Chapter 16 — Camp Life
A serial novel in the form of correspondence among a family while the world as we know it collapses around us. I recommend you start at the Introduction:
https://readmedium.com/climate-for-change-introduction-5331d5ab9313
But you can start anywhere you want.
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Chapter 16:
Hand written on scraps of paper:
Dear Mom, Melody, Grandma, and Grandpa,
If you are reading this, it means our plan worked. For the first month or so, all we did was survive. Since then, Jeremy and I have been working on befriending a guard, a woman named Charlie. Every day we talk to her about all the good in life. I tell her stories about your farm and the gift economy. I tell her about the compost piles on my block and our snow shoveling parties. Jeremy has been drawing comics for Charlie. She is not that much older than we are. She is assigned to guard our cabin, but we are not actually that dangerous. Mostly we play cards with each other and complain about the food. We tried to win her over and now that she is our friend, I have asked her for some paper and a pencil. If all goes to plan, I will have her deliver this letter to Mom and Mel when she goes home on leave. If you are reading this, then she did not betray us.
I don’t think I could escape this prison easily, if that is what you are wondering. The camp we are at is surrounded by razor wire and then pine trees and deep snow. There is a white frozen lake in front of the camp, and we can hear the ice cracking and heaving at night. It would be beautiful here, if it were not a prison. I don’t know what the weather is like down there, but up here it is cold and snowy almost every day. I am guessing we have about two feet of snow, with more where the wind piles it up.
I have no way of knowing exactly where we are. They have removed all signs from the buildings. I know we travelled for about four or five hours on the bus after they arrested us. I also know that we are pretty far north because of the cold and how early it gets dark. If we had travelled east or west that far, the day length would be the about the same, and the temperature would not be so cold. But it gets dark early here, and it sure is cold. If I had to guess, I think we might be up near the Canadian border.
There is wood heat, so between the wood stove and all the bodies, it is not that cold in the cabins. It is downright hot if your bunk is next to the stove. Of course, there is no bathroom in the cabin, so we have to go to an outdoor latrine — that part is very cold!
One of our jobs is to cut firewood every day. They send out work teams to gather wood. We go out beyond the fence and scout new terrain every time. It is exhausting work, dragging the sleds full of wood back to the camp.
Our rations are less even than we were used to in the city, and I am losing weight with all this work, but they do give us food. There was even medical care for Jeremy when he twisted his ankle on one of the wood-gathering trips. I don’t think they want us to die.
Our “Re-education” is not what I expected. I thought we would be told the truth about climate change and how we all need to do our part. I thought it would be all about curing us of our addictions to fossil fuels and middle class comforts. I was ready to help the re-educators teach people about climate change. Instead, the re-education classes tend to focus on the life and times of none other than General Stewart. It is a “rags to general’s uniform” story, one that we hear every day. Some of the soldiers speak of him like some sort of god. They think that only he can bring America through this crisis. They hope for the day when he takes over leadership from the Circle. These soldiers actually speak of the Circle’s policies like they are a betrayal. I think this camp might be solely under the control of General Stewart. I play along and recite the slogans when it is re-education time. I want to be under the RADAR here.
We have not seen Daisy since we came to camp. They must have taken her to a different camp or a different part of this camp. This is a big place, and it gets bigger every day, it seems. There are people arriving all the time, most are young adults like me. I ask what people did to get sent here, and it ranges from graffiti to talking to the wrong person about authoritarian governments. Many don’t know. Maybe they were in the wrong place at the wrong time?
On the days when we are not gathering firewood, we go out on a big truck to where they are felling huge pine trees. Our job is to strip the branches and the bark, and then we load the logs onto other trucks that are waiting. They are bringing the logs back and using them to build log cabin style barracks to house more “guests.”
Can you believe that they are calling us “guests”? I can’t either.
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Today the population of our cabin doubled. They brought in pieces of foam for more beds, which get stored away under the real beds during the day. At night, between the bunks and the foam, there isn’t a square inch that isn’t covered with sleeping people. It stinks in here, too, but we can’t open the window because it is often well below zero outside. We are still cultivating our friendship with the guard, Charlie. She says the new guests will be with us until they finish the barracks that we have been working on. She says that even if they reassign her, she will try to get our letters out. I hope we can trust her. Jeremy keeps giving her comics that feature her as the hero. I think it is deliberate flattery, but maybe not. He might actually be sweet on Charlie.
I have been thinking about history: the Siberian Gulags, the NAZI Concentration Camps, the Japanese Internment Camps, the Bataan Death March, those were all way worse than this. This would almost be fun if there were a little more food, there were warmer socks, hats, and coats, and we weren’t surrounded by razor wire and armed guards. Okay. That sounded bad. What I’m saying is most of the guests and guards are friendly with each other, and almost nobody seems to want to hurt anybody. I say “almost” nobody because there are always going to be a few mean ones, aren’t there? This place is no exception. There are a couple sadists who run one of the firewood crews — more on them later, if I get a chance
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I think I have been here almost three months now. Christmas has come and gone a long time ago. It was one moment of joy amid the struggle. One night Charlie told us it was Christmas Eve. After dark, she brought us a candle to light. By the light of a single candle, we sang “Silent Night” in the cabin. None of us knew more than the first verse, but we sang it twice and then sang a few other carols. Many of us cried, including me. We all talked about our own Christmas traditions. There are a few Jews, and they talked about their own holiday traditions. They explained that Hanukkah is not as big of a deal as Christmas, but since it happens about the same time and includes gifts, everyone thinks it is the Jewish Christmas. They told us about Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. There is one Muslim here, and he told us about his family’s Ramadan traditions. I don’t think I would trade that night for any other Christmas Eve I have experienced up until now. I have come to love my cabin mates. I think I want to take them all with me if we escape.
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Today one of the new guests named David told us where we are. I was right. We are near the Canadian border on the edge of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. The camp used to be an environmental education camp before the coup. David said he recognized the place because he came here with his school when he was in eighth grade. He also came back in the summer to go on a canoeing trip. He loves this place, even though it is a prison now. He spent the evening telling us about the wildlife that lives in these woods. He learned all about it on his trips. There are wolves in the forest, as well as moose and beavers. There are otters and gray jays and owls and weasels. He said there are plenty of deer and snowshoe hare, too. The lakes are full of fish: northern pike, muskie, walleye, perch, crappies, and bluegills. We all love his stories and also learning about the nature of this place. It is also good to know where the camp is, in case we decide to try to escape at some point. For now, it is hard to imagine where we would go or how we would do it, and there is the small sticking point of our tracker chips. They could just find us in a minute. I haven’t seen any aluminum foil since I got here, and I’m not interested in cutting off my arm!
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When we were out gathering wood today, David showed us how to “otter slide.” You find a hillside and fling yourself down the hill on your knees. The first couple people who do the slide sort of slowly plow a path through the snow, but soon the path gets faster and faster. With a slick slide, you can fling yourself down face-first. Our guards even went on the slide. It took an extra hour or so, but we gathered extra firewood to make it so the guards didn’t get in trouble. On the way home we saw real otter tracks, and I can see why they call it otter sliding. The otters seem to slide on their bellies on top of the snow whenever they can. It is a sort of step, step, slide, especially on hills. I am starting to see why David loves this place so much.
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I think yesterday was too much fun otter sliding. This morning we had a rude awakening. We heard a short series of gunshots just after dawn. The rumor spread quickly through camp that someone had been shot trying to escape. Charlie confirmed it when we saw her at lunch. The boy was seventeen years old. He wasn’t from our cabin, but we have seen him around. It sucks to be reminded that we are in a prison camp.
I have been thinking about what I can do to make this place better. An underground newspaper is out of the question, although graffiti is alive and well in the latrine. Maybe I could do some subversive graffiti? I don’t want to kill all of the guards, but maybe we could sabotage something. What though? We could demand better food or at least more of the bad food they are giving us. Or we could refuse to work unless they give us warmer socks and hats. Too many cabin mates have lost the feeling in their toes due to frostbite! Jeremy and I are planning to do something. We don’t know what yet.
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Good news! I mean great news! Beyond great! After all these months, we had started to think Daisy was dead, but Charlie found her! She is down the road at another camp. Our camp is mixed gender, but her camp is all women. It might be hard to sneak in there. I wrote a short note for Daisy and gave it to Charlie. She is going to give it to a friend of hers to get to Daisy. I hope it gets through and nobody gets in trouble.
We have been telling all the people in our cabin about the country life that you have in your township, Grandpa. They couldn’t believe it at first. The city people have all been told that the countryside has been reduced to primitive times; people have resorted to cannibalism and packs of roving dogs tear people apart when they least expect it. They have been told that the only ones who have survived the time after the coup are the warlords with the most guns who keep everyone else in servitude. I forgot how your letters kept me protected against the disinformation that General Stewart has been putting out. My stories about the real country life have kept the cabin entertained for many nights. I have told them about your life and your place and the little commune you started after the hurricanes. I told them about my life growing up visiting you and Grandma. I told them about plucking feathers and butchering hogs, as well as gathering berries and making jam. I told them about piling hay in the middle of summer and sledding down your hill on a toboggan on New Year’s Day every year.
I painted a picture for them of a different way to make it through the adjustment to life without fossil fuels. Instead of an authoritarian life under martial law, we could live in self-sufficient communities, growing our own food and living close to the land. We have had many discussions in our cabin about what we might do if the troubles ever end and we get out of this place. About half the people in our cabin would like to join me in going out to your township. The other half think I am full of shit. I think we might overwhelm you if we all come to your house, but I wonder if it would be possible. This has to end some time. How many of us could you take?
Charlie has been listening to our stories of life in your township. She would like to go with us when the troubles are over. She thinks that General Stewart is going to take power from the Circle soon, and when that happens, he might release the guests and open up the rural areas to travel as a sign of goodwill. I doubt he has that much goodwill in him, but I like the idea of travel to the rural areas again. I do wonder how the General of our little city could think he could overthrow the Circle, which represents military leaders from all over the U.S., with a much bigger population. Maybe he might try to secede and form his own country. Who knows? I think he has let power go to his head.
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Today was probably the best night of my life! After midnight, Charlie came and said she had a surprise for Jeremy and me. We went outside and there was Daisy! Charlie had a friend in the other camp sneak her out. We all cried. Daisy told us about life in her camp. It sounds similar to ours, except the food is better. When we got to a lookout spot, Jeremy and I showed Charlie and Daisy how to otter slide in the sparkling moonlight. We could hardly contain ourselves! She drew us a little map of where her cabin is, in case we ever got a chance to go to her camp.
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Today Charlie gave us a little bit of world news, which you probably already know. She said there was a Circle text this morning that the European Union is officially at war with Russia and The Federated States. The Middle Eastern nations are siding with Russia because Russia promises to bring back the fossil fuel economy if they win. The USA, Japan, India, and China are joining the fight on the European side. A national draft in the U.S. cities has been declared. The Circle is urging all eligible young people to prepare to do battle to save the planet. If the Russians win, there will be no chance to stop global climate change. That is troubling news!
The news of World War III didn’t seem to change life here at the camp one bit. Same work. Same lack of warm socks. Same shitty food and not enough of it. At this point the war is just a rumor from Charlie and hasn’t been confirmed by the camp leadership. I hope the first text was wrong. I worry that Russia has nukes, and the city is a big target!
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This morning when we were out collecting wood something magical happened. I took a short break from chopping wood and sat down. I think I must have zoned out. I don’t know how long I sat there, but when I looked up there was an enormous black wolf, not twenty feet away from me. The wolf was staring right at me. We looked at each other for over a minute, and then it just trotted off.
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I have continued my project of noticing things here. I notice how hungry I am all the time. I notice how bitter cold the outhouse seat is at night. I notice how the snowy landscape sparkles in the moonlight. I notice how there are even brighter stars here than at your place in Wisconsin. I notice how awful it is to go to bed missing your family and hear the whimpering of others in the cabin who I know also miss people. I notice a fear in the pit of my stomach about the coming war. I notice every track from wild animals when we go out to get firewood or to cut logs for new barracks. I notice how much I would love to have a warm shower. I notice the howls of the wolves when the moon is full and sometimes when it is not. I notice the chick-a-dee-dee-dee sound that the chickadees make. I spend a lot of time watching them. I notice how much light you can get from a single candle. I notice how skinny I am getting. I notice how good I am at using snowshoes now that I have been practicing for months. I notice the sounds of the pileated woodpecker pounding on a tree, and I notice the piles of wood from its excavations. I notice how close I feel to the people in my cabin.
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Today I got my wish for a hot shower. Well, not quite, but it had the same effect. The camp director had us cut a big hole in the ice, just off shore where the water is about three feet deep. Then each cabin group took its turn sitting naked in a very hot sauna. We were all sweating buckets by the end of it. When we couldn’t take the sauna heat any more, we went outside and jumped into the icy cold water. I have never felt so clean. Then we rehydrated, and they treated us to a feast. One of the logging trucks hit a moose yesterday. There was a moose stew along with a double ration of potatoes. It was so good.
Charlie is getting ready to go home on leave. She will try to post this when she gets to a place that has a public mailbox.
With love,
Ben
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Next chapter:
https://readmedium.com/chapter-17-in-a-tizzy-to-hear-from-benjamin-748ead519f6c
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