The Park (Evenstad Media Presents Book 1) (2 page)

TO: Kathy Horstmann

FROM: Veronica Daniels

SUBJECT: Employee Evaluation

SENT 3/20/2072 AT 8:12 a.m. EST

Ms. Horstmann,

You are receiving this message to inform you of an upcoming
meeting with Mr. Evenstad regarding a recent employee evaluation. Please arrive
at Mr. Evenstad's office by 10:00 a.m.

Veronica Daniels,

Administrative Assistant to Frederick Evenstad

JOURNAL 12DAVID

ENTRY 002

DATE: 1/3/2074

Nathan left bruises on my arms. I can't blame him though,
can I? I mean, I about wet my pants anyway, when I heard it. The alarm was so
loud, my ears rang for fifteen minutes afterward. And that voice. It filled the
whole sky and rattled my bones. I always thought that was just an expression.
Even a teacher can learn, though, right?

"This is your only warning. Step away from the
perimeter."

And then the alarm again. Three blasts of the siren followed
by the echo. For a moment or two, I'd even worried about waking people up. It
was still dark in here. It was always dark in here, actually. We had to have
been fully enclosed, was all I could figure. I mean, there was some light,
enough to see. But not enough to see that well unless you have the trailer
lights to see by.

I'd taken Nathan out with me. I didn't feel like I could
trust him alone. But I'm paying for it. And the fully stocked house has no pain
meds, either. At least he stopped screaming. A blessing of sorts.

Someone doesn't want us to leave. And I worry, as clear as
they made it, what would happen if we tried. Is it an electric fence? Barbed
wire? Worse than that? I sit there, wondering, but what good does it do?

I have to check on Nathan. He's starting to make noises
again. Not screaming. Whimpering. Whimpering is bad, but it's different. I'm
hoping it means some sort of change in him. Relaxation, maybe. The poor kid.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 02CHRISTINA

ENTRY 001

DATE: 1/3/2074

This is unacceptable. The racket today pushed me over the
edge. I even fired off a shot with that medallion thing. Have to use the back
door to this place from now on. The front is totally useless.

Apparently, someone didn't read the letter. Perfect. Idiots.
I guess I'd rather compete against them than someone intelligent, though. Do
not attempt to leave the arena. How hard is that? Basic, English directions.
Maybe they didn't speak English. I don't know. Haven't seen anybody else in the
two days I've been here. In fact, the alarm was the first sign of life I've
come across, besides grass.

I'm hoping that no one else tries to emulate the great
escape artist today. Or tomorrow. Never again would be preferable. That alarm
is too much.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 01NATHAN

ENTRY 001

DATE: 1/3/2074

It's been three days. I haven't had a hit in three days. But
right now, I'm able to think. No scratching, no stomach pains. But they'll come
back. They always come back. Always until I get another hit. Always.

It's going to hurt. I can't go through withdrawals. I tried.
Everyone knows I tried. Four times, I tried to get off the flick. Rehab,
psychiatrists, doctors, interventions.

Flick, flick, flick, flick.

Shit. I'm starting to lose my thoughts again. I just… I need
a hit.

ENTRY END

TO: Marta Evenstad

FROM: Niels Evenstad

SUBJECT: Agriculture

SENT 12/29/2073 AT 11:53 a.m. EST

Sister,

Within the next year, your promotion will be official. We
will of course have to wait for the best time to announce everything to the
public, but I assure you it won't be long. In the meantime, we've opened up
applications to fill the necessary positions for your company. Please review
them and make the best decisions you can. More than anything else, the success
of this venture will assure our family security. If we can provide food for
even slightly lower than the other companies in the game, we'll have the
advantage, and we'll have the control. From there, we build up our resources.
But we need you to get us the land, Marta.

I wish you the best of luck, dear sister,

Niels Evenstad

Chief Operating Officer, Evenstad Media

JOURNAL 08DESIREE

ENTRY 001

DATE: 1/4/2074

God, I can't stand it. No more of this dark. I feel like I'm
half blind. The only time I feel remotely like myself is in the trailer. But
that's not making anything any better. Believe me, God, I'm thankful that
You've provided me with so much: shelter, food, water, blessed light. But I
know that the endless dim is still out there waiting for me. And I'm not going
to think about the things that could be in there. I'm not. I know You'll see me
home safe, Lord. That's all I've got that keeps me going, and I thank You for
that, too. And I thank You for the medallion You had them give to me. I know
this ain't anything that a man could put here on Earth. You've given me the
power to disappear. Only for a few seconds, but it has saved me. When I
disappear, I know that nothing in that darkness can do anything to me.

I praise you, Lord.

Amen.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 07JULIA

ENTRY 001

DATE: 1/4/2074

When I woke up this morning, I was breathing, not screaming.
It's good. The screaming was bad. I just knew that there was something coming.
Then came the crying. I still did that this morning, but no screaming. I wasn't
convinced that I would see someone looming over me. I wasn't convinced that I
needed to clutch to the medallion, ready to release whatever was inside. That
slicing thing.

I hope its progress. Maybe it would be years. Maybe it would
just be until we died off. I have no family left to worry about, only a few
friends who really matter. I could die here, as long as it was natural. But I
won't be killed. I don't want death to hurt. I don't want to keep screaming.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 09TINA

ENTRY 001

DATE: 1/5/2074

I finally saw my first person. They were outside my window.
I just caught a glimpse of them running past. Nothing else. But that means that
there definitely are other people here. It's no longer a theory. Which means
the danger is no longer a theory, either. I'm not the kind of person who gets
paranoid and jumpy, but every little sound out there is definitely someone.
That's what my brain keeps telling me, anyway. Even the sounds that I know and
recognize must be someone.

ENTRY END

JOURNAL 12DAVID

ENTRY 003

DATE: 1/5/2074

I've lost Nathan. I don't know what the issue was, but when
I woke up this morning, he was gone and his window left open. The poor kid
probably doesn't even know what's going on. I assume he read the letter, since
it wasn't on his shirt when I found him. But I can't say that with any level of
certainty.

I have to go look for him. I'm still determined to keep this
kid safe, if I can. And right now I can. I hope I can, anyway.

ENTRY END

TO: Richard Appleby

FROM: Suzanne Young

SUBJECT: Welcome

SENT 10/23/2073 AT 9:17 a.m. EST

First of all, congratulations on your new position with
Evenstad Media. I'm sure you will enjoy yourself.

Mr. Niels Evenstad, our COO, has asked me to remind you of
the privacy policy attached to your position. You are to speak to no one of
your work, as it could compromise the integrity of the project. The full
privacy policy will be attached below to ensure you have a copy.

After your initial training, you will be sent to the
undisclosed filming location. Room and board will be provided for the duration
of your stay. Please make any and all necessary preparations between then and
now, as the length of your stay is as yet undetermined. No Internet access will
be provided while there, and only limited phone calls, monitored by the head of
security.

As a special caveat of your particular position, your
marksmanship will be tested monthly. Should you fall below the eighty-fifth
percentile in accuracy, you will be granted a one month grace period. If, after
that month, your marksmanship still ranks below the required accuracy, your
employment will be terminated and you will have no chance for rehiring.

If you have any questions before you leave, please email the
pertinent department. If you don't know which department to ask, send the email
to me and I will forward it to the appropriate party. I will also attach a list
of email addresses for your ease.

I hope you enjoy working for Evenstad Media as much as I
have,

Suzanne Young

Administrative Assistant to Niels Evenstad

JOURNAL 10MANFRED

ENTRY 002

DATE: 1/5/2074

The alarm went off again today. I was close enough to the
edge to watch. Whoever was approaching the wall was just a boy, and he ran as
though something vile was after him. He seemed so desperate, I chose not to
follow for fear of attracting his attacker. But now, how I wish I had followed.
Perhaps I could have stopped him. Instead, I watched, waiting for whatever or
whoever to strike. He ran, ignoring the final three blasts of the siren.

I heard the cocking of guns from above as he got closer.

I tried to shout a warning after him. He didn't hear me. A
muzzle flare sparked at the top of the wall. I expected the boy to crumple at
any moment, but instead, the bullet pounded into the ground. The boy himself
was gone.

A few feet closer to the wall, he reappeared. Two more
muzzle flashes. That time, he fell. I felt like the third shot was unnecessary,
but it, too, hit its mark. Not a difficult shot. He couldn't move to avoid it.

ENTRY END

Supporting the Grim Reaper: The Reality Behind Evenstad
Media's 'The Park.'

1/9/2074 at 7:26 a.m. EST

Twelve contestants locked in a trailer park and outfitted
with strange technology. Only one can leave alive. It sound like something
you'd hear in a preview before watching this summer's next explosive, blood and
gore blockbuster. But it's not. It's currently the second highest rated show on
television, and the numbers suggest that it could take the top spot by next
week.

But, after last week's episode, can we, as a nation,
continue to watch? Should we encourage a company who just broadcast the murder
of a twenty-four year old kid into millions of American homes? This blogger
thinks not. I, for one, am already looking into alternate television providers.
I can hope that others will join me.

'The Park' is only going to continue taking lives if we
allow it. That's the premise, isn't it? Eleven
will
die. And what of the
twelfth, the single survivor? I'll eat my own cat if their 'winner' doesn't
come out of this with severe psychological trauma, at the very least.

But what disturbs me most of all isn't even the fact that
the show exists. We've always known that the bourgeoisie have depraved tastes.
That should surprise no one. No, what disturbs me is how many people, how many
members of the proletariat, have chosen to watch this. How many have chosen to
buy extra products that Evenstad Media offers to enhance the experience for fans
of their meat grinder. What does it say of us if we continue to watch this?
With all of our technology, all of the great minds of the modern era, we find
ourselves no better than the Romans, watching gleefully as victims are sent
into the Colosseum for our pleasure.

I pray that my words won't fall on deaf ears. For my sake,
for the sake of our country, but more than anything, for the sake of the eleven
poor souls trapped in that hellish trailer park.

I don't know how they got these people to volunteer, or even
if they did, but I will guarantee they weren't given much of a choice. Evenstad
Media needs to be stopped dead, right now. And if we choose to, we can. We have
the numbers. Rise up now, or fiddle as Rome burns.

Krax

JOURNAL 12DAVID

ENTRY 004

DATE: 1/7/2074

It's been two days since Nathan was shot. I wasn't sure if I
would be able to go get him to bury him without being the next target, but I
managed. Well, we managed. Manfred has been nothing but helpful this whole
time. He's a sweet old man. Not the sort of person that should be here. But
then again, neither am I. At least I don't think I am.

I looked through Nathan's journals after we buried him. It
was flick withdrawals. Poor kid. I can't even start to imagine what detoxing
must feel like. He was going through it on top of being in this place. If I was
ever going to use the word torture and really mean it, I think now would be the
time. It must have been real, honest torture.

As for Manfred, he and I are getting along decently. He
didn't know Nathan, but he said some beautiful words over his grave.
"Death is not hard for the dead. It is only the living who suffer. And
today, with the loss of this young soul, all our world will suffer."

I don’t know why it struck me so hard, but it did.

I tried to find his medallion, too, but it was missing. It
was hard to see in the dark, though. I probably just missed it. I don't dare go
back over there. I'm pretty certain that we were only granted that single bit
of amnesty to move Nathan's body. Going back would probably get me shot, too.

Manfred and I will be staying in the house as much as
possible. We both agree that it's for the best. But I'm still keeping my
distance. I hate that I even have the thought, but it's possible that Manfred
had a hand in Nathan's death. I wasn't there for it. I only came in on the end.
And if he was willing to kill the kid, I hardly think his remorse would kick in
over me.

ENTRY END