The Park (Evenstad Media Presents Book 1) (8 page)

JOURNAL 03BLAKE

ENTRY 005

DATE: 3/6/2074

I've been thinking about my family a lot lately. My mom,
mostly. Dad, he can probably handle the whole thing all right. On the outside,
anyway. You know how it is with those old-fashioned kinda guys. They never
really let you know how they're feeling until their dogs die. But Mom, I think
she's falling apart. I guess part of it is me hoping. Not that I want her to
get hurt. I don’t want any of this to happen at all, least of all Mom getting
upset about it. But how would I really feel if I found out she wasn't upset?

It's stupid. I know she has to be. Who wouldn't, with their
son kidnapped? No notice, no nothing? They don't know that this is all fake.
I'm still running with that. It's the only thing that actually makes sense. But
Rita also says they wouldn't let the audience know it was fake. Makes sense,
too. Everything she says makes sense.

I'm glad Rita found me and told me what was going on. I
wouldn't have figured it out. I'm just not that bright. Yeah, I can admit it.
Rita pretty much saved my ass. I don't know exactly what would have happened if
someone had figured out that this was all fake.

But Mom and Dad don't know. They could have figured it out.
They say it's always easier when you're sitting on the couch than when you're
actually there. Maybe they solved the puzzle. Maybe they're not worried and
they know that it’s some weird special effects trick when people die. Fuck, maybe
they got told that it's all fake. I don't know. I don't know anything other
than what I'm supposed to do. Survive. Or 'survive,' I guess. Don't become a
victim of whatever high tech hallucination hologram bullshit they're using.

I still think about that guy I killed, though. It was so
graphic. I just can't manage to forget any of it. Not a single drop of blood.

ENTRY END

Mr. And Mrs. Ross,

Your son, Blake Ross, has recently volunteered to
participate in Evenstad Media's newest program, 'The Park.' The grand prize for
the winner is twenty million dollars US.

Unfortunately, this competition brings with it a certain
level of risk. Due compensation will be provided in the event of serious injury
or death. In his contract, you were named as the recipients of any such money.

Unfortunately, we cannot provide you with any further
information without sacrificing the integrity of the program, but you are of
course free to tune in. The show premieres on January 8th and will air every
Monday afterward at 8 p.m. EST.

We appreciate your son's participation and your family's
sacrifice. We understand that being without a family member for however short a
time can be can be very trying. We can in no way make up for this hardship, but
please accept a free lifetime subscription to Evenstad Media's Premium Package
as a small token of our sympathy.

Evenstad Media

JOURNAL 04JUSTICE

ENTRY 006

DATE: 3/8/2074

Desiree's asleep, so I managed to steal away some time and
test the fucking medallion I found. It's been long enough. I should have found
out what it does before now, but I haven't been able to leave Desiree
unsupervised for more than a few seconds without her trying to get herself
fucking killed. I feel bad about it, but I blocked up the door to keep her from
getting out. I'm a fucking asshole, I know, but I had to do it. Having this
thing lying around, not knowing what it does, and Desiree falling out of her
fucking skull, it just doesn't sit right on me.

So I took it outside. It was hard as fuck to see what was
going on in that dark, but I didn't want to test it out too close to the house.
Might have blown the whole fucker to bits, Desiree included. Best I could see
in the dim lights, it was some kind of spray. It smelled foul. Like diesel
mixed with baby puke. I thought that was the whole point of it. Seemed pretty
fucking stupid. If someone's really determined to kill you, a nasty stink ain't
going to stop them.

But then I saw the grass. Wherever that shit fell, it left
everything brown and yellow and just fucking dead. Some kind of weed killer.
Don't know if it does anything to people or not. I would guess so, as fast as
it took out the grass, but what the fuck do I know? It could be that it just
kills plants. It could be that it's just making me fucking hallucinate and the
grass ain't even dead. I don't know.

But I do know one thing. It catches fire. I tried it out.
Thought about spray paint and a lighter, the kind of stupid fucking stunts I
pulled in high school. It worked. Big old fucking fireball thing. Probably gave
away my whole position, if anyone was watching. I can hope they weren't. Really
hope they weren't. Or at least hope that they were far enough away.
Everything's recharged again. I can burn the fuckers, now. They ain't getting
close to me or to Desiree.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 06RITA

ENTRY 005

DATE: 3/9/2074

Well, aren't you happy to hear from me again? I'm sure I'm
your favorite. I mean, does anyone else even talk to you? Really talk to you?
Even if this whole thing's getting a little bit one-sided, now. I don't mind it
too much. It gives me something to do when I get bored. Blake's useful, but
damn it if he isn't horribly dull company. How many hours a day can two people
spend talking about video games? As far as that horndog Blake is concerned,
several. Many. A lot. I wish you could understand. Of course, you probably do
understand. Watching the camera feeds to see what your little pet gerbils are
up to, you've probably got triplicate records of everything any of us have ever
said.

You probably even know how I feel about Blake. You probably
know that I don't like it. If not, I'm telling you now: that's why I sleep so
badly. That's why I'm waking up so many times. Every single time. I don't like
what I'm doing to him. It makes me want to puke, thinking about it. Every time.

See, you did this to me. You people and this ridiculous game
of yours. Killing people. Afraid for your life. Lying, cheating, armed to the
teeth like some guerilla fighter with weapons that probably shred the Geneva
Conventions to bits. Tiny ass bits. Did you consider that? Did you think about
any of this, putting weapons like this in the hands of any John Q. Sample?
Sure, you probably did. But I bet you didn't care, did you? I don't think you
care about any of this. It's just part of your show, a big increase in ratings,
a big increase in profits, a big fat nothing as far as we're concerned. I mean,
how much money are we bringing in for you dickweeds, if you can afford to chuck
twenty million dollars out for the grand prize? A shit ton, right? And here we
are, just playing along. What happens if the show starts to get slow? Do you
start fucking with us? Trying to get those ratings to jump up? Or do you just
leave us to ourselves and pray that the viewers will keep on watching, even if
it's dull as shit?

Come on. Let's get started. I'm tired of not hearing back
from you. It's pretty God damn rude for you to just leave me talking to myself
like this. It's been over two months now.

ENTRY END

UNREST IN EGYPT

3/7/2074 at 10:19 a.m. EST

While tensions in Egypt have been on the rise, the bubble
has finally popped. A group calling themselves the Egyptian Restoration
Movement attacked the Egyptian Museum in Cairo yesterday. While no artifacts
were stolen, several antiquities were destroyed or damaged before the
terrorists could be forced out.

In the wake of this museum attack, several other national
fixtures have increased security. However, several attacks were made on the
Heliopolis Palace, the current residency of the Egyptian president. We will update
this article as more information is made available to us here at The Cruise.

JOURNAL 11SUSAN

ENTRY 007

DATE: 3/10/2074

Plans changing. Leaving traps. Won't go far. Can still catch
people. Take out the biggest threats. People who will actively go after me.
Leave the lights on in the house, make it obvious. People that stupid should
die anyway.

Medallion I filched off Tina will keep me safe. I can
travel. Start playing. Want to get this over with. Twenty million won't do me
any good if I'm halfway dead when I leave. All go to medical bills. A little
over two months.

Won't get Craig. He's too smart for that. Why I tried to
keep him around. Close, he could die quick. Now I have to hunt or hope that
someone else gets him done with. Save me trouble ferreting him out.

I'll be fine. Medallion's too strong for anyone to survive
the hit. Just can't miss. Missing would be bad. Can't run for shit. So I can't
miss.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 07JULIA

ENTRY 005

DATE: 3/13/2074

It's time for things to change. I'm going to wear my
medallion again. I just can't keep ignoring reality like this. It's not healthy
and it's not working.

And, as much as I don't like it, without this game, I would
never have found Christina. I'm not going to think too much about the
ramifications of all this. I know that accepting the game means that I have to
accept that one or both of us is going to die, but who knows how long it could
be before that happens. Christina won't kill me, I know that. If it's the two
of us, maybe we can just go until old age. Maybe we'll sit around long enough
that no one cares anymore. If there's no more excitement left in a TV show, it
gets cancelled, right?

I'm pretending to be happy to impress… who? Myself? I hate
this whole thing, and I doubt I'll be the one who makes it to the end. I'm not
a fighter. I'm definitely the wrong person for this game. I know that,
Christina knows it, the people who put this whole thing together know it, I'm
sure. I'm a line cook, not one of those extremophiles, getting off on the
adrenaline of life. Every time I think about what's going on around me, I just
want to hide up in bed and rot away. It'd be easier.

But I won't. I'm getting into this. I have to. For myself
and for Christina. I'm dead weight for her. She's still playing the game, after
all. If she wastes her time and energy trying to protect both of us, that's not
doing either one of us a favor. And I'd rather realize my own stupidity now
rather than when I get killed, or when I have to clean Christina's blood off
the carpet.

But not today. Tomorrow. I want one more day to try and
ignore this all. Hamburgers for dinner.

ENTRY END

THE PARK: WHAT ARE WE WATCHING?

3/11/2074 at 2:08 a.m. EST

Everyone's heard of it by now. It's controversial. People
love controversy, after all. Just eat it up. And what could be more
controversial than organized murder for entertainment? Just about nothing I
could think of.

Well, it's all fake. I'd put money on it. People are stupid
enough to believe that this is all real? I wish I could say that I'm surprised.
But nope. I gave up on my hopes for the intelligence of the human race years
ago.

But today, I'm here to tell you that it's all fake. Fiction.
Entertaining fiction, but fiction nonetheless. Aside from the big, glaring fact
that it's completely immoral and illegal to do what they claim to be doing,
let's look at the cast. A diverse enough spread to appeal to everyone. Six men,
six women, different socioeconomic levels, some racial diversity, and even a
Brit. Almost like it was planned.

Sure, they could have put the 'contestants' together to get
all of that. But now we have the lesbian angle getting stronger and stronger in
every episode. Christina and Julia's relationship is increasingly prominent.

See, the American public will eat up anything with lesbians.
With pretty lesbians, anyway. If they were real butch, I wouldn't even bring it
up. But Julia and Christina are both attractive women.

But it's not even that. All that does is add more evidence
to the pile. Here's the real kicker for the lesbian=fiction argument: where are
the gay dudes? Not a one in sight. They managed two lesbians in their 'random'
selection, but no gays? Know why? Gays don't sell nearly as well. Gays are
generally much less popular. It's just a fact, not my personal feelings on the
matter.

You would think, all things being equal, there might be some
gay guys running around here, too. Sure, maybe there are and we just aren't
privy to the information. I'm not claiming that I have a watertight case for
this whole thing. I don't. But I highly doubt we're watching a true reality
show with random Joe and Jill Schmoes. I just doubt it. It doesn't make it any
less entertaining, though.

Nancy Fitch

JOURNAL 05CRAIG

ENTRY 006

DATE: 3/13/2074

I found something. It might work. There was a CESU hidden
under a bush, like, tucked into the bark and the roots. It's not all that
strong, but that's perfect. I never wanted something strong. Maybe stronger
than this, but I'm hardly going to complain. I got so excited, I had to go get
mine and start working on it. Which was probably really god damn stupid, but I
did it anyway. I didn't set it off doing that, and I actually made some
progress. Enough progress to make me hopeful. The casing on the back of the
other CESU is warped. The one I found lets out a beam. Like a low-intensity
laser. Way better than a laser pointer but not so strong it can burn through
steel and shit. And it's small enough to give me some precision. I can only
work in five or six second bursts before it gives up and has to recharge, but
that's fine. It recharges quickly anyway. I think I can get through the casing
soon. That's why I stopped. I'm going to sleep, see if that helps. Using lasers
when you're drowsy just sounds like a bad idea to me, no matter how weak they
are.

But if this works, I can make a much more reliable alarm
system. I could hardwire it together with some of the lines from inside the
trailers. Wouldn't have to worry about the tripwire not working. I might even
be able to lead people off, if I set it up right. And if I can modify this one,
I can modify others. Hopefully. I'm actually beginning to think I could make it
through this. I'd still rather not kill anyone. I'd rather run. But I have to
be ready for that, if it comes down to it, unfortunately. And I think this new
CESU is going to really help me with that.

I think the most important thing is that I finally feel some
kind of comfort. Pretty soon, I'll have wires and circuit boards and resistors
to work with. Things I know about. Things I can control. Things I'm used to
from my normal life.

ENTRY END