Read Online Rubbernecker by Belinda Bauer - Free Book Online Page B

at that!’
    ‘
Flexor digitorum superficialis
,’ said Patrick, without looking at
Essential Clinical Anatomy
, which lay open on the table behind him.
    ‘I think we should give him a name,’ said Meg.
    ‘Who?’ said Dilip.
    ‘Number 19.’
    Patrick frowned. ‘It’s a corpse; it doesn’t have a name.’
    ‘Call him Stinky,’ said Scott. ‘He reeks.’
    ‘
You
reek,’ said Meg. ‘This whole place reeks.’
    It did. The strange sweetness of the dissecting room hung in the air and clung to their very persons. Patrick could smell a classmate five places away in the cafeteria line; he could smell it on his own T-shirt when he pulled it over his head at night and when he opened his drawer to get clean clothes; he could still smell it on his own skin as he stepped out of the shower every morning, red from scrubbing.
    ‘Formaldehyde,’ said Dilip.
    ‘Nah,’ said Rob. ‘It’s glycerol, I think.’
    ‘It’s dead flowers over shit,’ Patrick informed them.
    They all looked at him, then at each other – and screwed up their faces in fresh disgust.
    Dilip said, ‘You’re right.’
    Patrick didn’t answer obvious statements.
    ‘So Mr Shit it is then,’ said Scott.
    ‘No,’ said Meg firmly. ‘That’s horrible. Table 11 called their lady Faith. That’s nice. Something like that.’
    Patrick sighed. He had solved the problem of the smell for them and wanted to move on. He pointed at a cord of pink muscle. ‘
Palmaris longus
.’
    ‘That’s a lousy name,’ said Scott, weaving his forceps between the muscles and tendons of the other forearm. ‘Even for a corpse.’
    ‘Cadaver,’ corrected Meg. Then, ‘It’s hard to think of a name without seeing his face.’
    ‘So look at his face,’ shrugged Dilip.
    Meg didn’t move. She glanced around: nobody else had yet unwrapped their cadaver’s head. Dr Spicer was several tables away, talking to Dr Clarke.
    Meg looked at the calluses on the palm of Number 19. Soon they’d be gone, along with the rest of the skin there. ‘Maybe he’s a builder.’
    ‘More like a boxer!’ said Scott, manipulating the tendons so that the hand curled into a fist.
    ‘
Flexor digitorum profundis
,’ Patrick pointed out.
    Scott repeatedly raised and released the tendons.
    ‘Or a professional lemon squeezer,’ laughed Rob.
    ‘Ssh,’ said Meg softly.
    ‘Ssh yourself,’ said Scott and pulled the right tendons to make Number 19 give Meg the finger.
    They all laughed, apart from Patrick, who had started to unwind the strips of cloth around the cadaver’s head.
    ‘What are you doing?’ said Meg sharply, although it was obvious, so he said nothing.
    They watched in silence as the man’s head started to emerge, throat first – exposing a short, faded scar – then his chin, badly shaven.
    ‘Don’t,’ said Meg nervously.
    ‘OK,’ said Patrick, and stopped.
    ‘No, go on,’ said Scott, and Meg said nothing else, so he went on.
    The man’s lips were parted over a slightly open mouth, as if the corpse was surprised by its sudden unveiling. The tips of the teeth were visible – reasonably white but a little uneven.
    The nose was straight and short, with narrow nostrils and a few dark hairs.
    Patrick felt suddenly nervous. He’d thought he’d started unwrapping the head of their cadaver because he’d wanted to put an end to the chatter and get on with the dissection. Now he wasn’t sure why he’d done it or what he wanted. He paused, the cotton strip draped over the bridge of the nose, feeling strangely shaky inside.
    ‘Tease!’ said Rob, and Dilip laughed.
    ‘Let’s see his eyes then,’ said Scott and leaned in to push the cloth aside. Patrick knocked his hand away. ‘Don’t!’
    ‘Hey, man, if I want to look at his eyes, I will! Don’t fucking hit me!’
    Patrick hadn’t meant to. Hadn’t even realized he was going to until Scott’s hand had been
right there
over the man’s face.
    ‘Don’t fight. It’s not respectful,’ said Rob.
    ‘Neither is