A Hopeless Journal for A Helpless Man

Chapter 7: The Trip

It has been a couple days now. I've felt the warm sun and the even warmer nights. Fucking tropics. They're keeping me alive, though I doubt I am. All the food they provide me is rarely found in nature. Whatever it is, it's serving the purpose, keeping me alive whilst inducing nausea, disgust, and probable diseases. Even their good intents have bad results. At least the water is clean.

I've been growing calm these past few days. I haven't hallucinated or done any act of desperation. I've just been here, sitting, waiting for change. Yet, I know change isn't coming. I'm not shocked, or frightened. I've been indifferent lately. I don't know what has happened with me. I've grown expressionless. Maybe it's acceptance. Cruel, impartial acceptance caused by large amounts of panic and agony. It feels good not to drag around that horrible brew of terror and anxiety. They don't mix well. However, indifference has its downside and it itself is precisely the problem. Indifference has become a bore. I feel inhuman. This indifference has caused my anxiety to remain a part of me, however insignificant and oblivious it had become these few days. I just start thinking and thinking and I can't stop. It's as if an assumed problem leads to another, eventually causing a real problem. I know my terrible hysteria lead me to this "sentimental loss". This fact only reinforces my belief that if panic through anxiety led me to indifference, then indifference through anxiety will lead me back to panic again. The only missing factor is the trigger. I'm sure I'll become impatient of this accepting indifference eventually. I hope this indifference isn't a vague subconscious attempt to reassure me of my hopes and positive outcomes because if this island has done anything, it has chipped away at my survival odds and my sanity faster than I had ever imagined.

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There is something tube-like and spiky poking me on the side of my forehead. Well, this has been the only time I actually get woken up on this island. Honestly, I'm surprised I've even managed to sleep.

"Wake up, white boy", said the guard.

As if the fucking stick in my face wasn't enough. Anyways, I'm awake. The person who woke me up was unfamiliar to me. I assume he's working for Ros since he was dressed as rugged and worn out as the other guards. I looked around and I saw a couple of guards aligned with Ros in the middle. I also saw a trailer to the right of my cage facing the middle of the encampment. I've never seen it before so they must've brought it while I was sleeping. Ros began to speak.

"Wakey wakey you little dipshits... Y'know what today is...? No?"

There was a pause. Ros looked over to the trailer then at me, smiling. Out of the trailer began coming out about five handcuffed people. They don't look like new captives. From the way they walk and from the condition that their clothes are in you can definitely tell they've been here some time. They don't even look alive anymore. They probably don't want to be. They were two women and three men. Their slashed shirts and pants tell me they've been tortured, especially the last man that came out. He looked of Asian descent. It also seemed like he'd gotten the roughest time of them all. He didn't have a shirt, his grey jeans were ripped, he had no shoes, his head was bleeding, and he had cuts and gashes of all shapes and severities throughout his entire body. Where have these people been? Why haven't I've seen them or gone through their process? I assume I will soon enough.

Ros continued as the captives finished exiting.

"This is the day of your liberation..."

There was a shock-inducing pause. Everyone looks surprised. Even I, I must admit, got some of my hopes up, but I quickly realized it was a waste of energy, faith, and ambition. Ros is not this type of person. I'm sure the astonishment was more a consequence of the anxiety all we captives suffered from. We could never be certain of anything. Ros was the precise uncertainty that the captives and I had to look out for. I think the other captives have already learned that more than enough times for it to have already broken their exterior and embedded itself within their skulls.

"Yes... Take all of that in. Freedom, so close, at grasp. Pendejos y pendejas... Ya saben", said a sneering Ros to the captives.

The guard that had woken me up had been as distracted as I had been with Ros' speech. After Ros finished we both continued our stalled tasks. The guard took me and handcuffed my hands behind my back, then took me out of the cage into the single file line with all the other captives. The line consisted of the captives, Ros up front with a guard making way and leading and two guards at the back of the line looking out for any struggle or resistance.

We had begun walking on a path through the jungle not too long after Ros' speech. It's obvious that we were being escorted somewhere, but where? All this talk of liberation made me think. Ros was definitely pulling our strings, there was no doubt about it. He has complete control over us. I do remember Ros mentioning something about me being valuable, which means he planned on selling me or holding me for ransom. He must be taking us there, and surely someone must have been paid for. Still, I wonder why Ros took all of us instead of just taking the paid captive.

We all walked for about fifteen minutes, I couldn't be sure. No one talked the entire walk through the jungle, save for Ros. Every captive was tired, exhausted, and some even barely alive. We looked like inanimate merchandise being transported off somewhere. Ros talked his ass off though. He cursed, hummed, and sang his thoughts in a highly sadistic manner. There was absolutely nothing about Ros that was impossible to fear. His very essence was horrendous. The path we walked on was clearly marked from past treks. This led me to believe that this has happened before or happens often. I must say Ros knows his way around a jungle. I felt disoriented, not that I ever felt like I had my bearings on this island. Every reminder I have of this island is just a big blur, except the people. The people settled in my memory.

We arrived at a shoreline with a dock and a big shed. The dock had two boats attached to it and through the glass in the shed I saw someone handling what seemed to be an intercom. I also spotted a couple of people patrolling the area holding assault rifles, nothing that I hadn't already seen earlier in the encampment. The guard in the shed came out and holstered his intercom, then he walked over to Ros. They were about twenty five feet away. Ros quickly sprang up and opened his arms while lightly jogging over to the shed operator. As a reaction to Ros' sudden movements, the guards that had been behind the line poked the closest captives to then with the barrel of their rifle, commanding that we move forward. We did as we were told.

"What shipment did we get today, Ivan?" asked Ros.

"It's not what we got, today it's the shipment we'll trade...” answered Ivan.