Corporal Wanju stared at the figure, disbelieving as it seemed to rise directly from the ground. He was manning a guard post about seventy yards south of the Demilitarized Zone separating the two Koreas.
How had he appeared there? A tunnel?
The man ran toward the roll of barbed wire to the corporal’s left.
“An enemy!” hissed the private who shared the corporal’s observation post. “Corporal, look.”
Corporal Wanju had served in the army for more than three years, and had been stationed at this post for more than five months. He had seen North Korean soldiers before, but always at a distance, through binoculars.
What was the man doing? Attacking? He didn’t seem to have a rifle.
Spies attempted to infiltrate South Korea all the time, but never here. Besides, it was the middle of the day; only a fool would attempt to sneak across the border when he could be so easily seen.
“Corporal, we must shoot him! He is attacking!”
“Wait,” said Corporal Wanju.
As he did, one of the machine gunners at the observation post fifty yards to the west began firing.
The figure seemed to pause in midstride, turning slightly as if to begin a dance.
And then his head exploded as if it were a blood-filled gourd.
Corporal Wanju turned aside and threw up.