Only the Strongest Survive (6 page)

Robert could
not believe his ears. Had he really heard his name
mentioned?
Can it be possible
that he’s asking me to write such an important piece?

H
is colleagues looked at him with
envy.

“
Something
short about her disappearance. That’s just for today. In the next
few days I expect a more extensive piece about her life. Something
no one else has written before. Are you up to it?”

“
Of course,
don’t you worry, sir.” Robert bit his bottom lip. He felt like
leaving the meeting immediately to research the woman’s past. He
knew the article would engross him so much that he’d have no time
to sleep.

“
OK, that’s
that, so
we can move on. O’Brian, you’ll
do that piece on spiritual relaxation …”

While the
editor was talking, Miles could already see the front page of the
newspaper with the headline
: THE SHOCKING
LIFE OF EMELY DONNOVAN.

And if perhaps her life wasn’t shocking, I’ll write
the story in such a way that people
will think it was. Everyone reading it will never forget Emely
Donnovan. And my name will be there.
A
pleasant tingle went through him. He continued biting his lip,
daydreaming.

Chapter
5

_______________________

John paid no
attention to his speed. The
car
suspension was complaining as he drove over dips and potholes of
varying sizes. So many branches had hit the windshield that he had
the feeling it would break at any moment. He gripped the steering
wheel hard, leaning forward for a better view. He had already been
driving for over half an hour and panic was setting in.
Where did we bury her?

He could
remember the spot and
could have
described it in detail. All those mighty pine trees standing around
like witnesses watching the horrible crime they’d committed. He’d
never forget them. But what John couldn’t remember was the route.
The road was winding and crisscrossed with others. He could only
hope that he was driving along the right one. Earlier, Ronald had
been at the wheel and it was dark.
Who knows if I’ll even be able to find that heap of
earth?

Thick drops
of sweat
ran down his forehead, into his
eyes that were hurting as he had been straining them for half an
hour already, trying not to miss any little detail that could lead
him to her.
I hope she’s still
alive.
A heavy weight lay in his stomach
like a rock.

John
had a feeling he was going the right way, but
the biggest spruce that he remembered especially well was nowhere
to be seen. Tall as two houses put together, at least fifty feet,
it stood there like a monument.

He looked at
his watch
. Almost eight.
Oh no, how long can a person survive
in such a confined space with little oxygen?

He pressed
even harder on the
gas pedal. Because of
the bumps he was thrown in the air a few times and the engine
roared as the wheels spun in midair. John took no notice and kept
his foot down.

For one
moment he
lost control of the vehicle.
The front wheels hit a tree root and the vehicle bounced up, rolled
onto its left side, and slid along for over ten yards. The side
windows shattered.

As if nothing
had happened,
John climbed out through
the right side window that was now above him. He could feel a pain
in his forehead where it had smashed against the
windshield.

He stood
there for a while, holding his head, and then pushed against the
car with all his might in the hope
s of
turning it back onto its wheels. He exerted so much pressure that
he felt his head would split open. The vehicle moved slightly but
not enough to reach the point where it would tip over and right
itself.

Trying
again, John shouted as he pushed, feeling his
intestines were being ripped from his gut. All in vain, he’d
failed. Out of sheer rage he slammed his foot against the
ground.

“
Damn it! Let
it all go to hell,” he
screamed at the
car.

H
e put his hand to his head and
it came away covered red. He felt the deep wound above his right
eye, but waved his hand as if to indicate it didn’t
matter.

He ran on, thinking he must be close.

He looked at
one of the bushes.
It can’t be
true.

The shape of
the bush was
exactly like the one he
could remember. At a certain angle it reminded him of a huge bear
on its hind legs.
This is the
right way,
he thought.
It’s only about five hundred yards
now.

He ran on as if chased by a bear. The closer
he got, the more familiar things became.

Finally he
stopped. The thin tree to which they had tied Eme
ly stood before him. Its leaves prevented the morning sun
from reaching the ground. All around there were those tall pine
trees staring at him like numb living beings.

For a moment
it seemed pointless and he wanted to run far away and never come
back.
This place is
cursed.

He stood
perfectly still, staring at the spot where she lay. Then he
squatted down like a believer in front of a
church altar. His knees sank deep into the soft soil and only then
did he become aware of what he had come for. He quickly dug his
fingers into the soil and began pushing it away in all
directions.

“
Hold on a
bit longer, you bitch, just a bit longer,” he
said.

*

He was
digging like a mole, with his hands.
Why did we have to bury her so deep? It was his damn idea.
That fat bastard.
For more than ten
minutes he was scratching around in panic, feeling he’d never get
to her.
How could I have
forgotten to take a shovel?

His hands
were digging so fast that sweat poured from his forehead and
his
T-shirt was soaking wet. As if
running a marathon, he became short of breath.
Oh no,
he
thought,
she must be running
out of oxygen and maybe it’ll be too late. Maybe there’s no helping
her.

He dug even faster. “Not long now, Emely,” he
said, hoping she could hear him.

A
sudden burning pain in his hands meant he must
have hit a sharp stone or something similar. It didn’t matter
because his pain was nothing in comparison to the suffering she
must be going through. He kept going, spitting out the soil that
occasionally flew into his mouth.

He
had nearly run out of strength when his nails
finally touched the rough wooden surface of the coffin.

With bleeding
hands he removed the last remnants of soil
from next to the coffin’s edge that was stopping him from
opening it. Hysterically he grabbed the planks, trying to force
them open. It was horrible. He was nearly there, but the coffin lid
would not budge.

“
Damn fatso!”
he swore. “He nailed
down the top of the
coffin.”

He
got up and took a few breaths to calm himself.
With a dirty hand he wiped the sweat off his forehead. John felt
along the edges of the coffin, looking for the fastenings. He had
to dig more soil out to get to them. Finally he made it. Then he
jumped out of the grave.

He lay down
so that the
upper part of his body was
over the edge of the grave and he was able to get hold of the top
of the coffin. It kept sticking for a while, until it finally came
open. Nervously, he lifted it off slowly and looked at Emely’s
dirty face. He stared at her for a while, then gulped, and
carefully stepped in. Gently he lifted her out of the coffin and
laid her on the ground a few yards away.

Her skin was
alabaster
. There was no sign of life.
Hesitantly he touched the vein on her neck with his left hand,
hoping to feel a pulse. “Damn it, she’s dead.”

He swiftly
moved
his hand away as if she were
red-hot. Jumping back, John grimaced with disgust, thinking,
I have to bury her again right
now.

He put his
hand on his mouth because the contents of his stomach were
beginning to rise. He couldn
’t bear to
look at the dead body. Without thinking, he bent over her, lifted
her, and carried her back to the grave. Before putting her in, he
had to drop her on the ground because the pressure in his stomach
became too much.

He ran a few
feet away and, bending over, vomited spasmodically. Tears
stream
ed out of his eyes from the
straining. He wiped his face on his sleeve and returned to the
body. The thought of having to lift her again repelled
him.

“
What?” He
wasn
’t sure whether he had only imagined
it or really did see a finger on her right hand move. Frozen with
astonishment he stared at her with his mouth open. He came closer,
wanting to touch her but at the thought that perhaps she really was
dead, he couldn’t do it.

I
just imagine
d it. It’s
impossible that she’s still alive,
he
told himself with a slight smile that soon vanished. He bent over
to lift her, but something kept stopping him from touching her. Not
knowing what to do, he stared at her and kept swallowing
saliva.

H
e looked at her abdomen. He had
a feeling it was moving but couldn’t believe it.
Maybe she really is breathing.
Gathering his courage, he moved closer. As if
she were contagious, he touched her carefully … only to feel a
slight twitch in her finger. A shallow exhalation came from her
mouth.

“
Emely!” he
shouted in joy
, and put her hand into
his. In spite of her dirty face he suddenly found her unbelievably
beautiful.

Another
twitch in her finger. Now he was certain there was still life in
her. He kissed her forehead, face, and her lips. Then he hugged
her. “The bitch is alive, she’s alive.”

Chapter
6

_______________________

Two
days after Emely’s disappearance, there was
still no trace of her. No one called, no one demanded a ransom.
Everyone at Donnovan Corporation was getting increasingly
concerned.

At a meeting
late in the afternoon, Blake Crouse said
,
“I think it’s time we told the public about her disappearance. Some
newspapers have already written about it. We’ve waited to make a
statement, but I think there’s no point anymore.”

“
Shouldn’t we
wait a little longer?” Alexandra asked
,
arranging her black hair that was reflecting sunlight.

“
No. I spoke
to I
nspector Benotti and she confirmed my
conclusion that something serious must have happened to Emely. It’s
not a kidnapping. If it was, they would’ve already asked for
money.”

“
What else
could have happened?” Tim Guan, the human resources manager, said.
He was an older man with timid eyes and thin lips.

“
I don’t
know,” Blake
said, putting both hands on
the table and looking down.

“
Perhaps
she
’s lost her memory?”

“Perhaps, but in any case it would make sense
to inform the public. That way we could maybe get some information
about her.”

Alexandra
said,
“What if it’s murder?”

Everyone in
the meeting room
stirred and expressed
their indignation over such a question.

“
We can’t
exclude the possibility,” Blake said, first nodding at Alexandra
and then looking around at the board members. “I put the same
question to the police. They told me that any conclusions were
premature. For now, they have no evidence. It’s as if she’s
vanished off the face of the earth. That’s why we’ve been asked to
inform the public. They might be able to provide important
information, tips. For example, they don’t know what happened on
the highway where her car was found.”

The
excitement had not
yet died down. People
were whispering questions and comments to each other.

Guan
said,
“Who could have done
it?”

“
L
isten, no one is saying it’s
murder. Don’t jump to conclusions. There are other
possibilities.”

Everyone
turned their attention
to Blake.

“
Inspector
Benotti explained to us that sometimes rich people simply
disappear. They decide
to commit suicide,
in a way.”

“What?” Alexandra said.

“
Not in the
normal sense of the word. People are alive
, but disappear from their normal life.” Blake watched the
surprised faces. “I see I’ve made things too complicated. Perhaps
Emely wasn’t happy. Maybe she was fed up with the life she had.
Maybe she wanted a change.”