family.
Tyler's Journal Entry: 389
Date: August 16
Day: Friday
Weather: Hazy and warm
Miles to go: 580
My first week here as been filled with confusion, minor beatings from the guards, and hard work in the fields. But I can take it. Jeff is easy to talk to and I am thankful for being put with him. He’s done a good job of keeping me out of trouble and seems to really want to help me. He is a good man. I think my dad would like him.
My journal has been keeping my mind occupied. I write in it as much as I can. I keep it hidden though, since I write about escaping. I don’t want anyone to know I am a triathlete and can swim the distance to the shore in my sleep. I haven’t even told Jeff. Since swimming to shore will be my way to shore, I will keep it a secret. Most people here are not in the best shape and I think escape by swimming is not an option.
However, I feel stronger here than I did on the road. We get two square meals, a dry place to sleep, and even toothpaste to brush our teeth, and soap to wash our bodies. It’s the first time, in a long time, that I’ve slept in a bed. It may be filled with sand, but it’s still a bed. We’re still treated like prisoners, but more like valued work horses. I guess a healthy slave, is a productive slave.
There are different jobs here on the island. Mine is working in the fields, keeping the food growing. Others work with livestock, some make weapons, some do the cleaning and cooking, some do washing, etc.
Jeff said the pirates have a nearby enemy and they sometimes fight. Our job is to keep the army functioning. The guards are tough on us verbally, but they never harm us to the point where we can’t work. I guess we are too valuable.
I asked Jeff who runs all this. He said there is one man, and his name is Father Patrick. Father Patrick claims to be a former priest. He portrays himself as the savior of man. That we are suffering due to our sins and through him and his guidance, we can find salvation. He must have been the one standing and praying when the steamboat went down.
Father Patrick holds sermons twice a day for two hours and once on Sunday for four hours. Jeff divulged to me that he is a devote Christian, and knows when he sees a true shepherd.
“Father Patrick is no shepherd.” Jeff said under his breath while looking over his shoulder. “He’s the wolf, herding the sheep to the oven.”
Jeff stepped in close and whispered, “Be careful around him, he’s very charismatic, and knows how to manipulate. He has a way about him that get’s people to believe in him. Careful what you tell him, he’ll find a way to use it against you.”
I listened to Jeff’s warning, but to be honest, I don’t plan on being here long enough to get acquainted with Father Patrick.
Tyler's Journal Entry: 398
Date: August 24
Day: Saturday
Weather: Rainy and cool
Miles to go: 580
Jeff and I actually had a day off today - sort of. It was raining outside and it was decided to keep us inside out of harm’s way since there was constant lightning. Jeff said, Father Patrick recently ordered all prisoners inside during lightning storms. Not too long ago, a dozen prisoners were out mending fences in a storm when lightning struck the ground near them. Eight died, and four were seriously brain damaged, leaving them mentally and physically challenged. They were taken away, never to be seen again. Father Patrick said they were taken to a neighboring town where they were to be cared for. Jeff doesn’t believe it.
Since Jeff and I weren’t allowed to work outside, we had to work inside cleaning an old storage shed near the back of the island. Jeff and I were mostly left unsupervised to do the job. The island is enclosed by a twenty-foot brick wall. If I was going to swim to shore, I would first have to get over the wall (or under it).
As we were cleaning the shed, I noticed the concrete floor in the back corner of the shed was cracked and lifting up a good couple inches