by Mi-ae Seo
Sergeant Yu looked around for Sangwuk.
Sangwuk was checking up on the situation, questioning the fire fighters who were putting their gear away. By finding out how the fire fighters worked at the scene and the processes involved, you could prevent errors. Sergeant Yu waited for Sangwuk to finish his task, and looked down at the girl.
Soon, Sangwuk exchanged his final words with the fire fighters, and approached Sergeant Yu.
“We should start making our way in, huh?” he asked the sergeant.
Sangwuk, who clearly wanted to start their primary investigation now that the fire was extinguished, saw the girl standing next to Sergeant Yu. Then he looked back at Sergeant Yu. His face was full of questions. Sergeant Yu pointed to the alleyway with his chin.
Sangwuk realized only then that she was a victim of the fire, and bent down to pat the girl on her head.
“You must’ve been very shocked. You’re not hurt? Where’s your mom?” he asked the girl.
There was a pause before she spoke.
“She’s dead.”
The tears that had barely been managing to stay in her eyes began to trickle down. Startled by the girl’s answer, Sangwuk stared at Sergeant Yu, not knowing what to say.
“Is she . . . still inside?” Sergeant Yu asked the girl.
The girl shook her head fiercely, then clammed up as if to say she didn’t want to talk anymore. She turned sullen after the talk of her mother, and clutched her teddy bear even tighter. Then, avoiding Sangwuk’s gaze, she buried her face in the stuffed animal’s face.
Sergeant Yu, who had been watching, spoke to Sangwuk in a low voice.
“Her dad must’ve come out. She wants us to take her to him.”
“We can take her in the ambulance, then. He must be at West Hospital. Should I check to make sure?”
“My dad’s at Seoul Hospital,” interjected the girl, who a moment before had been reluctant to talk.
“Seoul Hospital?”
Sergeant Yu stared at the girl, then looked over at Sangwuk.
“Is there a Seoul Hospital around here?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never heard of it before, either.”
There were several designated hospitals to which victims of fires in the region were taken. There was no hospital named Seoul Hospital there, though. The girl, feeling frustrated, wiped away the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand, and took out a card from her pocket and handed it to Sangwuk.
“This is my dad’s phone number. Please call him,” she said.
Taking the card in his hand, Sangwuk gave Sergeant Yu a puzzled look.
“What are you waiting for? Call him!” said the sergeant.
At the words, Sangwuk hurriedly took his phone out and made the call.
“Hello? Um . . . is this Mr. Yun Jaeseong?” he asked when someone picked up.
The voice on the other end of the line sounded barely awake. It seemed that the man didn’t know anything about the fire. No one would be pleased to take a call so early in the morning. Gruffly, the girl’s father asked what was going on.
“Your daughter is looking for you. We’re in Eungam-dong. There’s been a fire. . . . Yes. Yes, that’s right. Around Jeongseong Villa on Dalmaji Street. Yes. . . . Don’t worry. She’s safe. Yes. . . . Yes.”
The girl’s father, alarmed at the news of the fire, confirmed the address and said he would be there soon, and hung up.
As soon as Sangwuk put his phone back in his pocket, the girl tugged at his pants. He quickly looked down at the girl. Hope and excitement shone in her eyes.
“Is he coming?” she asked eagerly.
“Yes, he’ll be here soon, if you wait here.”
The girl’s face relaxed with relief. The fear and anxiety disappeared instantly. Sangwuk looked around to see that the ambulance was gone. Sergeant Yu and Sangwuk left the girl in the care of the police, and made their way to the scene of the fire in the alleyway.
THE RESCUE TEAM HAD LEFT, and the remaining fire fighters had broken down the burnt doors and were checking inside the house. Sergeant Yu and Sangwuk also began to look around.
It seemed that the detached house at the dead end of the street, and the apartment building next to it, had sustained the greatest damage.
Sergeant Yu and Sangwuk walked over to the house.
When they entered the gate, they saw a yard with several trees and a single-story structure. The yard was a mess from the efforts to put the fire out. Black water had leaked out of the building and formed puddles here and there. Sergeant Yu and Sangwuk turned on their flashlights and began to look around, paying careful attention to the outer wall of the building, which had turned black.
The house was almost completely burnt down, with all the windows broken, and the walls covered in black soot. The two-story apartment building next to the house was burnt as well, with the balcony windows shattered. Beyond the door the interior could be seen, all black. Electronic goods and furniture had melted in the fire and were dripping with black water. It was an appalling sight; it didn’t seem possible that people once lived there. The place, swept through by red flames, had turned into hell.
Flames leave footprints on walls, in the form of soot.
Sergeant Yu and Sangwuk checked the soot-covered walls of the house and the apartment building, sidestepping the puddles.
“It looks like the flames spread from the house to the apartment.”
At Sangwuk’s words, Sergeant Yu nodded. Sergeant Yu went to the back of the house and checked the space where it connected to the apartment.
The wall of the house was adjacent to the outer wall of the apartment building. There must have been a lot of stuff piled up in between, for the space was filled with burnt refuse. Smoke rose occasionally from the remains, drenched in water, as if the fire weren’t done with the house yet.
Sangwuk touched the debris that had turned into lumps of charcoal, then rubbed the soot with the tips of his fingers. He tapped a lump with the tip of his shoe, and sniffed it.
“I think it’s a mixture of wood and chemicals. And I think there were some Styrofoam boards as well,” he said.
“They must’ve been left over from the construction. Doors and construction materials.”
“Yes, it looks like it.”
If this space had been empty, the fire might not have spread to the building next door. The plywood and Styrofoam boards must have served as a stepping stone for the fire to spread from the house to the apartment building.
Sergeant Yu and Sangwuk went back out to the front yard. Fire fighters who had gone inside the house shouted that dead bodies had been found. One of the men ran outside the alleyway for a stretcher.
Sergeant Yu frowned without realizing it.
A fire breaking out early in the morning was bound to cause more deaths than usual because most people were sound asleep. The family in the house must have been killed in their sleep, not knowing there was a fire. Sergeant Yu went inside with a fire fighter, preparing for the worst.
An acrid smell stung his lungs. He put on a mask and entered the main room. The fire fighter who had been keeping watch there nodded at him. Sergeant Yu barely acknowledged him, and looked at the dead bodies in the room.
There were two of them. It seemed that they had been sleeping side by side when they died. The burnt bodies looked like those of a husband and wife. Sergeant Yu barely managed to fight off the nausea, and pressed his mask closer to his face with his hand.
Looking at the bodies and the room, Sergeant Yu instinctively sensed that something was wrong.
Something inexplicable was caught up in his brain and would not leave. He approached the dead bodies and lifted the half-burnt cotton comforter. The parts of the bodies that had been covered by the comforter must not have been touched by the flames, for they were not damaged. Sergeant Yu was shocked, but tried not to come to a rash conclusion.
Sangwuk, who had been about to come into the room, saw the dead bodies and backed out. He had been
working as a fire inspector for quite some time, but still avoided seeing dead bodies if he could. Sergeant Yu left the room, asked the fire fighters not to touch anything inside for a while, and went out the gate. Sangwuk, who had been pacing around in the yard, followed him and asked, “Where are you off to?”
“To get the camera from the car.”
“I have one.”
“Not yours, mine. I need to take the pictures myself.”
Sensing the stiffness in the sergeant’s voice, Sangwuk clamped his mouth shut. By saying that he was taking the pictures himself, Sergeant Yu was implying that there was a crime involved in the fire. He needed to take detailed photographs that would identify the scene.
At that moment, the phone rang in Sangwuk’s pocket. He checked the number and took the call. It was the girl’s father, whom he had called earlier. He said he was almost there, and asked where his daughter was.
“There’s a patrol car right at the mouth of the alleyway. That’s where you should go,” Sangwuk said.
“Her father must be here,” he then said to Sergeant Yu.
Sergeant Yu blocked the way as Sangwuk made to follow him.
“What’s the matter?” Sangwuk asked.
“I’ll talk to him, so stay here and keep watch.”
Sergeant Yu, worried that the scene might be compromised, left Sangwuk there and quickly headed out of the alleyway toward the patrol car on the main street.
The alleyway, which had earlier been so crowded, was quiet. All had withdrawn except for the bare minimum number of fire trucks and ambulances. There was much less of a crowd now. The fire had been put out, and it being early in the morning, people must have returned home to get some more sleep, or to get ready for work.
Sergeant Yu hurriedly got his camera from the car and approached the patrol car. He didn’t see a uniformed officer. Looking around for one, he peeked into the car.
The girl was lying on the backseat, asleep.
After the shock of the fire, she must have been relieved to hear that her father was coming.
Even while sleeping, she clutched the teddy bear tightly. She coughed from time to time, frowning as if in pain. She must have inhaled smoke. But after fumbling to make sure that the teddy bear was still in her arms, she fell into deep sleep, looking relieved. Sergeant Yu felt sorry for the child, who was able to sleep soundly even after going through something so terrible. How many nights would she lie restless because of what happened that night?
“Oh, she’s asleep. I bought some milk for her because she said her throat hurt.”
Sergeant Yu turned around and saw a uniformed officer with milk and cookies in his hands. He must’ve felt sorry for the child as well.
“Where’s her family?” the officer asked.
“Her father is on his way,” replied Sergeant Yu.
“That’s good.”
Sergeant Yu looked at the girl for some time, then turned around and looked for her father.
A man parked his car and came rushing out.
He ran into the alleyway, then stopped in his tracks, startled by the sight of the fire trucks, as well as the fire fighters who were busy cleaning up. Looking at the alleyway, his face hardened with shock.
“Mr. Yun Jaeseong?” Sergeant Yu called out.
The man turned around to see the man who had called his name, then saw the sergeant and approached him. His face was trembling with fear. His voice was urgent as he asked, “Where’s my daughter?”
“Don’t worry. She’s asleep over there. She’s not hurt.”
The man hurried over to the patrol car to make sure that she was safe. Finding her asleep, he heaved a sigh of relief and returned to Sergeant Yu.
“Where are my in-laws? Are they hurt? Where are they?” he asked the sergeant.
“The injured have been transferred to a nearby hospital.”
Sergeant Yu was about to say that he’d confirm with the hospital, but stopped himself. He was overcome by an ominous feeling.
“Which one’s their home?” he asked.
“The one at the end of the alleyway.”
“Is it the detached house in front of the apartment building?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
The image of the couple who had been lying dead with a blanket pulled over their heads flashed through Sergeant Yu’s mind. The couple must have been the child’s maternal grandparents.
The man saw the look on Sergeant Yu’s face and understood immediately. His mouth dropped open in disbelief. He blinked as he tried to find the right words.
“Are they both . . . dead?” he asked at last.
Sergeant Yu nodded, avoiding his eyes. He could sense the man’s body go limp.
“Where . . . have their bodies been taken?” the man asked further.
“Well . . .” The sergeant hesitated.
It wasn’t easy to get the words out. He couldn’t really explain what had happened yet.
Things would become clearer after an investigation of the scene and an autopsy. Until then, he couldn’t tell someone who was undergoing shock from losing family that the cause of death was murder, not fire. Sergeant Yu decided that it wouldn’t be too late to tell him after he had overcome the initial shock.
“You should take your daughter home for now. We’ll give you a call. She must be exhausted,” he said.
The man remembered his daughter, and turned around and looked at the patrol car, nodding his head.
“Was your wife in the house, too?” Sergeant Yu asked.
“Huh?”
The man looked at Sergeant Yu with a startled expression on his face.
The girl had said a little earlier that her mother was dead. The house hadn’t been thoroughly checked, so there might be another body inside.
“No, my wife . . . died a year ago,” said the man.
“Oh . . . I’m sorry. There’s been a misunderstanding.”
As Sergeant Yu apologized, the man waved his hands, indicating it was all right, and went up to the patrol car.
Sergeant Yu saw the man open the car door and take the girl in his arms, then headed toward the alleyway.
As he fiddled with the camera in his hands, his mind began to speed up.
Murder, huh? We really need to look at the scene from a different angle now, he thought.
It was gradually growing light as the sun came up.
2.
WHAT’S THE OLDEST MEMORY IN YOUR HEAD?
Going to kindergarten, holding your mom’s hand? No, something older than that, the first memory engraved in the inner folds of the brain.
They say that you don’t remember things from when you were a baby. I don’t know whether you don’t remember them because they happened too long ago, or if memories that aren’t that important are discarded, but in any case, I’m curious as to what people keep tucked deep within their brains as their first memories.
“What’s the oldest memory in your head?”
That is the first thing I ask when I meet people. Somehow, it seems that the first memory in someone’s head determines his destiny or personality. And it seems that you can tell what kind of person he is based on the memory.
The oldest memory I’ve ever heard of was from a man who remembered getting a bowl of seaweed soup on his first birthday.
It being his first birthday, it had been exactly a year since he was born into the world. I asked him how he remembered that, and he said that as soon as he got the bowl, he threw up in it. That’s why he never forgot. I had a drink from time to time with this man who never had seaweed soup after that, and I think his habit of throwing up formed on that day.
If such a nauseating memory was my first memory, I would want to throw up, too. Still, his is better than mine.
Once in a while, I picture myself doing something.
I’m lying in a comfortable chair, and tracing my memory as the hypnotist tells me to. As you go back in time, you remember your childhood days, even your mother’s womb, they say. Some p
eople see their past lives. I don’t want to find out about my past life, of course. I don’t even believe in such things.
What I’d like to know is what my mom looked like when I came out through darkness into the world. I want to know what kind of look she had on her face at that moment.
Why?
I think it’s because my mom told me that she hated me before I was even born.
She said she didn’t look at me after I came out. The nurse handed me to her, but she set me aside, saying she didn’t want to touch me, and fell asleep. She slept with her back toward me, and when she woke up and turned around without thinking, she saw me and was scared out of her wits. She said it gave her the chills to see me lying still, not crying when I had been set aside.
I wanted to know if she really didn’t look at me, if she didn’t smile at me, not even once. Did she really hate me, when I had been in her womb for nine months, and had come out into the world through her? Didn’t she smile brightly at me, just once? Didn’t she want to reach out a hand and touch those wriggling fingers, to kiss the soft, tender cheeks? I don’t remember because I was too young, but I want to look in every nook and cranny of my brain to see if there had ever been such a moment.
If you could see the memories of my mom in my mind right now, you would understand.
The first memory in my mind begins with darkness.
I’m struggling because it feels as if my heart is being ripped to shreds and I can’t breathe. Suddenly, the darkness lifts and my mom is looking down at me with a blank expression on her face. I finally manage to breathe again; gasping, I look at the world through my tears. When the pain in my chest finally subsides and I can breathe normally, my mom, who has been staring at me, begins to scream. She bites into the pillow she’s holding in her hands, and sobs in pain. The sound is so terrifying that I, unable to hold back, start bawling as well. My mom shakes me and screams even louder, writhing. I don’t know how old I was. Two? Three? Probably around that age because I could barely speak.