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Day and night were meaningless distinctions in solitary confinement. Simon forgot how long it had been since he last saw another human being. At the Secret Seminary, Mr. Stern had prepared a crisis training program to equip the students for interrogations and torture. It hardly touched on the horror of total isolation.
And the silence. It made his ears physically hurt. At times, Simon was convinced he heard voices talking. Some hissed to one another in the darkness, teasing Simon’s sleep away. Others were kinder, softer, but vanished as soon as he responded to them. At the Secret Seminary, he had been one of the quickest to memorize Bible passages, but here, with his body kept a few crumbs away from starvation, his mind tortured by the darkness and timelessness of his cell, it took ages to recite a simple verse. He was pretty sure that entire days went by when he couldn’t recall even one passage from all of his studies. The most gruesome of his torments were his memories of Hannah. He could see her so vividly, sitting in Mrs. Stern’s flower garden, the empty half of the bench beckoning to him with an intensity no living man should be forced to endure.
His crisis training in Yanji was designed to prepare him for pain. And although Mr. Stern mentioned the possibility of solitary confinement, Simon never really understood how horrendous it would be. He had assumed isolation would be easier than torture. How stupid he had been. The air in his cell was so heavy he could waste hours trying to pray without uttering a syllable. The same dark oppression that sucked his memory dry of Scripture pressed down on his soul. Sometimes it took every ounce of his spiritual stamina just to whisper the name of Jesus.
The hard cement floor and the constant hunger made it difficult to fall asleep, and what rest he did find was riddled with agonizing fears. He would wake up with a jerk, certain the guards were outside waiting to begin their torments. He was afraid to sleep because the darkness left him so disoriented. Had he been unconscious for a whole day or just a few hours? Sometimes he woke up in a horrid, damp sweat, certain he had squandered whole days of his life passed out on the cold floor.
His only solace was that he was here instead of Hannah. Maybe she had found a lenient job in one of the other labor camps. Maybe the Lord would hide her beauty from the lustful prison guards. Maybe her joyful spirit would sustain her through whatever suffering awaited her. Simon felt his own soul slipping away moment by elusive moment, but this hope for Hannah’s future sustained him in that bleak, black purgatory. He might never see her again, but he would cherish her memory until his body finally gave out and his soul flew upward where his heavenly Father waited to receive him.
***
General Sin read the memo from the director of the National Security Agency, lit his cigarette, and read it again. There was no mistaking its message. The agency had linked Moses back to the Chongjin jail. Sin couldn’t just deny it. Everyone in Pyongyang knew Moses was real, and they wanted him. Once they had him, they wouldn’t stop until they extracted every ounce of information out of him. His mind wandered to desertion, but only for the briefest moment. He would never be safe, no matter what nation or embassy he found to take him in. He would never be free.
Sacrifices. That’s what this masquerade was all about. Sacrifices for the good of the nation, for the good of the underground church. Sacrifices. Like that boy Levi from the Secret Seminary, the one buried out back. Sacrifices. The only currency worth anything in this clandestine world, where a clear conscience was an indulgence reserved only for cowards and a few fortunate fools.
Sacrifices.
Moses unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk, took out a small pill bottle, and pressed the button on his radio. “Get in here, Agent Soon. I need to talk with you.”
***
Hannah knelt by her bed. It wasn’t nighttime yet, but she was scheduled to meet with Soon later and wanted to spend some time in prayer. She was so tired. Her trips to the Tumen were sapping up what strength she had regained after leaving Chongjin. And even after she had been out all night making deliveries, Mr. Kim still expected her to wake up with the sunrise and see to breakfast and the chickens. By the end of the day, she was almost too tired to pray at all.
Back in Yanji, Mrs. Stern had taught her an entire prayer routine, starting with praise and thanksgiving, then moving on to confession and intercession. The ritual seemed stiff and formulaic, but Hannah figured Mrs. Stern must know what she was doing. The American missionary assured her it was the easiest, most foolproof way to keep from getting distracted.
Hannah had plenty to be thankful for, and she lifted her heart up to God who had healed her injuries from Chongjin and kept her safe on her journeys across the border. Throughout her entire life, God had protected her and provided for her, and now she was here, with a ministry and a purpose greater than she ever envisioned for herself. The Sterns hardly thought her ready to travel across the border with a meager supply of audio Bibles and New Testaments. Now she was part of a network that stretched all the way to Pyongyang. Her life was finally meaningful.
Or was it? Was she really doing what God called her to do? Or did she carry letters because Kwan and Moses and Mr. Kim and everyone else expected her to? Was she really an integral asset to Moses’ team, or was she just one laborer amongst many, soon to be replaced when her luck ran out?
Her knees pressed against the hard floor, the discomfort reminding her she was supposed to be praying. She closed her eyes and thought about the sins she needed to confess. There was her general distractedness, of course. She found herself thinking more and more about Moses and the messages he wanted her to deliver. Surely she was doing the work of the Lord. Surely this excitement was from him. But the peace and contentment had vanished, replaced with a spirit of exhaustion. Back at the Secret Seminary, everything was so tranquil. Sitting on the garden bench and studying the Bible with Simon night after night, everything was so perfect, so complete.
Hannah wondered when she would ever find that sense of wholeness again.
***
Soon was filing paperwork when he got the summons from the general. What could it be now? Hadn’t he already done enough? He forced himself to hurry down the hall. The general was waiting for him outside his office. “There’s a problem out back.” He gestured with a nod of his head. “Something wrong with the wiring. I need you to come with me.”
They walked outside and stopped when they reached Levi’s grave. General Sin’s eyes were gray and expressionless. Soon had never seem him look so old. “They somehow connected Moses to the Chongjin jail.” The general’s voice was quiet and flat.
A quiver began in the base of Soon’s gut. All his autonomic responses slowed down for a second and then sped ahead at full force. His mind raced even faster than his heartbeat, his thoughts expressing themselves in a jumble of impressions instead of actual words. “Hannah,” he managed to stammer.
General Sin waved his hand, and Soon understood the sweet recruit from Sanhe was the least of his superior’s worries. The general paced a few feet in either direction and rubbed his temples. There was a fleck of gray in the hair above his ears. “You have been loyal to me, Comrade.” The general’s tone was ominous. Soon glanced at him sideways. Was this a farewell? The general jerked his chin toward the grave. “I know you don’t agree with my tactics.”
Soon kept his eyes on the dirt.
“Just as well.” General Sin shrugged. “But I hope you understand I care about you inasmuch as I am able.” He reached into his pocket. “You may be questioned.”
Soon stared at the small white pill but didn’t reach out for it.
“One day, you might realize I was right. Some things are worse than the grave.”
Tentatively, Soon took the capsule, surprised it didn’t burn his skin on impact. It was so tiny, so delicate.
“If the time comes —” General Sin paused to clear his throat. “— I’m sure you will find courage to do the right thing.”
Soon’s lip trembled. He had so many questions vying for position on his tongue, but before he had time to ask any of them, General Sin turned away, suddenly looking bent over and very tired.