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She dropped to her knees beside him and stifled a sob. Her hands were still bound, so she couldn’t even prop his head up. The front of his uniform shirt grew darker every second. “Simon?” She laid her body next to his, nuzzling her face against his cheek. “Can you hear me?” He stared back at her with lifeless eyes. Her uniform soaked up the puddle of blood on the platform. She didn’t care. Her blood would soon mix with his. The speaker stopped shouting. The crowd ceased their singing. Hannah’s ears rushed with echoes of roaring silence. She propped herself up to kiss Simon’s clammy forehead. She only hoped to join him now in heaven. What was the executioner waiting for?
“What are you trying to prove, killing a little girl?” The shout came from the center of the throng but carried all the way to the platform. The prisoner’s angry voice was met with murmurs of agreement. “How’s her death supposed to honor the Eternal President, unless he’s a blood-thirsty ...”
Three rapid shots silenced his protest. Several women shrieked. A scuffle. More shouts. The stomp of boots squelching in the muddy ground. It was all background noise as Hannah leaned her head on Simon’s shoulder. I want to go home with you. Please. Tell God I’m ready. I just want to be together. Forever this time.
She shut her eyes, and a single tear streamed down her cheek. Another rifle shot sounded, but it came nowhere near her. She looked out. In the center of the gathering, the crowd had tried to part, and now a dozen more guards descended on the area. The whole mass undulated in a terrifying rhythm, but Hannah still didn’t understand.
“Silence them!” The grumbling grew to a collective, outraged roar. A few more people screamed. Like ants scurrying from a flooded hill, the prisoners did what they could to scatter, but the sea of bodies surrounding them proved an impassable barricade. By the time the next wave of rifle fire rang out, half of the guards were in the middle of the fray, and the others stood ready along the outskirts of the crowd.
Hannah’s stomach churned. She closed her eyes and lowered her head to Simon’s. I just want to go home with you.
Something touched her shoulder. She jumped. “They’ll kill you too.” Mal-Chin’s gnarled fingers tugged at the rope around her wrists.
The horde continued pressing out, swallowing up the guards who stood on the circumference of the gathering. Dozens of shots sounded over the screams and protests of the mob in grotesque syncopation, and Hannah saw more National Security agents racing in with machine guns. Mal-Chin pulled her down behind the platform. “Come on. Follow me.”
Hannah paused. “Simon ...”
“He would want you to live.” Mal-Chin had to yell to be heard. “Let’s go!”
He ducked down and yanked her after him. Just seconds later, the first bursts of machine-gun fire splattered through the air. More shrieks. Hannah tried to look back, but Mal-Chin kept pulling her, keeping her up with a shocking display of strength when her feet stumbled beneath her. Her heart raced so fast she thought she might almost swallow it. He didn’t stop even when the barbed wire came into view, but Hannah slowed down instinctively. The fence was at least half a meter taller than he. There was no way they could scale it.
“Trust me,” Mal-Chin shouted over his shoulder. “It’s the only way.”
Hair lashed against her cheeks, and her legs threatened to collapse beneath her, but Mal-Chin kept rushing forward. She couldn’t even find the breath to warn him it was electric. Just two steps away from the looming barricade, he wrapped both hands around her waist.
“No. Please, don’t!” she shouted, but there was too much momentum for either of them to stop. He hoisted her up, roared loudly from exertion, and jumped, propelling her into the air.
His body fell forward. Hannah heard the awful electric hiss as soon as his hands released her. She waved her arms and legs wildly, scraping both shins on the barbs on top of the fence. She tumbled over and landed on her stomach. The fall sucked her breath out of her, but when she could finally gasp again, there was only the stench of burnt flesh. She forced herself to look back.
Mal-Chin’s body slumped against the wires, burn marks etched across his expressionless face. Smoke drifted up from his hands and neck, and the occasional sizzle from the fence was more deafening than the machine-gun fire they left behind.
“Mal-Chin?” she whispered faintly, even though she knew there would be no response.
It was several minutes before her brain registered that she was outside the camp. She was free. Hannah’s mind told her to get moving. It didn’t matter where. As soon as the guards got the protest under control, they would invade the woods looking for any who escaped. She had seen enough of torture and jail cells to last a lifetime. But could she really just walk away? She wanted to reach out to Mal-Chin, to take the old man’s hand in hers, but she was afraid to reach through the wire. Had he known all along? Even if he had survived, there would have been no way for him to join her on the other side.
Her throat constricted. How many men had died on her account today? In the distance, machine-gun fire still pierced the air with its deadly staccato. A clap of thunder sounded overhead, and a slight drizzle wet her cheeks. How much rain would it take to wash Simon’s blood off that platform, to cover the violence taking place near the administration building right now? Would the rain cool down Mal-Chin’s charred body? What had God been thinking? She was ready to die. Ready to go home. Why hadn’t he let her complete her mission? And what was she supposed to do now? She hadn’t been outside in months. She tried to guess where the sun was behind the clouds. She didn’t even know which direction was which. And if she did, what would that change? Simon’s body was back in the camp. Mal-Chin was here, his scarred, burnt flesh tangled in the fence. She couldn’t just leave them, could she?
The whole mission from start to finish was botched. Even Mr. Tong, her only successful delivery, had been killed. That was probably her fault as well. Branches ripped at her cheeks. She was several paces away from the fence before she even realized she was running. She had no idea how she would travel, but there was only one place for her now. Simon and Mal-Chin and all the prisoners shot in the mob would remain in North Korea, probably tossed in some mass grave, but this wasn’t her home.
Not anymore.
She wiped her face, struggling to hold back her sobs. There would be time for tears later. For now, she had to get back across the Tumen. She had to get to Yanji.
She was going home to the Sterns.