Date: September 5
Day: Thursday
Weather: Windy and cool
Miles to go: 580
Other than having to listen to Father Patrick ramble on for hours about how we are all sinners, Jeff and I have been making pretty good progress on our tunnel. We must be half way to the wall by now. Being that we work in the garden, we have access to shovels and a wheel barrel. The guards don’t watch us much, since we are constantly moving around the prison grounds, going back and forth from the garden. So it’s not out of the normal for us to be dumping dirt into a wheel barrow and hauling it to the garden.
We are still very careful. If we get caught, we may be separated, or put into solitary confinement. We both miss our families more than anything, and will stop at nothing to get out of here.
Jeff and I were talking tonight before going to sleep and I asked him if he’d been PULLED yet. He said only once, and he showed me his tally mark on his forearm. I showed him mine, but we didn’t talk about the experience. You would think people would wear their tally marks like a badge of honor, but no one does. Not even the TAKERS. It’s something that’s just not talked about.
I asked what happens to men who are PULLED while here. Jeff said they don’t leave. Father Patrick has them held up in a dungeon under the far-east wing of the prison. Jeff said, one time he was told to feed the guard dogs over by the east end. He said he could here screams and shrieks coming from the ground beneath him. He said it is a haunting sound. A sound of people in pain and suffering.
Jeff said Father Patrick doesn’t allow the prisoners to fulfill their PULLS. He said the PULL is the work of the devil and through faith and prayer, the PULLED shall find peace. They only need to pray harder.
The rumor is, that most goes insane and eventually dies from starvation. The THIRST that comes with the PULL consumes a person, until that is the only thing that matters.
Jeff went on to explain, that since the prisoners can’t escape to fulfill their PULL, their opponents eventually end up on the banks across the river from the prison. They too find a world of trouble since they have no way of getting to the island. Most end up giving into desperation and try swimming to the island. Almost all don’t make it and drown. Those that do make it to the island, either get put in prison, or are killed by the guards. Jeff thinks they should just let them fight. Weird as it sounds, allowing them to fight to the death would be more humane than letting them suffer.
Tyler's Journal Entry: 412
Date: September 7
Day: Saturday
Weather: Windy and cool
Miles to go: 580
Today I met Father Patrick in person. I was actually hauling a load of dirt from our tunnel to the edge of the garden when he stopped me. He asked me my name and I told him. He had me leave my wheel barrel, and walk with him as he inspected the garden.
He gave me advice on proper gardening and the importance of hard work for a young man. He didn’t say it in a bossy, mean way, but more in a mentoring way. As he pointed out different things in the garden, he placed his hand on my shoulder as he spoke. It was more of a get-to-know-each-other conversation, than a lecturing. He has a way about him, which pulls you in when he talks to you. He looks you in the eye and speaks to you like he respects you.
Strange, Father Patrick is a GIVER. However, he is kookoo-for-Cocoa-Puffs (insane). So his ideas for “giving” are skewed. His control of the TAKERS is a testament to his charisma.
I remembered how Jeff warned me not to be fooled by him. I pretended to be really into what Father Patrick was saying to me, but in my mind, I was 580 miles away.
Father Patrick poured me a cup of water from the drinking barrel, and sat me down. He asked why I seem distracted during his sermons. He asked if I believed in God and the power of prayer. I said that I do. I could tell he was fanatical about religion and that it would be in my best interest to act as enthusiastic as him.
Don’t get me wrong, I have faith. I pray to God often, but I’m not a nut-job about him. I sometimes wonder if even God gets annoyed with fanatics. I imagine they make it to Heaven (because they work so hard at it), but when they do, does God give them a piece of Heaven way on the other side, away from his pad. Kind of like how my Dad loves his Mom, and wants to buy her a house, only that house will be far enough away that she can’t visit every day. Ha! Does God say to people like that, “I love you my child, but don’t call me - I’ll call you.” Then screens them with his Holy Caller ID. Ha! I try to imagine God as a cool dude with a great sense of humor.
Anyways, I wasn’t going to let Father Patrick know that I thought he was a nut-job. I went along with everything he said. But I convinced him a little too much, because he made me one of his altar boys. Now I had to do double duty helping him at the church!
This is going to be a problem. I need to find a way out of this.
Tyler's Journal Entry: 414
Date: September 8
Day: Sunday
Weather: Windy and cool
Miles to go: 580
So today I commenced “OPERATION - WORST ALTER BOY EVER!” If I was going to be productive with Jeff and I’s tunnel, I was going to have to get out of altar boy duty. How do I do that? I become the worst altar boy ever.
This was going to be tricky though, I had to appear to be a moron without letting him know I was pretending to be a moron. Father Patrick gave me a robe to wear, so I put it on proudly (but backwards). He asked me to fetch his bible from his cabin, so I brought back his cookbook. He asked me to stand to his right while he preached, so I stood to his left. He asked me to break bread, so I did, and then I ate the whole thing, and asked if I could have some jelly next time.
Father Patrick started out very patient and welcoming at first, but by the end of the first day, he politely suggested I stick with the garden. He said, “Tyler, I think your true calling is providing the people of this island with food. So says God.”
He asked me for the robe back, patted me on the head, and directed me back to Jeff. I gave him a great big fake hug and apologized with a big ole fake tear in my eye. With a big fake grin, Father Patrick assured me it was ok, and politely shoved me out his front door.
“That didn’t take long.” Jeff said.
“Yeah, I stink at being an altar boy.” I said with stupid grin on my face.
After my long day of disappointing Father Patrick, I began to think about my family. What if I don’t make it back to them? I thought about Heaven and God. Will I see them some day in Heaven? I told myself, that I need to live the best I can and don’t give into the bad. With the way the world is now, following bad choices seems so much easier than following the good choices.
Back in my cell I started to get wishy-washy, thinking about my family. All this writing in my journal has sparked an interest in writing and documenting my journey - my thoughts. So at the risk of being a big dork, I wrote this poem for my family. If wishy-washy poems written by mediocre teenage writers make you nauseous, then you may want to skip over this poem.
So here’s my poem;
If I Go To Heaven First
By
Tyler
If I go to Heaven first …
Dad, I will climb atop the highest mountain and there I will sit. I will sit there and search the horizon for you. While I wait, I will feel the cool breeze soak through my hair. The birds will fly by and inform me if you are near. I will feel the warm sun on my skin and it will remind me of the times we walked together side by side.
And there I will wait…
If I go to Heaven first…
Tanner, I will find the sandiest beach on the sunniest day. While there, I will lay two towels – one for you, and one for me. I’ll make sure there are no rocks beneath your towel to make you uncomfortable. I will pick a spot not too close to the water so we don’t get splashed. I will listen to the waves brush the sand and the wind sort its way through the trees. The water will be warm and clear and glistening from the sun.
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br /> And there I will wait…
If I go to Heaven first…
Tanner, I will find a peaceful park. There I will find a bench to sit on. I hope there is shade covering the bench, for it may take a while for you to find me. I will think about when we swung on the swings and slid on the slides. Maybe our old dog will be there to keep me company. Occasionally I will look over my shoulder to see if you’re coming.
And there I will wait…
If I go to Heaven first…
Mom, I will hang a hammock. I will cover it with a blanket and lay a pillow. I will make sure it is soft for you when you find me. I will remember all the great conversations we had about our day, days past, and days to come. I will remember the times we laughed, cried, and sometimes just laid and smiled at each other.
And there I will wait…
If I go to Heaven first…
Dad, I will find the perfect trail cut in the greenest forest. It will be lined with smooth fieldstone and beautiful flowers. Birds will sing loudly, deer will bounce around trees, and squirrels will sit silently watching. I will remember the times walking with you, stopping to pick flowers, spotting different birds, and just sitting talking and taking in the view.
And there I will wait…
If I go to Heaven first…
Tanner, I will find friends and family past. We will find a place to barbecue and play. The air will smell of food cooking, suntan lotion, and the freshness only found in the clean air of summer. We will talk and joke and play with the children. I will poor you a cool drink with lots of ice and save you a seat next to me at the picnic table.
And there I will wait…
If I go to Heaven first…
Mom, I will build the perfect home. It will be large enough for the whole family, but small enough so we won’t have to look long to find each other. The beds will be soft like a cloud. I will tuck you in at night and talk about our day. The living room will have a fireplace that will emit a soft, warm glow throughout the house. It will be perched high on a hill with perfect views coming from each window.
And there I will wait…
If I go to Heaven first…
Tanner, I will ask God to allow the seasons to change. In the fall we can make a huge pile of leaves that we can jump in and play. The winter will allow us to make snowmen and go sledding. In the spring, we will plant flowers and start a wonderful garden full of all our favorite crops. And in the summer we will swim at the beach, go hiking, and lay under the stars at night.
And there I will wait…
If I go to Heaven first…
Family, I will watch you from above. I will cry when you cry. I will laugh when you laugh. I will want to comfort you when you are sad or fearful. I will feel comfort when you are happy. A day will not pass that I will not check on you. You will always be in my thoughts, plans, and feelings. My days will end always with me saying goodnight and I love you.
And there I will wait…
…for you.
Tyler's Journal Entry: 416
Date: September 10
Day: Tuesday
Weather: Rainy and cool
Miles to go: 580
There was lightning again today, so I didn’t have to work in the garden. Jeff and I were assigned different jobs today. He had the misfortune of having Fat George decide his fate and had to clean the outhouses. I was assigned to Father Patrick today. Not as an altar boy, Father Patrick won’t make that mistake again, I had to clean Father Patrick’s house. He had me cleaning his windows, scrubbing his holy toilet, sweeping his floor, and everything else he didn’t want to do himself. This assigned duty had me in the presence of Father Patrick almost all day.
He seemed to be taking the day off and never got dressed. Normally, he’s dressed in his priest gear and looks respectable. However today, he wore a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. His t-shirt read “I’M WITH STUPID,” and had an arrow below the words pointing to the left. However, the way he had his shirt bunched, it looked like the arrow was pointing upward and towards his face. I kept chuckling to myself when I noticed it. His pajama bottoms had a STAR WARS theme and read “USE THE FORCE,” scrolling across his behind. He looked ridiculous. Especially for a guy who takes himself so seriously.
Of course being Father Patrick, he had to talk in depth about God and how we all need to be saved. I went along with him again and pretended to be really interested. However, I was thinking mostly about the tunnel.
During our conversation, Father Patrick changed the subject to family. He asked me about mine and told me about his. He said he once had a wife and one child - a boy also named Tyler.
He showed me a picture of Tyler and commented on how we had the same name, and how we even looked alike. I didn’t see the similarity between him and me other than our names and we were close in age.
I was actually kind of put off that he thought I looked like his son. I don’t want to sound insensitive, but the picture Father Patrick showed me was a picture of what seemed to be a chunky mentally challenged boy wearing a protective helmet. The boy had drool and snot running down his face and was apparently picking his butt.
How Father Patrick thought I looked like that boy, baffled me and made me second guess my good looks. I even took a second glance in Father Patrick’s mirror to check myself. I came to the conclusion that I didn’t look anything like that boy and Father Patrick is crazier than I thought.
But I could see it in his eyes that he truly believed I did. Either way, I reminded him of his son and he seemed to want to take me under his wing. After I was done with my work, Father Patrick said he’d make me deal. He said we’d play Yahtzee to see who did his dishes. He said, him and his son would play Yahtzee everyday to see who did dishes. I could see a twinkle in his eye as he spoke of his time with his son.
I agreed, and we played Yahtzee sitting next to his crackling fireplace.
If you can get pass the pirating of steamboats, killing people who try to escape or break into his prison, putting the PULLED in dungeons, being totally insane, imprisoning everyone he meets, and having a poor sense of fashion - Father Patrick isn’t that bad of a guy.
He seemed to enjoy my company and even seemed to let me win at Yahtzee (I’m guessing he had to let his son win also). So when the game was over, Father Patrick placed his hand on my shoulder and thanked me for the game. He said he’d take care of the dishes since I won the game. He had a glow about him. I think us playing Yahtzee reminded him of better times. He gave me some cookies he made and said I could share them with Jeff. I thanked him and walked back to my cell.
Jeff looked worried that I spent so much time with Father Patrick and came back with cookies. Jeff refused to eat any. I told him we’d save them for when we escape, that we will need the extra food for our trip. I mostly said that to reassure Jeff that I wasn’t falling under Father Patrick’s spell.
Tyler's
Journal Entry: 421
Date: September 15
Day: Sunday
Weather: Windy and cool
Miles to go: 580
SInce our first game, Father Patrick has had me over every day to play Yahtzee and to see who would do his dishes. A couple times he beat me, but ended up helping me with the dishes anyways. I think Father Patrick misses his son very much and having me around reminds him of his times with his son. Part of me feels guilty, because I have bad feeling towards him, but he seems to be very fond of me. Mom always said to find the good in people. But what if they do so much that is bad? Where do I draw the line? Even though Father Patrick is bad by all definition, a part of me feels sorry for him.
I’ve become fairly relaxed with Father Patrick and have started conversations about what he’s doing with the prisoners. I haven’t taken the chance yet to challenge him about the prison. I feel he likes me enough that I can give my opinion that what he is doing is wrong. But I don’t want to take that chance. He is crazy and crazy people don’t think like the rest of us.
What if I challeng
e what he is doing and he turns on me? Right now he sees me as a lost child, who reminds him of his son. With a few careless words on my part, I could become the enemy to him and be cast into the dungeons with the PULLED. I will just focus on buying my time until I escape.
Jeff’s been experimenting with our cell lock. We want to make our attempt during the night, so that means we will have to find a way out of our cell without a key.
Jeff’s been putting little pebbles mixed with clay inside where the lock clicks shut. The locks are dated back to the Civil War Era and are pretty basic when it comes to locks. The guards have to manually lock each one with a skeleton key each night before bedtime. The lock works by an arm rotating down (with the turn of a skeleton key), and then locking into place. Jeff thinks if he can block the rotation of the locking arm, he can fool the guard into thinking the lock is locked.
Every night, Jeff gradually plugs the lock, and every night the guard works the lock enough till it locks. Jeff’s tinkering has gone unnoticed and the guard just thinks the lock is getting corroded. Jeff waits every night till the guard leaves to see if his tinkering worked. Tonight it worked.
The guard thought he locked the lock, but he didn’t. Jeff was able to wiggle the locking arm back to open position and open the door. However the tunnel is not finished and we cannot leave tonight. But at least we have another piece of the puzzle and are one step closer to getting out of here.
Tyler's
Journal Entry: 423
Date: September 17
Day: Tuesday
Weather: Sunny and warm
Miles to go: 580
The tunnel is complete! We had to spend a couple days digging under the wall but we made it. The wall went deeper than expected and there was heavy clay mixed with rocks at its base. But with Jeff and I’s strong wills’ , we were able to get past it and find sunlight on the other side of the wall. The opening peeked out in a clump of bushes. This is good, since the opening will be hidden from plain view. We joking said that our tunnel will end at the feet of a guard and all our hard work would have been for nothing. But we found ourselves in a perfect spot and out of view of any guards. The water is only a few meters away and there are cattails blanketing our passage to the water. We are very motivated and excited. It’s hard to hide our excitement, and both Jeff and I can sense freedom is within a day or two.
Will of Man - Part Four Page 2