| |
Simon didn’t have any strength left, but he would die before he let one of his cellmates harm her. As soon as Lang was gone, he sank to the floor beside her. She scampered toward him like a rodent scurrying from a predator. He held her as she trembled, felt her body heave with sobs, and tried to shelter her from the other prisoners’ view, praying God would let him protect her one last time.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to envelop as much of her body as he could so whatever blows that came would land on him instead of her. He pictured his cellmates inching their way closer, sharing looks, deciding who would lead in the attack. Simon knew he wouldn’t last long. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Hannah in advance.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He tightened his hold on Hannah. “It’s me, Brother.” Mal-Chin stretched out both hands and nodded at the other prisoners. “Nobody’s going to hurt your friend.”
Simon let out his breath but didn’t let go. The boy with three fingers shuffled forward. “It was brave of you not to report on us. Brave and dumb.” He dipped his head by way of compliment, and Simon stared wide-eyed.
Another prisoner came forward and tapped Hannah on the shoulder. Her head was buried in Simon’s chest, and he felt all her air suck in at the touch. Simon angled his shoulder to try to shield her.
“I just wanted to see if she remembered me,” the young man explained. “She took care of me when I got frostbite. I wanted to say thank you is all.”
Simon eased his posture and stroked Hannah’s hair. Her muscles didn’t relax. “Give them a little privacy,” Mal-Chin muttered, and the men ambled awkwardly away.
Simon didn’t know what to say. He felt Hannah’s heart flutter against his chest. He tipped her chin up to his. She lowered her gaze and tried to hide, but he stroked her cheek and tilted her face up again. He longed to kiss her cracked lips, to cover her with his love until all her scars and injuries vanished. She hadn’t stopped trembling. He rested his chin on the top of her head and prayed. If God was merciful, he would let them both die right now. But this was no fairy tale. No matter how fervent his prayers, no matter how deep his love, Camp 22 was no place for happy endings.
***
Officer Lang took a sip of tepid coffee and leaned back in his chair. He smacked his lips noisily and thought about how the little flirt from the infirmary had resisted him right here on this desk. Memories that previously humiliated and infuriated him now erupted into a self-satisfied grin. She didn’t want to give in to him. He’d see how she handled herself with a dozen hardened culprits. Some of those men hadn’t touched a woman in years. Now she’d realize what sort of mistake she’d made rejecting him.
He exhaled loudly and congratulated himself. The letter he discovered was enough to warrant 39846’s immediate execution. The Christian pig would make a worthy spectacle for the Day of the Sun. Lang leaned back in his chair. When he saw his secretary dart past, he pounded on the window and beckoned him in. The young man scurried to the doorway, bowing as he entered.
Lang smirked. “Call up the Chief Officer. Tell Yeong he’ll have his demonstration tomorrow.”
***
Hannah burrowed her head into Simon’s chest, and even though he couldn’t see her face, he had already memorized the exact location of each cut and bruise. A little more time, God, he begged. A little more time with her.
Simon was a dead man. Disobeying direct orders, copying Bible verses, hiding a romantic relationship with another prisoner ... Simon couldn’t even count all the crimes he had committed against the National Security Agency. He wouldn’t regret dying himself, but he was a fool for writing her that letter. He was stupid to think a love like theirs could flourish undetected. And why had he included those Bible passages? What idiocy had possessed him to risk her life like that? He could only guess what Lang would do when he came back and found her unharmed. Maybe they could find a way to conceal her before he arrived. Simon was off to the scaffold or the firing squad no matter what happened. He just wished he could find a way to spare Hannah from the same fate. He rubbed his cheek against her hair. How could heaven contain anything more beautiful? “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She glanced up. The bruises on her face brought him more pain than the torturer’s chair.
“For not doing a better job protecting you.”
Hannah kissed his fingers, which had intertwined with hers. “I never wanted you to protect me.” She reached up and brushed his forehead. “I only wanted to be with you.”
“I didn’t think it would turn out like this.” It was a foolish confession. They had slipped uninvited into North Korea. What else should he have expected? There were times during his detainment downstairs when all he hoped for was death. But now, now that she was here with him, his lungs constricted, gasping for a freedom he longed for more passionately than he could express with words.
He sniffed and pulled her even more tightly to him. “I would have made you my wife, you know.” His throat nearly gave out. “You would have been such a beautiful ...” His voice caught again, and his tears wet Hannah’s cheek. “Such a beautiful mother.” Now he had started, he couldn’t stop himself. “When I had that fever, I watched you in the infirmary every day, watched the way you cared for the sick, the way they loved you and you loved them. And I imagined what it would be like if we ever got out of here, if God let us marry. Start a family. I even had a dream one night. It was you and me, and we had a little baby girl ...”
“Stop.” The agony in her voice matched the intensity of his own emotions. His chest squeezed tight, but he had to tell her the rest. He couldn’t stop now.
“You were singing to her. It was the most beautiful hymn.” He coughed. “I could still hear how you sang it when I woke up. When things were at their worst, I just thought about your voice. It was perfect. Like heaven.” His tears were flowing freely. He didn’t wipe them away. “And one day, I woke up, and I couldn’t remember what your voice sounded like anymore.” A pinching, suffocating anguish gripped his heart. “I couldn’t remember your singing.” He leaned his head against her shoulder, his body heaving with silent sobs.
Hannah’s voice was so quiet that she was already past the second line before he realized what she was doing. He glanced around. Prisoners stopped shuffling and stared.
“I love thee in life, I will love thee in death and praise thee as long as thou lendest me breath.”
Her song wavered through the silence and grew louder as her confidence increased.
“And sing when the death-dew lies cold on my brow, ‘If ever I love thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.’”
Was this what heaven would sound like? Was God giving him a taste of eternity to give him courage for what was to come?
“In mansions of glory and endless delight ...”
He shut his eyes. This couldn’t be real. A beauty this poignant couldn’t thrive in the midst of such gruesome squalor.
“I’ll ever adore thee in heaven so bright.”
He didn’t want to let out his breath. The song was so delicate, so surreal he feared a single movement might break its spell.
“And sing with the glittering crown on my brow, ‘If ever I loved thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.’”
After the last note reverberated against the cell walls, it was still several seconds before he dared to breathe again. How could the angels worship God in heaven while Hannah was still here on earth? If her countenance grew any more radiant, she would be visibly glowing. He was still holding her in his arms, or else he wouldn’t believe she was flesh and blood.
The entire prison complex was silent. Even the guard gawked. The men in his own cell had dispersed against the walls, as if they recognized the holiness of the moment and didn’t want to intrude. Simon breathed in the smell of Hannah’s grimy hair. He couldn’t let the assistant director come and take her away. His own life was forfeit, but before he died, he needed to find a way to get her out of here. He pressed his fingers against his throbbing temples. He had to focus.
“You don’t need to worry about me, you know.” Hannah’s whisper dissolved the aura of serenity and peace her song had cast over the complex. She laid her hand on his shoulder. She shouldn’t be here. None of this should be happening. Where was Moses? Where was the deliverance Simon had dreamed about? Where was God’s mercy? Simon didn’t mind dying. He was ready to leave this prison cell for good. But Hannah ... How could someone with such a charitable spirit be condemned to such a fate as this? She still has work to fulfill, Lord. Take me if you will, but please spare her.
He wished she didn’t look so tranquil. It made the impossibility of their situation that much more difficult to accept. “I’ll get you out of here,” Simon mumbled into the dirt.
She grazed his cheek with her finger. “You’ve looked out for me long enough.” Her words were gentle, soft, but they pierced through his heart like a jagged-edged knife. “My future is in God’s hands.”
He couldn’t speak for fear his voice would betray his fears, his despair. He had to be strong. There had to be some way.
“At least we have one more night together.” She squeezed his hand.
It was too much for Simon. “We have to do something.” He stood up and balled his fists, turning to his colleagues. “We can’t let Lang come back and take her.”