver and his sidekick Akmal before Marty and I clamber into the van. The driver guns the engine and we're off. Through the haze of black smoke belching out of the back of the van, I wave a final goodbye to Mr Mookjai. Maybe, after all, he was the best possible lawyer I could have had. And he spoke English.