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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1934137-Lonely
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #1934137
Note: Not done yet.
If I told you I was at a camp called Camp Alderney, you would probably say “Yay, a camp!” This is no ordinary camp. This is a concentration camp in the Channel Islands. The regular day consists of beatings and teachings. Every night I sit in bed listening for the familiar sound of the truck that comes through to drop off new prisoners. My fellow “campers” call the truck the death train because it either leads you away from the camp to get executed or to the camp to die slowly from starvation or other things like that. Someday I’m going to escape from this horrible place.



The scream is short and high pitched. Quickly, I turn to see what is happening and I see a girl lying on the ground, blood seeping through the young girl’s torn shirt. “This is a very important lesson everyone.” Mr. Schindoff says while holding a large gun over his head. “If I catch any of you taking more food than you deserve, you will end up exactly like her.” “Bag her and put her in the truck!” he yells in German to the soldiers next to him. I have learned all of the German words that I need to know by listening to the soldiers speak. That night I am sitting in my bed listening for the death train to make sure it comes at the right time for my plan. Tomorrow night I will hold on to the bottom of the rusty truck and finally get out of this place forever.



The next day goes smoothly until thirty minutes before bed time, We are all finishing up our daily jobs when Mr. -------‘s voice comes through the speakers zip-tied to the rusting poles in the camp. “Will Mr. David Hirsch please come to the office immediately.” Everyone stares at me with worried faces, the last time someone was called into the office they didn't come back out, alive. Slowly, I walk into the office and take a seat at the wooden chair with leather straps on the arm and feet rests. Mr.------- walks in and sits down on the other side of the desk. “If you don't mind, I would like to ask you a question.” He says in a sweet sing-song voice. “I don't mind Sir.” I say shackily. His face changes from smiling and happy to raged and wanting to kill me. “What in the name of hell are these!” He says while holding up my letters to my parents who are in America right now. “Letters, Sir, to my parents.” I say. “Aww isn’t that sweet.” He says. He throws them in the fire without even reading them. “Put him in the box.” He says to his soldiers.



They grab me by my shirt and zip-tie my hands together. They throw me into a steel box with a window and a small wooden bench in the corner. Immediately after the soldiers lock the door I start planning my escape. Carefully, I search the chair for splinters that I could use to pick the lock. Luckily, I find one that will work. My uncle told me how to pick locks when I was five and I never forgot how to. Carefully, I slide the wooden splinter into the lock and turn it until I hear a click. Quietly, I open the door and slide out into the darkness. I lay down on the ground and army crawl behind the box beside the ten foot tall barbed wire fence. Quietly, I lay and wait for the truck to come. I hear the truck in the distance, I run and dolphin dive underneath the elevated rooms that the “campers” stay in. The truck comes into view and I creep towards the edge of the fence near the gate that the truck comes through. The truck comes and drops off a girl and a boy, both about twelve years old. As the truck is leaving I creep up next to it and climb underneath it and grab onto some pipes that seem sturdy. About ten minutes later the pipes are starting to heat up and I need to wipe my hands on my pants every thirty seconds. The next five minutes are unbearably painful from the heat and I have to let go of the pipes.



I hit the ground with a thud. Quickly, I stand up and get out of the road just in case another car is coming. Slowly, I start walking at a comfortable pace into the dessert. It’s been four days now and all I can think about is food and water. I have camped out in a small canyon with a dirty stream running through it. The water from the stream makes me sick so I don’t drink it.
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