The Journal of Madie Beartri

Journal 5

Like the day before and the day before I spent my day digging up rocks, washing rocks and building a wall. Yates’ soldiers did the same. We tried to communicate with each other when the guards weren’t looking. It was a challenge. If caught by the guards, it would have meant a beating. I watched the guards dish out punishment without cause time after time. The guards seemed particularly cruel to a couple of slaves that could do nothing right. I felt sorry for them. I wanted to help but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I watched the other slaves go about their work as if nothing cruel was happening around them. No one flinched. The most common reaction was to move carefully out of the way without drawing attention from the guards. I think it’s a coping mechanism put into place after weeks and months of trying to avoid punishment. I found myself doing it.

At the end of the day, after the guards had finally decided we had done enough work they led us back to our place of sleep. They gave us the same stale biscuits and a drink of water. I tucked myself up against the wall beside a couple of Yates’ soldiers. The wall was one of the safer places to sleep. The guards harassed anyone sleeping near the fire. I don’t remember falling asleep. I woke up ready to fight the moment I felt his hand grab my mouth.

Journal 4

I spent the day digging up rocks and daydreaming about my life before the virus. I think it helped to take myself away from this hellhole even though it was just in my mind. I miss my parents and my bed. Please let this whole thing be a dream. At any moment, my mom is going to walk into my room and tell me to wake up and get ready for school. I will suddenly realize this life was just an awful nightmare brought on by bad pizza. I am going to hug my mom and apologize for everything I have done wrong in the past.

I think I actually slept for a little while last night. I propped myself up against the wall and before I knew it the guards were rudely yelling at us to wake up. I refuse to believe this is the way I am supposed to spend the rest of my life.

Today was a special day. All the slaves assembled in front of the gang leader. I am not certain what he looked like because the guards didn’t allow us to raise our heads. He gave a lovely speech and praised us for our hard work. If thoughts could kill, I would spread his brains all over the rock pile. The guards brought out a wheelbarrow of food. They gave each slave a few seconds to grab something edible to eat. I am so glad I wasn’t at the end of the line.

Journal 3

I want to go home. It has been a long, awful day. This is not the new life I was promised. I keep pinching myself hoping I will wake up from this nightmare. I can’t sleep even though I am exhausted. I am finding it difficult to get comfortable at night because everything aches and it is difficult to sleep on a cold dirt floor. The guards get enjoyment in disturbing our rest period. They walk over us and deliberately kick someone. The guards kicked me in the shoulder, yelled at me and hit me with a stick because I was in the way. I looked at the guard in protest and he beat me for my rudeness. The guards made me kneel for the rest of the night.

I am so hungry. The guards eat continuously throughout the day. They walk among us and brag about how full they are. If my thoughts could kill all the guards would be dead. We are teased with food; I have seen several of the other slaves walk away with a guard and come back later with a piece of fruit or bread. They are surviving the best they can. I am not going down that road. I think I would prefer to die.

I spent the first part of the day digging up rocks. After my midday stale biscuit, the guards transferred me to work on the wall.

Journal 2

If Yates is here, I have not seen him. The guards don’t allow us to speak. They watch over us like vultures. Any deviation in the rules and punishment is swift and painful. I know because I quit digging up rocks long enough to catch a moment’s breath and had a rod come down across my shoulders.

Rule number three don’t stop working until a guard tells you to quit. I gave the guard a look and he smacked me again. I forgot about the keep your head down rule. I recognize a couple of soldiers from Ft Shasta also here as slaves, but I don’t know their names. I never had personal contact with them at Bear Country. I think they are just as confused and disoriented as I am. I wish Yates were here. He would know what to do to get us out of this mess. I have been praying that Yates escaped the ambush.

The guards forced me to work the entire day with no food at all, and only two ladles of water. Every muscle in my body hurts. After digging up the rocks, we transport them to be washed. I have bruises all over my back. I have dirt so far under my fingernails that several of my fingers are sore. I stink and I have a headache. Someone pinch me so that I can wake up from this nightmare.