The date is May 7th, 1864. It's the peak of the American Civil War, and the battles are only getting fiercer by the day. My platoon was captured after a bloody skirmish. Many of us were wounded, dead, or dying. The dying were left to rot, and the wounded were forced to march or die. Many of us succumbed to disease or “accidents”, and now only I am left.
[[Continue]]Many days have passed, and my torturous journey seemed to have come an end only to awakened into to a hell-hole.
[[Where am I?]]The log gates swung open to the welcoming scent of filth and men waiting to die. Guards are stationed on the wall, muskets at the ready as I drag my travel torn boots through sticky mud. By the looks of it, I'm in a prison camp, and a foul one at that.
A group of Confederate soldiers are waiting by the entrance.
[[That must be my welcoming committee.]]A man of average height and build steps forward. He has a large bushy beard, a lame right arm, and sharp eyes.
He scanned my Platoon until his eyes settle on me, and as if on cue, I was summarily kicked forward falling to my knees in the muck.
Attempt to [[stand up]] or stay [[kneeling]]?Angered, I instinctively move to stand, to show them that my spirit is not yet broken. I instantly regret it.
A searing pain shoots through my side as a musket cracks across my ribs, instantly dropping me back to the mud. I can feel a musket barrel prod the back of my skull as I pull my face out of the mud.
A pair of boots enter my field of vision.
[[Look up]] or [[keep looking down]]?I grit my teeth as I resist the urge to stand. Picking a fight now would be unwise if not suicidal. I see a pair of boots appear in front of me.
[[Look up]] or [[keep looking down]]?The Bearded Man was looking down at me, with an expression somewhere in between a sad smile and a knowing grimace.
[["I take it that you're my warden"]] or
[[Remain Silent]]?I keep my head down and low. Let them think I'm a broken man. It'll be the last mistake they ever make.
When the man spoke, his voice was slow and steady. His accent was not that of a southerner with the exaggerated drawl on the vowels, but was instead lightly tinged with the vocal inflections of a foreigner, German perhaps?
[[Listen]].When the man spoke, his voice was slow and steady. His accent was not that of a southerner with the exaggerated drawl on the vowels, but was instead lightly tinged with the vocal inflections of a foreigner, German perhaps?
"That would be correct. My name is Captain Henry Wirz and you are now my prisoner" punctuating his statement with a tip of his army cap.
[[Spit]] in his face or [[keep listening]]?When the man spoke, his voice was slow and steady. His accent was not that of a southerner with the exaggerated drawl on the vowels, but was instead lightly tinged with the vocal inflections of a foreigner, German perhaps?
"Hello, My name is Captain Henry Wirz and you are now my prisoner" punctuating his statement with a tip of his army cap.
[[Spit]] in his face or [[keep listening]]?"That would be correct. My name is Captain Henry Wirz and you are now my prisoner" punctuating his statement with a tip of his army cap.
[[Spit]] in his face, or [[keep listening]]I spit in his face, landing a foamy glob just below his right eye.
With an unnerving amount of calmness, Cpt. Wirz wipes the spittle away with the sleeve of his uniform. Suddenly, his eyes blaze with fury, and he lashes out with a backhand. My lip cracks beneath the weight of the blow, blood flowing freely down my chin.
Continue to [[glare]] at him in defiance or [[feign submission]]?He continues on, "This is your new home from now on, so I suggest you get settled in. Forget about escaping. You're too far from the Union lines to receive rescue. Should you try to escape anyways..."
Pausing, he waves his arm though the air, promptly followed by the boom of a musket. A piece of the fence post a few paces behind him turns into shrapnel as the bullet tears through it.
"...You'll be shot." He finishes. "The fence post boundary is your deadline. Come even close to it --"
Another gunshot reverberated through the air.
[[Look over]]Hissing through his teeth, Cpt. Wirz whispers with a deathly calmness "Don't worry, you'll soon learn that defiant ones don't live long around here. I have a few rules, and they are very simple to follow."
He calms down, disturbingly quick, but with a sadly solemn expression as he straitens his uniform before continuing.
[[Keep listening ->keep listening]]Seeming satisfied that slugging me in the face was enough to quell my defiance, Cpt. Wirz continued on with a disturbing amount of calm, a sadly solemn expression replacing his outrage as he straitens his uniform.
[[Keep listening ->keep listening]]I looked over in time to see a prisoner crash face first into the mud, his momentum skidding him through the filth for a few feet.
"Well, you get the idea. Welcome to Camp Sumter" the captain said, in a voice caught somewhere between uncaring boredom and mild fascination.
With that, he spun away. The soldiers behind me hoisted me up, not allowing me to gain my footing as they dragged me past the fence.
As expected, they threw me into the nearest pile of what might have been mud.
[[Brace for impact]]!I land in the pile of filth, only to realize that it was a dead man... no, a boy no older than 14 years of age. I roll over off the boy's body painfully aware of how decomposed he was by the sickening crunch of bone underneath my hand as I pushed myself off.
The date is June 1st, 1864. My name is James Miller, and this is the story of how I survived Camp Sumter.
[[Look Around]]I straightened myself upright, taking a few paces away from the putrid body. I look up and see a scene that would make the hardiest of men’s stomachs churn with revile. A sea of suffering men crawling about one another, too weak to walk. Limbs too swollen to bend or so skeletal that they can’t even support their own weight. Eyes sunken in so far that many looked like they had no eyes at all. Bodies blackened with mud and smoke. These were not men, just bodies of men who haven’t realized they're dead yet.
The entire landscape was dotted with tents, shanties, and lean-tos.
To the north is a wide expanse of land.
A large dirt path going east is before me, the same road Cpt. Wirz took his men up.
Go [[north]] or [[follow the path]]?I trek my way north, stepping over the dead and dying as I weave my way through the tents. Gallows quickly come into view, its recent victims still swinging in the summer breeze as crows strip away what little flesh the maggots hadn’t infested yet. A voice from behind, more akin to a croak, rattles out behind me.
"Men hanged for stealing food and playing dead."
[[Turn to the voice. ->Acknowledge]]I turn, and to my surprise, see a young man, no older than twenty, dressed in scraps of rags. He was thin all around, eyes filled with grief, but his posture was still tall and strong. This was still a man unbroken by the misery of his situation.
I ask, "[[Please, explain]]" or
"[[Who are you?]]" The man jumps with a start, as if he weren't expecting someone to ask him a question. His face calms and in a kind but sad voice says “Ahhh, you must be new here." Gesturing to the general area he continues, “Food, water, and medicine are scarce around here. These men hanging here were desperate and tried stealing it. As such, they were hanged as an example for the rest of us folk." Suddenly, if not awkwardly, the man stretches out his bone thin hand out and says, "My name is Dorence. Dorence Atwater. What’s your name?"
[[Introduce yourself]].The man jumps with a start, as if he weren't expecting someone to ask him a question. With a slightly embarrassed grin he says in a paper-thin voice, "Excuse me, my name is Dorence. Dorence Atwater." He extends his had in greeting, "And you are?"
[[Introduce yourself. ->Introduce yourself 2]]. Carefully grasping his hand, all too aware of his bone thin fingers, I give a gentle shake as I introduce myself. "I'm James Miller."
I ask Dorence,
"[[How long have you been here?]]" or
"[[What can you tell me about this place?]]"Carefully grasping his hand, all too aware of his bone thin fingers, I give a gentle shake as I introduce myself. "I'm James Miller."
I ask Dorence,
"Could you [[Please explain]] more about what you just said?" or
"[[How long have you been here?]]" or
"[[What can you tell me about this place?]]"At, that question, Dorence let out a rasping chuckle, that quickly transforms into a cough. Composing himself after a moment he says, "I've been here for far too long. By July, it'll be about one year.
I ask,
"[[Have you ever thought about escaping?]]" or
"[[What can you tell me about this place?]]"Dorence face furrows slightly. "I can tell you too much about this place, none of it good-" But before he could continue, a large crash sounded out a few tents over. A panicked look takes hold of Dorence's face as he says, "We must leave here, quickly!"
Dorance hustles past me, grabbing my forearm as he passes with a surprising, practically inhuman, amount of strength for his boney fingers.
I ask confusedly,
"[[What's wrong?]] or
[[wrestle free]] from Dorence's grip. With a kind and sad smile, Dorence says, "Ahhh, you must be new here." Gesturing to the general area he continues, "Food, water, and medicine are scarce around here. These men hanging here were desperate and tried stealing it. As such, they were hanged as an example for the rest of us folk."
I continue to ask Dorence,
"[[How long have you been here?]]" or
"[[What can you tell me about this place?]]"Dorence stares past me, as if seeing something else before saying in a horse whisper, "Many times I've thought about escape, but I've found a purpose in staying here, and I plan to see it through to the end."
Refocusing on me, he lets loose a sly grin, are you thinking about escaping?
[[Yes]] or [[Choose not to answer]]. Responding with a sly grin of my own, I say, "Who knows, but I can't say that I'm willing to stay long enough to become friends with our warden."
Dorence nodded slowly, stepping in close, he whispered in a hushed rasp, "Then I think I know of someone who can-" But before he could finish, a large crash sounded out a few tents over. A panicked look takes hold of Dorence's face as he says, "We must leave here, quickly!"
Dorence hustles past me, grabbing my forearm as he passes with a surprising, practically inhuman, amount of strength for his boney fingers.
I ask confusedly,
"[[What's wrong?]] or
[[wrestle free]] from Dorence's grip. I stared at Dorence for a few moments, not sure if I could trust him or not. Wouldn't be surprising if a few of the inmates reported back to Cpt. Wirz in return for extra comforts.
Seeing the distrust in my eyes, Dorence lets loose a sigh. The sly grin gone from his face, replaced by an understanding grimace. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a single word out, a large crash sounded out a few tents over. A panicked look takes hold of Dorence's face as he says, "I understand if you don't trust me enough now, but for the sake of both of our lives, we must leave here, quickly!"
Dorence hustles past me, grabbing my forearm as he passes with a surprising, practically inhuman, amount of strength for his boney fingers.
I ask confusedly,
"[[What's wrong?]] or
[[wrestle free]] from Dorence's grip. Without looking over his shoulder, Dorence yells back, "Raiders! They're prisoners who pillage other prisoners for resources! Don't worry, I'll get us some place safe!"
[[Follow]]
or [[wrestle free]]. I wrestle free from Dorence's grip. I'm hardly going to trust a man I just met with my life. However, before I could make Dorence aware of this, he pivots suddenly to face me, and in the same motion, lunges and tackles me to the floor.
It's fortunate that he did this, for as I fell backwards under Dorence's weight, there was a large man, his swinging club occupying the space where my head had been a moment ago.
Dorence pulls out a wood spike from under the rags wrapped around his chest and drives it into the man's calf using the momentum of the fall to drive the wooden stake even deeper. The burly man lets out a howl of agony and drops his club as he reaches for his leg.
[[Grab the club]]. Even though I just met this man, I believe I can trust him. It's most certainly preferable than the chaos exploding behind me.
[[Continue ->Fleeing the Scene]]As soon as I hit the ground, I claw for the club, scrambling to my feet as I pick it up. I hear a growl from behind, and looking over my shoulder, I see the large man bearing down on Dorence, the bloody spike from his leg now in his hand.
[[Save Dorence]]Without hesitation, I swing for the man's skull, and with a resounding crack, the club strike the man across the crown of his skull, but it wasn't enough. I strike again, this time in a downward arc with both hands, similar to how a lumberjack would split wood, going all the way up to my tip-toes to bear down my whole weight behind the blow. The blow lets out a thunderous retort as the pine lumber shatters over the man's skull, rolling his eyes back as he crumbles to the ground limp.
[[Grab Dorence and run!]]Tossing the splintered wood aside, I heaved Dorence out of the mud.
Dorence grins appreciatively and says, "Seems I'm in your debt now."
I laugh grimly and respond, "Let's just call it even for now since you saved my skull from becoming part of that club."
Dorence appears confuced for a moment before realizing that his tackel saved my life early. "Even then" he says, and without taking a moment longer, he takes the lead, pulling me along in his wake.
[[Continue ->Fleeing the Scene]]We ducked and weaved our way through the tents and shanties avoiding the guards coming to break up the fight, as well as marauding groups of prisoners that Dorence called "Raiders."
We worked our way farther north, up past a bridge leading over a somewhat deep, but putrid and discolored stream. The stream seemed to feed into a swamp farther downstream and exit through the other side of the prison.
On the other side of the bridge, not too great a distance away was a ring of tents. The men here stood a little taller and were fuller in the face. One man in particular stood out; a huge, barrel chested man standing six feet tall and sporting a equally large mustache.
He turned towards us as we approached, glancing momentarily at me before asking Dorence, "Who's this?"
His voice was strong, and unwavering, his words accented with a hint of Canadian.
[[Introduce yourself ->introduce yourself 3]] or
let [[Dorence introduce you?]]I decide to follow the path. Hopefully, I'll be able to see where that bastard captain ran off to.
The path is covered with the sickly and dying. Confederate soldiers are escorting out the sickly that can still walk and ignoring the ones that can't.
I step over the dead, and the dying reach out to me with clawing hands, voices so ragged that I can only imaging that they are asking for help... help that will never come. So many dead...it makes the battlefield look tame in comparison.
Sheds quickly appear into view on my right. Corpses piled high, a fetid stench permeates through the air, turning it foul, as if I had stepped in a field of rancid milk. Soldiers are dragging corpses from the camp and piling them by the sheds where another group, prisoners from the look of it, strip the corpses naked. Soldiers order other prisoners to pile the stripped corpses into carts, that seem to be taken out of the camp.
I wonder where those [[carts]] are going?So they do clean up the dead after all. But where do they take them? I follow the carts, but soon realize that I can't follow them for they lead past the Deadline.
Intriguing. It seems that the dead, and their cart haulers can leave the camp without getting shot.
I look over to the pile of dead men, entertaining the idea of playing dead, but I think better of it. Even from where I'm standing, and from the smell of it, these bodies aren't actively collected and seem to be left for days before they are pulled out of the mud. Frankly, the idea of being face down in the muck for days on end, does not sound like the best idea. Hell, I'll probably actually die if someone steps on my neck or spine hard enough.
Although, I could become one of the men to pull a cart out...
Let's see if I can replace a [[cartman]].If I can just replace one of the men pulling a cart...
I make my way back to the [[sheds]], an idea brewing in my mind.Back at the sheds, I look at my surroundings.
The sheds have small alleys in between them, littered with rocks.
The prisoners continue to haul, strip, load, and cart out bodies endlessly and without rest.
I could sit and wait. One of the prisoners may get tired and leave. But maybe there is something else that I can use to expedite that process.
[[Wait]] or [[take action]]?Patience, one of them will have to give out eventually. These body dragging men may not be as rail thin as everyone else here, but they are far from healthy.
I sulk into one of the side allies closest to the cart wheelers. Hours and hours go by. The men stopped once during the day for rest, but then kept at it until the sun finally receded down to the horizon.
Just when I thought this was a waste of time, one of the cart haulers finally collapsed. This was my chance! I step out into the [[open]]...I sulk into one of the side alleys closest to the cart wheelers. The Alley is littered with scraps of wood, rocks, and cord for tents, and surprisingly enough, the ally is abandoned too.
I pick up a long length of cord, and a tent spike. With a plan coming together already, I tie one end of the chord to the spike and walk [[out of the alley]].Sure enough, I catch the eye of one of the guards. He barks at me in his thick southern drawl, "You! You look healthy enough. Get over here and keep wheeling bodies!"
I move quickly to replace the fallen man. He doesn’t stir, not even when I try to nudge him aside.
The guard becomes irritated by this, "Leave him be! If he's dead we'll cart him with the rest, now MOVE IT!"
Feeling sorry for the man, I take up his place and start hauling the bodies out toward the [[gate]].The gate comes into view, and soon enough I'm outside. The air is a bit fresher, but the foul stench of death and decay still finds a way over the log walls.
The guards escort us around the south side of the complex along the dirt path. The path is muddy and loose from so many treading feet and the wheels of the cart hardly spin at all. It's like trying to walk with ball chains attached to all of your limbs, or like trying to pull a stubborn mule across a shallow river.
After what seemed like forever, a fence, about 6 feet tall, came into view. The air became fouler as we got closer, practically dripping with disease. The reason for this became evident as men with stretchers could be seen carrying out one body at a time. My stomach clenched as I saw rows upon rows of dead laying out in a field, crows and vultures alike circling overhead and pecking at the bodies.
So, this was the [[hospital]] of Camp Sumter.Stepping out of the alley, I slowly pace towards the cart wheeler's path.
When I reach the edge of their path I kneel over to pretend to [[tie my boot]].When I kneel down, I discretely work the stake into the driest part of the mud. When I stand, I place my ankle above the head of the stake to drive it even deeper into the ground.
I shamble my way slowly across the path of the cart wheelers, making sure the tent cord isn't obviously trailing behind me as I set the [[trip wire]]. I squat down on the other end of the cartwheeling path, trip wire set and ready to go.
Many hours passed before I could use my trap. All of them men we still going strong until I was sure that the sun had started to kiss the tree line. Sure enough though, my opportunity came. A group of cart wheelers start to proceed away from the corpse pile. Scanning the line of men, I spot one in the back who looks exhausted. He'll be my target... I only hope my line hasn't gotten too buried in the mud by now.
The first cart passes over... then the second... then the third... then the fourth... [[PULL!]]I tug ever so lightly in the cord, just enough to make it taunt. The front of the man's foot catches just under the wire. His eyes go wide with shock as he realizes that he's crashing towards the ground, unable to stop his forward momentum. He crashes with a wet thud and remains very still.
I rush to his side, as well as a Confederate soldier, irritated by the delay.
"What's the matter!" he barks in his thick southern drawl.
I say,
"It seems exhaustion go the better of [[him]]." or
"I'm not sure, he just suddenly [[collapsed]]. "Is that so?" the southerner said, drawing out the phrase as if he were seriously pondering the thought, when he really didn't have a care in the world.
With a cruel gleam in his eye, he glances down at me and hisses, "Looks like you'll be taking his place Yankee. Now get moving, else you may end up like him." He punctuated his threat even further by patting my leg with the bayonet of his musket.
Feigning fear, I quickly move to pull the cart.
The soldier walks back to his position, chuckling to himself proudly, and as I move to pick up the cart rail, I yank the cord and stake out of the ground. I could use these later.
Everything is going to plan, now I just need to make it to the [[gate]]."Is that so?" the southerner said, drawing out the phrase as if he were seriously pondering the thought, when he really didn't have a care in the world.
With a cruel gleam in his eye, he glances down at me and hisses, "Looks like you'll be taking his place Yankee. Now get moving, else you may end up like him." He punctuated his threat even further by patting my leg with the bayonet of his rifle.
Feigning fear, I quickly move to pull the cart.
The soldier walks back to his position, chuckling to himself proudly, and as I move to pick up the cart rail, I yank the cord and stake out of the ground. I could use these later.
Everything is going to plan, now I just need to make it to the [[gate]].I stepped across the threshold with my cargo, and nearly hurled as a wave of rancid bodies assaulted my every sense. The screams of men in agony, begging to die, and piles upon piles of bodies just decomposing out in the open.
I couldn’t see any obvious doctors around, except for one, standing next to a line of laid out bodies, men nearby with stretchers, carrying the dead out of the complex.
I can hear a soldier complaining. "If only these Union bastards could die for real instead of playing dead, we wouldn't have to check each and every corpse. This place is more like a morgue than anything else!"
So they check the bodies. I guess it's good I didn't try to play dead.
One of our escorts, the same soldier who I spoke to earlier, barked out, "Enough lollygagging! Dump the bodies and get back to hauling! There still be plenty more to move."
I could [[empty my cart]], but this is a good opportunity to get a [[feel for this area]]. I'm not sure when I'll ever be back here.Other men, prisoners that were sorting the bodies dropped off by the previous group, began to unload the bodies. Although, some of them looked familiar...
I empty my cart, dragging out one skeleton of a man after another. Some bloated, others emaciated, all with the same expression; hopeless misery.
I dump the last body to the ground, winded, and I would be starved was it not for the sickly work. The guards are lazing about, hardly taking any measure to keep a close eye on us.
This could be my chance to [[slip away]]...A few men move up next to me and start unloading bodies, and I can't slip away yet with the guards still watching.
I unload a few bodies, and soon enough, the guards get bored with watching us and start chit-chatting. I take that moment to back away slowly, blending in with the crowd of sick walking about us.
I dart in between a pair of tents, to catch my breath. It seems that the sickly stay here to get help. Hopefully, my absence won't be notice too quickly.
Trying my best to maintain a limp and bowed posture, I start to [[explore the hospital]]The guards are still chatting distractedly with one another and I take that moment to back away slowly, blending in with the crowd of sickly walking about us.
I dart in between a pair of tents, to catch my breath. It seems that the sickly stay here to get help. Hopefully, my absence won't be notice too quickly.
Trying my best to maintain a limp and bowed posture, I start to [[explore the hospital]]I stumble from one tent to the next keeping to the perimeter, checking through holes in the fence to see where the guards are posted, all the while avoiding the guards on the inside.
There's a well on the north side of the hospital grounds, and the fence is unguarded on the south side.
I hear that annoying Confederate Soldier's voice yelling at random prisoners to take my post at the cart. I guess my absence was finally noticed. Do, they just don't care enough to go looking for me? Either way, I’m grateful for their laziness, and even more grateful for the fact that it's getting dark now. The perfect time to make a break for it.
Suddenly, a bell rings out, and soldiers start baying, "A PRISONER HAS ESCAPED!"
I guess they do care...
Should I hide in the [[well]] and wait for things to settle down or jump the southern face of the [[fence]] now?I hobble to the well, hoping my act is convincing enough as to be overlooked.
I make it to the well as quickly as I could through the throngs of men scrambling about to get away from the soldiers. I pull out my cord and stake, and using the stake, I pry off a fist sized stone form the side of the well. Using the stone, I hammer the stake on the interior surface of the well. Taking a quick look around to make sure no one was paying too much attention to my movements, I dive headfirst into the well, somersaulting as I passed over the ledge as to land in the water feet first.
I cling and claw to the sides of the slime covered walls to slow my decent, and I manage to hit the water with a loud, but safe splash. The commotion above is getting only louder, until finally I heard a volley of gunshots, and the screams of many men as they were hit.
I hear a man say, "I saw someone fall down the well!"
My heart stops instantly! I take a deep breath and dunk my head [[underwater]] hoping beyond hope that it's too dark to see me.I quickly make my way back to the south side of the hospital fence. No guards are present when I arrive. I check quickly over the fence and see no guards there either.
Not wasting a moment more on what might happen, I jump the fence and land heavily on the other side, rolling to absorb the shock of the landing, and ultimately, I roll straight into the swampy water just next to the fence.
I don't even come back up for air, too scared to even stick my head above the water. I hear yelling and gunshots, followed by agonized screams.
I crawl out on the opposite side of the swampy bank not even stopping a moment to rest. no time to rest. I must escape! I spring up to my feet, and without looking back, charge headlong into the pine trees. Never looking back.
[[Continue->ending 2]]I see the head of a man appear many feet above me, shining a lantern as far down into the well as he could. He's looked about for many moments, and my racing heart is robbing my lungs of air. I'm not sure how long I can keep [[holding it...]]The man keeps looking about for many moments longer, asking one man after another to look down the well. I can feel my eyesight fading, my lungs burning - no, screaming for air!
Should I chance a [[breath]], or keep [[holding]] it?My lungs scream out in agony, and I can't hold it any longer, else I'll drown. I cling to the side of the well and tilt my head towards the surface. I lift my lips ever so slowly to just breech the water and let out a long breath as quietly as I could.
That was a mistake. One of the men instantly points at me, the rest following suit with aiming their muzzles inside the well. I dive back under, pumping my arms franticly as I try to put as much distance between myself and the end of those barrels. That's it. It's over. I see a flash, rapidly followed by a series of bangs.
I close, my eyes, and everything goes [[dark...]]I continue to hold my breath, my eyes red with effort, bulging out for the sockets. My vision goes black.
Should I [[take a breath]] or [[keep holding it]]?I feel a searing pain shoot through my left arm. Somehow, I'm still alive, escaping death with only a bullet hole in the arm.
I can still hear commotion above, but their interest in the well seems to be over. The men must have left me hear on purpose. They probably think the water has already become undrinkable from my filth and won't bother with pulling me out now.
I move to stop the bleeding, ripping my clothes into strips and binding them around the bullet hole as tightly as I could, keeping my face just above the water as I do so. The bullet went through the meaty part of my upper arm, making it difficult to curl.
I wait for darkness to set fully set in. My mind racing.
The moon is right above the well, and quietly, I wade towards the rope still attached to the stake.
Slowly but surely, I crawl up the side of the well, carful to not put too much weight on the cord. Luckily, I had not lost too much blood, and my arm was not too weak to support some of my weight, but one wrong step would truly spell out the end for me.
I breech the top of the well, and peer over the lip of it, just barley showing my head to the outside. A few patrolling lights here and there, but otherwise, the coast is clear.
I climb [[out of the well.]]My vision dark, I take a tentative breath, trying desperately to not gasp for air. My vision returns, and there are no men standing at the top of the well.
There is still commotion above, but their interest in the well seems to be over.
I wait for darkness to set fully set in. My mind racing.
The moon is right above the well, and quietly, I wade towards the rope still attached to the stake.
Slowly but surely, I crawl up the side of the well, carful to not put too much weight on the cord. One wrong step, and this really could be the end.
I breech the top of the well, and peer over the lip of it, just barley showing my head to the outside. A few patrolling lights here and there, but otherwise, the coast is clear.
I climb [[out of the well.->out of the well 2]]It's no use, my body violently convulses as all of the used-up air escapes my lungs and my body blindly splashes for the surface. I hear yelling, then clicks, followed by deafening booms.
Everything is cold, but that's okay... I feel strangely at peace... More at peace than what I have felt for a long time. I think, I'll go to sleep now. it's been a long day, and I deserve the [[rest...]]Quietly, I flip over the lip of the well, making as little noise as possible. I collect my cord, and the steak pulls out easily from the stone wall. To think that my life was really hanging by a thread there. I slosh from tent to tent. Not many guards are in the hospital. Makes sense since most of the patients are too weak to even crawl.
After what feels like eternity, I make it to the southernmost corner of the fence and stand on my tip-toes to peer over the edge. Some guards were on the east side of the hospital, and some by the other corner of the south side. Luckily, I picked the blind spot between the two that sits right over the swamp.
With that, I grab hold of the fence boards and pull myself over to land relatively quiet on the other side of the fence. Without wasting a moment, I wade into the swamp water, until I reach the pine forest on the other side.
I turn for a moment and look back at the prison with disgust. "Good riddance to this living hell hole," I say under my breath. I pivot on my heel and march East. It was as Captain Wirz said. I have a long way to go before I make it back to friendly territory, and I have not a moment to waste.
[[Continue ->Ending 1]]Date: June 1st, 1864
After spending only a little less than a day in Camp Sumter, James Miller was shot and killed in the Hospital Well at sundown at approximately 7:00PM.
Would you like to continue to [[change the story ->explore the hospital]]?Date: June 1st, 1864.
After spending only a day at Camp Sumter, James Miller successfully escaped with only a bullet wound through his upper arm for the trouble it caused him. He was eventually able to make it back to friendly territory and survive until the end of the war where he lived out the rest of his life in peace.
THE END
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Quietly, I flip over the lip of the well, making as little noise as possible. I collect my cord, and the steak pulls out easily from the stone wall. To think that my life was really hanging by a thread there. I slosh from tent to tent. Not many guards are in the hospital. Makes sense since most of the patients are too weak to even crawl.
After what feels like eternity, I make it to the southernmost corner of the fence and stand on my tip-toes to peer over the edge. Some guards were on the east side of the hospital, and some by the other corner of the south side. Luckily, I picked the blind spot between the two that sits right over the swamp.
With that, I grab hold of the fence boards and pull myself over to land relatively quiet on the other side of the fence. Without wasting a moment, I wade into the swamp water, until I reach the pine forest on the other side.
I turn for a moment and look back at the prison with disgust. "Good riddance to this living hell hole," I say under my breath. I pivot on my heel and march East. It was as Captain Wirz said. I have a long way to go before I make it back to friendly territory, and I have not a moment to waste.
[[Continue->ending 2]]Date: June 1st, 1864.
After spending only a day at Camp Sumter, James Miller successfully escaped and only came down with a nasty case of lice for the trouble the experienced caused him. He was eventually able to make it back to friendly territory and survive until the end of the war where he lived out the rest of his life in peace.
THE END
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"I'm James. James Miller," I stick out my hand to greet him.
Looking me up and down calmly, with a critical eye, the large man grasps my hand with a vice-like grip, giving it a firm shake. "I'm Peter Aubrey, but most people just call me "Big Pete" for short."
Pete looks at Dorence and asks "What has you here in such a hurry, Dorence? I thought you were recording more names for that [[bastard captain?"]]"This is James Miller. I met him today by the gallows," Dorence explained. "He seemed like a good man, so I brought him back here with me."
Looking me up and down calmly, with a critical eye, the large man grasps my hand with a vice-like grip, giving it a firm shake. "I'm Peter Aubrey, but most people just call me "Big Pete" for short."
Pete looks at Dorence and asks "What has you here in such a hurry, Dorence? I thought you were recording more names for that [[bastard captain?"]]"Not today, today I was looking for more food to bring back when I met my friend here." Dorence motions to me before continuing, "Unfortunately the Raiders are at it again. Who knows how many will die this time. Can’t they see that we’re all prisoners here just trying to survive?" Dorence shoulders sink as he finishes, shaking his head at the utter nonsense of it all. Pete pats him on the shoulder, nodding his understanding. "Go on Dorence," Pete urges, "Go find yourself some food. I'll have a chat with your new friend here." Dorence nods his appreciation and walks off, his shoulders still weighed down with sorrow.
Pete then glances up at me and asks, "So James, have any friends to watch your back?"
I reply back, [["I am all that is left."]]Pete sighs his understanding, pity in his eyes. "Perhaps it's better that they never made it here. They definitely died more peacefully out there than they ever would have in here."
Pete grabs me by my shoulders, turning me squarely towards him, "If Dorence thinks you're a good man, then feel free to stay with us James. Not a soul will bring you harm here, and I promise that you won't starve... too much at least."
I reply,
[[Thank you]] or
I don't plan on staying long. Do you think you can get me [[out of here?]]"Think nothing of it," Pete says, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a beaming smile becomes barely visible beneath his mustache.
I smile with him, not something I would think possible in this wretched place. "Pete, what would you know about [[escaping here?]]"Escape?" whistles Pete, taking a pensive pose, his eyes glazing over with the thought. "It's not impossible, and many have done so already, but it won't be easy. Wirz has already caught on to people playing dead. Now he just shoots the poor bastards as they run. Saves him the trouble have having to carry them outside." His eyes snap back to lock with mine, “I’m honestly not sure how to get you out of here."
I nod my head, but then I cock my head to the side, as I look at Pete. "Pete, how many offenses have the [[Raiders committed?]]He looks at me, curious now as to what I'm thinking. "Enough where the whole lot of them could be flogged and hanged for the attacks they have committed, why?"
"What if we held a trail. One large enough to catch everyone's attention?"
Pete stares blankly at me for a few moments, his brows finally furrowing, "To what end? No one is going to try them here."
I say,
"They've been running unchecked for a while now, [[haven't they?]] or
"Help me, and I'll [[help you]].Pete's smile fades as he takes a pensive pose. "Escape?" whistles Pete, his eyes glazing over with the thought. "It's not impossible, and many have done so already, but it won't be easy. Wirz has already caught on to people playing dead. Now he just shoots the poor bastards as they run. Saves him the trouble have having to carry them outside." His eyes snap back to lock with mine, “I’m honestly not sure how to get you out of here."
I nod my head, but then I cock my head to the side, as I look at Pete. "Pete, how many offenses have the [[Raiders committed?]]
"Running around like a wild band of dogs they have!" Pete's fist and clench and unclench as if he were wringing someone’s neck out, something quite possible for the large man to do. "But how can putting them in a trial possibly help you escape?"
I let out a nervous sigh before continuing, "Because, everyone here seems to hate them, correct?"
"Right down to their rotten guts, we do" Pete confirms, spitting on the ground to accentuate his point.
I continue on, "So if they get dragged out in front of an angry mob seeking justice for what they have suffered at the hands of the Raiders, then it may provide enough distraction for me to [[slip away...]]"
Pete's eyes narrow, not dangerously so, but I'd rather not anger this bear of a man with poor words. "I'll help you catch the Raiders, and if you place them on trial for everyone to see, it may provide a great enough of a distraction for me to [[slip away...]]"Pete crosses his arms, his brows furrowed deep in thought. "It's a good idea, but answer me this; why should I let you escape, and not any other man here?"
I reply,
"Because, I'm still strong of body and the scurvey has yet to rob my limbs of [[their usefulness]]" or
"Can anyone else here manage to [[swim underwater?]]"Pete looks at me, and nods, if not slightly reluctantly. "Right you are, but how do you plan to escape anyways. You think they'll just let you waltz right out during that sort of commotion?"
"Of course not," I reply. "I was planning on swimming out," I gesture towards the stream [[behind me.]]Pete looks at me incredulously, "Swim!" he exclaims, his arms stretching out towards his sides. "Swim where, there's not a-" he stops dead in his train of thought, both horror and understanding dawning on his face. He collects himself calmly, before saying "This place must have driven you mad already if you plan to take a dip in that maggot infested waters."
"Do you have a [[better idea?]]" I ask, somewhat hopeful that he did.
Pete looks at me incredulously, "Swim!" he exclaims, his arms stretching out towards his sides. "Swim where, there's not a-" he stops dead in his train of thought, both horror and understanding dawning on his face. He collects himself calmly, before saying "This place must have driven you mad already if you plan to take a dip in that maggot infested waters."
"Do you have a [[better idea?]]" I ask, somewhat hopeful that he did.
"Not a single one" he replied, almost proudly, and to my ultimate dismay.
"So, how do you plan to get past the iron bar grate at the end of the stream?" Pete ask, his face turning green at the thought. You do realize you'll be wading through the shit and piss of several thousand sick men, right?"
Before I could answer, my stomach answered for him as I lurched over, painting the mud with the breakfast I ate before arriving to the Camp Sumter.
Over the retching, I can hear Pete say "Ah, such a poor waste of food."
I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my uniform. "Please don't remind me of [[what's in the stream.]]""Fair enough," Pete says as he hoists me like a rag doll back to my feet. With a pat on the back, that was practically the equivalent of a friendly bear maul, Pete says, "Well, follow me lad. Looks like we have our work cut out for us if you plan on getting out of here before the scurvy sets in." With that, he pivots away letting out a hearty chuckle, probably at the thought of catching the Raiders... or at the thought of me taking a swim in the festering stream behind me.
[[Over the next few weeks...]]Over the next few weeks, I
Helped fend off the [[Raider's attacks]] or
Helped organize the men [[into teams]].I went on patrol with Big Pete and his men, the "Regulators". We would match up and down the length of the camp hustling for food and water, beating back any Raiders who disturbed the peace.
Not everyone always came back, and I saw many a good man fall, never to stand again. Many others died to disease, or just flat out didn't wake up the next day. Sometimes, we would find one of our own days later, stripped naked, maggots festering throughout his decaying flesh, not even the crows would bother pecking at the corpse.
As the days went on, more and more prisoners came to the camp, and the bodies piled higher and higher. I soon forgot what clean air smelled like, and shortly after, I couldn't even distinguish the living from the dead, or even a person from just a pile of mud.
The only clean water that came was when it rained. People would stand outside, thankful for the improvised bath and fresh water, even if it was just for a moment.
Lice covered every piece of exposed flesh, and maggots quickly replaced all life in the stream now turned swamp. The rats only made it worse. They would nibble at whatever food was left, and when that was gone, they would go for your toes, nose, fingers, or ears next.
Yet despite all of the misery and death, the Raiders only became more bold and violent. Perhaps becoming desperate for resources, [[who knows.]]I decided to help organize the men into teams, keep them from being caught alone in a Raider attack. Every man was outfitted with at least two clubs and a sharpened stake for when situations became terribly brutal.
Not everyone always came back, and good men were lost in the skirmishes between the Raiders and Big Pete's men, the "Regulators." Many others died to disease, or just flat out didn't wake up the next day. Sometimes, we would find one of our own days later, stripped naked, maggots festering throughout his decaying flesh, not even the crows would bother pecking at the corpse.
As the days went on, more and more prisoners came to the camp, and the bodies piled higher and higher. I soon forgot what clean air smelled like, and shortly after, I couldn't even distinguish the living from the dead, or even a person from just a pile of mud.
The only clean water that came was when it rained. People would stand outside, thankful for the improvised bath and fresh water, even if it was just for a moment.
Lice covered every piece of exposed flesh, and maggots quickly replaced all life in the stream now turned swamp. The rats only made it worse. They would nibble at whatever food was left, and when that was gone, they would go for your toes, nose, fingers, or ears next.
Yet despite all of the misery and death, the Raiders only became more bold and violent. Perhaps becoming desperate for resources, [[who knows.]]The date is June 28th, 1864. My limbs have become thinner, but not terribly so, however, my water reflection shows a ghost of a man, cheekbones seeming as if they were just barely beneath the surface of my skin. Hopefully, I have enough strength let to carry out my plan.
The sun is low when I hear Pete, before I see him, stomping into camp, cursing up a storm unlike anything I've ever heard from him before.
I stand quickly and rush over. "What happened?" and as soon as the words left my mouth, Pete swings around violently, smashing his enormous fist into a shanty’s frame, causing the whole of the structure to collapse over.
Pete spits as much as says, "Those damn Raiders have really done it in for the lot of us know!" spittle flying with each syllable.
I take a few paces back to avoid the spray and ask, "[[Done what?]]"Without taking a breath between curses, Pete yells, "They went off and ransacked a food wagon, killing a soldier in the process! Now the bastard Captain Wirz has cut us off from all supplies! We'll all truly starve at this rate, if we don't damn eat each other first!" He storms off, profusely cursing as he left deep crate-like holes in his wake.
Dorence approaches from the side, having seen it all from behind the collapsed shanti, that was his home. Leaning over to me, he whispers in his raspy voice, "Do you think now would be the time to implement the final phases of your plan?"
I look over at Dorence, thinking for a moment before responding with,
"Yes, I think we have enough on the Raiders to [[hold a trial.]]" or
"No, let's give Pete some time to cool off before we [[go after the Raiders.]]""Give me a few moments with Pete, I'll see if I can convince him." Dorence gives me a nod, and a pat on the back as he mouths "good luck." I quickly follow Pete's elephant footsteps, and soon enough hear him, but he's just muttering angrily now as he sits on a log, slouched over in a thinking pose.
He notices my approach, but says nothing, looking down at the ground instead.
I approach him slowly at first before sitting next to him. "So... Pete," I begin, not sure how to open the subject.
"What," he groans back, having calmed down somewhat from his roaring earlier.
"Do you think we have enough to finally put the Raiders on trial?"
He sits there for a moment, quiet as he stairs blankly at the muck between his feet, burying a rat skull with his toe. "We do, but the people aren’t angry enough yet," he mumbles.
"[[What do you mean?]]" or
"I see. What do you [[propose we do?]]"Giving me a pat on the shoulder, Dorence nods his agreement. "Let's leave it to Pete for now. In the meantime, do you think you could help me put my little house back together," motioning to the small pile of rubble as he croaks out a small, but sad chuckle. I laugh at his misery and move to start setting up the shanti walls again.
[[Two days later.]]
Pete sighs, "The other inmates don't know what the bastard captain has done yet. We need time for the reality to set in, for them to become angry and let this be the last straw of tolerance that they have left for the Raiders. When that happens, it'll be hell of a lot easier for us to round up the lot."
My eyes widen in understanding. "You know, for an uneducated Canadian, you're pretty smart," I jab jokingly at him.
He swivels his eyes in my direction before retorting, "For an educated Yankee, you're pretty dumb," and at that we both let out a hearty laugh.
"So, how long?" I ask.
"He strokes his overgrown beard and mustache pensively before answering. "Two, maybe three days at best before this stink pit is all up in a riot. Until then, I suggest you save your energy. These will be the longest two to three days of your life." With that, he rolls over on to the cleanest spot of mud he could find, and begins to snore shortly before the darkness completely sets in.
[[Two days later.]]
Pete sighs, "We have to wait for word to get around. The other inmates don't know what the bastard captain has done yet so, we need time for the reality to set in. When they become angry from starvation, then they'll have no mercy left for the Raiders. When that happens, it'll be hell of a lot easier for us to round up the lot."
My eyes widen in understanding. "You know, for an uneducated Canadian, you're pretty smart," I jab jokingly at him.
He swivels his eyes in my direction before retorting, "For an educated Yankee, you're pretty dumb," and at that we both let out a hearty laugh.
"So, how long?" I ask.
"He strokes his overgrown beard and mustache pensively before answering. "Two, maybe three days at best before this stink pit is all up in a riot. Until then, I suggest you save your energy. These will be the longest two to three days of your life." With that, he rolls over on to the cleanest spot of mud he could find, and begins to snore shortly before the darkness completely sets in.
[[Two days later.]]Two days passed, and it felt as if my stomach was about to turn itself inside-out in an attempt to devour itself. Luckily, everyone else felt the same, and after the first day, not a moment went by when the Raiders weren't cursed for this whole mess. Unfortunately, many more people died as a result as well from the starvation, having already been emaciated to nothing but bone, their bodies simply gave out.
Despite the starvation, I and the Regulators still made our rounds about the camp. The Raiders have gone quiet, probably too hungry themselves to stir up trouble.
I hear cheering in the distance. Such an odd thing to hear in this [[living hell.]]
I twist and turn between the tents, trying to make my way closer to the cheering as I step over the strew out bodies. Such an odd thing to hear cheering when these cold faces look back at you, forever frozen in their torment.
My search quickly comes to an end as I come face to face with a throng of men cheering and hollering as they pump their fists into the air, some even mustering the little strength they have to jump.
What could possibly make these men... [[happy?]] I work my way through the wall of flesh, being quick to dodge raining elbows and pumping fists.
I finally break through to the other side, and to my utter amazement, I see Big Pete marching down the dirt path with the man he despises most at this prison, Captain Wirz. A thousand or so soldiers march behind Cpt. Wirz, some carrying clubs, other muskets. The whole of the Regulators, numbering only 8 dozen strong, march behind Pete, all wielding clubs of course.
The line of soldiers stop a few hundred feet into the camp. Cpt. Wirz steps forward and in his soft, Swiss accent addressed the [[gathered crowd.]]He begins, calmly, and slowly, as if to let every word sink and resonate in the air. "Some of you have been causing quite a bit of trouble lately. Unfortunately, I can't let all of you just starve to death, so I've decided to step in."
Cpt. Wirz turns slowly as he looks towards his soldiers, and in a booming voice yells out, "Find the damn bastards who killed your comrade. Find each and every last Raider and drag them to the stockades by whatever mop of hair they have left! Move out!" He slashes his one good arm through the air as if cracking a whip, and the soldier respond without hesitation, organizing into large groups, paired with significantly smaller groups of Regulators, probably to [[act as guides.]]The men around me cheer in an unprecedented frenzy, almost trampling me as they made way for the soldiers to spread out. I feel an iron grasp clam around the back of my neck, as none other than Pete drags me out from the middle of the mash pit of men.
He sets me down, similar to how one would plop down a puppy, or doll. "So James, what do you plan to do? Will you help or not?"
I respond with,
"Of course! These bastards have caused too much trouble and I'm ready to [[see them gone]]!" or
"No, my biggest fight has yet to come, and I'll need all of the energy I can [[muster for it.]]"Both hands clasped on my shoulders, Pete smiles a toothy grin, "Aye, and see them gone we will!" He pats me on the shoulder several times, akin to how one would drive a fence pole into the ground. Bounding off with renewed energy and purpose, he follows the soldiers into the sea of men, pausing only a moment to look over his soldier with a beaming smile to say, "Well, what are you waiting for, we have work to do!"
If only I wasn't buried knee deep in the mud, [[I would love too.]]Pete smiles slyly as he leans in closely, his arm wrapping around my shoulder as he pulls me in close. In a hushed whisper he says, "I believe it would be in your best interest to make it back to my tent. You’ll find some parting presents waiting for you there." He stands strait and looks around hastily as if someone could have heard him.
Realizing I hadn't moved yet, he looks back at me curious as to why I was still there. "Well off you go lad, no time like the present!" and with a thunderous back clap, launches me clear a clear six feet towards the Regulators camp, leaving my poor boot scraps [[suctioned into the mud.]] Surrendering what little scraps remained of my boots to the mucky filth of the prison grounds, I follow Pete, and for the next few days the camp was in a frenzy as each and every Raider was [[dragged out of hiding.]] A pad my way back towards Pete's tent, ever so curious as to what Pete could possibly mean by "parting presents." It's not long when I find out. Stepping ever so discretely into his tent, I spotted the "presents" immediately. A shortened spade shovel and a two-foot prybar. How in the world did Pete get his hands on these?!? Grabbing a burlap sack hanging in the entryway of the tent, I quickly move and collect the precious tools. The tools of my escape.
I quickly make my way,
[[back to my tent]] or
[[to hide out of sight]].A few days later, late into the evening Dorence finds me sitting cross-legged by the stream bank under the bridge, the relatively cleanest place in the whole prison.
"James," Dorence bade me. I half turn in my sitting position, waiting. "Pete has something to show you," he said, arm offered out.
I [[take the arm gratefully]] or
Considerately [[stand up myself.]]All 84 members soon stood before Cpt. Wirz. He paced up and down the line of wretched men staring down each and every man, as if burning their faces into his memory. "What am I going to do with you," he asked of no one in particular. Unfortunately, I've not been given the power to doll out justice to any of you, despite what you have done..." Some of the men sneer, but those sneers are quickly extinguished, replaced with fear, by the Captains next words, "However, nothing says that your inmates can't judge you. In fact, I've already processed the paperwork and received approval by the higher ups. The Regulators will pass judgement onto you. May God have mercy on your souls, for they most certainly will not." Swiveling his head towards Pete, "I leave them to you."
Cpt. Wirz leaves the doomed men, the mob of angry prisoners closing in tighter as the soldiers filed out one by one, creating an impenetrable wall of angry filth.
[[A few days later ->Later that day]]I make my way back to my tent, clutching the burlap sack close, but discreetly, to my chest. Can't let all of Pete's hard work go to waste by losing these.
I step into my tent and,
hang the burlap sack in plain sight with the rest of the burlap sacks, I [[have nothing to hide]] or
[[bury it in a pile of mud]]. Everything else is covered in mud, so it should blend in well.I duck out of Pete's tent quickly making my way towards The Sinks. It's a nasty swampland in the center of the prison, where the air if filled with the vibrating wingbeats of millions of flies, and the water is covered in a thick layer of maggots feeding on the feces of every man in this god forsaken place.
I make it to the pool with little trouble, except for the involuntary gagging as I approached ever closer to the wretched swamp pits.
I quickly scan the area, before ducking behind a tent close to the water’s edge.
Should I bury the sack [[in the mud]] or
Set it just beneath the [[water's surface]].I hang the sack behind the rest of my "belongings" trying my best to make the assortment look as natural as possible.
An angel must have been watching over me, for not a moment after I had situated the sacks, three soldiers and a Regulator pop their heads into my tent, to find me doing absolutely nothing unusual as I sat quietly in my space.
I held my breath for what felt like an eternity, as the soldiers asked the Regulator to identify me.
"Ah, not him you blokes," the Regulator rasped in his Irish accent. "He's one of us," and he quickly shuffled out, pushing the soldiers along with him.
For the next few days, I rarely left my tent as each and every Raider was dragged out of hiding, some quiet literally [[by their hair.]]Knelling to the ground, I bury the sack behind the scraps of cloths that constitute of my bedsheets trying my best to make the mound of filth look as natural as possible.
An angel must have been watching over me, for not a moment after I had covered the last visible bit of burlap cloth, three soldiers and a Regulator pop their heads into my tent, to find me doing absolutely nothing unusual as I sat quietly in my space.
I held my breath for what felt like an eternity, as the soldiers asked the Regulator to identify me.
"Ah, not him you blokes," the Regulator rasped in his Irish accent. "He's one of us," and he quickly shuffled out, pushing the soldiers along with him.
For the next few days, I rarely left my tent as each and every Raider was dragged out of hiding, some quiet literally [[by their hair.]]I take a quick glance at the water, and I'm sure I would have vomited was it not for the fact that I hadn't eaten in the past two days. I quickly change my mind about the water and settle for burying my precious cargo next to a large rock that was lodged deep into the mud. This will make a fine marker to remember where I left my tools to freedom.
Glancing around quickly to deem that my actions had not been observed, I make my way back to my tent, excitement welling up for what's [[soon to come. ->soon to come 2]]Looking around quickly, I slide the bag gently beneath the waters murky surface, trying not to squirm as the maggots swam and crawled across my bare skin. To think, I'll have to sin in this soon. I quickly extract my hand, after feeling satisfied with my concealment. I take note of a large rock nearby. I'll need to remember that rock if I'm to ever find these later.
Glancing around quickly to deem that my actions had not been observed, I make my way back to my tent, excitement welling up for what's [[soon to come.]]I clasp his arm gratefully as I prop myself back to my feet, swiping the lice off my backside in the process.
"What is it?" I ask curiously.
Dorence shakes his head, placing a silencing finger over his mouth. "Not here," he croacked. He waved for me to follow him [[to Pete's tent.]]I roll myself to my feet, chuckling as I gently wave the arm away. "If I take that arm of yours, I'm liable to pull you down here in the muck with me considering how rail thin you are."
Dorence laughs a hoarse laugh as he jabs back, "At least you still have enough fat left on you to keep my bones breaking in the fall."
We both chuckle at that, a little sadden by how true of a statement that really was. "So, what is it?" I ask curiously.
Dorence shakes his head, placing a silencing finger over his mouth. "Not here," he croaked. He waved for me to follow him [[to Pete's tent.]]I follow behind Dorence into Pete's tent. Pete is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a toothy grin spread across his face and a burlap sack resting across his legs.
Before I could even take a breath to open my mouth, Pete raised a a hand to stop any questions from coming out. "A little parting gift for you, he said, handing me the bag from his seated position.
I take it, surprised by how heavy it. "In there is everything you'll need to escape" Pete said, his smile only growing wider. I look at him curiously as I gingerly begin to [[unfold the sack.]]All 84 members soon stood before Cpt. Wirz. He paced up and down the line of wretched men staring down each and every man, as if burning their faces into his memory. "What am I going to do with you," he asked of no one in particular. Unfortunately, I've not been given the power to doll out justice to any of you, despite what you have done..." Some of the men sneer, but those sneers are quickly extinguished, replaced with fear, by the Captains next words, "However, nothing says that your inmates can't judge you. In fact, I've already processed the paperwork and received approval by the higher ups. The Regulators will pass judgement onto you. May God have mercy on your souls, for they most certainly will not." Swiveling his head towards Pete, "I leave them to you."
Cpt. Wirz leaves the doomed men, the mob of angry prisoners closing in tighter as the soldiers filed out one by one, creating an impenetrable wall of angry filth.
[[A few days later ->Later that day 2]]A few days later, late into the evening, Dorence finds me sitting cross-legged by the stream bank under the bridge, the relatively cleanest place in the whole prison that also had a straight line of sight back to my tent.
"James," Dorence bade me. I half turn in my sitting position, waiting. "Pete has something to tell you," he said, arm offered out.
I [[take the arm gratefully ->take the arm gratefully 2]] or
Considerately [[stand up myself ->stand up myself 2]]I clasp his arm gratefully as I prop myself back to my feet, swiping the lice off my backside in the process.
"What is it?" I ask curiously.
Dorence shakes his head, placing a silencing finger over his mouth. "Not here," he croaked. He waved for me to follow him [[to Pete's tent. ->to Pete's tent 2]]I roll myself to my feet, chuckling as I gently wave the arm away. "If I take that arm of yours, I'm liable to pull you down here in the muck with me considering how rail thin you are."
Dorence laughs a hoarse laugh as he jabs back, "At least you still have enough fat left on you to keep my bones breaking in the fall."
We both chuckle at that, a little sadden by how true of a statement that really was. "So, what is it?" I ask curiously.
Dorence shakes his head, placing a silencing finger over his mouth. "Not here," he croaked. He waved for me to follow him [[to Pete's tent. ->to Pete's tent 2]]I follow behind Dorence into Pete's tent. Pete is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a toothy grin spread across his face. "So, did you like the little present I left for you?" Pete asked, his smile only growing wider.
"Most definitely, but how did you-?"Pete raises his hand, stopping me mid-question.
"It matters not how, just be thankful that Dorence's little limbs were able to drag both of those tools here for you. I trust you know what to do with them."
"Absolutely" I answer, smiling for the first time in weeks, the effort cracking my lips in the process. "How could I ever thank you?" I ask, looking at both of them.
"Don't get caught" rasped Dorence.
"And don't die either" finished Pete.
"Now, one more thing" says Pete, his face going serious.
[[Continue ->Continue 3]]For the next few days the camp was in a frenzy as each and every Raider was [[dragged out of hiding. ->dragged out of hiding 2]] All 84 members soon stood before Cpt. Wirz. He paced up and down the line of wretched men staring down each and every man, as if burning their faces into his memory. "What am I going to do with you," he asked of no one in particular. Unfortunately, I've not been given the power to doll out justice to any of you, despite what you have done..." Some of the men sneer, but those sneers are quickly extinguished, replaced with fear, by the Captains next words, "However, nothing says that your inmates can't judge you. In fact, I've already processed the paperwork and received approval by the higher ups. The Regulators will pass judgement onto you. May God have mercy on your souls, for they most certainly will not." Swiveling his head towards Pete, "I leave them to you."
Cpt. Wirz leaves the doomed men, the mob of angry prisoners closing in tighter as the soldiers filed out one by one, creating an impenetrable wall of angry filth.
[[A few days later ->Later that day 3]]A few days later, late into the evening, Dorence finds me sitting cross-legged by the stream bank under the bridge, the relatively cleanest place in the whole prison.
"James," Dorence bade me. I half turn in my sitting position, waiting. "Pete has something to tell you," he said, arm offered out.
I [[take the arm gratefully ->take the arm gratefully 3]] or
Considerately [[stand up myself ->stand up myself 3]]I clasp his arm gratefully as I prop myself back to my feet, swiping the lice off my backside in the process.
"What is it?" I ask curiously.
Dorence shakes his head, placing a silencing finger over his mouth. "Not here," he croaked. He waved for me to follow him [[to Pete's tent. ->to Pete's tent 3]]I roll myself to my feet, chuckling as I gently wave the arm away. "If I take that arm of yours, I'm liable to pull you down here in the muck with me considering how rail thin you are."
Dorence laughs a hoarse laugh as he jabs back, "At least you still have enough fat left on you to keep my bones breaking in the fall."
We both chuckle at that, a little sadden by how true of a statement that really was. "So, what is it?" I ask curiously.
Dorence shakes his head, placing a silencing finger over his mouth. "Not here," he croaked. He waved for me to follow him [[to Pete's tent. ->to Pete's tent 3]]I follow behind Dorence into Pete's tent. Pete is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a toothy grin spread across his face. "So, did you like the little present I left for you?" Pete asked, his smile only growing wider.
"Most definitely, but how did you-?"Pete raises his hand, stopping me mid-question.
"It matters not how, just be thankful that Dorence's little limbs were able to drag both of those tools here for you. I trust you know what to do with them."
"Absolutely" I answer, smiling for the first time in weeks, the effort cracking my lips in the process. "How could I ever thank you?" I ask, looking at both of them.
"Don't get caught" rasped Dorence.
"And don't die either" finished Pete.
"Now, one more thing" says Pete, his face going serious.
[[Continue ->Continue 4]]Inside the sack, was a shortened spade shovel, and a two-foot prybar. I inhale sharply, amazed at how anyone could have smuggled anything like this in the camp. "How in the word did you-" Pete raises his hand, stopping me mid-question.
"It matters not how, just be thankful that Dorence's little limbs were able to drag both of those tools here for you. I trust you know what to do with them."
"Absolutely" I answer, smiling for the first time in weeks, the effort cracking my lips in the process. "How could I ever thank you?" I ask, looking at both of them.
"Don't get caught" rasped Dorence.
"And don't die either" finished Pete.
"Now, one more thing" says Pete, his face going serious.
[[Continue ->Continue 2]]Pete continues, "Tomorrow, we'll be holding the trial. Everyone in the prison will be focused on us including the soldiers who have a personal stake in losing a comrade because of the rat bastards. I'm not sure how much time I can buy for you, but hopefully it'll be long enough for you to be long gone before anyone notices. Do you think you’re ready lad?"
"As ready as I'll ever be" I say, excitement building up in my legs.
Dorence, pats me on the shoulder and I turn to find his hand stretched out. "This is goodbye my friend. We won't be seeing you after today." I nod solemnly. These will be the only two people I miss form this hell hole. I clasp his hand, giving it as firm a shake without snapping his bone thin fingers.
Pete comes up behind and traps both of us in one of his famous bear hugs, practically crushing me and almost killing Dorence in the process.
"Alrighty now, off with the both of you. We have a long day tomorrow, and we'll need all of the sleep we can get."
With that, I headed back to my tent, waving my [[last goodbyes.]]I awoke before the sun rose, and tiptoed my way to The Sink, holding the burlap sack to make as little noise as possible.
The Sink is a nasty swampland in the center of the prison, where the air if filled with the vibrating wingbeats of millions of flies, and the water is covered in a thick layer of maggots feeding on the feces of every man in this god forsaken place.
I make it to the pool with little trouble, except for the involuntary gagging as I approached ever closer to the wretched swamp pits.
I crouch behind a shanti, waiting for the [[moment to come.]]Pete continues, "Tomorrow, we'll be holding the trial. Everyone in the prison will be focused on us including the soldiers who have a personal stake in losing a comrade because of the rat bastards. I'm not sure how much time I can buy for you, but hopefully it'll be long enough for you to be long gone before anyone notices. Do you think you'er ready lad?"
"As ready as I'll ever be" I say, excitement building up in my legs.
Dorence, pats me on the shoulder and I turn to find his hand stretched out. "This is goodbye my friend. We won't be seeing you after today." I nod solemnly. These will be the only two people I miss form this hell hole. I clasp his hand, giving it as firm a shake without snapping his bone thin fingers.
Pete comes up behind and traps both of us in one of his famous bear hugs, practically crushing me and almost killing Dorence in the process.
"Alrighty now, off with the both of you. We have a long day tomorrow, and we'll need all of the sleep we can get."
With that, I headed back to my tent, waving my [[last goodbyes. ->last goodbyes 2]]I awoke before the sun rose, and tiptoed my way to The Sink, holding the burlap sack to make as little noise as possible.
The Sink is a nasty swampland in the center of the prison, where the air if filled with the vibrating wingbeats of millions of flies, and the water is covered in a thick layer of maggots feeding on the feces of every man in this god forsaken place.
I make it to the pool with little trouble, except for the involuntary gagging as I approached ever closer to the wretched swamp pits.
I crouch behind a shanti, waiting for the [[moment to come.]]Pete continues, "Tomorrow, we'll be holding the trial. Everyone in the prison will be focused on us including the soldiers who have a personal stake in losing a comrade because of the rat bastards. I'm not sure how much time I can buy for you, but hopefully it'll be long enough for you to be long gone before anyone notices. Do you think you'er ready lad?"
"As ready as I'll ever be" I say, excitement building up in my legs.
Dorence, pats me on the shoulder and I turn to find his hand stretched out. "This is goodbye my friend. We won't be seeing you after today." I nod solemnly. These will be the only two people I miss form this hell hole. I clasp his hand, giving it as firm a shake without snapping his bone thin fingers.
Pete comes up behind and traps both of us in one of his famous bear hugs, practically crushing me and almost killing Dorence in the process.
"Alrighty now, off with the both of you. We have a long day tomorrow, and we'll need all of the sleep we can get."
With that, I headed back to my tent, waving my [[last goodbyes. ->last goodbyes 3]]I awoke before the sun rose, and tiptoed my way to The Sink, praying to every and all gods and hoping beyond hope that my means of escape were still secure.
I crouch behind the tent, a few paces away from the rock acting as my point of reference, waiting for the [[moment to come. ->moment to come 2]] Three hours pass before the cap begins to stir with the bustle of prison life, not that the prisoners had much life left to begin with. However, today, they were particularly energetic, for they knew that judgement day was here for the Raiders, and they wanted to be part of every moment of it.
Soon, large skeletal crowds began to move out towards the gallows. Even those who were normally to sickly to move were assisted by one person or another. Everyone wanted to witness what was to come, and soon enough, only the dead were left behind.
[[Now is my chance!]]For the next few days the camp was in a frenzy as each and every Raider was [[dragged out of hiding. ->dragged out of hiding 3]] All 84 members soon stood before Cpt. Wirz. He paced up and down the line of wretched men staring down each and every man, as if burning their faces into his memory. "What am I going to do with you," he asked of no one in particular. Unfortunately, I've not been given the power to doll out justice to any of you, despite what you have done..." Some of the men sneer, but those sneers are quickly extinguished, replaced with fear, by the Captains next words, "However, nothing says that your inmates can't judge you. In fact, I've already processed the paperwork and received approval by the higher ups. The Regulators will pass judgement onto you. May God have mercy on your souls, for they most certainly will not." Swiveling his head towards Pete, "I leave them to you."
Cpt. Wirz leaves the doomed men, the mob of angry prisoners closing in tighter as the soldiers filed out one by one, creating an impenetrable wall of angry filth.
[[A few days later ->Later that day 4]]
A few days later, late into the evening, Dorence finds me sitting cross-legged by the stream bank under the bridge, the relatively cleanest place in the whole prison.
"James," Dorence bade me. I half turn in my sitting position, waiting. "Pete has something to tell you," he said, arm offered out.
I [[take the arm gratefully ->take the arm gratefully 4]] or
Considerately [[stand up myself ->stand up myself 4]]I clasp his arm gratefully as I prop myself back to my feet, swiping the lice off my backside in the process.
"What is it?" I ask curiously.
Dorence shakes his head, placing a silencing finger over his mouth. "Not here," he croaked. He waved for me to follow him [[to Pete's tent. ->to Pete's tent 4]]I roll myself to my feet, chuckling as I gently wave the arm away. "If I take that arm of yours, I'm liable to pull you down here in the muck with me considering how rail thin you are."
Dorence laughs a hoarse laugh as he jabs back, "At least you still have enough fat left on you to keep my bones breaking in the fall."
We both chuckle at that, a little sadden by how true of a statement that really was. "So, what is it?" I ask curiously.
Dorence shakes his head, placing a silencing finger over his mouth. "Not here," he croaked. He waved for me to follow him [[to Pete's tent. ->to Pete's tent 4]]I follow behind Dorence into Pete's tent. Pete is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a toothy grin spread across his face. "So, did you like the little present I left for you?" Pete asked, his smile only growing wider.
"Most definitely, but how did you-?"Pete raises his hand, stopping me mid-question.
"It matters not how, just be thankful that Dorence's little limbs were able to drag both of those tools here for you. I trust you know what to do with them."
"Absolutely" I answer, smiling for the first time in weeks, the effort cracking my lips in the process. "How could I ever thank you?" I ask, looking at both of them.
"Don't get caught" rasped Dorence.
"And don't die either" finished Pete.
"Now, one more thing" says Pete, his face going serious.
[[Continue ->Continue 5]]Pete continues, "Tomorrow, we'll be holding the trial. Everyone in the prison will be focused on us including the soldiers who have a personal stake in losing a comrade because of the rat bastards. I'm not sure how much time I can buy for you, but hopefully it'll be long enough for you to be long gone before anyone notices. Do you think you'er ready lad?"
"As ready as I'll ever be" I say, excitement building up in my legs.
Dorence, pats me on the shoulder and I turn to find his hand stretched out. "This is goodbye my friend. We won't be seeing you after today." I nod solemnly. These will be the only two people I miss form this hell hole. I clasp his hand, giving it as firm a shake without snapping his bone thin fingers.
Pete comes up behind and traps both of us in one of his famous bear hugs, practically crushing me and almost killing Dorence in the process.
"Alrighty now, off with the both of you. We have a long day tomorrow, and we'll need all of the sleep we can get."
With that, I headed back to my tent, waving my [[last goodbyes. ->last goodbyes 4]]I awoke before the sun rose, and tiptoed my way to The Sink, praying to every and all gods and hoping beyond hope that my means of escape were still secure.
I crouch behind the tent, sitting a few paces away from the mound where I buried my tools. I sigh quietly my relief in seeing that the mound had not been disturbed. I sit patiently, waiting for the [[moment to come. ->moment to come 3]] Three hours pass before the cap begins to stir with the bustle of prison life, not that the prisoners had much life left to begin with. However, today, they were particularly energetic, for they knew that judgement day was here for the Raiders, and they wanted to be part of every moment of it.
Soon, large skeletal crowds began to move out towards the gallows. Even those who were normally to sickly to move were assisted by one person or another. Everyone wanted to witness what was to come, and soon enough, only the dead were left behind.
[[Now is my chance! ->Now is my chance 2]]Three hours pass before the cap begins to stir with the bustle of prison life, not that the prisoners had much life left to begin with. However, today, they were particularly energetic, for they knew that judgement day was here for the Raiders, and they wanted to be part of every moment of it.
Soon, large skeletal crowds began to move out towards the gallows. Even those who were normally to sickly to move were assisted by one person or another. Everyone wanted to witness what was to come, and soon enough, only the dead were left behind.
[[Now is my chance! ->Now is my chance 3]]I quickly scan the area one last time before I crouched over to the water’s edge. I take another glance around just to be sure, and then pause as I mentally prepare myself for what's to come.
Now was the hard part. I tightened my belt about my ever-thinning waist and secured the bag around my shoulders. With a few calming breathes and a constant reminder to not involuntarily convulse, I ever so silently waded into the [[sewage of the prison.]]I quickly scan the area one last time before I crouch over to the water’s edge. I stick my hand in the slimy brackish, shivers running up my spine as I felt for the burlap bag.
I found it in little time, and let out a sigh of relief, that was unfortunately short lived. Now was the hard part. I tightened my belt about my ever-thinning waist and secured the bag around my shoulders. With a few calming breathes and a constant reminder to not involuntarily convulse, I ever so silently waded into the [[sewage of the prison.]] I quickly scan the area one last time before I crouch over to the large rock. I shovel the mud around barehanded, and quickly extract the burlap bag in no time at all. I quickly scan the area again as I crouch over to the water’s edge. I take another glance around just to be sure, partially stalling for what's to come next.
I pause as I mentally prepare myself, for now was the hard part. I tightened my belt about my ever-thinning waist and secured the bag around my shoulders. With a few calming breathes and a constant reminder to not involuntarily convulse, I ever so silently waded into the [[sewage of the prison.]]Almost immediately, I have the urge to violently extract myself as my feet dipped beneath the layer of maggots skimming across the putrid water’s surface. The flies began to swarm as if to protect their young, crawling into every orifice and biting at any and all exposed skin in an attempt to drive me out.
If only I could take the hint these insects had to offer, but freedom was right there, and I was not letting it slip out of my fingers so easily.
I dipped further into the water, but too quickly as a revolting shiver racked through the very core of my body, every instinct screaming at me to leave these wretched waters as maggots writhed and crawled within what little clothes I had left!
But I couldn't. I wouldn't leave. I was only leaving one way, and that was at the [[mouth of the drain]].Fully submerged now, leaving only my muddy face exposed, I let the current guide me towards the Deadline. Hopefully, my face just looked like another piece of large excrement floating in the water.
A half an hour passes. I can hear the cheers float over from the other end of the prison. The trial must be going well for the Regulators.
The stream begins to narrow, and I realize that I must be approaching the Deadline. I crane my head in the water, trying not to convulse as a maggot slithered its way into and out of my ear canal. God, what made me think this was at all a grand idea!
The Deadline was approaching and approaching fast. However, the real problem was the sentry stationed in the [[pigeon roost.]]I crane my neck just a little further, careful to not make any sudden movements as I looked towards the pigeon roost.
The sentry... is gone?
I hold my breath, expectantly waiting for a man to peer over the wall, musket ready to fire. No one appears.
I drift beneath the wood fence marking the Deadline, and still no sentry appears. Soon, my head bumps into the iron bars of the drain, and still no sentry peeks over the wall.
[[Should I wait?]] or
Not stare a gift horse in the mouth and [[escape?]]I wait, counting out three minutes, and still no sentry appears.
I must have an angel [[watching over me today ->escape?]]I quickly flip over to my stomach, carful to only keep my head above the water.
Should I check the [[other side first?]] or
Get strait to work on these [[bars?]]I quickly peer through the bars of the drain. The area is abandoned, with not a guard in sight for the whole length of the wall.
Better get to work on these [[bars ->bars?]]I quickly open the bag hanging around my shoulders.
Should I use the [[shovel]] or the [[prybar]]?I grab hold of the shovel and look down into the murky water. The water is just too deep to shovel the dirt away from the surface. I'll have to go under to loosen the bars out of place.
I cringe and nearly vomit at the idea of having to submerge my head in this sewage.
Do I really want to use the [[shovel ->shovel 2]] or the [[prybar ->prybar 2]] instead?I grab hold of the prybar, letting the bag sink back down around my shoulders. Now where to begin?
Should I check the bars for [[weak spots first]], or
Immediately start trying to [[pull the bars apart]]?Steeling my nerves, I plunge beneath the maggoty layer. I begin work on the stream bed immediately, pushing the dirt along with the current. The dirt is soft and moves easily out of the way, and before long, the base of the iron bars are exposed.
I pop my head up for air, quickly glancing around as I did so. Still no guards. Back under I went, repeating this process of digging and checking until finally I had a hole, just big enough to let me through.
Now, should I make it to the outer wall in [[one breath]] or
or just [[float with the current]]?I change my mind. The thought of completely submerging myself in this muck is unbearable. I'm going to have to find a clean stream later to wash in.
I put the shovel back in the bag and withdraw the prybar.
Should I check the bars for [[weak spots first]], or
Immediately start trying to [[pull the bars apart]]?It's best not to push my luck. I take the deepest breath my lungs have to offer, and plunge beneath the water, hopefully for the last time.
I work myself past the underside of the iron bars, my clothing getting snagged here and there. I swim across the bottom of the stream hoping that the layer of maggots above shield my passage from any sentries I may have missed.
I make it to the outer wall, only daring to lift just my head above the surface, hugging the stream bank as closely as possible. Even smearing more mud on my face to blend in better. The maggots here are considerably thinner, and I'm amazed I haven't been shot yet.
I peer outside for the [[first time.]]Already winded from having to dig under water, I'm not sure if I can hold my breath from here to the outer wall. I'll just float across and look like a turd in the water. I take a deep breath, and plunge beneath the water, hopefully for the last time.
I work myself past the underside of the iron bars, my clothing getting snagged here and there. Ever so gently, I let my face break the surface of the water. My eyes swivel quickly towards both sides of the stream bank, checking frantically for a sentry. Not a single one to be found.
I allow myself to flow with the current all the while, keeping my eyes peeled for the slightest hint of trouble.
It never came.
I make it to the outer wall, hugging the stream bank as closely as possible. Even smearing more mud on my face to blend in better. The maggots here are considerably thinner, and I'm amazed I haven't been shot yet.
I peer outside for the [[first time.]]I immediately go to work on the iron bars, and the prybar easily bends the rusted metal out of shape. Even breaking some of the welds holding the bars together.
I jump nervously when the sound of the welds breaking let out an uncomfortably loud creak. I check around apprehensively, but it seems that the guards are truly gone form the area.
Finally, I make a hole in the grate. A hole just large enough for me to slip through. I slowly wade through the whole, peeking my head across and checking before I fully cross, keeping my head as close to the water as possible.
Now, should I make it to the outer wall in [[one breath -one breath 2]] or
or just [[float with the current -> float with the current 2]]?I take a closer look at the iron bars. They've rusted over and have become relatively thin. With a little shake, the weak welds holding the bars together rattle loose from each other.
I may not even need the prybar for this.
[[Discard prybar]] or [[continue using prybar]]?I place the prybar back in the burlap bag and grab hold of one of the iron bars not embedded into the base of the wall. With a sharp pull, the bar easily comes free of the dirt below and falls aside.
I grab hold of another bar this time, a horizontal one and push against it. It too falls out of place. Honestly, did they just slap this place together? I repeat this process with a few more bars, until finally, there is a hole just large enough for me to pass through.
I slowly wade through the whole, peeking my head across and checking before I fully cross, keeping my head as close to the water as possible.
Now, should I make it to the outer wall in [[one breath -one breath 2]] or
or just [[float with the current -> float with the current 2]]?I go to work on the iron bars, and the prybar easily bends the rusted metal out of shape, even causing some of the bars to fall away completely leaving behind a hole just large enough for me to pass through.
I slowly wade through the whole, peeking my head across and checking before I fully cross, keeping my head as close to the water as possible.
Now, should I make it to the outer wall in [[one breath -one breath 2]] or
or just [[float with the current -> float with the current 2]]?I peer out from under the wall into the greenest of fields, not a single pile of mud to be seen. I sink back down into the stream, and let it carry me farther out away from the prison. The air becomes cleaner, the water turns bluer, and soon a canopy of pines looms overhead with golden sunshine.
I let the stream carry me just a little further, washing off the mud, blood, sweat, and tears. Letting it cleanse the stench of death out of every fiber of my being.
[[I'm free...]]It's best not to push my luck. I take the deepest breath my lungs have to offer, and plunge beneath the water, hopefully for the last time.
I swim across the bottom of the stream hoping that the layer of maggots above shield my passage from any sentries I may have missed.
I make it to the outer wall, only daring to lift just my head above the surface, hugging the stream bank as closely as possible. Even smearing more mud on my face to blend in better. The maggots here are considerably thinner, and I'm amazed I haven't been shot yet.
I peer outside for the [[first time.]]Already somewhat winded from working the iron bars apart, I'm not sure if I can hold my breath from here to the outer wall. I'll just float across and look like a turd in the water.
Ever so gently, I sink back down into the water, until inly my face is exposed. My eyes swivel quickly towards both sides of the stream bank, checking frantically for a sentry as I floated down the stream.
Not a single sentry ever came.
I make it to the outer wall, hugging the stream bank as closely as possible. Even smearing more mud on my face to blend in better. The maggots here are considerably thinner, and I'm amazed I haven't been shot yet.
I peer outside for the [[first time.]]Date: July 11th, 1864.
After spending 41 days in prison Camp Sumter, James Miller, slightly emaciated with a terrible case of lice and developing the symptoms scurvy was finally able to escape via the sewage drain.
[[1875]]It was many years later when I received a strange letter in my mailbox at my home in New York. Sitting down in my rocking chair by the fire, I open the letter, curious to see who would go out of their way to write to little old me anything.
I toss the envelope aside and unfold the parchment. Inside is a single photo, a train ticket, and a boat ticket.
I set the contents aside and read the letter.
"My Dear Friend,
I'm getting married in Tahiti. All of the expenses are paid for. All you need to do is show up.
By the way, Big Pete says "If you don't show up, I'll drag you by your knickers and hang you by your toes as I convince the kids that you’re a rare Mexican statue filled with candy. I’ll pass the whole lot of them little rascals clubs to turn you all black an' blue."
Your Close Friend,
Dorence Atwater"
I find myself smiling as bittersweet memories flood my mind. "So, the lucky bastards survived."
I pick up the photo and sure enough it's a much healthier version of Dorence and Pete with who I can only assume is Dorence's soon to be wife sitting next to him. I grin warmly to myself, "You lucky dog"
THE END
Would you like to start from the [[Beginning->Introduction]]
[[Credits]]
[[Source Material]]Game Development and Design, Story Development, Historical Research, and Programming by:
Aramys Georgiou and Chas Dowtin
Would you like to start from the [[Beginning->Introduction]]
[[Source Material]]Reference Material:
National Park Service: Myths of Civil War Prisons
American Battlefield Trust
"Angel of Andersonville, Prince of Tahiti: The Extraordinary Life of Dorence Atwater" by Debby Burnett Safranski
"Ghosts and Shadows of Andersonville: Essays on the Secret Histories of America's Deadliest Prison" by Robert Scott Davis
Would you like to start from the [[Beginning->Introduction]]
[[Credits]]