I arrived at the three-way intersection at 2302, taking up a position not where I was supposed to be, but where I could best control what was to come.
The next two hours passed quickly; waiting in a place where mortal peril looms is active waiting. I'm scanning. I'm listening. I'm smelling the air. I'm like an ambush predator.
I reviewed my next actions—the words I had to say to Colonel Kwan, the words he needed to say to me, the emblem I had to reveal, and the emblem Kwan would show to me.
Once verified, I would need to evaluate his condition for movement. What if he's injured? What if he's pursued? What if his English sucks? What if he's ignorant of stealth movement techniques?
I reviewed it all. When 0100—our appointed meeting time—hit, I was not surprised by the sudden passage of time.
I went to high alert. Listening now with fierce concentration. Willing my eyes to be like an eagle's. Forcing my body to be attentive to any changes to the environment around me.
When he didn't show, I went through my contingencies again.
Finishing, I re-checked my watch at 0157.
There was still plenty of time.
Back at Anacostia-Bolling, Deacon told me that Kwan needed to be almost exactly on time for this to work. I wondered if he might have been right.
I had built in two hours of leeway—time I could burn and still make it out with Colonel Kwan. But after 0300, it was going to be tight. I needed to get to the South Korean side of the Korean Demilitarized Zone before 0618, sunrise. Once there, I could camouflage us and rest or sleep in relatively safely through the day. When nightfall came again, I could get us out.
By myself, I could get to the South Korean side in two hours and fifteen minutes—not due to the distance, but due to the time consumed by the two mandatory fence line breaches. With Kwan along, I wanted every bit of that three-plus hours.
I wondered about my drop-dead time. Should it change? I asked myself. Do I dare push it later?
No.
What if, I wondered, I roll at 0300 and later find out he showed up at 0305? What will Deacon say? What about the fucking mission?
I can't push the time, I decided. I can't. There'd be no way to get out of North Korea. I can't travel almost five kilometers over uneven terrain that included two fucking breaches, minefields, and DPRK patrols. I can't do it babysitting a North Korean colonel. Impossible.
And I can't wait out another day.
If Kwan has been caught, I acknowledged, then in all likelihood, I'm compromised. DPRK interrogators will coerce the meeting location out of him, and their elite troops will come down upon me in force.
I punch out at 0300, I told myself. That's it.
At 0232, twenty-eight minutes from drop-dead time, I heard the sound of a person. Footfalls on gravel. Distance 200 meters, give or take. My heart surged. Every sense, dulled somewhat from the overlong wait, sprang back into high readiness.
That cannot, I thought, be him. He would not be so stupid as to make that much noise.
I powered up my NVGs and lowered them over my eyes, scanning west down the road.
Nothing.
I switched them to infrared.
Nothing.
I raised them from my eyes and listened.
Yes, footfalls.
Closer. 180 meters. Just around the bend. A single person.
It has to be a civilian, right? I asked myself. But at 0230?
I didn't know what to think. I lowered the NVGs and saw him.
Short, skinny. My first thought was this was a civilian woman, but I quickly dispelled that, remembering the briefing on malnutrition. But, do DPRK Colonels—Colonels!—not get enough food to eat, too?
Maybe, I decided, he's just a little colonel.
But his gait struck me as odd.
His attire was definitely not that of a member of the military. He wore a loose black shirt on top of loose black pants that didn't quite reach his ankles. His shoes looked almost like slippers—black, sleek, and not at all rugged. On his head, he wore one of those wide conical bamboo coolie hats, and it also was black, pulled low to hide his face.
I scanned the east-west road and the other road north. Nothing. Powering down the NVGs, I worked to restore my own night vision while listening intently for any other sound besides those damned footsteps.
At about 120 meters, my eyes darted up at a change.
"Fuckin'-a," I mouthed.
The colonel was jogging. Crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch.
Was someone else coming? A vehicle behind him?
I drew up my CQB rifle, looked, and listened. Nothing else out there but him.
What in the fuck kind of colonel is this? I asked myself.
Deacon hadn't known. There was no record of a Colonel Kwan. No photograph, either, but the DPRK contact had told our people that the information Kwan had would be invaluable. Deacon warned me about a trap—for me, for the Colonel, or for the source that arranged the defection with our people.
Kwan was about 80 meters from the T intersection when I went stock-still. Didn't move a muscle. Didn't breathe. Didn't blink.
I could see him now. Not clearly, but well enough. He was jogging towards the intersection, and this was no man's running form.
This was a woman. I hadn't a doubt.
At 50 meters, it was all confirmed—breasts. They rocked up and down with each stride. Largish ones, too, for such a tiny frame.
Fuck me, I thought. Fuck me, a fucking civilian? Here? At two fucking thirty in the morning?
I remained still, and a new idea occurred to me: the reason Colonel Kwan hasn't shown up yet is because of this civilian woman. He's waiting for her to pass before coming to meet me.
It made perfect sense. All the noise from the gravel? Kwan heard it and tucked himself away.
Just some shitty luck, I decided.
I blew a silent sigh and waited for her to pass, watching closely.
At 20 meters from the intersection, she slowed to a walk and passed me.
Young, I realized. She's young. Her gait—a kind of springiness in it—clued me in. Late teens or early twenties was my guess. But what the hell was she doing coming to my fucking intersection?
Looking primarily along the roads east, west, and north, she scanned a complete circle. Then she crossed toward the northeast corner of the T and stopped there.
I checked my watch. 0239. Shit.
She turned her back to me, looking into the thick tree line that began about eight meters from the road.
By my estimate, this girl was standing on exactly the proper grid coordinates for my meet with Kwan. She was looking directly into the copse where, quite naturally, I might have hidden—perhaps exactly where Kwan was expecting me to be waiting for him.
This is not possible, I thought.
Could Kwan be wearing a disguise? Disguised as a woman?
No, I said to myself. That's no disguise. I know how girls run. I know how tits shake.
A further train of ideas began leaping into my mind.
She couldn't be an assassin sent to kill Kwan and me. No fucking way they send someone that incompetent. Plus, I couldn't see any weapons on her.
I considered the idea that this was a lookout for Kwan—someone he trusted but was willing to sacrifice in the event it was a trap. Kind of a shitty move, if true.
Then, I wondered if it might be a relative. His daughter? His wife? I could see an old colonel being "gifted" with a large-breasted young wife by the fucked up DPRK regime. Did Kwan expect me to exfiltrate her, too? A last-minute change of plans? I hoped the fuck not.
After that, it occurred to me that this might just be the coincidence it appeared. Scanning the intersection, I realized it was a fairly obvious meeting place. The trees close to the street on two of the three sides provided good cover, and there weren't a hell of a lot of decent roads around.
Maybe, I thought, she was here to meet a boyfriend. A sneak out hook-up. I could see that happening. Her old man didn't like the kid; it was a bad match. "I forbid you to see that boy!" But they found a way. Made sense, though it didn't help matters. She needed to get the fuck out of here and ASAP. Be just my fucking luck if the meet-up time was set for 0300.
I watched her.
All black, I reminded myself. She's wearing all black. It definitely suggested covert action. It didn't seem to be normal work or leisure attire. So, she was being sneaky, but she was making all kinds of noise and walking on the road. Didn't make any sense.
My watch read 0244.
She left the road, stepping into the low brush and making her way into the trees. Stopping just short of the darkness inside, she bent forward as if peering into the shadows. Left and right she scanned.
She whispered something. I couldn't hear the distinct syllables.
Boyfriend's name, maybe?
She carefully walked along the tree line north a few steps, her eyes directed into the foliage. She went further up the hill. At about 10 meters, she turned back. Back at the intersection, she turned east, repeating her scan into the trees.
Then she came back. At the corner, she backed into the shadows and sat.
No, I mouthed. No. No. No.
0250.
I turned on my NVGs and drew them over my eyes.
She was sitting just inside the shadows of the foliage, her arms wrapped around her knees.
I knew what I needed to do. I closed my eyes and shook my head.
Sighing noiselessly, I powered down my NVGs and lifted them from my eyes. Then, as quietly as possible, I unslung my CQBR.
Checking the silencer first, I switched it from safe to semi-auto and gently urged the forward assist, fully seating the 5.56mm round. I powered up the night scope and settled into a perfect seated firing position.
This was a 30 meter shot with a 10.5 inch barreled rifle—a walk in the park against an unmoving target in any conditions—day, night, rain, snow, fucking tornado. I would not miss a head shot.
I raised the rifle to my eyes and checked my sight. I had her. Just a slow, steady squeeze when my breathing was right.
A knife of guilt sliced at my heart before I could fire. This was not the kind of work I wanted—killing some innocent North Korean girl?
But that's probably what I'm expected to do here, I thought. That's probably what Colonel Kwan is waiting for. Kill her, he's somewhere urging me. Shoot her!
I wondered what Deacon would tell me to do. He wouldn't tell me to go talk to her, that's for damn sure. I didn't speak Korean. She was just some country girl, didn't speak any fucking English.
The minute I walk out of these trees, she fucking screams, I thought. Fucking screams.
And even if she didn't, even if she let the giant foreign warrior approach, hiss a bunch of gibberish, and shoo her off—even then, she would race home and tell someone.
0254.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
There was no time to maneuver east out of sight, cross the damned road, and come in behind her where I could cover her mouth before she cried out.
I roll at 0300. That's it. That's my fucking time. 0300.
Shoot her now, I said to myself, and I give Kwan five minutes to get his ass over here.
I raised the rifle and sighted into her head.
My index finger alighted on the trigger.
My breathing relaxed.
She looked up, and with each of my breaths, I watched the crosshairs gently rise and fall—from her forehead down to her nose.
Forehead—nose. Forehead—nose.
Now. Now. NOW.
I drew my finger out and pointed it straight forward.
I can't do this, I thought. I can't kill this girl.
Movement arrested my attention; she rose to her feet.
She walked toward the intersection, scanning along each of the roads.
"Go," I mouthed in silence. "Go home."
She began crossing the street.
Crunch-crunch.
Crossing south, to my side.
She stepped off the road maybe 30 feet east of me.
I lowered the rifle and checked the time—0256.
Stepping gingerly through the low brush, she made it to the tree line and began a slow walk west, toward me.
I carefully set my rifle down and drew my knife.
I pushed myself from a seated to a crouched position, ready to explode upon her.
She leaned into the darkness—peering, searching. Then, she stepped closer.
Closer. Five meters.
Cover her mouth, I thought. Get the knife in her eye so she can see it. Then, I'll muzzle her, tie her up, and put her somewhere safe. Come daylight, she'll be seen and I'll be long gone, Kwan or no Kwan.
Less than 2 meters.
One more step, girl, and you're mine.
Her eyes went right over me, across and back. She squinted and scanned. Her right foot rose and planted.
Close enough, I decided. Without a sound, I sprang at her.
At the same moment, I heard her whisper, "Olion i-boibnida."
My hand covered her next utterance, a scream.
Her body froze against me. I felt her every muscle tense, but I never raised the knife.
She had spoken the recognition passphrase.
Astonished, I whispered, "Nano bodna."
Her body relaxed, and I uncovered her mouth and drew her into the shadows and down to the ground. Gripping her by the shoulders gently, but firmly, I asked, "Where is Colonel Kwan?"
She looked confused. She said, "Daelyeong Kwan?"
I knew that Daelyeong meant Colonel in Korean. "Yes. Daelyeong Kwan—Colonel Kwan, where is he?"
"Ye. Kwan. Cow-no Kwan," she said.
"Yes. Where is he?" I pointed left, right, forward, and back. I shrugged my shoulders. "Where is Colonel Kwan?"
She said, "Cow-no Kwan I." She pointed at herself.
I blinked, staring at her. Shaking my head, I asked, "You? You are Kwan?"
"I Cow-no Kwan. Cow-no Kwan Min-Ji," she responded, nodding and removing her hat to display her face as if that would help.
I let go of her shoulders and sat back on my heels.
A moment later, I raised my index finger. Unbuttoning my shirt pocket, I drew out a 100 won South Korean coin and showed it to her.
She took off her shoe, reached into it, and pulled out a coin, handing it to me.
I took it and examined it. One won. North Korean.
Verified.
This girl was Colonel Kwan.
***
No time to fuck around. I needed to get away from the road and somewhere Kwan and I could stop and make the adjustments and preparations for the big move.
I said, "Follow me. Quiet." I held my finger to my lips.
She nodded and reached for my hand.
I gave it to her and led her south into the trees and up the hill.
She stepped where I stepped. She was careful, but the hand-holding was slowing us down.
As we moved, I considered her situation. A fucking colonel? A kid probably ten years younger than me? Maybe more. Incredible to me, but in North Korea? I could believe it.
Having seen videos of the regime's enormous parades through downtown Pyongyang, having seen company after company of female units doing that silly goose-step, I supposed it was possible.
She was connected. Maybe her father was some kind of Field Marshal or General. A big politician, maybe.
Having seen those women goose-stepping, I also knew that, strange as it seemed, those women all seemed to have big tits—at least, the visible ones in the outer ranks did. Colonel Kwan Min-Ji fit the type.
Then I wondered if she was one of those—what do you call them?—comfort women.
Even in the darkness, I could tell she was attractive.
Maybe she was some general's personal babe. That, also, would explain an insanely high rank for an eighteen or twenty-year-old.
I stopped us halfway up the hill and we knelt. I spent a minute listening intently. Kwan kept quiet.
Satisfied, I pointed to myself and whispered, "Skipper."
"Ski-pell," she responded.
"Skipper," I tried again.
"Ski-pa."
"Good enough."
She pointed to herself, saying, "Min-Ji"
I nodded. Then, I bowed slightly and extended my right hand, supporting my right forearm, as I was taught, with my left hand.
She bowed and did the same.
We shook hands. Hers was tiny but strong. She smiled nervously.
"Can you speak English?"
"Spee Ying-wish? Ye, spee sung Ying-wish."
Her words were heavily accented and barely intelligible.
"Were you being followed?" I asked. The answer was more than likely "no." She had, after all, been waiting at the intersection for almost 30 minutes, but I needed to ask, just in case.
"Fwo-lo?" she responded, shaking her head slightly.
I nodded. "Followed. Is anyone following you?"
She was utterly confused.
I cursed to myself, remembering how Deacon told me the source said Kwan could "get by in English." Bullshit.
I slung the rifle behind my back. Using my fingers, I tried to show her what I meant. One person walking, I pointed to her. Another person behind her, following.
She seemed to understand.
"Anyone follow you?"
"No fwo-lo."
"Okay," I whispered.
Now for a harder question. I pointed to my watch. "When," I said, "will they know you're gone?" I pointed randomly out, out there, saying "They. Others." Then, I mimicked searching and looking. "Look for you," I said, pointing at her. Finally, I pointed to my watch. "When? They look for you when?"
She didn't get it.
I knelt and used twigs and pine needles. One for her. One for me. A bunch for the searchers. I pretended to be looking and searching with the sticks. I pointed at my watch. "When are they coming? When will they follow?"
Her eyes widened in recognition. She spoke utter gibberish to me for a few seconds. I was about to stop her, but suddenly she pointed to my watch and began counting—very poorly—in English. Her little finger touched each number. "Won-Doo-Nee-Fie-Fow-Sees-Seppen-Yay-Nie?" She glanced up at me.
I nodded. "Yes. Numbers," I said, even though it sounded like she mixed up four and five. "But what time?" I asked, poking my watch.
She pointed at the seven, saying, "Seppen?"
"Seven. That's seven."
"Seffen."
"Bad guys come looking at seven?" I asked, re-enacting the pine-needle troop search on the ground.
She nodded. "Fwo-lo seffen."
"Okay," I muttered, considering how that time would impact my plan.
She said, "Ho-kay."
I glanced at her nervous smile and decided I needed to start by getting her ready to move out. I pulled out my pack and drew out a canteen for her.
She took it and watched me drink. She followed. Handing it back to me, I set it on the ground beside her.
I took out three energy bars, handing them to her. I mimicked eating.
She shook her head, handing them back.
I placed them beside the canteen, and then I drew out a small utility belt with two pouches on the front and an empty canteen pouch in the back. I stuffed the bars in one pouch and her canteen in its slot.
Gently holding out my hand toward her as if to say, "It's okay. Don't worry," I shuffled on my knees towards her and wrapped the utility belt around her waist.
It was way too loose around her. I had set it for the Colonel I imagined—small, but a male. For her waist, it would need further adjustment.
She whispered, "Ah!" and took the belt from me. Her fingers worked the little clasps, and she began adjusting it herself.
So, not totally incompetent, I thought. That helps.
While she worked on the belt I drew out a light neoprene outfit.
Her black clothes would be great camouflage if we only moved in the shadows at night. Black was perfect for that. But, under moonlight or in the open-air day or night, there were much better colors than black.
This neoprene stuff was perfect. Deep camouflage—dark and medium browns mixed in with dark and medium greens with a few light tan accents here and there. It also was very stretchy—it would almost, but not quite, be loose on her little frame.
Plus, this stuff had the added benefits of being a good warming layer, defeating infrared, reversing into a civilian exercise-type outfit, and it had little buttoning loops built-in all over it to add elements that would break up her silhouette. For that purpose, I had brought several bits of camouflage netting which I then pulled out of the bag.
Kwan had finished adjusting the belt. It was clipped around her waist.
I signaled for her to remove it. She did.
I gestured for her to pull off her hat. I took it and set it beside her.
We looked at each other.
Shit, she was a beautiful little thing. Long raven hair pulled into a low ponytail. Shy eyes and long eyelashes. High cheekbones with that almost inflated turgidness around the eyes that some East Asian people have.
If races and ethnicities have certain traits, then some people exemplified them all. When I looked at Kwan Min-Ji, I saw a pureblood Korean woman. Hers was the kind of face and body the regime might use on a propaganda poster to represent all North Korean women—beautiful, young, full-breasted, and innocent.
Turning away from these thoughts, I held up the shirt. She took it from me, and I turned around before she could even ask.
A moment later, she whispered my name.
I turned back. Seeing what she had done, I gently said, "No no. Backward." The hood was in front. I signaled for her to turn the shirt around.
She did so immediately, slipping her arms inside the sleeves and rotating the shirt around.
I showed her the facemask-style hoodie, and she drew it over herself, pulling the mouth and nose covering down under her chin.
Next, I held up the pants. She took them and rose.
I spun away.
A few moments later, she called for me. I handed her the socks. After she pulled them on, she slipped on her shoes, and I showed her how the sleeves of her shirt pulled over her thumbs and covered the hands up to the knuckles.
She held up her old clothes, asking something in Korean.
They would not be needed, and we were leaving the country tonight. I mimicked digging.
She immediately understood and, together, we made quick work of unearthing a small hole and burying her old clothes.
While she covered the hole, I fished out the paint stick and my camouflage netting. I called her to me, and I coated the ends of her fingers and a mask around her eyes in dark green. She accepted this with patience.
Next, I unbuttoned several of the loops on her shirt and pants, attaching the netting there so that she wouldn't form the silhouette of a human.
She was ready.
Time on deck? 0331.
Time enough to check my map and determine my next heading.
The quickest way out of country was straight south, but from here that would take us directly into the heart of the DPRK's Joint Security Area defenses. Hell, there was a fucking regimental barracks two kilometers due south of me.
No, we were heading mainly east. A 3.1-kilometer jaunt east-southeast through these hills would get me clear of the barracks and ready to turn south. The route had shitty terrain, but great concealment.
"Min-Ji, follow me."
"Fwo-lo," she said.
She reached for my hand, but I brushed it aside. "Too slow."
She didn't understand, but I moved out anyway.
Twice I stopped to warn her about sound when she made mistakes—breaking a fallen twig underfoot and allowing a leafy branch to snap noisily off of her body.
She adapted reasonably well.
I stopped frequently to listen and to scan with my NVGs. Distant vehicles three times. Only once was I certain of hearing human voices, but they sounded indoors. I veered away from the source of the chatter and continued.
We came to a stop at 0438.
Another 2000 meters to reach the border. We were going to make it.
The key was the first breach—the Civilian Control, CC, fence line on the North Korean side. That was about 800 meters southeast of us. At our pace, it would put us there at 0500. It would still be dark, and that was the whole shebang right there. I needed darkness to get us through that fence.
Once on the other side, we could make our final 750-meter trek to the DMZ fence line, arriving sometime around 0535. Once the DMZ fence line was breached, we could take a nice, slow pace through any minefields, and cross the South Korean border, arriving just after dawn. Not perfect—a little late—but doable.
Before any of that could occur, I needed to get us across the valley.
It was low, wet ground, great for irrigation ditches and farming, but highly exposed for us. At the lowest point, there ran two small creeks, one coming from the north and one from the east, that joined to form a stream. We needed to cross it. Once over, we would need to follow the eastern creek until we got back into higher ground—about 750 meters total.
Before starting the mission, my map recon of the area suggested that the eastern creek had a good wall-like bank on the south side. I imagined once we crossed, we would be able to stay low and travel in the defilade of the bank as we maneuvered through the low ground.
With my NVGs on, I found the place I wanted, the intersection of the two small creeks. It was about 80 meters from us, but we would need to cross a road and an open field to get there.
I had Min-Ji sit and wait while I scouted the road.
Clear north and south, so I listened.
Nothing.
Hustling back to her, I took her hand and we darted across the road. Then, I began low-crawling.
She followed; I was starting to appreciate this young woman's adaptive abilities more and more.
A 60-meter low-crawl is no bullshit to a civilian. She was tired, resting beside the first creek in the low shrubs and bushes. I scouted ahead.
What I found was a relief. The first creek was jumpable, and I believed the second one would be too.
Why not go over a bridge? There were few in the area and all roads this close to the CC fence line were too often patrolled. It was way too dangerous—the noise of the gravel and the exposure. "Do not be seen," Deacon had told me.
I led Min-Ji to the edge and mimed the jump. Then, using my fingers I tried to ask if she thought she could jump it.
She nodded and said, "Ye—Yes."
I went first, backing up a few steps and then leaping. I landed well. The footing on the other side was secure. Turning, I watched her do the same.
Over, no problem. I caught her, but it was unnecessary. She cleared it with three feet to spare.
We crawled to the second creek. There were rocks on the edge of both sides, but it was narrower than the first one.
Piece of cake.
First, though, I donned my NVGs and checked the cover because either side of this creek would work.
There was no question: we had to cross. The side we were on was a flat marsh. The other side had a raised, sloping ledge about four feet high.
I mimed and whispered, "Jump again."
She nodded.
I went first, landing easily.
She backed up, took two quick steps, and crumpled instantly into the water. She never got off the ground. Her ankle just rolled underneath her with a wet crunch. She didn't even scream.
Maybe it had been a loose rock under her foot; maybe she had weak ankles. Didn't matter, she plummeted straight down into the water with a huge splash, completely submerged.
If her fall had been a video with no context for the viewer, it might have made several hilarious clip compilations. But, I had the context. My instantaneous thought was "We're fucked."
But I needed to act. I planted one hand on the bank and pointed my toes so as to slip into the stream quickly and silently. The cold water immersed me from the neck down.
Deep fucking creek, I thought. Cold mother fucking water.
I scooped her into my arms, placed her on the bank, and climbed out. Then, I pulled her toward the four-foot ledge.
She winced in pain, clutching her ankle with both hands. I drew them aside and looked.
Oh, yeah, we're fucked, I thought.
Even in the darkness through a wet sock, I could see the swelling had already begun.
Security first, I reminded myself. I listened carefully. I peered over the ledge, scanning a circle around us with the NVGs set to infrared.
Clear for now, I said to myself, but that splash had been loud.
I dug into my pack and drew out my first aid kit, seizing the wrap coiled inside. With utmost care, I removed Min-Ji's sopping shoe and sock. Bluish-purple blood bruising appeared just under the surface of her skin. I wrapped her ankle as tightly as I could.
Finished, I glanced at her.
She no longer cared about her ankle; she shivered in cold.
It was 45 degrees. The water of that creek could not have been much warmer.
Fucking hopeless, I thought.
Min-Ji could not possibly walk. Even if she could, there was no way her shoe would fit onto that foot with the swelling I saw plus the wrap. Barefoot over this ground? No way.
I would have to carry her, and that blew the entire timeline to hell. At best, we might be able to make it out in two night's travel, but in the interim, her absence would be discovered. All hell would break loose on the border. There would be search patrols and helicopters.
Plus, she was sopping wet. Hell, we both were. Exposure would slow down and seize up our muscles in no time unless we got warm and dry.
An idea crept into my mind, cold and clear.
My right hand slid down to my utility belt, and I felt the knife there. My thumb teased at the button that held it in place.
I could kill her, I realized. Right here. Right now. Cover her mouth and slide the blade under her ribcage and into her heart.
No one would know. I could make my way over the border tonight. There was still time. Even wet, I could do it alone. I would tell Deacon she never showed up, must have gotten caught.
"Ski-pa go?" she asked in a whisper.
She looked innocent, beautiful, and miserable.
"Fuck it," I hissed, and I knelt to get her onto my back, piggyback-style. Hunched over, I carried us along the creekside with the ledge on my right flank helping hide us.
My one goal was to get us into the higher ground, into the tree line about 600 meters from us. Once there I could make some decisions, but I had to get the fuck out of this low, exposed terrain.
There were insane risks in what I was attempting for a variety of reasons. First, I was now making it up as I went. No plan other than my next destination. Second, I was fast and therefore loud. Speed was critical. I didn't have time to worry about breaking twigs or kicking stones. Third, this way took me within 50 meters of a no-shit house. Not a small one; quite likely several families lived there, communally farming these lowlands.
Min-Ji was light, maybe 90 pounds, but carrying her while I was bent over to keep out of sight was killing me. It made her start to feel like 200 pounds in no time.
One step. One foot in front of the next. Keep going, I told myself.
I sucked at the air like a vacuum. In minutes, I wasn't cold; I was hot and sweating, not being able to tell if it was creek water or perspiration falling off my face like raindrops.
No stopping. Keep going. I can do this. Next step. Next step.
At the moment I knew I was going to collapse, I looked to my right and, to my relief, saw that the four-foot ledge was now closer to six feet. I knelt and stood up almost straight. Min-Ji's 90 pounds didn't feel like 200 anymore; they felt more like 150.
300 meters to that tree line.
I continued, almost jogging. My back no longer killing me, I began to consider my situation.
They would know about her absence at 0700. Call it fifteen minutes of a local search—the boss would not wish to tell any higher-ups she was missing until he had done some searching of his own. Fifteen more minutes for getting the word out and for letting the decision-makers plan a response. A half-hour later, the search would be in full swing.
0800.
But, daylight was coming at 0618.
No time to stop and look, I guessed the time to be around 0515—an hour till sunrise.
Checking a 360 circle and finding it clear, I ran hard the rest of the way, passing the house without a second thought.
My legs grew tired as I entered the trees and began running uphill. I saw a little cut in the ground and stopped, setting Min-Ji down.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Ho-kay."
She's a trooper, I thought.
I looked at her ankle. Through the sock, I could see the place where her skin bulged out from the wrap. It was still swelling. Had to be painful.
My watch read 0518. I flipped down my NVGs, scanned 360 degrees, and then pulled out my map. I focused solely on using the time I had to find a safe place to hole up before daylight, but where?
Somewhere foot, vehicular, and air patrols will not find us.
"Ski-pa go," she whispered.
I looked at her.
"Ski-pa go. Min-Ji...," she paused, thinking. Then she touched the ground beside her, saying, "Heel. Min-Ji heel." Her eyes showed fear, but she pursed her lips and nodded as if to emphasize her decision.
I couldn't help but smile at her bravery. "No," I responded. "Skipper stays with Min-Ji." I interlocked my fingers, adding, "Skipper and Min-Ji."
She smiled briefly, wrapping her arms around her body and shivering.
Resuming my map analysis, I quickly muttered, "Shit." To my south lay the dense forest, but also more DPRK outposts. To my east, there was a decent hill, but beyond that, more low ground. North and west were simply not options.
The hill to my east has several rough trails darting here and there, but dense foliage and plenty of space between. It was 800 meters away.
Still dark, we needed to make one more jaunt before daylight.
I took a long pull from my canteen and said, "Min-Ji."
She looked at me, pale and cold. I helped her onto my back and began moving east.
The trip took about half an hour, most of it uphill, and my legs felt like molten lead when I set Min-Ji down and began to scout the area around us.
We were well away from the trails. It was a site with potential. I found one more thing I needed—a vertical drop. Didn't have to be sheer, just a fairly steep declivity of at least four or five feet. I saw one just like I wanted about 15 meters west of where I had set down Min-Ji.
She was shivering uncontrollably when I returned and found her.
I surprised her when I laid on top of her and began aggressively rubbing her shoulders and legs. I talked to her, knowing she wouldn't know what the fuck I was saying.
"You're going to be all right, Min-Ji. Just need to carry you one more time, and then I'm going to build us a shelter. We're going to make it. I'll get you warm again. One more move."
After two minutes, I sat up and carried her in my arms to the drop.
It was 0606. Twelve minutes to sunrise.
Scanning the sloping face of dirt and grass, I found my spot, pulled out my knife, and went to work. Three feet wide and two feet high, I began digging out a tunnel in the face of the drop.
A foot or so deep, I took a break and rubbed all over Min-Ji for about five minutes. Then, I resumed the dig, and I built up a routine that way—dig for ten minutes, warm her up for five.
It took just over an hour to clear out our tunnel. Five more minutes to camouflage the entrance.
Meanwhile, the sun came up. I heard distant vehicles on the roads. Nearer, I heard military vehicles start-up.
I wasn't entirely sure how to approach what I knew had to be done next. I began taking off all of my wet clothes—all of them. She stared at the ground in front of her, visibly shaking the entire time. I laid out my wet clothes as a kind of carpet for half of the tunnel and turned to her.
"Min-Ji," I said.
She glanced at me, and then her eyes bent down to my cock.
I pointed at her and mimicked taking off clothes. Then, I pointed at my tunnel.
Her teeth chattered. She didn't move. She just said my name.
I undressed her, laying her pants and shirt on her side of the tunnel.
We were completely naked.
Yes, I looked. Yes, I noticed her body. Hard not to, even in peril. But, I didn't have time to linger upon it. I concluded that whoever she decided to love was going to be a lucky, lucky man.
I lifted her up and fed her body into the tunnel, and then I climbed in beside her, remembering to pull the camouflage down over the entrance.
It was 0743.
The North Koreans knew their Colonel Kwan was missing. The search was about to begin.
I pulled her shivering body next to mine, and then I draped over us a solar blanket that was silver on the inside, camouflage green on the outside. For the next hour, I steadfastly rubbed her, always pressing my warm flesh against hers, blowing my hot breath into her wet hair, and trying to get her body temperature back to normal.
When she stopped shivering, I handed her an unwrapped energy bar and her canteen. She drank all of the water and washed it down with the bar. I ate and rehydrated, as well. After finishing, our limbs grew cold, and we pressed ourselves together once again.
She slept. I listened.
***
The clothes underneath us began to dry out from our body heat.
I needed to plan a night move out of this place.
The desperation of our condition was clear. The absence of Kwan so near the border could only mean one thing: defection. The obvious solution would be to run high-speed vehicular patrols over every inch of road, to keep the CC fence line under constant troop surveillance, and to flood the area with foot patrols.
But what did they know about her escape? Perhaps nothing, but maybe she had a confidante or a helper on the inside. I had to assume the worst. They wouldn't know my planned—now scrapped—escape route, but through interrogation, they may uncover the original meeting place between Min-Ji and me—the three-way intersection.
From there, I thought..., but I stopped at a haunting new realization: dogs.
Fuck me. Scent dogs. How could I have forgotten?
They would use dogs to track us. Undoubtedly they had some leftover items of Min-Ji's clothing. The dogs would sniff and lead the way. Then, they would find the clothing we had buried south of the intersection.
I doubted those dogs would have my scent. My gear was specially designed to reduce scent plumes. The neoprene clothing I'd brought for her was, too, but her shoes would be the giveaway. They'd definitely have her scent.
We had traveled just over six kilometers from the intersection.
That gave me about three hours from the time they begin trailing us at the intersection.
It was 0922. They were likely on my trail already.
I figured I had until noon. I cursed myself silently for not remembering their dogs.
I glanced at Min-Ji. She remained fast asleep.
I could kill her right now, I knew. She'd barely even have time to open her eyes. Fuck, it would be so easy.
Who the fuck was I kidding? I couldn't bring myself to do that. There's got to be another way, I decided.
Well-handled trailing dogs were nearly impossible to defeat. One needed to either wear them down, distract them, or make one's scent vanish.
I couldn't wear them down if I had to carry Min-Ji, and I had nothing to distract them.
I knew what I had to do, but the risk was horrendous.
I looked at Min-Ji. She can rest, I decided. I've got to get started. It no longer mattered that it was daytime.
I took my gear and slid out of the tunnel.
Min-Ji woke. I signaled to her that I would be back, and I pointed at the three on the watch to signal how long I would be gone.
She looked afraid.
I touched her cheek. I don't know why.
Donning my gear and equipment, I covered the tunnel opening. I found two strong hunks of bark and lashed them to the soles of my boots with dummy cord. Then, I backtracked our route to the tunnel, keeping about 25 meters away from where I actually carried her.
It was slow going; stealth daytime movement is a laborious process, a combination of stalking and crawling.
800 meters took me every bit of an hour and then some. It was 1053 when I reached my goal. Watching across the valley, I saw nothing. So, I spent the next few minutes gathering large, suitable stones.
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