Only the Strongest Survive (9 page)

“
Yes, yes, I
think you’re right.” He stood motionless for
a few moments, thinking, his hand still holding the door
handle. Then he smiled.

He pointed at
the old wooden banister. “The paint
’s
peeling off. It needs repainting.” He looked up. “The walls are
dirty too. Everything’s falling apart. What do you think? Should we
try and sell this place?” He looked at John, who was trembling.
Ronald stepped closer. “You seem a bit pale.” He came even closer.
“Are you feeling alright? Do you want me to take you
home?”

“
No, no,”
John said, taking an angry step back
. He
felt like a pressure cooker about to explode. He was so angry and
afraid, he could barely breathe. Drops of sweat appeared on his
forehead. He wanted to say something else, but changed his mind as
he knew it would come out as a stutter.

“
OK, but I’m
telling you
, you really don’t look too
good.” Ronald spent a few more moments looking at him before he set
off downstairs to the lounge.

He was not
even aware that only a few moments ago he
had been in serious danger. Not even John knew what would
have happened if he had opened that door.

When Ronald
found his briefcase next to the couch
, he
smiled. “Thank God. I’ll make us some coffee. You certainly need
it.” He went to the kitchen.

John irritably watched his brother rummage
through the kitchen cupboards. “I don’t want any coffee,” he
shouted angrily.

“
Excuse
me?”

“
I said I
did
n’t want any coffee.” He adjusted his
belt, which was annoying him, and then followed his brother into
the kitchen. “I’ve got a stomachache and don’t want
anything.”

“
I
see
. … You do look a bit edgy.” Ronald
looked down for a few moments, then up again into John’s eyes as he
came closer. He put his arm around John’s shoulders and squeezed
lightly. “You know, John, what we did last night was a just act.
Every deception must be punished. I’m in shock, too, but I hide it
well.”

All
t
he hair on John’s hands stood upright
while his brother stroked his neck.

Ronald
had never felt better and didn’t know where all
his energy was coming from. He bet himself he could run all day up
and down hills and swim across lakes.
Instead of eight hours’ sleep he needed only four and still
felt unnaturally good. Something definitely changed since they had
finished off that woman.

He
said
, “I know you’re in shock and that’s
perfectly normal. But believe me, it’ll all be over in a few days.
Don’t think about it too much.” He patted John’s right
shoulder.

Suddenly a creak could be heard from
upstairs.

Ronald
tilted his head and listened. “I think I heard
something.” He took a few steps toward the stairs and listened for
a few moments.

Meanwhile,
John
started rummaging in drawers looking
for the meat tenderizer.

“
Quiet, John,
damn it. Stop making all that noise.”
Ronald turned his head in different directions in order to
find the origin of the noise.

John wiped the sweat running down his
face.

“
Oh well,”
Ronald said with a wave of his hand. “This damn place really has
had it. A few more years and the rats will have eaten it. I’m gonna
have to take some time to come here and deal with that
vermin.”

John
breathed
a sigh of relief. He slowly put
the old wooden tenderizer in its place, pushed the drawer closed,
but not completely. He knew those sounds were not made by rats.
Emely was regaining consciousness.
I’ve got to get rid of this idiot before something really
does go wrong.

He looked
around nervously, trying to think of something to say that would
make him leave. If Emely ma
de another
noise, Ronald would recognize it and then John would have no choice
but to kill his brother. This thought made him grimace.

“
As I said,
I’m in a hurry. Call me when you get home,” Ronald said, and left
immediately.

John
followed
him out in a daze, unable to
believe that he was really going. Feeling stiff, he watched
Ronald’s vehicle announcing its departure by blowing clouds of
smoke out of its tailpipe.

W
hen the car was completely gone
and only a remote noise made by the diesel engine could still be
heard, John ran upstairs.
Emely is awake, I must go to her.

He opened the
door s
wiftly and saw that she was
sweating and shivering with fever. Her head kept moving left and
right, her eyes were closed, and her forehead was damp with
perspiration. She was making incoherent noises through slightly
parted lips.

John spent
some time
staring at her, surprised and
helpless. He had never in his life had to take care of anyone. He
watched her for a few more seconds, then went to get a bowl of warm
water and a cloth. Slowly and carefully he wiped her face and since
she still did not wake up, he continued by mopping her hands and
legs.

Gradually she
calmed down and fell into
a deep sleep.
He covered her and went to the room next door to pick up another
duvet. He sat on her bed and watched her for over half an hour,
afraid that what was now regular breathing would once more turn
into wheezing and crying. He didn’t want her to suffer any more,
saying a silent prayer:
Let
the poor thing sleep and rest.

Then he left
the room and went to the kitchen
for some
food.

He opened a
large
can of baked beans and tipped it
into a pan. Only when the intoxicating smell of food arose did he
become truly hungry. He quickly opened another can to double the
portion. He had not felt this hungry for a long time and his
stomach was protesting noisily. Normally he would never eat
anything from a can, being a real gourmet and focused on healthy
eating. But he had no choice now. When he had run down the stairs
earlier, he’d thought about fresh vegetables and a nice piece of
meat. As he entered the kitchen and looked in the cupboards he
realized that he would not be able to wait any longer. His body
demanded food, healthy or not; the only thing that mattered was
that it would satisfy his hunger.

When the
beans were ready, he ate them out of the pan, paying no attention
to the sauce running down hi
s chin. Baked
beans had never before tasted so good. Even in a Mexican
restaurant. What a relief! When he had finished he wiped his face
on a paper towel and sat on a kitchen stool. He looked at the
shabby cupboards until his eyes stopped on a drawer in which the
meat tenderizer was kept. This thought made him jump up.
Ronald could come back again. Where
can I hide Emely?

He went to
the attic first. With difficulty he
pulled open the old, heavy door on which a rusty metal ring
hung in place of a doorknob. Zillions of tiny particles of wood
from the door had scattered onto the floor, telling him termites
had been at work.

He went in
slowly. Thick
cobwebs at least a decade
old clung to his head. He kept blowing and waving them away in
disgust. To his surprise the old yellowed light bulb still worked
and he was able to have a good look around the room, which was full
of old junk.

He
spotted an old-fashioned record player with a
collection of records, which reminded him of his father, who used
to listen to these same records every night. Next to the record
player, an ancient black bicycle rested on completely decayed
tires. John had used this bike to ride along the forest paths when
he was six years old. He glanced at the familiar gardening tools
and cans of green and brown paint which could barely be seen under
all the cobwebs. Old cupboards on legs and a few other pieces of
kitchen furniture took up one corner. His attention was also
attracted by huge metal pots, their edges completely rusty, in
which his mother used to make delicious jams.

No, this place isn’t suitable for Emely.
He closed the door and brushed the dust and cobwebs off his
T-shirt and pants. Then he went down to the basement. As soon as he
inhaled the cold air that smelled of damp rot, his body shuddered.
Even as a child he had never liked the cold basement. He could
spend no more than ten minutes in there when his father
occasionally sent him down to get a bottle of wine.

If
monsters and
ghosts do exist,
they must live in this basement,
he had
often thought. That dark place was the source of all his
nightmares. He could never understand why such a large place should
have only one light bulb. There were other lights in there, but
only one of them ever worked. His father had never replaced the
others. John had always hated it.

But now he
went down the narrow steps, waving his hands in front of him to
remove the cobwebs. The visibility was low
, as the only working light was covered with sticky dust.
The dirty steps led to the wine cellar that was stocked with empty
bottles and huge wooden barrels. He noticed a few brown bottles
that were still full of wine and he wondered about their value. He
sniffed the air that was suffused with the sour smell of wine mixed
with dust, which irritated the mucous membrane of his sensitive
nose.

He set off
down a narrow corridor measuring at least five yards, and noticed
on his right the doors leading to smaller rooms. They were also
filled with all sorts of junk. There was
the wooden dog kennel made by his granddad. His heart ached
as he remembered a cocker spaniel that used to follow him around
when he was a child. They were best friends. How come he had never
got a dog later in his life?
I
don’t have the time anyway,
he thought. A
toy merry-go-round also attracted his attention.

He came to
the end of the corridor
and opened a
heavy, creaking wooden door. Before him lay a room that he had
completely forgotten about. He had only been in there maybe three
times when he was young, always accompanied by his father. When he
was a child he was always afraid of this room and it never entered
his head to visit his dad when he had withdrawn from his family in
there.

John examined
the old bookcases along the walls
that
were still full of books. He opened a few drawers and saw all sorts
of tools. The room was a combination reading room and
workshop.
This will be
suitable for Emely.

Satisfied
, he returned to the
kitchen and made some coffee. He took a sheet of paper and a pen
and wrote a shopping list. Then he lit a cigarette and thought
about his plan.

*

John
Langdon was speeding down a narrow tarred road,
singing to himself. He was aware that he was driving too fast; the
road was wet and slippery due to the rain that had started falling.
It had been a long time since he was in such a good mood. He leaned
forward and looked at the sky. Although it was darkening, the sun
was still shining with a soft and warm light. On his right, the sky
was becoming leaden-gray and the horizon black. It looked as if the
still scarce raindrops would soon turn into a downpour. But this
didn’t bother him. He was humming a tune that had been going
through his head since the morning, when he heard it on the radio.
In order to reach the town sooner, he pressed even harder on the
gas pedal. There were so many things he had to buy. Thinking about
his plan, he felt proud of himself for having had such a good
idea.

In a store
selling electronic equipment, a man with a mustache asked
John,
“How can I help you?”

“I’d like to buy a computer.”

“Yes, of course. What type?”

“
It’
ll be used mainly for
displaying graphics, so I need a good processor and a fair amount
of memory. And at least a twenty-one-inch monitor.”

In half an
hour, he had all the necessary equipment in his car.
He made a phone call next.

“Hello,” said Meier.

“Hi, it’s John.”

“Is something wrong, John?”

Meier was the owner and director of the
company where John had worked for the last seven years. He thought
it strange that John was calling him at home.

“
I’d like to
start my
vacation tomorrow.”

“
That’s
impossible, you know how much work
we
have right now.”

There was a deadly silence.

“
I really
ne
ed this. There are some things I need
to sort out.”

“
No way,
no
vacation,” Meier said
coldly.

“In that case I’m forced to resign.”

“What? How dare you! What about your
notice?”

“
I don’t give
a damn about
my notice.”

“
What? How?
No
…”

John
calmly
cut the line and went to a home
store and, later, the nearest supermarket. He left with a shopping
cart full of groceries, enough for at least a week. He sang as he
drove back.