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When the lights came on that morning, Simon was still awake, slouched down against the wall. In a few hours, it would all be over. At some point last night after Hannah was taken away, he stopped thinking about the afterlife. All he wanted was for his time on earth to end. His soul was a void, free from pain, free from joy, free from hope.
“You didn’t sleep, Brother?” Mal-Chin lowered himself to the ground beside him. Simon heard the syllables of his friend’s words, could vaguely piece together their meaning, but had no response.
The guard sounded his whistle, and the prisoners leapt to attention. Simon wondered vaguely why his body still obeyed that sharp, shrill call. What could they do to him now if he disobeyed? What else could they take from him? Even torture had lost the terror it once held. His life was already forfeit, ripped away from him, soon to be discarded forever.
Officer Lang strode in, spine erect. Simon’s gut twisted in place. He looked for some sign of smugness on the assistant director’s face, some clue so he could guess what happened to Hannah last night. All he noticed were the bulging veins in Lang’s neck. The assistant director scowled and pointed at him. “You there. Get moving.”
Simon’s legs submitted to the order, and as he walked away from his cell, he wondered if the fear would catch up to him at some point before his execution. He glanced back once, not because he wanted a last look at his fellow inmates, but because it somehow seemed expected. Mal-Chin’s face was tight and stern as Lang cuffed Simon’s wrists. Simon imagined there was some secret message, some hidden word conveyed in his friend’s eyes, but couldn’t guess what it might be.
The assistant director tugged on his shackles. Simon dragged himself along, and for the first time in recent memory, he was completely pain-free. Had his nervous system already shut itself down? He focused on his breathing just to be sure his lungs still drew air. He sensed the stares of the men as he walked by their cages. Did they pity him? Envy him, perhaps? How many times had he prayed for a swift sentence like this? But that was before. Before he felt her touch once more. Before he held her in his arms. Before he confessed his love to her and nearly made her his bride. His soul was bound heavenward, but his heart was anchored firmly to the squalid, grimy earth.
They passed the spot in the hall where he first kissed her, but no flutters overcame him in that dark corner. He tried but couldn’t even recall the sensation of her lips on his. If he had known it would only end in death, could that kiss have made him feel so alive?
They had to walk by the infirmary on their way out. The patients were too sick to notice him marching to his slaughter, but he still felt himself on exhibition. He looked for her, suddenly realizing with dread he might never see her again. For an instant, a brief fleeting second, a surge of strength coursed through his veins, and he imagined breaking free of his restraints. He would fight off the assistant director, find her, and together they would make their suicide dash for freedom. God was a God of miracles. Hadn’t Peter and John escaped from their prison? But then, as quickly as it came, the urge passed. His shoulders slouched down, his wrists chaffed against his metal cuffs, and all his remaining energy leaked out through his pores.
So this is what it’s like, Simon thought. This is how it feels to die.
***
She woke, surprised she had been able to sleep at all. She remembered praying for Simon for hours, begging God to give him strength to face his execution. But now she had no idea what time it was. Was it morning already? Her breath caught, and her heart pounded high up in her chest. Had she slept through the demonstration? Unless someone brought her word, how would she ever know?
She pressed her lips together and clenched her eyes shut. How did God expect her to endure such uncertainty? The tortures she faced at the Chongjin jail were mere child’s play compared to this emotional torment. She was jealous of Simon. At least his suffering would be over soon, if it wasn’t already. Would he be able to see her from heaven?
It wasn’t right for her to complain. She should be happy for Simon, happy God had called him home. But what about her? When would her time come? Up until now, she had always thought of martyrdom as a Christian’s highest privilege, reserved only for the most worthy. So had Simon passed the test, and she had somehow failed it? She thought of all the prisoners who died under her care in the infirmary. Had she neglected to tell enough of them the good news of salvation? Had Simon proved himself more faithful than she? Was that why God was bringing him home, leaving her here alone in the dark to mourn?
She didn’t recognize the guard who shuffled in. “They’re ready for you now.” He spoke slowly, but Hannah couldn’t tell if that was from reluctance or just indifference.
“Ready?” Her body was poised in limbo. She didn’t know if she should recoil in fear of some new sort of torture she was about to endure, or if something else entirely was going on. Maybe God hadn’t forgotten her down here after all. Maybe it was all a mistake, Simon and the Eternal President’s birthday and the execution. The guard lifted her by the elbow.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Assistant director’s orders. You’re coming to the exhibit for the Day of the Sun.”
Hannah’s body moved forward, and she tested the news in her mind. At least she would see him one last time. At least she could pray for him as he breathed his last. God, give me strength. She swallowed once and checked her voice before using it. “Is everyone in the underground detainment center to witness the execution?”
“No.” The guard cleared his throat. Hannah could almost feel his embarrassment diffusing out from his neck and ears. “You’re to be part of the exhibit.”
“Me?” Could he hear the smile in her words? Could he guess the relief flooding over her at such news?
His gesture was a mix between a shrug and a nod. She followed him down the hall, surprised he didn’t bind her. Did he know she had no reason to run? Did he know these last steps brought her closer toward life and toward the one she loved?
She would join Simon. What more could she ask for? Her heart began to swell, swell with love for Simon, with love for her Savior, even with love for the poor boy in front of her who blushed when he delivered the news of her death. The guards here were no different than the inmates, she realized. Both were trapped, both were slaves to the regime, both had been designed for so much more than a place like Camp 22. As each moment brought her nearer to eternity, pity grew in her heart for the National Security agents. Did they stay awake at night, plagued by guilt? Did they also dream of freedom? Her time on earth had been short compared to most, but it had been blessed abundantly. Her only wish...
Hannah took a deep breath. No. This was her homecoming. She didn’t want to meet the Almighty with sadness or remorse.
A tear sneaked down her cheek. She thought again about the guards and officers, the assistant director, the executioner she was about to meet. Their lost souls were worthy of her tears. But him ... Hannah hung her head and bit her quivering lip. If only there was a way to forget her silly, romantic dreams. Forget how passionately she had once hoped. She had no right to question God’s plans.
The morning was overcast, but still Hannah blinked in the glaring light when she stepped outside. She raised her hands to her brow to block out the radiance. Mr. Stern once told her mortals couldn’t see God or they would be killed immediately by his splendor. Hannah wondered if her first moment in heaven would be painful like this, like stepping into the sun after being trapped for a lifetime in the dark.
A sizable crowd had already assembled near the administration building, and more guards and prisoner units joined the undulating throng from every side. “This way.” She could barely hear the man who led her. She lifted her eyes once and glanced around for Simon. Would he be here waiting? Would they have a chance to speak to one another before the end? For the first time that morning, fear pierced through her heart like a National Security agent’s bullet. What if Simon wasn’t there? What if he somehow convinced the guards he was no longer a threat? What if he denied his faith? After all they had been through together, after everything that passed between them, would he desert her now?
Her heart was pounding by the time she reached the small platform in front of the crowd. Like a hooked fish gasping for air, she darted her eyes back and forth in search of his familiar face. Her breath stuck somewhere in the middle of her throat.
Simon wasn’t there.