“How so?” Ji-min asked.
“Terrible things happened in your life. You faced horrific hardship, yet kept your faith in humanity. You shared when you had nothing, rejected vengeance when it was yours to take, and absolved those who watched as you froze in the street.” She smiled. “If there is an angel here, it must be you.”
“I only did what anyone should do,” Ji-min said.
“Yes. What anyone should do. Not what most people actually do.” Unje mixed rice with kimchi and tried to feed Ji-min.
“No,” Ji-min said. She pushed herself up on her pillows, took the chopsticks, and pushed a delicious bite into her mouth. “What happens to me now?”
“That’s entirely your decision,” Unje said. “My ability to help is limited. If you choose to stay here, you can live with me until you’re strong and healthy, but you would have to face this world again. So much here is, as you say, broken.”
“But I want to help,” Ji-min said.
“As an orphan child, your reality would return to daily survival. You might help those around you, but you would be powerless to cause large-scale change. For now.”
Ji-min nodded. For now?
“If you wish, I can bring you to Seoul and place you in a modest but safe home. There, you can flourish, understand who you are, what you can do, grow into an adult with real power to change the world.”
“When I’m grown, I can return and help the people here?”
“That might be your path,” Unje said. “There are evils far worse than Dear Leader. Your destiny could lead you in many directions.”
Bae. Why didn’t you make it? Ji-min pushed back the blanket, swiveled her feet onto the floor. She pushed up, wobbled, and fell back on the bed. She stood again and took one cautious step after another until she reached the window. She grasped the ledge and gazed upon a countryside blanketed in pure, white snow. “There is nothing for me here.”
Escape
“Wake up, the time’s come.” Unje stroked Ji-min’s chin.
Ji-min shot up in bed, her eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal.
“You’re safe. You’re with me.” Unje set a tray of hearty broth and green tea on her lap. “Eat well. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
“I’m not hungry,” Ji-min said.
“You’re excited. Your brain is tricking your stomach. Get nourishment in your body.”
Ji-min hurried through breakfast and changed out of her pajamas. Such luxury. Clothes specially to sleep in.
“Brush your teeth,” Unje reminded her.
“But they hurt.”
“A dentist will care for you in Seoul. Do your best for now.”
A quizzical expression formed on Ji-min’s face.
“A dentist is a doctor that specializes in teeth.”
“Amazing what wonders exist.”
Morning hygiene complete, Ji-min pulled on her jacket and grabbed a backpack Unje gifted her the night before. A small, rusty van waited on the road outside, its engine idling and its lights off. The stars were unusually brilliant as if lending their splendor to the auspicious day. The driver sat in shadow. Unje took the seat next to him and Ji-min sat on a hard seat behind Unje. The vehicle rolled away, snow crunching under its tires.
“I can’t believe it. I’m really going to Seoul. To freedom,” Ji-min said.
Unje sighed. “I wish I could do more for you. And for others.”
“Why can’t you?” Ji-min asked. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m enormously grateful.”
“There are forces that intend me harm. The more I do, the more I risk them finding me.”
“Forces?”
“I’m glad I could help you.”
“Why me? Why did you pick me?”
Unje turned around in her seat. “You show enormous compassion. That’s a quality this world needs more than you can imagine.”
“Surely others-”
“Shh. Rest.”
“But-”
“Shh.”
The van bounced along country roads, lulling Ji-min into a dreamless sleep. She awoke at first light, barren farms passing by the left side of the vehicle. The right side was an inky darkness punctuated by a single, green light. The farms became forest, then an odd building emerged between two hillocks. It seemed like a giant clamshell poking out of the ground, open on the top.
“That’s a stadium,” Unje said from the front. “A place where teams compete for the amusement of spectators.”
“So many new things,” Ji-min said. The morning was brighter now and the blackness to her right resolved into a murky river. They drove past rectangular buildings, some of them towering over their surroundings. The van pulled up to a white building at least a dozen stories tall.
“Thank you,” Unje told the driver.
The man replied with a glowing smile.
“Let’s go,” Unje said.
Ji-min gathered her backpack and stepped out. About twenty people stood around a sign that read, “Bus.”
Unje led Ji-min toward the group. “These people are tourists visiting the border, and we are joining them.”
“We don’t have papers. We’ll be discovered,” Ji-min said.
“Have faith,” Unje said.
Most of the travelers weren’t Korean. There were light-skinned people and dark-skinned ones. None spoke Korean, but Ji-min understood them. Such a wondrous gift. When I reach the South, I can begin to understand the rest of the world. The world we were prohibited from glimpsing.
“The hot water in my room was out again,” a man with blond, shoulder-length hair said. “I had to ask the kitchen to boil a pot, so I could clean up without freezing my arse off.”
“Hot water’s out in the entire hotel, dear,” an older woman answered. “Probably out in the whole damn country,” she added in a whisper.
A man with brown skin and black hair spoke to a traveling companion in what seemed a different language. “I hope they get the vegetarian diet right this time,” he said.
The small talk continued until a huge vehicle pulled up. A stern woman wearing a uniform stepped off the bus. There was a patch on her left breast pocket under which was embroidered in gold thread, “Official Tour Guide.” The halo surrounding her made Ji-min anxious. Each passenger presented a piece of paper. The guide scanned a clipboard and made a mark before admitting each person. Unje led Ji-min to the back of the line.
When they reached the guide and her clipboard, the woman said in Korean, “Tickets?” Her expression and aura both conveyed skepticism.
Unje reached out and stroked the woman’s cheek.
The hand with the clipboard fell to her side and the aura around her became a platinum-colored haze. She smiled and nodded consent to board the bus.
The trip took them past farmland then through valleys flanked by snowy mountains. Those gave way to rolling hills covered with crop fields. They passed over an avocado-green stream then turned into a rectangular lot. They parked in a space near a recently painted, blue-and-white building.
A military officer emerged from the structure and greeted the tour guide. He addressed the group in Korean, which the guide translated into English. “OK, thank you for visiting. Please stay close to me. First, I’ll show you the building where the Korean Armistice Agreement was signed.”
“Can I take a picture with you?” a young, bearded man asked.
“Sure,” the officer said through the translator. “Get the trees in the background instead of the border, so I don’t get in trouble.”
Several other tourists took the same photo, then the officer led the group along a short asphalt road to a wooden building. It was also freshly painted, this one white with brown trim. A wood carving of a dove adorned the entrance. Inside, the door and windows were teal. A green table stood in the center of the room, surrounded by eight chairs covered in white cloth.
The officer said, “The American flag still stands just outside this building. Do you want to know why? Because wh
en they signed the treaty, thus surrendering to North Korea, the Americans were so embarrassed they left their flag in their haste to run away.”
Ji-min studied his aura. Truth. At least, he believes it to be true.
“If you’ll follow me this way,” the officer said. The group started through a side door.
Ji-min felt Unje’s hands on her shoulders.
“Let’s take a walk,” Unje said.
The air distorted, forming a sphere large enough to hold them both. Reality outside their bubble warped, like looking at the world reflected from the inside of a ladle. The officer continued to explain things to the tour group, but his words were distant and muffled. They followed the tourists out but turned south once through the door. The two walked past long, single-story, turquoise-blue buildings. The door of one stood open. Dozens of border guards lounged within. Continuing south, they crossed a road then stood before a three-level, glass-and-concrete building with a curved roof that was lowest in the middle.
The air returned to normal. “Welcome to South Korea,” Unje said.
A shiver shook Ji-min’s body. Did I really make it? Am I really free?
Perceived Slights
“How dare they?” Dear Leader said. “Do they think me a fool?” He slammed his plump palm on the massive oak conference table. The assembled ministers flinched in unison. His cheeks flush, the rotund dictator said, “This is outrageous! Do they think I’m weak?” Dear Leader cast a maniacal, terrifying glare over his advisers. None of them spoke. “Pak, it was your suggestion to strike a bargain with the Americans. Grain in exchange for standing down my missiles.”
“Yes, it was,” Minister Pak said. “It defies-”
“How dare they sabotage that food! How dare they challenge me?” Spittle clung to the corner of Dear Leader’s mouth. “Minister Mook!” He glared at his Minister of the People’s Armed Forces. “Is the CIA behind this?” He waited, switching to a practiced expression of benevolent patience, for the flustered minister to answer.
Words squeaked out of Minister Mook’s throat. “Dear Leader, there are no reports of American involvement.”
“What do you know? Why do I keep you here?” Dear Leader asked.
Minister Mook’s face resembled the barren, snow-speckled, granite hills outside.
Dear Leader turned toward the other ministers. “I must respond! They will hear me!”
He scrutinized each of the men, basking in the trepidation their eyes revealed. His gaze rested on Minister Pak, whose features showed no sign of angst.
Minister Pak spoke calmly, almost detached. “It defies logic for them to intentionally ship tainted grain. It may be a simple accident. Perhaps negligence of the UN ship’s crew.” He scrutinized Dear Leader’s reaction. “However, this could be a plot to undermine your leadership. May I humbly suggest we detain the ship’s crew and… question them, before we react to this disgraceful situation?”
Dear Leader’s face turned a shade redder. He paced the room and pressed his hair back with the palm of his sweaty hand. “I have determined the crew of the UN ship shall be questioned,” he said. “Go and see to it.”
Minister Pak strode from the underground meeting room, past a swimming pool featuring a gigantic water slide, through the lavish gardens of Ryongsong Residence. Home to North Korea’s leader, the fortified estate provided ultra-luxury while keeping the elite safe against anything from a peasant uprising to nuclear war. The pale sun was setting behind a stand of juniper, casting a bleak shadow over the grounds.
The Colonel stood with military bearing next to a koi-filled fountain. He glanced in the minister’s direction, the glow of a cigarette dimly illuminating his weathered features. With Pak’s approach, he took a final puff and tossed the smoldering butt into the pristine fountain. His body straightened to attention and his eyes exuded confidence.
The men exchanged a few words, then departed along separate paths.
Seoul
It was two months since Unje brought Ji-min across the border. The first weeks were a time for healing. Wonderful people, friends of Unje, attended to her medical and psychological needs. They commented on the decrepit state of her body and the resilient nature of her mind. A kind-hearted woman spent hours talking to her about the loss of her parents, and of Bae, shedding many tears together.
Once she was well enough, Ji-min explored the wonders of Seoul. The time was magical. The city was colorful beyond description, and so were its inhabitants. Figuratively and literally. She saw auras around people, as she had seen around Unje, and understood. She understood the words they spoke, and she understood their emotions. It should have overwhelmed her, but instead felt like part of who she was. Of who she had become. Her confidence grew, and she took the subway to the adjacent city of Incheon.
“What a beautiful Saturday!” Ji-min said to nobody in particular. She whirled about, taking in the pristine grounds of a city park. She spied a group of foreign tourists, young adults wearing leather jackets, Levi jeans, well-worn boots, and carrying backpacks with German flags sewn on them. She skipped up to them and asked, “Guten Tag, wo kommen Sie her?”
Nearby locals turned away, shunning her brash behavior, but one of the Germans answered, delighted, “Ah, Sie sprechen deutsch?”
Ji-min walked with the group. She spoke in fragments but understood everything, using her gift to pick up a smattering of additional words. These Germans are so delightful, so full of cheer. Orange-pink, the lot of them. The tourists had plans, so she wished them well and continued her stroll. Soon, she discovered an Australian photographing the park. “G’day, mate!” she said, beaming.
“G’day to you,” the man answered.
The two spoke for a time. Ji-min answered his questions about Korea enthusiastically, and she asked an unending stream of questions about all things Australian. When he had to leave, she said, “I hope to one day visit your country. It seems like such a unique place.”
She sat on a bench for a while and observed the park. High noon and I’ve already met many wonderful, new people. She spotted another foreigner. American, probably. She approached the fifty-something woman. “Hello, I’m Ji-min.”
The woman stepped back and glanced around before looking at Ji-min. “Hello. My name’s Maddie. Maddie Wells. Pleased to meet you.”
“Maddie,” Ji-min repeated. “Such a lovely name. Ms. Maddie, may I ask where you come from?”
Maddie smiled. “Why thank you, dear. And, Fort Wayne. In Indiana.”
“American! I knew it.” Ji-min smiled. “You’re the first American I met today. I’m sure your schedule’s busy, but might I walk with you for a while? I’m curious about your country, and I love to meet new people.”
Maddie’s eyes narrowed. She peered at the Korean girl, then seemed to decide she was legitimate. “I would be delighted.”
“When did you arrive in Seoul? How long are you staying? What did you see so far? What do you do back home?” Maddie is kind, but a darkness hangs over her. Purple and chartreuse.
“So many questions,” Maddie said. “Let me start with the last one. I’m a scientist.”
“A scientist? Your job is to make the world better. How wonderful.” They passed by a street vendor. “Tteokbokki! You must try it.”
“Tteokbokki?” Maddie asked.
“Um. Spicy rice cakes. They’re delicious,” Ji-min said. She purchased cakes and offered one to her new American friend.
Maddie nibbled the corner of a cake. “Hmm. Not bad.” She bit in and smiled. A second or two later, her lips pursed and her eyes moistened. “The bite hits you a little late.” She forced a smile.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think they would be so hot for you,” Ji-min said. “They’re a favorite among Koreans. I want you to experience my culture.”
“They’re yummy. Really. Just a bit more kick than I expected,” Maddie said.
“I want to know all about you. Do you have family?” Ji-min asked.
Maddie looked down.
<
br /> Mauve, Ji-min thought. Mauve and ochre.
The two talked until the sun was an orange glow behind the city buildings. “Will you be here tomorrow?” Ji-min asked. “Would you like to eat breakfast with me?”
Maddie smiled, and she lit orange to Ji-min’s eyes, the same shade as the sunset. “That sounds wonderful.”
#
A convoy of unmarked trucks bounced and squeaked over the potholes of the road leading to Nampo’s shipping container dock. The UN cargo ship Bassant, illuminated by inadequate floodlights, was offloading grain at the North Korean port late into the evening. Soldiers sprung out of the vehicles and took control of the dock with practiced efficiency.
The Colonel slid from his Mercedes-Benz SUV and sauntered toward the Bassant, enjoying his cigarette and the anxious countenance of the ship’s crew.
The vessel’s captain awaited him atop the gangway. “Sir, the last of your grain will be offloaded in another hour, two at the most.”
“Grain,” the Colonel said, inhaling his cigarette and letting out a cloud of smoke that enveloped both men. “That’s what you call the rot you brought us?”
The Captain’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
With a gesture, the Colonel directed his men to remove the ship’s crew.
As soldiers hauled the Captain off his ship, he said, “You are creating an international incident.”
The Colonel sneered. “Yes.”
The remaining cargo was offloaded onto trucks marked Ministry of Finance and driven into the night. The floodlights were switched off, engulfing the dock in blackness.
Four men in gray-and-blue military fatigues boarded the vessel, wheeling a steel box in front of them. One bore the insignia of a lieutenant commander on his collar. The others bore no rank. They inspected the ship and brought its engine online. The rusty bulk carrier slipped out of the pitch-dark port and sliced through heavy fog toward South Korean waters.
The commandos stood at the starboard rail, monitoring their position with a portable GPS atop their metal box. “Is the radio relay set?” the Lieutenant Commander asked.
Ji-min Page 7