“We will wait here for the others to meet with us,” Gun-jin said then sniffed the air. “They should join us within the hour.”
Below us, I could barely make out the silhouette of a tiny village, silent and dark. To our right, farther up the valley, I was actually surprised to see light noise clouding the skyline.
“Below us is Sado, and Kilju Town is less than twenty leagues in that direction, straight as the arrow flies.” Gun-jin pointed first at the village below us then off to the southeast.
Due to the possible presence of military bases and nuclear testing facilities in the region, we couldn’t travel straight to Kilju even if we wanted to. I also needed to travel along the rail route to get a feel for its layout and the surrounding terrain.
True to Gun-jin’s estimation, eight Dokkaebi showed up about forty-five minutes later. Some of the newcomers were built like Gun-jin, though none quite as massive. Most were lanky with long arms and around six feet tall. Each wore a sash of a different color or pattern, while two also had some sort of hats or caps tucked into them. One Dokkaebi was ancient and carried a long staff that glowed with magical energy. He was built like Gun-jin, only shorter, and he carried himself with a slight stoop to his shoulders, leaning on his staff as he stood. His hair was also unique in that it was a silver gray, including the thick tufts of hair sprouting from his ears and nose. His eyebrows must have been six inches long. Under the bushy mess, his eyes were still sharp and focused intently on us.
With everyone finally assembled, I laid out my plan. I asked for one of their tribe to accompany Ab and Duma on their patrol along the railway below, paying close attention to the tactical value of the tunnels and trestles. I also needed to know where any power substations in the area were because the local railways were still mostly electric, and a disruption of the power grid could shut down a major chunk of the line. While the information we’d recovered in Coronini didn’t say anything specific about this tactic, it was still worth checking. Lastly, I told them I wanted to meet up again as soon as we found the train station but that I would leave the specific location at the discretion of the tribe.
Once Ab and Duma were underway, I explained to the rest of the tribe that my top priority was to find the nearest stop for the presidential rail line followed by figuring out some way of boarding the presidential train safely and unseen.
“The rail station you seek is more than two leagues south of Kilju-up,” the old Dokkaebi said, speaking in a raspy voice. “The human leader’s private fortress is not far beyond. I know the area.”
“Excellent. We should head for it immediately,” I replied.
“The leader is not there, however,” he replied, blinking slowly under his overgrown eyebrows and leaning heavily on his staff.
“Not yet, but I have reason to believe he will be very soon,” I said.
The old Dokkaebi nodded, and within moments, we left. As we departed, several of the Dokkaebi spoke quietly to each other, glancing back at me and mocking my awkward upright, bipedal gait over the rough terrain. I tried not to take it personally, but I felt about as welcome as a guppy in a shark tank. After a few minutes of the nattering, Gun-jin issued a stern warning to the gabby pair. The two abruptly bowed at the waist then pulled the caps from their sashes, draped them over their heads, and instantly shifted into a pale, colorless image of themselves as if they were made of smoke. They were invisible. I couldn’t hide my surprise, which elicited smirks and muffled laughter from the group.
“Their head coverings afford them the ability to disappear upon donning them,” Gun-jin said. “Such items are rare, but Bae and Jae-Hwa have inherited theirs. Unfortunately, we have lost the ability to make such things anymore.”
“Such things are rare, indeed,” I replied. “I know of only one who can still create things with the power to conceal, and I carry, with his permission, the only such garment he has ever produced. The fact that these two can also turn invisible will prove even more helpful.”
Then I picked up a rock and softly tossed it at the closest of the invisible pair, hitting him squarely in the chest, though not hard enough to hurt him. What everyone witnessed was the rock’s flight suddenly stop as it fell to the ground, followed by a noisy shuffle by something unseen in the pine straw on the ground. What I saw was the Dokkaebi that I’d hit react as if a bee had stung him. He suddenly jerked upright when the rock hit him, and his reaction made me laugh.
“It’s almost as if they’ve completely disappeared.” I smiled. “Almost… just not from me.”
“We will do our best to aid you however you may need us.” Gun-jin bobbed his head a bit, and his eyes widened as he watched me.
He was reassessing me, which was exactly what I wanted. Now he knew I was more than I seemed and he couldn’t take anything for granted. I smiled then pointed directly at the two invisible Dokkaebi.
With that, the Dokkaebi filed past me in a silent stampede, and following in their footsteps, we began covering ground more quickly. I knew I was holding them up, but there was no way I could keep up with any sort of fae in their native environment. They matched my slower pace without saying a word, though it was hard to miss the frequent surreptitious glances over shoulders, checking on me. Hell, I was slowing down Grandpa Dokkaebi—and he had to use a walking stick.
Skirting the valley, we passed along the peripheries of at least fifteen small workers’ villages and several larger ones. Each struck me as desolate and lonely in the darkness, though some were no more than a few miles apart. The concept of an anthill kept popping into my head as we passed close to the villages. Every building was simple and stark in design, each identical, leaving no room for personal identity—everyone working for the good of the government. It had to be a bleak existence.
Eventually, we headed south, keeping to the foothills as we neared the largest town we’d come across so far. I guessed it was Kilju. We gave it a wide berth, left it behind us, and began following another nearly dry riverbed for what must have been a massive river during the summer. The rocky bed spread several hundred yards wide in some areas, but the mostly iced-over river flowed only through deeper channels.
As we traveled across a vast, spiderlike delta giving rise to multiple tributaries, the two invisible Dokkaebi suddenly reappeared in front of us, bringing the group to a halt. The delta was flat and open for miles in every direction with a few settlements along the various arms of the river. The horizon to our left was starting to brighten, and I knew sunrise wasn’t far off.
“From here, the safest place for us to hide from the humans is in those hills.” Gun-jin pointed to a gently sloping area southeast of us then swung his thick arm back to the west. “The rail station you seek is that way but not far. Bae and Jae-Hwa will accompany you to see it, but take caution because the sun will rise presently. They will bring you back to us, and we may return to meet your companions at dusk.”
“Make haste and be wary,” Grandpa said. “There is often a strong presence of soldiers in the village. Many men, heavily armed, especially around the fortress in the southern part of the hamlet.”
“Let’s move,” I said to my two guides, both holding their caps in hand.
Chapter 36
We arrived in the presidential town within an hour and crept slowly through the buildings along the outside of the rail station so I could get a feel for the layout of the rail yard and its surroundings. Without using the cloak, I snuck around the first structures I came to: two dozen cement-block buildings laid out in a single row parallel to the train tracks. Everything else sat on the opposite side of the railway, which meant I could quickly access the train and the station without having to make my way through town. As the sun began to light up the eastern sky, the blocky profiles of several much taller and larger buildings became visible a few hundred yards to the south. A small engine—likely a generator—fired up in the distance.
Then a few lights winked on, indicating that the town definitely had a small group of residents, though the area around the train station sat empty and silent.
Poking around, I discovered that the structures outside the tracks were vacant dormitories and housing. From there, I slowly made my way across the tracks, which consisted of one main trunk rail line into the village that split into four feeders, up to a building that likely served as the stationhouse. The large square single-story brick building sat adjacent to a large cement tarmac at the terminus of a road through town.
My two Dokkaebi guides, wearing their caps, strolled around unconcerned nearby. They would be invisible to anyone not using thermal imaging. I ignored them and continued my reconnoiter.
Around the stationhouse were a series of small metal shedlike structures in good repair. The one closest to the stationhouse appeared to be an empty guard station. Each building’s reinforced door was locked and shook little if at all within their frames. Overall, the construction of everything was solid. Despite definite signs of regular upkeep and recent human activity, there were no video cameras or even any signs of guards or sentries. The limited information I had suggested the towns were largely left unoccupied until right before a presidential visit, so I didn’t expect any trouble sneaking about in the early hours without the cloak. Once the presidential contingent arrived, the place would be crawling with servants, workers, and soldiers twenty-four hours a day until after he left. I needed to do as much recon work as possible while the place was mostly empty.
Except for the rumbling of the lone generator, the town was eerily quiet until a rooster crowed somewhere farther into the settlement. Then cackling chickens and the sounds of a conversation echoed among the buildings. That’s my cue. I picked up a small rock and nailed one of my Dokkaebi companions in the back to get his attention. My action nearly sent one of them tumbling into the large retractable door on the stationhouse before the other managed to catch him. Once they realized I had thrown the rock, I motioned it was time to leave. I followed as they grumbled and glowered at me over their shoulders as we traveled.
Back at the camp in the nearby hills, I spent the next few hours sketching out a plan for the town, or more specifically, the area around the train station—I didn’t care about the rest of it. The invisibility brothers had been less than helpful on the recon, but I still believed they would prove useful when it actually came time to get me on board the train. Grandpa Dokkaebi was able to offer me some additional bits of information, though it was mostly about the larger buildings farther south, which he said were part of a presidential residence.
The next night, we met up with Duma and Ab in the hills outside one of the small workers’ villages along the railroad tracks. They had explored the bridges and tunnels at the coordinates on the map and identified three power substations within the Hanner Brid’s target area, none of which was heavily manned or even fortified.
Given that information and what I had seen in the presidential town, my plan was simple: Ab, Duma, and all but three Dokkaebi would take up watch along a specific stretch of railroad and wait for the attack while I snuck on board with the help of my small team and awaited the assault from on board the train. We had to let the attack happen before we acted. Averting it might save Kim, but it might not get us close enough to get the Hanner Brid.
I assumed that the Hanner Brid’s intentions were to kidnap Kim rather than simply kill him. As one of the most closed-off countries in the world, the North Korean government would quickly cover up any incident that happened inside its borders and possibly not even react. To make a guaranteed impact on world relations, the Demon Fae would have to take Kim somewhere outside North Korea and kill him or at least demonstrate his abduction in a very public manner that would force North Korea to react. Since there was absolutely no way to fly over North Korean airspace, he would be entering and leaving the same way we’d gotten there. If he got past us at the train, we would have to stop him before he got to the Ways on Baekdusan.
The first train would be beyond the farthest tunnel by the time the president’s personal train made it beyond the nearest tunnel, while the third train would yet to have left the station. This left the presidential train smack in the middle of a steep valley that could easily be blocked at both ends if those tunnels were collapsed. The other tunnels and the trestle were too far apart and made the potential area of attack even broader. Plus, any immediate human response to an attack on the train in between those two tunnels would be limited, which was also why I assumed he would choose the area.
Since I was the only human involved in the endeavor, I stressed to all that they were not to harm any other humans unless it was a matter of life and death. I reiterated that point to Duma several times before we broke into our groups and left for our positions until the train passed. Thankfully, no one acted put out by the request. Our groups split up, and I headed back to the presidential town and train station to wait with my small group.
From just after dusk until just before dawn for several nights, I wandered around the town, paying particular attention to everything within a hundred yards of the station. Many times, I heard people talking, but thanks to the acoustics of the hills along the western side of town, it was hard to pinpoint their origin at first. Finally, after several days of sneaking around, I was able to identify six people—four men and two women—who were apparently the town’s only permanent residents. They all lived in one neat but small building made up of four separate residences on the far side of town, and they were easy to avoid.
Before dawn one morning, I finally chose a reasonable place to hide—a metal pole shed at the end of the rail line only a few yards outside the tracks. Based on scratches and gouges in the cement floor underneath it and the pulley rail system along its roof, I guessed it was likely some sort of staging area for supplies. I could easily hide along the beams or up on the flat roof under the cloak until it was time to sneak on board the train with the help of the invisibility brothers.
Unfortunately, the spot had several major downsides. Foremost was its proximity to the row of housing quarters or barracks on the outside of the tracks. Then there was the fact that it was likely part of the staging area. These things all meant that I would be in the middle of Grand Central Terminal at rush hour once the trains arrived, and I still had no idea when that might be.
After spending most of the next day and night on the top of the shed, I was startled awake early the next morning, when one of the male caretakers began sweeping directly under me in the shed. I was afraid to move at all for fear the heavy crystal-encrusted cloak would cause entirely too much noise on the metal roof. I couldn’t even risk signaling the invisible brothers for a distraction. Lying there as the other caretakers began to open and clean the structures around the rail yard, I realized the shed actually vibrated softly as if it were alive. It was so subtle that it took me almost an hour to realize that the village’s power plant had been started, though nothing in town was turned on yet.
I watched as the caretakers began making rounds to each of the two dozen residential buildings on the outside of the tracks, opening doors and checking to make sure everything inside was functional. The caretakers checked lights, fired up heating systems, and made sure the water was running in the cold pipes before returning to their normal chores through the rest of the town. From time to time, several of them would gather to chat below me as they worked at a glacial pace.
At one point during the middle of the day, I noticed something skulking around the edge of the buildings, creeping closer with a sense of urgency. Finally, after another half hour, the caretakers retreated across the village, and I jumped down from my roost and went to investigate what I’d seen. I quickly ran into the sentry I’d sent to keep watch down the line.
“A train carrying passengers has arrived at the rail station outside Kilju Town and changed directions onto the cutoff back to
ward this village,” he said with trepidation.
“Is it the first of the presidential trains?” I asked, unsure why he was so agitated.
The Dokkaebi shook his head. “It carries hundreds of passengers and soldiers,” he said, glancing rapidly up the tracks and back at me. Then he pointed at a train off in the distance; its plume of white steam stood out in the cold, clear-blue midday sky.
I quickly pointed out my hiding spot to make it easier for him to warn me when the right train approached and told him to tell the invisible brothers to get ready to start playing their pranks, then we both returned to our posts. I knew there would be three ninety-car trains full of people flooding into the town, but it made sense that there would be at least one more train full of workers to support the government staff on the presidential trains.
From my elevated perch under the cloak, I could see a hundred-car train approach. In less than a half hour, the train pulled into the station on the line farthest from the stationhouse. Hundreds of people began filing out, many heading straight to the row of residences outside of the tracks, carrying luggage. The soldiers, on the other hand, broke into small squads of four men each and disappeared into the village. Over the course of the next few hours, people emerged from the apartment blocks and began opening other buildings around town. In short order, the town went from dead silent to a dull roar as people moved about, readying buildings and cleaning pathways.
At one point, several heavy diesel engines started up, then trucks and several other vehicles—all military and driven by soldiers—began to head through town on the village’s limited roads. All but a few traveled toward a large multistory structure at the southern end of town. One ancient but pristine troop transport of some make right out of the Vietnam War era pulled up in front of the stationhouse’s massive retractable door, and a dozen men poured out of the vehicle’s covered bed. The soldiers opened the huge door, and though I couldn’t see inside, I could hear what sounded like a series of smaller gas-powered engines start up. Before long, I could smell the exhaust, as well. It was some sort of motor pool, and they were prepping vehicles for more visitors. Kim was coming soon.
Chaos Unbound (The Metis Files Book 2) Page 31