Suk’s hands trembled as he lit a cigarette. His half-eaten breakfast sat cold in front of him. He glanced nervously around the restaurant. No one seemed to pay him any mind. A young couple in beachwear and flip-flops sat near him, oblivious to the world around them. Two couples sat at a four-top behind them, drinking coffee and casually chatting in the morning sun.
“¿Si Quieres más café?” The waitress startled Suk as she came up behind him to pour steaming coffee into his cup.
“No,” Suk snapped at her, loud enough that one of the tourists glared at him.
The waitress shrugged, murmured something, and moved to the next table to fill cups.
Suk fumbled for his sunglasses, pulling them down from the top of his head and sliding them over his eyes. He looked over the water. The Caribbean Sea extended endlessly before him, emptying into the great Atlantic.
Like the vast ocean, his future stretched out before him. But instead of feeling liberated, he felt trapped by foreboding anxiety.
Why do I feel this way?
Suk shook his head to clear it.
I have done my job well. Professor Kwon must be proud of our accomplishments.
He took a long drag from his cigarette. He exhaled a large cloud of smoke and sniffed at the air.
What is that smell? He sniffed the air again and closed his eyes.
He saw Hwang standing over the doctor’s body with the bloodied knife in one hand and the still-beating heart in the other. The musky smell of blood and the dankness of the jungle filled his nostrils. A hint of sulfur seemed to burn his nose.
Screams from the man and the howler monkeys resounded in his ears. His eyes frantically searched the restaurant. Why are people looking at me?
Panic assaulted Suk’s brain. He jumped to his feet, tipping over the chair, and ran from the restaurant.