Reload

by David McCaleb

  Hands still raised, Ko slowly lifted the clutch, showing the man he wasn’t trying to run away. He started to slide out the door; then a muzzle jabbed his back. He turned his head. The doctor was behind him.

  “My sister.” He pointed to the bed again. “She’s freezing.” He wrapped his hands around his shoulders and pretended to shiver. The doctor nodded, but didn’t lower the weapon. Did that mean Ko could move now?

  Whatever. They’d just have to figure it out. Soo Jin needed to get warm or she wouldn’t wake up, ever. He lifted his hands again to show he wasn’t going to run or fight, then walked to the tailgate. The doctor followed, weapon raised.

  When Ko stepped around the back, Pumpkin Beard was already there, pistol again aimed at Ko’s head. He pointed to the bed, then mimed a shiver once more. He climbed onto the tailgate and pointed inside. Pumpkin Beard spoke sharply. The doctor holstered his weapon, then scrambled beneath the tarp. He shouted as he shined a flashlight into Soo Jin’s eyes, prying apart her eyelids.

  Her gaze seemed fixed on the distant sky. But then, suddenly, her mouth curled up when her eyes met Ko’s.

  Her speech was slow and soft. “I’m OK, brother. It’s much warmer, now.”

  Like hell. It had dropped at least ten degrees with the increase in altitude. A medic had once told Ko you always felt warmer before cold death came. Each year border guards had to sit through an hour’s training on how to recognize the signs.

  The doctor lifted and heaved her over the tailgate to Ko. He pressed his cheek against hers, cold as a frozen potato, and ran to the cab. He climbed up and swung her in, then slid next to her.

  Her head flopped loosely on her neck. She leaned away, to lie upon the seat. “So...tired. Let me rest.”

  He gripped an arm and pulled her back up, raising the collar of the stiff woolen trench coat to warm her neck. “Not now, sister.” He slapped her cheeks gently. “Stay awake for a little bit. I need you to...” The medic had also said to give the patient something to think about. Some task or job to keep the mind awake. He glanced around the cab. What could it be?

  Pumpkin Beard opened the passenger door and slid in. His weapon was still gripped in one bloody hand, but no longer trained at Ko. Eyes were still swollen and red. He carried the scent of burnt wool. Several holes were punched in the chest and belly of his rubber suit. He unsnapped a catch across his stomach and slipped a backpack from his shoulders, letting it thud onto the floor. From a pouch he pulled out what looked like an ammo clip wrapped in brown plastic. When he tore open the covering the air smelled sweet, like dried plums. He held up a tan bar and passed it to Ko, pointing to Soo Jin’s mouth.

  Ko sniffed the block. Chocolate and something meaty he couldn’t place, but the scent reminded him of dinners at his mother’s table. His mouth watered. He broke off a piece and held it to her lips.

  She turned her head away. “Let me sleep, brother.”

  Pumpkin Beard slid closer, sandwiching Soo Jin upright between them. He lifted an arm and wrapped it around her shoulder, just as Ko was doing on the other side. His weapon lay on the seat next to him, now. Sweat beaded on his face as the engine warmed and the heater blew hot. He unzipped his rubber suit. Several shiny metal pieces stuck out of a black vest beneath. He pinched one and plucked it out. A bullet. Ko had seen many mushroomed flat like it, digging into a sand berm behind targets at the firing range. Its jagged edges snagged on the vest’s fiber. Pumpkin Beard held it up to the dim light spilling through the windshield, then placed it in Soo Jin’s palm. As he spoke gently her fingers wrapped tightly around it. A drop of sweat ran down his nose.

  The red-bearded man squeezed her tightly, moving his legs closer to hers. It wasn’t sexual, Ko knew. He’d seen the hateful pangs of lust in the eyes of guards. This man was just trying to provide the aid of any body heat he had. For a minute, his face even softened. More sweat, or perhaps a tear, ran down his cheek. It was then Ko knew Pumpkin Beard understood the bond of family. A tie that anchors us to our parents, our ancestors, back through the ages, to men and women we never knew, but to whom we were indebted nonetheless. This American spoke a foreign language and grew a beard the strange color of a vegetable. Yet he, too, was tied to his family, and must understand why Ko had betrayed his country. The two of them might not be so very different.

  The man smiled, but it vanished as he pressed his ear with his free hand and spoke to someone calling on his miniature radio.

  Ko patted his sister’s cheeks again. She was starting to shiver. A good sign. “You’ve got to stay awake and tell us when it’s OK to go. When you see all the men run to the back of the truck.”

  She spoke slowly. Her voice, a whisper. “Yes.”

  He lifted a piece of the sweet bar to her lips again. “This man says you must eat this.” She sighed, then opened her mouth like a child and accepted it. She sucked on the bite for a minute, like a piece of candy, then began to chew.

  Windows from the office building shattered as one of the soldiers broke them from the inside. Another stood atop the fuel truck’s tank and lifted a hose to a second-story opening. He shouted down to the one at the pump who waved an arm and yelled back. That one fiddled with valves, but he’d forgotten to engage the gear case. Pumpkin Beard frowned and pressed his ear again. He spoke in rapid bursts, looking toward the commotion.

  Ko pointed to a lever below their seat. “Got to engage the gear case.”

  Pumpkin Beard scowled, sliding his hand across the seat and gripping his weapon.

  Ko pointed toward the tank truck again, then beneath their own seat, near Soo Jin’s ankles. “The gear case. It will not work unless he engages it.” If these men couldn’t even figure out how to work a fuel truck, how were they going to get his family out of the country?

  The man pointed his weapon at Ko, then waved it toward the fuel truck in a get moving motion.

  Ko cupped Soo Jin’s cheeks, turning her face to face him. Her body quivered, but he caught her gaze. “Stay awake. Let me know when we can go, remember?”

  He backed out and the door closed with a solid click. Vapor rose from the hood of the dump truck. He ran toward the tanker, the incompetent soldier still looking puzzled and twisting valves, glancing back at Ko, as if he’d been anticipating his arrival.

  Chapter 35 – Fatal Fall

  Ko stopped near the cab, feet sliding on ice. He pointed to the gear case. “You ready for me to turn it on?”

  The man pressed his ear radio and spoke gibberish.

  A second later, Jellyfish stuck his head out of a broken window, scowling down. “What now?”

  “The gear case isn’t engaged. You’ve got to do that to run the pump. You ready for the fuel to start coming?”

  The man actually smiled. “Yeah, dog meat. Screw it up!” He waved the nozzle out the window and ran inside, the squeak of the winding hose reel echoing from otherwise silent darkness.

  Ko stepped up into the cab, reached beneath the seat, and pulled on a black knob. It slid out several inches, the last few only after the grind and pop of gears engaging. Immediately from the broken window above came muted singing, but only a line or two. Ko tried to make out the words and caught something about the “East Sea’s waters.” Heresy! It was South Korea’s national anthem.

  Jellyfish ran from the door toward the dump truck. “Let’s go!”

  Everyone sprinted faster than Ko could keep up. This time, when he opened the dump truck’s door, Soo Jin’s lips were no longer blue.

  “They’re all back, brother. We can go.”

  Pumpkin Beard was gone. Jellyfish slipped into the cab in his place. Soo Jin leaned over and puked on his boots. The man didn’t seem to notice. The cab smelled of sticky sweetness and stomach acid, like lemon water.

  Curling his lip, Jellyfish pushed her away. “Drive! The same way we came.”

  Ko let out the clutch and pulled his sister close be
fore shifting again. He drove straight for the guard shack, slamming over a parking curb, past six silent bodies sprawled on ice mounds he’d shoveled not long before. The truck passed the golden statue, its hand still outstretched, but the accusing index finger had somehow been broken off.

  Yellow light from fire flooded the valley now, illuminating the guard shack, stretching its silhouette across the meadow all the way to the forest toward which he drove. The shadow of the truck cut across the shed as they passed the steps where Unibrow lay facedown, halfway in the road.

  Ko squinted into the side-view. Hot blue-and-yellow flame reached like arms from the roof of the office building. The fuel truck ignited and the top of the tank flew skyward, spinning off like the flying saucer in the black-and-white movie his mother had once allowed them to watch as a child. He steered clear of the dead guard, smacking the side mirror on a fence post. Concertina wire sounded a metallic ching-ching-ching vibrating from the strike. He pushed the side-view out again, its mirror shattered, but he could still study the dancing flames in the cracked glass, the statue silhouetted black by golden fire.

  You failed, dear leader. Family is stronger than juche.

  Jellyfish wrinkled his nose and edged back in the seat, then cracked the vent near the windshield. “We need to put her in the bed with the others.”

  Ko shook his head. “No. She’s coming out of cold death. It’d kill her.”

  “Having her in front might get her killed. Us, too. Our lookout says headlights are coming down from the next valley.”

  White-and-brown birch trunks flashed past the window behind Jellyfish. His eyes no longer seemed the odd texture of crinkled wax paper. They were large and round now, like a drum fish, as if he were scared.

  “The doctor put her up here,” Ko added firmly.

  Approaching headlights blazed around the turnoff onto the main road. Jellyfish pushed Soo Jin down to the floorboard, trying to tuck her beneath the seat. Thin as she was, however, several lengths of chain stored down there made it a tight fit. She grunted in effort.

  “Shut up!” Jellyfish hissed.

  The lights swerved into the middle of the road, blocking their way. Ko pulled the truck forward till the raised plow shielded his dazzled eyes.

  “Don’t ram them. Go, see what they want,” Jellyfish whispered. “Just get us past. Lookout says others are coming a few minutes behind.”

  Ko raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you just blow up their heads?”

  “No. Trees in the way.”

  “Shoot them?”

  “It just takes one call; then they lock down the port.”

  A figured stepped from a Kozlik jeep. Headlights obscured a clear view. Ko shifted to neutral, set the parking brake, and stepped from the cab. He ambled to the plow and leaned against it, holding a hand up to shield his eyes. “I need to get past. I’m supposed to—”

  “Stay where you are!” a voice shouted. Ko could make out the form of a rifle now, slung around his neck, pointed toward him.

  He smiled. “I’m not moving. Get your jeep out of the way.”

  “Walk forward. Arms up!”

  Ko scowled. “Why? Who are you?”

  The figure marched toward him. Once in front of headlights, Ko saw he was a guard in full winter coat, field belt, and PPS-43 submachine gun held to his hip. Glare shone from polished black boots. Ko straightened and held his arms out, parallel to the ground.

  “Get away from the truck.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” Damn it. Other vehicles were only a few minutes away. Was this guy alone? Maybe he could knock him out.

  Black Boots swung his weapon to point at the jeep. “Get in the back.”

  “I’m a sangsa. I demand to be allowed to pass.”

  “I don’t care who you are. Get in the back.” The guard raised his weapon in front of him.

  “OK. No need to be ugly. But I demand to speak with your captain of the guard.” Ko stepped slowly toward the jeep.

  Passing the vehicle’s front tire, he noticed another soldier in the front seat, a radio to his mouth. “We’ll hold till you arrive,” he was saying.

  How could Ko take out two of them? The headlights must be blinding the commandos in the back of the dump bed from shooting. Black Boots, the one prodding his back with the rifle, was following too close. Might be able to wrestle the weapon free, but then the other would—

  “Sangsa, what’s going on?” Jellyfish shouted. He stepped from the cab and walked toward them, hands raised.

  “Stay where you are!” the soldier with the radio yelled.

  Jellyfish cupped a hand to one ear and leaned forward. “Eh, what’s that?”

  The ruse may work, Ko thought, since both vehicles’ engines are still running. He glanced at Black Boots, whose attention had been diverted to the new scene.

  “Where you taking my sangsa?” Jellyfish grumbled. “We supposed to plow this road or—”

  “Stay where you are!” the radio guard shouted again, louder.

  Still Jellyfish kept the hand to his ear as if he couldn’t hear. The soldier put down the mic, chambered a round in an identical PPS-43, and marched toward him. The commando stood still, both arms raised now, hands steady. Radio Guard stopped in front of him and shouted, “I said—”

  Jellyfish whipped a hand down and across, gripping the weapon. Quick as a trout striking a line, the machine gun was upside down in Jellyfish’s hand. He squeezed, and blood sprayed from Radio Guard’s back onto the jeep, the muzzle buried deep in the man’s belly, muffling the shots. “I heard you the first time,” he sneered.

  Black Boots’ eyes widened. He swung his own weapon toward Jellyfish. Ko slammed the jeep’s open door against his side, shoving him against the vehicle, but the man managed to keep his footing. Ko pinned the weapon to the window, clenched his fist, and pounded the man’s face, envisioning his punches hard enough to sink deep into his skull, just as his unarmed-combat instructor had once taught. Black Boots slumped onto the road, and Ko heaved a sigh. His side hurt like hell. Maybe he’d pulled a muscle. But then he looked down and noticed the blade in Black Boots’ hand, its tip dipped in red.

  Ignoring the pain, he snatched up the bloody knife and thrust it into Black Boots’ neck. No one was going stop him from getting his girls out. He heaved the dead man and threw him onto the cracked black vinyl of the jeep’s rear seat. Pointing to Jellyfish, he said, “Dump yours in the back, too.” Ko slid behind the steering wheel. He grabbed the mic, still warm, and pressed the black transmit button: “This truck checks out. Saw other lights coming from the valley. Driving in to investigate.” Before whoever was on the other end could respond in protest, he ripped the mic cable from the radio.

  Jellyfish leaned over his shoulder. Ko met his gaze. “They’ll think we drove toward the office building.” He gripped the steering wheel. “I’ll take this jeep to the base of the ridge. Tell the last commando to meet us there. I’ll hide this jeep, then get back in the plow truck.” He gripped Jellyfish’s collar. “You watch my sister and daughter.” Then he shoved him away, shifted into reverse, backed up slowly, and started onto the main road, turning off headlights. The vehicle bumped onto the icy hardpack, bobbing like his father’s boat in soft chop.

  The dump truck’s lights dimmed as well, its gears crunching with the unsettling sound of a tooth snapping off. Above the valley a low cloud floated eastward, reflecting flashes of gold and yellow against a starry sky. It seemed to follow them. A good omen, his mother would have said. But then she had seen good omens in everything. Still, maybe she was sending one to Ko, now.

  It seemed an hour passed, though it must’ve only been ten minutes before they made it over the potholed road to the bend where they’d first dropped off Pumpkin Beard and the last commando. Ko’s side ached, right above his belt. He’d pressed one forearm against it but was scared to look down again. Maybe the
doctor could stitch it up, though he’d probably do more damage than good on this hellish road. He kept the accelerator pressed, setting a good pace. The passengers in the back of the dump truck had to feel like tossed salad.

  Pulling to the road’s shoulder, he opened the door and swung his legs out. Standing, lightness whirled about his head. He hadn’t eaten for over a day. Maybe he was hurt more badly than he’d thought. His pants felt cold, stuck to his leg. Glancing down, he saw they were halfway soaked in blood. He pressed his side harder with both hands.

  The last commando appeared next to him, as if from nowhere.

  “Think I need the doctor.”

  The man said nothing, just got into the jeep’s driver’s seat.

  “Hey! You can’t—”

  The man held up a hand, put a heavy rock on the accelerator, and jammed the gearshift into first. He turned the wheels toward the edge of the road, stood with one foot outside on ice and popped the clutch with the other. The vehicle lurched forward, spun, and went over the edge, down toward the river. The engine growled like a grinding wheel until it clattered to a halt.

  The dump truck stopped and the last commando ran to the tailgate. As Ko opened the passenger door, heat burst from the cab. Soo Jin no longer had her coat wrapped tight. More sweat rolled down Jellyfish’s cheeks now.

  Ko tried to step up, but his leg wouldn’t cooperate. He frowned as his grip on the door handle slipped. He was falling backward, so he sat down with a crunch, then toppled onto hard ice. Soo Jin jumped from the cab. She grabbed her coat and covered his body with it, pinching his cheeks like she used to at the kitchen table. Her mouth moved, shaping words. I think she’s crying, he marveled. But why?

  Jellyfish pushed her away and jerked off the jacket, then ripped open Ko’s uniform top.

  Funny, he thought, it’s warming out here. Maybe I’ve got cold death.

  He managed to grip the commando’s collar. “My girls. Keep them...safe.”

  Jellyfish nodded, eyes once again the sheen of wax paper, as if killing a hundred would never be enough to warm them.