Only the Strongest Survive

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Only the Strongest Survive Page 7

by Ian Fox


  She continued to bang and push. The air was getting thinner and thinner. She was breathing fast and was barely able to give her lungs the oxygen they needed. She knew she had no more than a few minutes left. A bit more and I’ll manage.

  She turned to the sides. Instead of trying to push, she began to pull the planks toward her. There must be a way of getting out.

  Her chest was beginning to feel tight, but still she did not give up. “I can do it …”

  And then suddenly all her suffering was over. Instead of the darkness around her, a wonderful light appeared. She could no longer feel her body; it did not belong to her anymore. She felt like a bud of cotton wool carried by the wind. She looked around and saw a pleasant white light everywhere. There was a particularly warm glow in front of her and she was slowly being carried toward it. It was like approaching a large light bulb, which was not hot or menacing, but attractive and calming.

  *

  Two hours later John went back to her. “Just to make things clear. My beloved brother has no idea that you’re still alive. I’ll prepare a room for you in the basement, where you’ll be safe. Sooner or later, he’ll be back and the more noise you make, the greater the chance of him coming to visit you. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re in an isolated house, no neighbors anywhere near. It’s in the middle of woods, so even if you did manage to escape, you’d have little chance of finding your way out.”

  He unfastened her right hand and stroked her hair. She moved her head.

  He said, “All I expect from you is reasonable behavior.”

  Emely nodded.

  He adjusted the collar on his shirt, which was bothering him.

  “And when will you let me go?”

  “I suggest we go to the dining room. I’ve made us a wonderful dinner and it’s getting cold.”

  “So?”

  “Let’s take things one at a time. I’ll tell you about my plans for you.”

  He gave her the clothes she had been wearing when she was kidnapped, all freshly washed. Only now did Emely become aware that she was almost naked.

  “Get dressed. I’ll wait outside the door.”

  After they sat down at a huge wooden table, she was surprised at all the food. From the covered ceramic dishes wafted the smell of roasted meat and cooked vegetables. Two places were set with expensive plates and silver cutlery. John uncovered one of the dishes and a cloud of steam rose from it, drops of condensation gathering on the edges of the lid.

  “Vegetable soup. It’ll do you good.”

  Even though the food smelled wonderful and she was hungry, she didn’t feel like eating. All she wanted was to find out what his intentions were. The smell of dust and dirt that had not been cleaned for a long time was irritating her nostrils.

  “Come on, get some soup.” He watched the light from the candles reflecting in her eyes.

  They ate in silence. Using a large spoon she ate the soup with bits of vegetables and chicken floating on top. It was tasty, but Emely’s thoughts were elsewhere. She looked at John with anger as he passed her a plate with a large veal cutlet and potatoes. She wanted to grab the plate and throw it against the wall. But she controlled her impulse and cut into the meat with her silver knife. To her surprise, the meat was tender and delicious, interestingly spiced.

  John added salad, with a yoghurt dressing. For dessert, he served a Napoleon pastry with caramel sauce.

  “This was very good,” she said without feeling, hoping that he’d finally begin talking.

  “Thank you. Cooking is one of the things I’m good at,” he said, lifting his head in pride and unbuttoning his shirt collar. “I’ll make us some coffee.” He went to the kitchen.

  Emely looked around the huge room which was obviously intended only for dining. There were stuffed boar and stag heads on the walls. There was even a bear’s head. Clearly there’s no shortage of wildlife in these woods, she thought. The tall windows were draped in blue velvet curtains. She wondered what it was like outside.

  From the kitchen, John said, “My dad was a great hunter. We often used to come here.”

  She could not care less who his father was. She just wanted to get away, go home, as soon as possible. She wanted revenge.

  “Once he was attacked by a bear,” John said, taking his seat. “Luckily he was very athletic. He ran down the hill and got away—”

  She said, “Listen, I’m really not interested in what happened to your father. What I’d like to know is what’s happening to me.”

  He ignored her comment and went on: “Instead of coming home all scared because he had just managed to escape the paws of a grizzly, he was filled with revenge and decided he would get at least one bear. And seven months later he did. You can see its head on your right.”

  Irritably she once more looked at the motionless head, and clenched her fists.

  “Considering we’ll be spending quite some time together, there will be plenty of opportunities to tell you more about my family.”

  “What do you mean, we’ll be spending quite some time together?”

  He leaned against the tall back of his chair and his face grew serious. “Just so that you’re clear. If you think that you can redeem yourself with a lousy two million, you’re very mistaken.”

  She stared at him in horror.

  “Our company that you took over was worth much more. Considering you’re such a renowned expert in securities, it won’t be a big problem for you to turn the two million into ten. Have I made myself clear enough?”

  “What? What do you think I’ll do?”

  “Quite simple. I’ll get a room ready for you in the basement that will serve as your bedroom and study. The computer I’ve bought will be connected to the Internet, but because of the special filters you’ll only be able to see specific sites that show stock trading. You won’t be able to communicate with the world.”

  Emely looked at him with dismay. She was becoming nauseous. This man is insane. “Impossible. If I wanted to make ten million dollars out of two, I’d need at least two years, and that’s with a lot of luck.”

  “So?”

  “What do you mean, so? I can’t live in a basement for two years.” Her face flushed and the corners of her lips were trembling. “Besides, I’d have to trade with the highest degree of risk. That means I’d have to speculate exclusively with shares that bring the highest return, meaning the most risky ones.”

  She grabbed the edges of the table with her hands and leaned forward as if she wanted to convince him with her body about the gravity of what she was about to say. “There are not many companies in the world with shares that would grow by more than 30 percent a year. I’d have to buy only the shares of smaller and medium-sized companies, the so-called gazelles.”

  “What?”

  “Gazelles are fast-growing companies with a high return. They are smaller companies turning into medium-sized ones that later change into a joint-stock company. Due to their success, the value of their shares grows exceptionally quickly. If I wanted to increase the capital by more than 400 percent, which is what you’re asking for, it would mean speculating only with these shares, but this involves the highest risk.”

  “And where’s the problem?”

  Emely could not believe that she was dealing with such an idiot. “The problem is in the fact that these companies are very unstable. They invest their capital in very risky deals. Today they’re making a profit and tomorrow they may be bankrupt. Almost all financial institutions invest their funds into the shares of large companies which bring in less profit but are much more stable.”

  John covered his mouth as he yawned widely. Then he stretched his arms. “All this is way too complicated for me. All I want is the ten million you took from me. When you’ve repaid your debt, you’ll be free, I promise. But until then ….”

  “No! I can’t spend two years in your damn basement.”

  He got up quickly, took two steps toward her, and slap
ped her face. “You ungrateful bitch. Let me remind you that only a few hours back you were about to leave this world forever and begin to rot. I’m not asking for anything more than what you took from me. Do you want me to call my brother?”

  “No, John,” she said through tears. “I’ll do everything you ask.”

  “That’s much better.” He stroked her hair and wiped her tears with gentle kisses. “I knew you could be a good girl.”

  *

  Because there was a chance Ronald might come, Emely had to spend the next day in the attic while John was preparing her new room in the basement. All that time, she kept looking for an opening through which she could slip and gain her freedom. The fact that the house was at least thirty feet high didn’t bother her; she would find a way of climbing down. What was most important was to find a suitably large gap.

  The attic measured over two thousand square feet. It was filled with various junk items, which made it hard for her to get to where she wanted to be. Thick, sticky cobwebs kept attaching themselves to her face. She grimaced in disgust and sighed as she wiped her face with her hands, never quite getting rid of all the cobwebs. The worst thing was that the old yellow light bulb only threw light in one part of the attic. Three-quarters of the space was practically in darkness. She had to use her hands rather than eyes to examine the place in the hope of finding a way out. When she’d accepted that she couldn’t find a suitable gap, she attempted to remove the old wooden planks separating her from the roof. She pulled with all her strength, grunting with effort as splinters dug into her hands. “This damn attic,” she groaned, “there’s got to be at least one way out.”

  Once more she launched herself at the planks, this time even more ferociously. To her surprise, she managed to remove one. Out of breath but full of enthusiasm over her success, she examined what was behind the wood, hoping not to stick her hand into some creature’s jaws. What if there are poisonous spiders in these woods? she thought. She had read somewhere that the most poisonous spiders in Australia often live indoors, in attics and basements. She pulled her hand out immediately.

  But this isn’t Australia. She tried to remember if anything poisonous did live in these parts. Looking at the light bulb, she thought how to direct more light at the opening she had just created. After a while she reinserted her hand into the dark space. Only a few inches away she felt some damp, artificial material that she thought must be the insulation under the roof tiles. If I could penetrate that with something solid …. She began looking in the cardboard boxes overflowing with various materials. When she pulled out some old clothes, dust spread everywhere and made her cough. Every box was covered with a thick layer of it and the heavy boxes often slipped from her hands. In some of the boxes she found old glass jars obviously intended for pickling. One of the boxes fell from her hands and the glass made a clanking noise. She put her hand on her mouth in fear that the noise might attract John’s attention, but forgot how dirty she was and now began spitting and wiping her lips on her sleeve. “Oh, let it all go to hell.”

  She searched nearly all the boxes but couldn’t find a suitable metal object with which she would be able to break the thick material that was preventing moisture from penetrating the house. She tried jabbing at it with plastic and wooden objects, but they were not sharp enough. In the end she collapsed onto an old mattress. The tears that she had until then managed to keep back—although they had been gathering in her eyes ever since John had shut her in there, and which she did not want to wipe with her dirty hands—now ran freely down her grimy cheeks and she began crying hysterically.

  *

  “What’s happened to you?” John asked.

  She straightened up in a flash.

  “You look as if you’ve climbed down a chimney. You’re filthy. It’s clear you’ve been trying to find a way out.”

  Emely was looking at the floor, hoping he would not hit her again.

  John had heard her rummaging in the attic. He knew what a decisive and brave woman she was and that she would not simply surrender to her fate but try to fight it in every possible way, to find a way of escaping. When his curiosity got the better of him, he had quietly opened the door to see what she was doing. He saw her opening the cardboard boxes. Let her try. Sooner or later she’ll have to give up.

  He took hold of her long reddish-brown hair which was now matted with dirt and unpleasant to the touch. “I told you how to behave in this household. Do you want me to tell you again?” he said as he pulled her hair and came so close to her face that she could feel his breath.

  “I don’t think it’s necessary,” she said calmly.

  “Good.”

  He gave her a cell phone. “It’s time for you to arrange that money transfer.”

  Obediently she took the phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.

  John whispered into her ear, “If you get the police, you’ll find yourself in the woods again.”

  “I understand.”

  He shoved his bank account number in her face.

  After talking to the bank she cut the line, looked down at the wooden floor, and said in a weary voice, “The money will be in your account in three days.”

  “Great,” he said in satisfaction, and immediately went back down to the basement.

  As Emely had watched him leave she felt such hatred as she had never experienced before. Without a thought she could have stuck a long knife in his back so that he would spend a long time writhing in pain in front of her. She would be all too glad to press the trigger of a gun if she had one and riddle his head with bullets. If she had some acid, she would pour it on him and watch his body turn into an unrecognizable heap. Not only did she want to kill him, she wanted him to suffer in the way that at least vaguely resembled her suffering when she was shut in the coffin. All her muscles tensed as she thought about all the ways of hurting him, if only she could overpower him and make him be the one who had to obey her.

  I must get away. These words kept going through her mind. When she was not crying, she was devising a plan of escape. She dared not even contemplate what lay ahead and directed all her thoughts to her salvation. She knew that if she started thinking about those close to her, she’d never stop crying. I’ll start feeling sorry for myself and it’ll only make things worse. I won’t stay here for more than five days.

  She didn’t care if there were thick woods all around. All the better. If she could somehow manage to get out of the house, no one could find her. Dark, dense woods can be a good hiding spot. They can’t be so big that I would not find my way out eventually. I’ll walk for days if necessary and get to a road somehow.

  She decided to use the first moment when John was not paying attention and hit him with a large object. Knock him out and then I’ll escape.

  There were all sorts of objects in the attic which she could use to stun or even kill him with a single blow. She looked around to see if there was a blade of some kind. It was full of toys and furniture, but nothing sharp. She took a small piece of wood and waved it in the air a few times, gritting her teeth as she imagined hitting John’s head.

  I can’t last two years in here. Even if I manage to increase the capital the way he wants me to, I doubt that he would really let me go. Maybe he’ll ask me to double the amount. Once he gets the taste for money, he’ll only pull the reins even tighter.

  She was more and more convinced that she had to do something sooner and again waved the piece of wood.

  In the evening he came up again. He was tired and in a bad mood. “So, sweetie, it’ll do for now.”

  With her right hand Emely reached for the wooden stick she had hidden under the mattress. She had thought at least a thousand times about what she’d do when he came and decided to hit him just above his neck. She began trembling with fear as she was about to squeeze the wood with her right hand, when he grabbed her left hand and pulled her like an old sack.

  “Hurry up, I haven’t got much time.”

  Helpless, she look
ed back at the lost opportunity. She awkwardly followed him down to the basement.

  The heavy door creaked, drawing attention to the rusty hinges that were barely still performing their duty. The strong smell of rot almost made her heave. A dark, frightening space appeared in front of her. The thought of having to go down the steep narrow steps that descended into the darkness seemed all but attractive. He could push her and she’d tumble down and remain lying at the bottom, dead. No one would find her then.

  “No, I don’t want to go down there,” she shouted, grabbing hold of the doorframe.

  “What, you think you’re in a hotel?” He pulled her arm so violently that she could see his fingerprints on her skin for a few days afterward. And yet she continued to scream and fight. As if this didn’t bother him at all, he kept dragging her behind him.

  The heavy wooden door to the room was additionally strengthened with some metal and a lock. He opened it and pushed her inside. “As punishment, you don’t get any dinner tonight.”

  She looked at the damp walls … not a single window. The only source of light was a bare light bulb hanging from a bent wire.

  “No, I can’t stay here!” she screamed as loud as she could.

  She turned around, avoided him deftly, and began running along the dark corridor. She managed only a few steps when he caught her and dragged her back, writhing and screaming like a wild animal. It was clear she was breaking down.

  “Listen, you spoiled bitch. I know you’re used to big, luxurious rooms. I know very well that you’d like a Jacuzzi and silk sheets on your bed. But you’ll get none of that here, regrettably.”

  She beat on his chest.

  “Calm down, will you! You’ll get used to it in a few days. It’s your new home, like it or not.” He threw her on a wood-framed bed, which creaked noisily.

 

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