by Sumi Hahn
The boy adjusted his grip on the wet netting. “You should be worried. Being friendly with a Nationalist officer doesn’t look good.”
Junja hadn’t thought of that possibility. “It’s something else. She isn’t acting like her usual self.” The girl frowned at the ocean. The sun was only halfway down, and she still had to dig out sweet potatoes. “Maybe I’m imagining it. Because of all the terrible things people keep talking about.”
Reports of torchings, beatings, and much worse had been trickling into the village. Blame was being placed on everyone: Nationalists, Communists, and roving bands of opportunistic thugs, depending on who was telling the story.
“Has your grandmother done or said anything that might put you in danger?” Suwol asked.
“I don’t think so. She and the constable only talk about food.”
“Seems harmless.”
“That’s the problem. If she were acting like herself, she’d be the first person to investigate these strange reports. She’d lead the village meeting on what to do. But she’s done nothing. She doesn’t seem to care.”
The boy was silent as he considered. Finally, he decided to speak his mind. “Those terrible things you’re hearing? They’re all true.”
“What do you mean? People are actually being killed?”
Suwol hesitated. “I’ve seen the bodies.”
Junja stopped walking to stare at the boy. “What are you doing, to see such things?”
“It’s better if I don’t say.”
“All right, don’t. But why would Nationalist soldiers burn down villages in Jeju? We’re all Koreans. Why would Korean soldiers kill Korean civilians? For what reason?”
Suwol’s voice was flat. “Because the Americans are trying to get rid of Communists.”
The girl flushed. “That makes no sense! All we’re doing here is living the way we’ve always lived. How does that turn us into Communists?”
“It’s Communist because the Americans say it is.”
“That’s craziness.”
Suwol’s voice dropped. “Want to hear something even crazier?”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“Hallasan is going to be banned. To rout out rebel leaders Kim Dal Sam and Lee Duk Ho.”
“How can you ban an entire mountain?” Junja glared at Suwol. “Everyone knows that Lee Duk Ho isn’t a Communist, any more than my grandmother is. He’s just an angry farmer with a grudge, because the US military seized his farm for their base.”
“If the wrong person heard you say that, you’d be accused of being a Communist sympathizer or worse.” Suwol’s mouth turned down. “According to the mainland government, Mr. Lee is a heavily armed Communist agent who’s receiving orders directly from China.”
“The mountain is going to be banned because of some ridiculous lie? Who’s making up this madness?”
The boy’s face hardened. “Ask the constable. He might know.”
Junja bit her lip.
“This is why you have to choose a side, Junja. Being neutral or staying silent won’t protect you.” The boy added apologetically, “Look at what happened to your mother.”
The reminder made Junja flinch. The boy believed that her mother’s death had been no accident, but everyone in the village was too afraid to speculate about what had really happened. Whenever Junja brought up the subject with her grandmother, the old woman flatly refused to discuss it. What if Suwol were right? Fear trickled into Junja’s gut.
As the dirt path sloped upward, a sudden gust of wind from the sea blasted the boy and girl, as if to push them onward. Junja and Suwol retreated into their thoughts. Near the approach to the house, Suwol put down his end of the netting.
“This is as far as I go. I don’t want to run into the constable.”
“He’s not expected today.” Junja looked apologetic. “You should greet my grandmother, though, instead of leaving without paying your respects. She’ll be disappointed to hear that she missed seeing you.”
Suwol shook his head. “I wish I could, but I’m running late. I’m sorry.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re doing?”
Suwol studied the ground. “I’m hunting rabbits with friends.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Suwol remained silent.
“How long will you be gone this time?”
“Hard to say. A couple days, maybe longer.”
Suwol’s hand brushed Junja’s fingers.
“Please be careful.” Junja tried to smile.
“I will. You stay safe, too.” The boy looked around to make sure no one was watching before embracing Junja quickly.
As Suwol walked away, he turned around several times to wave. Junja watched his figure grow smaller and smaller until he stepped into a grove of trees and disappeared completely.
* * *
“Ah, there you are, hiding in plain sight.”
Junja looked up, annoyed, from the patch of sweet potatoes she had been digging. How did the constable sneak up on her without making any noise? The man had left for Jeju City several days ago, when she last saw Suwol. Why had the constable returned, but not the boy? Junja jammed her spade into the earth.
The constable’s beard was covered with pine needles, and his clothes were more disheveled than usual. A limp chicken dangled from his left hand. He held it up for Junja to admire.
Junja ignored the bird. “Does my grandmother know you’ve returned?” She wiped the dirt off her hands as she stood up.
“I just paid her my respects. And showed her this fat chicken I brought as a gift. She wants you to prep it for dinner.” He held out the bird again. “While it’s cooking, you’re supposed to show me the caves.”
Junja’s eyes narrowed. “What caves?”
“The caves where you villagers store food for the winter. Your grandmother said I should see them.”
Junja could not prevent the shock from showing on her face. The caves were a closely held secret, never shared with outsiders. Had grandmother taken leave of her senses completely?
“I’ll be right back.” The girl took the chicken and strode toward the house.
* * *
Junja found her grandmother in the kitchen, picking through a box of dried roots and mushrooms. The girl rushed to the old woman’s side. “Did you tell Constable Lee about the caves?” Junja’s voice was louder than it needed to be.
The old woman ignored her granddaughter as she pulled out a woody root and shook it overhead in triumph. “I knew I still had a piece of ginseng left!”
“Why would you tell a Nationalist constable about the caves, Halmung?” Junja asked again through gritted teeth.
For as long as anyone could remember, the caves had been used as a secret hedge against disaster. During the occupation, food and women had been hidden inside them, away from grasping Japanese hands. Anxious villagers, alarmed by the stories, had recently begun hoarding supplies again. Revealing the caves to an outsider would be considered an unforgivable betrayal.
Why would Grandmother do something so reckless? Junja could not understand the old woman’s behavior. Had she really taken leave of her senses? Was it age? Or did the constable hold some strange sway over her?
The old woman knew that her granddaughter was deeply rattled, but chose to ignore her questions. “When you show Constable Lee the caves, Junja, pay close attention.”
“To what?”
“To what sort of man he really is.”
“I already know what sort of man he is.” Junja’s mouth turned down.
The old woman shook her head. “You think you do, but you don’t. Mr. Lee wants everyone to see a man who isn’t worth noticing.”
“Why? He’s a Nationalist constable. He’s free to do whatever he wants.”
“Is that so?”
“He carries a gun, Halmung. That gives him quite a bit of freedom, I think.” The girl placed the chicken and a knife into a large bowl.
“Do you really beli
eve the constable is free to do whatever he wants just because he carries a gun?”
Grandmother’s quiet tone gave Junja pause. She was being unspeakably rude to talk back to an elder in such a manner and felt embarrassed underneath her frustration. Junja swallowed all the questions that were rising in her throat, choosing instead to close her mouth and obey. “I’ll leave the chicken next to the woodpile, Halmung. The constable and I should be back from the caves in an hour.” The girl pulled the door shut behind her.
* * *
The tide washed over the rocks, trailing foam that hissed as it dissolved. A small crab disappeared behind a rock.
Junja watched the water as the constable stood next to her.
“Why are we standing here?” He scratched his armpit.
The sound of his voice set Junja’s teeth on edge. “I need to time the tides. Getting into the caves is more difficult when the water is rising.”
“Why are we here? Why not over there? That area looks calmer.” The constable pointed to a pool where the water swirled between several rocks.
“You can’t get to the caves that way.”
“Well, I don’t see how we can get to any caves this way either.”
“That’s why you’re following me and not the other way around.” Junja knew that she was being impolite, but she couldn’t help herself. Grandmother might be fooled, but she refused to be taken in by this man.
As the tide pulled away, the girl rushed to leap onto a momentarily exposed boulder. She then ducked under a low arch of rock, crouched, and swiveled hard to the right while clinging onto a ledge of rock. When the constable mimicked her maneuver, he almost slipped and fell. As he recovered, disappointment clouded Junja’s face.
To her surprise, the constable chortled out loud. “What a cheeky girl! Just like your grandmother!”
Junja clambered up a pathway that threaded between several large boulders, moving so quickly that the constable had difficulty keeping up with her. She didn’t check to see if he was still following until she reached the opening of the cave. When she turned around and saw him, she didn’t bother to hide her displeasure.
The air at the mouth of the cavern tasted cool. The constable took a step into the darkness to explore further, but Junja didn’t budge.
“You’ve seen the caves. Time to go back.” Her voice was taut.
Constable Lee rummaged in his pockets before pulling out a matchbook. The tiny flame cast shadows high up along the walls of the cave and illuminated his face, transforming it into an angular mask of dark and light.
The girl’s eyes glinted as she hissed, “If someone finds out what we’ve done, my grandmother and I will be cast out of the village.”
The flame sputtered out.
The constable struck another match. “These are dangerous times. Do you really think your grandmother would take such a risk without good reason?
His eyes appeared sad in that light, his mouth grave.
The light flared and then blinked out.
The darkness seemed to press against them as the constable spoke again. He sounded tired. “I understand your worries. If you’d like to go now, we can. And I’ll forget I ever saw this place.”
Junja did not answer. The silence between them echoed the emptiness of the cave. She didn’t trust the constable at all. But she did trust her grandmother.
When she finally spoke, Junja’s voice was subdued. “If you have any matches left, sir, we could light one of the candles.”
* * *
The lower walls of the cave were serrated in layers of gray and jade green. Higher up, the rocky surface broke off at angular intervals, creating ledges and openings that were filled with gourds and clay pots. Irregular columns of rock seemed to drip from the ceiling, while trails of moisture seeped down in shiny patterns between patches of moss.
“How far does it go?” The constable held up the candle, which cast an eerie glow.
Junja knew that the constable was surprised by the size of the cavern. Even with supplies tucked into every nook and cranny, there was enough space here for a dozen people to sit comfortably. She gestured for him to follow her behind an overhang of rock.
They ventured deeper, the way lit by candlelight. With each step the ceiling and walls seemed to veer away as the tunnel gradually enlarged into a domed chamber spacious enough to sleep the entire village.
“Did the villagers make this place?” The constable raised the candle to illuminate the high ceiling.
“No. All of this has always been here.” Grandmother used to tell bedtime stories about the giants who had once battled each other for dominion over the earth. The last dragons had gathered in these caves before they launched themselves from the mountain to the heavens, to escape the chaos.
The constable rested both hands on the cavern walls, peering up. “The university scientists say that Hallasan is a sleeping volcano, a kind of mountain that spits liquid rock from deep within the earth.” He ran his hands over the ridged walls. “These caves are most likely tunnels formed by those rivers of burning rock. My guess is that they run all the way back toward the mountain itself.”
Junja knew that they did.
“It’s probably easy to get lost in here, right?”
“Yes.”
The constable squinted past Junja, toward a darkened corridor.
“There must be more than one entrance. Those supplies could not have been brought here using the route we took.”
Junja’s silence was affirmation enough.
“Only the villagers who live here know about this place? No other outsiders besides myself?”
Junja nodded.
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
The candle sputtered. As Junja watched, Mr. Lee shifted his expression, blurring his features. His shoulders hunched, and his belly paunched out. His voice slid back into a lazy drawl.
“My stomach says it’s time to eat. We should head back to your grandmother and lunch.”
* * *
“It pains me to admit this, but this is the most delicious chicken soup I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating.” The constable took loud slurps from his bowl. “Even better than my mama’s.”
If Junja hadn’t witnessed the constable’s transformation in the sea caves, she would not have believed that this was a man worth taking seriously.
Grandmother inclined her head modestly. “I’m sure that by the time your mother reaches my age, her cooking will be just as good, if not better.”
Junja stared at her grandmother and wondered if she, too, was putting on an act for her sake. Surely her grandmother had seen the constable’s other face. Why weren’t the two of them talking openly, without any pretense?
“Spoken like a true lady, with a humility that makes me deeply regret the request I’m about to make.” The constable belched. “Troops from the mainland will be stationed here in a few days. We need a cook. I’ve recommended you and Junja. The pay would not be much, but you’d be assured of adequate provisions while you worked for us. Should come in handy this winter. Your skills will be largely wasted upon this lot, but the job is yours, if you want it.”
Junja flushed. “Nationalist troops? In our village?”
“Yes. They’re coming to build fortifications. Hallasan has been banned. It’s a no-trespass zone.”
“What does that mean?” Junja hoped that Suwol and his family weren’t in danger.
“It means no one is allowed to set foot on it. Everyone who lives on that mountain has to leave.” The constable pulled a splinter loose from a piece of kindling and began to pick his teeth.
“The rumors are true?” Junja felt a spike of worry.
“I’m afraid so.” Mr. Lee set down his toothpick. “But it’s a very large mountain. Enforcing the ban will be difficult.”
Junja could not read the constable’s expression. She looked to her grandmother.
The old woman’s face was also unfathomable. “Can you clean up while Mr. Lee and I finish
our tea? When you’re done, go pick some kkaennip. The feral patches on the north side have the best flavor. Get two baskets worth. We’ll prepare them after the constable takes his leave.”
Such a quantity could only mean that they were finally going on a long overdue visit to the farmer’s market in Seogwipo. “For trade or for sale, Halmung?” Junja began to collect the dishes.
The old woman knew what her granddaughter was thinking. “These are not for town. We’re headed up island to the market in Jeju City.” The old woman glanced at the constable. “Mr. Lee will be escorting us.”
Fifteen
Grandmother yanked Junja away from a pasty man with gleaming teeth who was waving a slim dark package in the girl’s face.
“Hey, beautiful! Want some chocolate?”
“Don’t look at the hindoongi!” the old woman hissed. But the girl could not help staring at those exaggerated foreign faces with complexions like cadavers.
They had left the village on a donkey cart. Next, they boarded a military bus that looped the perimeter of the island. Grandmother had grabbed Junja, startled, as the vehicle hurtled past villages that took an entire day to reach by foot. Once they grew accustomed to the bumpy lurching, the two of them had relaxed into the ride. Junja stared out the window, marveling at how quickly the landscape passed by, while the old woman snoozed on her shoulder. They reached Jeju City’s outer gate by midday, with plenty of time for the market. Constable Lee took his leave at this point, promising to meet them in the same place at sunrise the next morning. Military business, he apologized, would prevent him from escorting them all the way to market.
Grandmother had waved him away, unconcerned. “All we need to do is follow the stink.”
The streets of Jeju City were jammed with bodies, and the harbor choked with vessels. Hulking gray ships with foreign lettering were anchored far out at sea. In port, their smaller tenders towered over wooden skiffs that had squeezed in to drop off the morning catch. Tall, beak-nosed soldiers with blank faces and machine guns guarded the gangways to these vessels.