Day 82 – Sunday (late evening)

There is a huge black cloud hanging over the group. Everyone is quiet, kids aren’t playing, everyone is on auto-pilot. Nothing is going right, from the very beginning when we left Bill’s place nothing is going right. And everyone knows it. All this flexible and adaptable talk we shoveled out is simply not enough. I can see that people are losing confidence, losing hope, losing…well, losing the whole idea that we can make it…or worse…losing hope that we can even live through any of this.

Myself, I see this child’s death as just another black mark. Another step into the black abyss. This world has become so dark and evil. I would love to get my hands on those Washington elitists that pushed the button to finally destroy America! These so-called leaders make decisions in Washington for the last 100 years without regard to how it really affects people on the ground…those of us that have to live with their lust for power and money. They only act to enhance themselves and their families and don’t a damn about anyone else!

What kills me…the girl was eight years old, lived through horror that few can imagine, been brutally abused repeatedly, and I didn’t even know her name! She had been with us all these days and I couldn’t have told you her name. And worse yet, no one knows her last name…no one. Jones’ never knew it because they simply never thought to ask. The girl never told anyone anything other than her first name…Teri.

So Teri is now buried in the barren desert of New Mexico, no grave marker, no last name…she just is eliminated from the human race without a trace and never having had a future. Gone…just gone!  A precious little girl, innocent, never hurt a soul in her life…whose soul was stolen from her. A smile, a laugh, never to be seen again.

And her brother isn’t talking. Actually, he isn’t doing anything. He just sits there and stares straight ahead. He won’t move, won’t talk, won’t acknowledge anyone is trying to talk to him. They carried him to the memorial service. He won’t eat, drink or talk…he just sits there. I have no idea what we are going to do about him.

Jim and I did talk some more. We are going to talk again tonight when the camp goes to bed.

But I tell you this…someone will pay for that little girl’s death…I promise you.


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