Soon after I’d done my piss-poor job of wrapping the bullet wound, the kid passed away. I don’t know if it was from blood loss. Maybe the bullet had grazed his heart. Guess it’s a moot point. Either way, Ben is no longer with us.
I was up early this morning to dig him a shallow grave. It’s not the best, but under the circumstances, it will have to suffice.
But now I’m left wondering what the kid was trying to tell me in those few brief sentences he managed. Was he actually saying “Maddy”? If so, I take it that Maddy is short for Madeline. And how does Madeline play into all this. I’m assuming that if the kid knew Madeline, he also knows Jesse? Are those two responsible for Ben’s injuries? I can see Jesse doing something like this, but not Madeline.
Or was Ben asking me to find the couple for help? Maybe he was part of the family who had left the maintenance shed before Jesse and Madeline moved in there. Maybe he wasn’t saying “Maddy” at all. I could just be relating something that sounded like Maddy to the name since I have so little else out here to associate it with. It was super difficult to tell for as garbled and incoherent as his speech was at the time.
I have no idea. What I DO know is that someone jacked that kid up pretty bad. To do that to a kid, you have to be a pretty shitty type of person – a person I don’t need anywhere around me.
Great! Guess I really have to be on the lookout for trouble now that we have a brutal murderer roaming the club.
3:29 p.m.
I just got back from putting the finishing touches on Ben’s grave and saying a few words in memoriam. Miles came with me to pay his respects. Even though I didn’t know the kid, I felt I owed him some sort of proper burial. I was so tired after digging the hole this morning that I didn’t put the finishing touches on his grave site.
I made him a small cross to mark the head of his grave, which I then had to restrain Miles from marking his territory on. I didn’t have much to say other than I felt bad for not having been more help in his last few moments and that I wish I’d had time to get to know him better.
The whole thing makes me feel so bad…almost guilty. Here I am, having lived probably three times as long as that poor kid. And for what? Who’s to say I deserve to be here and he doesn’t. I almost wish I could trade with him. But who would come out the other side of that deal better? Maybe death is a better option with the way things are. I sure as hell didn’t feel that way when I first came out here. Kind of wish I did. It might have saved me a lot of hard work and mental wheel-spinning. But it doesn’t help me now.
Okay, enough of that. I caught a fish today and need to prepare it for dinner – yep, one whole fish. Three hours of fishing and that’s what I came up with. Better than nothing, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. But I think the fish are getting wise. They must be telling each other not to come to this side of the lake.
October 14th
9:08 a.m.
I’ve made a decision. I’m going to confront Jesse and Madeline about Ben. I’m pissed off at myself for being such a wimp lately. And I feel that I owe it to this poor kid. I mean, Jesus, if those two did that to him, then something should be done about it. I don’t know WHAT exactly. It’s not like I can call the cops or anything. And I don’t think I’ll be doling out any vigilante-style justice on my own. But I think I should at least find out what happened.
It might be a stupid move. In fact, it probably IS a stupid move. But I’m not going to be intimidated again. I’m not going to cower here like a weakling, letting people hurt kids. I’ve bowed down to the world long enough, and it’s time for me finally to stand up – for the WORLD to take notice of ME rather than vice versa. I’m tired of being pushed around.
Guess that’s the cue for my, “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!” line.
But in all seriousness, I almost feel obligated to make a change in my life, and Ben’s death was what jolted me to action. I’ve played the frightened child long enough. It’s time to nut up or shut up…I think that’s from a movie too, but I can’t remember which one.
4:19 p.m.
I caught two more sizeable fish this afternoon. This allows me to breathe a slight sigh of relief. My food situation is starting to look bleak. I keep reducing my daily caloric intake, but it’s just not enough. And with Miles’ ever-present appetite, I’m finding that he’s eating almost as much as I am lately.
I put the fish in my fish-frigerator and tied it more securely this time, not just with a bungee cord but with rope as well. I’m not letting those damn raccoons enjoy the fruits of my labor again.
I’m planning to set off on my journey to see Jesse and Madeline tomorrow morning around eight. I’ll leave Miles behind, tethering him lightly to a tree here at camp. I’ll make his rope long enough that he can go in and out of the tent, just in case it rains or something. I’d take him with me, but I don’t want him getting in the way or to potentially put him in danger. After seeing Ben, I can only imagine what Jesse might do to some poor dog.
Hopefully I don’t end up like Ben.
October 15th
8:12 a.m.
My planned departure to confront Jesse and Madeline has been postponed. It has cooled off again dramatically and it’s raining – HARD. It’s one of those driving rains that seems to saturate everything. Thunder, lightening, and whipping wind aplenty.
Miles and I are huddled in our tent just trying to stay dry. In some ways, I like the rain. It makes things cozy, it sounds nice as it pitter-pats against the tent fabric, and it actually makes me feel more secure since it decreases the likelihood of people coming to my camp.
In the night, the rain makes it easier to sleep. And it might seem silly, but during the day, it can provide entertainment too. In the light, I play the “rain drop race” game. I’ll pick out certain rain droplets that are close together on the tent’s canvas and lock onto them with my eyes. Then I’ll watch them, placing a mental bet on which one will reach a particular spot on the tent canvas first. I know it probably sounds stupid, but in my situation it’s a great way to kill time. I haven’t played it yet today, but it’s still early.
For now, I’m going to make a light breakfast, make up the bed here in the tent, do a little reading, and then maybe do a little “rain drop racing”.
12:02 p.m.
Still raining. Bored. Tired of lying inside the tent. Even Miles seems down. The only time we’ve left the tent was to hurry outside to take a pee break.
Guess now is as good a time as any to describe my interior living conditions. I’ve given a pretty good account of my outdoor living space, but not my tent home. I’ve been meaning to do it for some time; I just never got around to it.
So here goes.
My tent is nothing special. It’s a four-person job, which means it’s plenty big just for Miles and me. It has zippered windows on three sides, which I tend to open for air circulation during the warmer nights. I have had them shut lately however to help keep warm air inside and cold air out. All the windows, as well as the zippered entrance at the front of the tent have an added layer of mosquito netting that allows me to open them without exposing myself to the vicious bloodsuckers. Although now that it’s fall that’s not a problem anymore. Still, on occasion when I do have the windows open these days, the netting helps keep other flying insects and creepy crawlies at bay.
I have a double-size air mattress set near the rear-center of the tent. It usually becomes a mounded pile of extra blankets throughout the night (especially when Miles joins me – he’s such a wiggly sleeper).
I tend to take the right side of the mattress, leaving the left side for Miles. I keep a fitted sheet and another blanket on top of the mattress to reduce the chance of Miles puncturing it with his nails. On each side of the mattress, there is a multi-foot gap between the edge of the mattress and the tent wall. On Miles’ side, I have a sizeable stash of our food kept in hard-plastic, seal-tight containers and one small cooler. I also have a lot of my regular-wear clothing, boots,
and other camp supplies stashed there.
On my side of the bed, and within easy reach, I keep several flashlights, my camp lantern, Dad’s loaded gun (when I’m not carrying it) and extra ammo, my watch (when I’m not wearing it), a small leather bag containing my regular toiletry items, a hunting knife, a couple books (all of which I’ve read at least once since I’ve been out here), and this journal along with several pens. The collection is a pairing of my most useful as well as most treasured possessions.
At the foot of the bed is where I keep several pairs of shoes, my boots, Miles’ leash, and several containers of food that I use more regularly (although those containers are growing fewer by the day).
Sometimes at night, I’ll hang my lantern from several nylon straps that dangle from the tent-top near where the support poles intersect. This provides enough illumination to read by when I have the energy, which isn’t that often considering how tired I usually am at the end of the day. It’s amazing how much living in the wild without all the modern amenities takes out of you.
On a rainy day like today, though, I feel like I have energy to burn. I like being outside and productive. When I’m stuck in the tent, all I feel like doing is eating and sleeping. And being stuck in here with my food supply doesn’t help with the first part of that.
So I guess that pretty much wraps up the description of my home. Jeez, it seems funny to describe this place as my “home”, but that’s what it is. Be it ever so humble, it’s better than nothing.
5:05 p.m.
WHAT…A…BORING…DAY!
I think this has been by far the longest day I’ve had since I’ve been living at the club. It’s not just the rain. I actually kind of enjoy that. It’s all the lying here thinking about things that is so hard. I think about the past, and how I got here. I think about the future and what lies ahead for me when I go to see Jesse and Madeline. I think about the present and poor buried Ben being rained on just below my camp. I think about his last moments and the events leading up to those last moments. I think about the Woodcrest gas station and how I could have done things differently. But we won’t get into that now. This day has been hard enough to get through without mentally reexamining that whole situation for the thousandth time.
I have a feeling that sleeping tonight is going to be a real bitch. Usually, I’ve burned so much energy around camp throughout the day that I’m out within minutes of my head hitting the pillow. And while lying here all day has been exhausting, it’s not in the kind of way that is going to make me fall asleep quickly. I thought about doing some puzzles. I have a Soduko book I’ve yet to complete. But those things are so damn frustrating sometimes that I haven’t been able to force my self to attempt any of them on a day that has already been intensely frustrating.
I think I’ll just make a light dinner for me and Miles since we haven’t done anything to deserve a grand buffet (nor do we have the food for such splurging), do some reading, and see if I can’t doze off for a while listing to the continued pitter-pat of the rain.
11:52 p.m.
Can’t sleep. I knew this was going to happen. As soon as I shut off my lantern to call it a night, the wind died down and the soothingly cozy rain stopped – of course! Now I’ll lay here all night thinking and be exhausted when I wake up tomorrow for my big trip. Great…just great.
October 16th
7:14 a.m.
As predicted, sleep was fleeting last night to say the least. I was lucky if I managed an hour or two in entirety. It got so hard to tell at some points whether I was just dozing off for such a short time that it simply FELT like dozing or if I’d actually fallen asleep. Either way, it was a shitty night to put it mildly.
Certainly doesn’t put me in the mood to do what I had planned today. I just feel like sitting in my camp chair and staring into space. And I think that’s just what I’ll do. I mean, who’s here to tell me different? I’m my own boss out here, right? I can do as I damn well please. And if I want to wait one more day to confront those dirty kid-killing bastards, then that’s my prerogative.
At least the weather has cleared. Any hints of rain, other than the muddy mess it has turned my camp into, have disappeared. The sky is clear, the air is largely humidity free, and it’s cool – probably in the low-50s.
Tomorrow, I’ll go see Jesse and Madeline. But today, I need to rest…rest and do some fishing.
3:09 p.m.
It should have been a good day. I got the rest I needed with a mid-morning nap, and I caught three decent-size fish. But I just can’t get Ben out of my head. That poor kid. No one should have to end up like he did, especially as a child. It really makes me angry that someone would or COULD do that to another person. It’s sick just how cruel this world can be. Sometimes I wonder if maybe it’s a good thing the flu took so many people. But who did it leave behind, the people who deserve to be here or people just willing to do literally ANYTHING to stay alive?
As usual, I have no answer for my questions. But they linger nonetheless. And disregarding all else, I’m mad, just plain mad. While I really don’t want to have to confront these two psychos living in the maintenance shed, I feel compelled to do so after what they did to Ben.
Sick…just plain sick.
October 17th
7:17 a.m.
I feel like I’ve lost my nerve since yesterday. It’s easy to be pissed off about the whole Ben situation, but now I feel nutless. In all honesty, I don’t want to confront Jesse and Madeline at all. But because I’ve been writing about it so much, and because of the severity of their acts against Ben, I feel I’ve committed myself. Just as well. I think it’s something I need to do to alleviate at least some of the weight my conscience had had to bear lately.
I’ve already talked to Miles. Hopefully he understands that I’m leaving him behind because I don’t want him in the line of fire, not because I want to. Heck, I don’t want to be in the line of fire either, but I DEFINITELY don’t want to endanger HIM.
I don’t feel like having breakfast (I should call it break“fish” lately since I’ve been eating so much fish), but I’m forcing myself to eat a little something. I want to be ready just in case my visit takes longer than expected. I’m feeding Miles a little more too this morning. I’d leave him with extra, but he’d just eat it right away, so it wouldn’t do much good. I’ll leave him extra water, though.
God, I REALLY don’t want to do this. But I think it’s now or never. If I don’t go, I have a feeling I’ll just keep putting it off until I drop it completely. I can’t do that to poor Ben down there in his shallow grave. Even though I didn’t know him, I feel that he deserves better than that.
10:22 p.m.
Wow, it was a long day!
Miles was certainly happy to see me when I got back in time for lunch. I’m sure he was concerned about the potential for missing a meal.
Sorry (although I don’t know exactly why or to whom I’m apologizing), I know it’s late, I haven’t had time to write since I got back. I’ve been busy trying to think up a plan for what to do. And even after my long day, I just don’t fee like sleeping. I’m too amped up.
So after I got done writing this morning, I made us breakfast, and then readied for my planned departure. I took only a small pack with me that contained some light travel food (enough for about a day, just in case I was unexpectedly delayed), a flashlight, and a few rounds of extra ammo for Dad’s gun. It wasn’t much, but I didn’t want to be hauling tons of stuff with me unnecessarily and that might slow me down should I need to move fast.
With everything ready, I tied Miles to the tree. This time, since I planned to be back within a couple hours, I tied him fairly tightly.
I left at about eight o’clock, figuring that by getting there early, I might catch Jesse and Madeline off guard as they went about their morning routine.
It took me a little over an hour to get to the maintenance shed that Jesse and Madeline call home. Similar to the last time I paid a visit, I let my presence be known by
calling out well in advance. And just like last time, I was met with no response.
Having learned my lesson last time, I hesitantly ventured closer to the shed, continuing to hail its occupants along the way. But still, I got no response. As I got closer to the shed, however, I could see that something was amiss. The small window was cracked, but not just cracked; there were holes in it…BULLET HOLES! Then I noticed that there weren’t just bullet holes in the window but in the wood sides of the shed as well. The shed was pockmarked with such holes all over its front, including the front door.
At this point, I was instantly on guard, as if I hadn’t been already. It was obvious that something bad had gone down at the shed, and I began to wonder if Jesse and Madeline were still there, and if they were, whether they were still alive.
I decided against knocking on the door, and decided to see if I couldn’t get a better idea of what the situation was by taking a peek through the window. Doing so, I was shocked by what I saw. Sitting in the middle of the floor was a bound and gagged man. The guy looked big, even sitting on the floor, probably well over six feet tall and at least a good 200 pounds or more. I pegged him to be somewhere in his early to mid-forties. He had short cropped silver hair and a tanned face smattered with matching silver stubble.
He appeared to be working to free himself, but didn’t seem to be working all that urgently at it. He must have noticed my shadow in the window however, and looked toward me. As soon as he saw me looking at him, he started working much more frantically at his bindings.
The Dystopian Diaries Page 9
