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Hannah crossed the border several more times over the next few weeks. Even though the subsequent trips were never quite as invigorating as her first, she was glad for the chance to feel useful. Now that her leg was mostly healed, she could think of no better way to serve her countrymen. Of course, she didn’t know what kind of messages she was relaying between the safe house and Agent Soon, but Moses had assured her the work was critically important.
Whenever exhaustion from her sleepless nights dragged her down, she thought of Moses. When frightening sounds startled her in the darkness, she wished for another chance to meet him just to glean some more of his conviction and strength. Would he be proud of the work she was doing? Would he be surprised someone her age had made so many successful deliveries? Sometimes she imagined he was watching her, hiding behind some tree stump or crouching just around the corner of the trail. If she were caught or attacked, he would be ready to protect her.
“Have you ever met him?” she asked Soon one cold and starlit night. She needed to return home before it got any later, but she had been trying to gather up the courage to ask Soon about Moses for weeks.
He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Who?”
“You know.”
“Him?”
She nodded.
“No.”
They both looked down, neither one willing to break the ensuing silence. It was time for Hannah to go. She turned back to the river.
“He’s at Camp 22, you know.”
She spun around.
Soon rubbed his hands together in the cold. “Your friend. He’s at Camp 22. I saw the transfer orders myself.” His countenance fell when she met his gaze. “I thought you’d be happy to know. He’s safe now. I mean ...” He looked at her, his face searching, almost pleading with hers. Finally, he bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to tell you he was still alive. I think ... I think he would have wanted you to know.”
Hannah went on without saying anything. She was still numb with cold hours after returning to the safe house. Hot tea, layers of blankets, nothing offered any warmth. The tears she expected to shed never fell. Soon hadn’t told her anything her heart didn’t already know, and her tears had dried up long ago.
***
As soon as he finished his work for the day, Soon headed toward the grave of the fallen missionary. Staring at the lump of dirt, now covered with frost, Soon wondered yet again what he was still doing in Chongjin. He thought about Hannah, the sweet girl who passed him messages from the safe house in Sanhe, and the young man who had been captured at the same time. Soon thought about his own comrades. Would anybody cry for him if he were taken to prison camp?
Soon bowed his head over the grave. “I’m sorry.” He wondered if such crimes as his could merit forgiveness.
“You know, he doesn’t care if any of us visit his grave or not.” Soon couldn’t imagine a more unwelcome sound. He acknowledged the general with a small nod but said nothing. “You wonder if there was something else you could have done to keep him alive,” General Sin stated, bringing an unexpected lump to the back of Soon’s throat. He clenched his fists. He wouldn’t let the general manipulate his emotions. “You’re hardly sleeping at night,” Sin continued, “and you’ve all but stopped praying because you don’t think you’re worthy anymore to present your requests to the Almighty. Am I right?”
Soon let his head drop once in affirmation.
The general took a step forward and clasped his hands behind his back. “Now you know how I feel.” Soon cocked his head. Was the general mocking him? “Even now,” General Sin continued, “I ask myself if it’s really worth it. Am I really making a difference in the end? And do you know what I figured?”
“What?” The word croaked out of Soon’s mouth before he could stop it. He stared at the makeshift grave of a man who should have been his friend. His brother.
General Sin coughed once before responding. “I figured I’m a dead man either way. So I may as well try to make something of a difference before the inevitable.”
Soon struggled to keep his voice calm. “You call this making a difference?” He gestured to the undignified mound of dirt. “This isn’t the way to do it. This isn’t the way to change lives.”
The general laughed mirthlessly. “You sound just like your missionary friend.” He waved his hand at the grave. “I suppose you’ll tell me that he’s the one who fulfilled his heavenly calling, while I’ve done nothing but hinder the kingdom. That’s what you really think, isn’t it?”
Soon didn’t have a ready answer.
“Because, let me remind you,” Sin went on, “about that little Christian girl you’ve been meeting. What do you suppose would have happened if I hadn’t let her go? Do you care to guess where she’d be right now?”
Soon cringed and shook his head.
“Or should I tell you about all the cases you’ve never even heard of? The prisoners who wet my feet with their tears, crying for joy when I bring them to safety. Should I tell you about them? The mothers I reunite with their children. The men who go back to smuggling Bibles because I look the other way when processing their intake papers. The pastor who receives an anonymous warning about a raid that would cost his life and send his pregnant wife to hard labor. You pick, Agent Soon. Tell me which story you want to hear next. And then decide who is and who isn’t advancing the kingdom.”
Soon winced. He didn’t have the strength to meet his superior’s gaze.
“That’s what I thought.” General Sin spat on the dirt and walked away.
***
A very soft snow fell outside, muffling the noise of the outside world. The fire crackled while Hannah helped So-Young wash the dinner dishes.
“Will you be crossing the river again sometime soon?” So-Young asked, passing Hannah a small plate.
“Not until the snow stops. It’s too easy to track like this.”
“It must be nice,” So-Young whispered.
“What?”
“Getting out.”
Hannah glanced around for Mr. Kim.
“Kwan says the other side of the border is a lot like Sanhe. Just poorer,” So-Young breathed.
Hannah shouldn’t say anything else. So-Young was still a child. She didn’t need to worry about the oppression that robbed individuals of their humanity just a few kilometers away. “Kwan’s right.” Hannah tried to think of some way to change the subject.
“They say in North Korea parents are allowed to have as many children as they want.”
Hannah thought of the countless flower-swallows she had cared for. Some were orphans, but the majority were simply abandoned when their parents grew too poor to feed them. For someone like So-Young, perhaps the idea of a large family with siblings running all around was pleasant.
“Kwan tells me the food is different too, that they’re such good cooks they invented a way to turn tree bark into stew.” So-Young giggled. “I wonder what it tastes like.”
“It sounds like Kwan tells you lots of things about the outside world.” Hannah didn’t understand why So-Young grew so quiet, but the next few minutes passed by in awkward silence. “You’re lucky to have such a good friend.” Hannah rinsed her hands. “I can tell you and Kwan are very close.”
“He’s my best friend.” So-Young’s eyes beamed. “When I grow up, I think he might even become my fiancé.” Her face grew pensive. “Did you have a fiancé in North Korea?”
Images raced through Hannah’s mind in fast motion. Simon laughing with the other Secret Seminary students, Simon sitting next to her on the bench in Mrs. Stern’s garden, Simon raising his voice in excitement as he expounded on a new revelation from the Scriptures.
“Well?” So-Young gave her a playful sideways glance. “Did you have a fiancé or not?”
Hannah wiped her hands dry on her apron. “No. No, I never had a fiancé.”