Letters From After, Day 10

Dear Bunky,

I bet you never expected to see this handwriting ever again, huh? Well, I don’t know what BS they told you, but here’s the real deal.

I’m out. They’re not as smart as they think they are. A couple of the guys figured out how to get past the security system. I can’t tell you more in case this letter ever finds its way into their hands. Not that you would do that, Bunk, but they know we’re pals and they will probably want your opinion about stuff and maybe take a look around your place. You can decide to self-destruct this letter or keep it safe for whatever purpose.

Sandi’s dead. I’m still trying to process that. They told me she caught the bug and went down quickly, but I think she either killed herself or got herself killed somehow. They use the bug to cover any mysterious happenings. Remember the guys I told you about who freaked out on the bus coming over and in the mess hall? I asked the sarge about them, and you know what he said? Yep, the bug got ’em. Hell, it can be an awful disease, so it’s good cover for any shenanigans.

I don’t know how I feel about losing her. Remember how calm I was about getting snatched and I thought maybe I was in shock? It’s like that. She was really down the one time they let me see her, but she always had this fierce love of life. I can see where this place could take that away from her, but it would make more sense if I heard she pissed off a guard and got, you know, the ultimate punishment. That just sounds more like the Sandi I knew.

The people I’m with have a few ideas about getting the camp liberated and closed. Of course, after we got out we figured out where we are, and sorry, Bunk, I can’t share any more than that. Just know that all is not lost.

How did it come to this, that a bunch of angry old people could wave some toys and candy at us and we followed like little kids sucked in by a perv? It’s so obvious how angry and manipulative they are, but so many people only see the bright shiny objects. I guess you really can fool some people all the time.

But not everyone.

It’s been great knowing you, Bunky. I know you had to give my letters back to the sergeant every day as part of my “therapy,” but they don’t know about this letter. I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way, but I know you have to protect yourself, too — so do what you think is right.

You probably won’t hear from me again unless we both arrive safely on the other side of whatever you want to call this. Good luck, God bless, have fun, whatever. Just don’t let the bastards get you down.

Published by WarrenBluhm

Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his wife, two golden retrievers, Dejah and Summer, and Blackberry, an insistent cat. Author of Full, Refuse to be Afraid, Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, Myke Phoenix: The Complete Novelettes, A Bridge at Crossroads, The Imaginary Bomb, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution.

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